I hope you all have been enjoying the GRL Featured Blog Tour this year. We at Prism have been honored to be a part of it! As part of our #TeamPrism countdown to GRL I issued a challenge to the authors who have visited us throughout the year on the tour. Some couldn’t participate, but many took the challenge. I gave them each the same prompt and asked them to write a flash fic of 500 words, give or take a few hundred.
A Cold Draft by Freddy MacKay
Before Fletcher even opened his eyes, he knew Gaven wasn’t in bed. Half asleep, he had reached for his boyfriend only to come up empty. The covers were thrown back and the cotton sheets felt chilly.
Work had been stressful all week. Things at home weren’t much better. They passed each other during the day, and barely acknowledged each other when they went to bed. At breakfast, their longest conversation involved Gaven bitching about the condo being too small for them. Well, it hadn’t really been a conversation, more like, Gaven telling Fletcher they needed some place new, bigger, better.
Appearances mattered so much to Gaven. Too much these days.
The higher up the ladder he got at work, the more he cared about how everything and everyone looked around him—including Fletcher. Too bad Gaven wouldn’t look in the mirror long enough to see his own problems.
Fletcher laid in the bed, trying to make a decision. Tension had grown in recent months between them because of Gaven’s problem.
But do I really want to confront him?
Was there ever a good time to confront a person about their addiction? And how it was ruining their relationship?
No. Probably not.
If they were going to move forward in their relationship, though, make themselves ‘respectable adults’, then Gaven had to acknowledge his problem.
Anticipation of the confrontation to come caused Fletcher’s heart to thump hard. He rolled out of their California King, and grabbed his robe. He tied it on with haste, hoping to not lose his courage, and left their sparsely furnished bedroom.
He walked down the long hall toward the front of the condo, where their desk and computer were. Past the bathroom, the closet sized pantry and into the kitchen, Fletcher snuck through their home—like he was in the wrong, not Gaven. The cold air caused his skin to prickle, and Fletcher considered telling Gaven they really needed to turn up the heat more, once things were back on track.
Winter had been long and harsh in Chicago, even in May the temperatures still struggled to resemble anything close to Spring. Hell, it snowed in April.
Fletcher shivered. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the anticipation of the confrontation. Did it really matter?
No. Not really. They couldn’t keep going like this.
A soft glow emanated from the living room, right where he had expected it. It no longer surprised him to find his boyfriend awake, in front of their computer during the middle of the night.
The first time Fletcher caught him, yeah, okay. It hadn’t been bedtime either. The second time, whatever. In fact, Fletcher partook himself. The third, well, all right, so it was after they’d gone to bed. Odd, sure, but Fletcher understood.
To a degree.
Months and months had passed since then. Now, it was almost all the time, and in the dark. Instead of staying in bed with Fletcher, Gaven snuck off and went to their computer.
Somewhere, somehow, inside him, Gaven had to know it was a problem. He wouldn’t sneak around if he thought otherwise. Fletcher had tried reaching out to him, hinting there was an issue, but Gaven always sidetracked the conversation.
Tonight, well, tonight that wouldn’t happen.
Not if they were going to fix things.
Fletcher slowly stepped around the kitchen island, past their compact, mahogany table and chairs. Past their modern, orange couch and the entertainment center. Quietly he approached Gaven, and as he got closer, Fletcher heard the sounds he’d grown to resent.
The unmistakable, rhythmic sound of flesh caressing flesh. Of moans and excitement. That telling movement of shoulder and arm.
With a sniff of disapproval, Fletcher looked over Gaven’s shoulder, observing the screen with resignation. Several so-called ‘porn-shots’ were up. The usual smattering of men in various states of undress prosed provocatively. One, in particular, had one perfectly toned man in underwear and a tank, leaning against a wall in a bathroom, watching another man through a one-way mirror as he lay nude in bed—like the voyeur was about to jack off. Several of the other photos had the whole ‘peeping tom’ theme going for them too.
In fact, Gaven had a video going. Several men took turns fucking one guy as they watched a pair of leather daddies going at it in their bedroom.
What about the sound? Fletcher looked closer. Ah, Gaven wore headphones. Ergo, the video made no noise to wake Fletcher. Had no way of noticing Fletcher as he snuck up on him, catching Gaven wanking the snake.
A quick glance down confirmed the circumstantial evidence.
Gaven’s dick and balls were out on display, his PJs pulled down under his butt cheeks. His junk glistened in the low light, lube trailing down his hairy groin to his crack. His mouth hung open, his breath soft and shallow, his brown eyes closed, and his hand moved with increasing speed and pressure. The wet, snick-snick-snick sounds louder.
One white drop of cum beaded on the tip of his cock. Gaven gasped. The telltale sign he was close. His balls pulled up, tightening against his body. A movement Fletcher loved seeing and feeling when they were in bed together, and it pissed him off.
Gaven bit his lower lip and his back arched as he circled his thumb and forefinger around his glans.
No. Just no. Fletcher alone owned that look.
He moved and reached out without thinking, cupped the base of Gaven’s prick and squeezed.
“What the hell?” shouted Gaven. His eyes shot open, those brown depths equally startled and pissed off. Confusion filled his next words, “Fletcher…w-what are you doing? W-why are you a-awake?”
“Because…you weren’t in bed with me.”
Gaven gave a stiff laugh and tried to scoot back, but Fletcher, using strength unbeknownst to him, stopped Gaven, squeezed tighter.
“W-what are you doing?”
Fletcher leaned in, kissed Gaven’s sweaty forehead, and said, “You have a problem Gaven. You’re addicted to porn.”
About the Author
Author Tour Stops:
|J. P. Barnaby||23-May|
|Jamie Lynn Miller||11-Sep|
As part of the countdown to GRL, one lucky commenter on the #TeamPrism Flash Fiction posts will win a $25 All Romance eBooks Gift card!
Contest ends 25 Oct 2014 at 11:59pm CDT. Must be 18 or old, void where prohibited.
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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