Vixenscratch

Corbin watches his brother undress with a peculiar mix of anticipation and contentment. While seeing Carson’s scars — accumulated over years of encounters just like this one — doesn’t excite him per se, they feel inviting, somehow. Like he’s left little pieces of himself behind as darker lines on the younger man’s skin. He reaches more »

Carson is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom-slash-living-area of his small apartment, back against the side of his bed, Princess Buttercup lounging on his lap and across his shoulders. When he sat down, it was to watch the latest episode of an ink reality show, but it’s long since ended and he’s at more »

The text message couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. Konah is “worried” about him again, which means they’re probably going to end up butting heads. Which means Roxeen will end up saying something that he’ll have to apologize for later. Sucking dick is a good excuse to avoid that confrontation altogether. It’s not more »

He told himself the sin was not his, as he followed a man with a wedding ring on his finger from the club where he’d ventured in awkward desperation. It was not he who had made a promise to God to remain faithful to another as long as they both should live. Surely, when the more »

“My name is James; I’m a friend of Mortimer’s.” A pause, not long enough for Judas to respond even if he could place that man just from a first name. “Grouse with a paunch, you, ah, met with him a couple of times.” Oh. Judas did remember Mortimer. The man had wined and dined him considerably more »

Things were no different than any other night, not perceptibly. Judas, as always, could use money or a free meal. The club, as always, had more than enough potential sources of either, if he wasn’t too picky about how he’d come by it. The same way as always; it was a calculated risk every time more »

Judas closed the textbook he’d been poring over when his phone rang, with barely a glance at the display – he wouldn’t recognize the number anyway – before pressing the button to take the call and lifting it to his ear. He was acutely aware of Ian bent over a sheaf of sheet music a more »

The blond lay, face-down, on the bed, chin pillowed on his lower arms. His hair, worn longer than that of most people he knew, was white, silky, and lying in a careless sprawl across the sheets and his pale, scar-lined back, and his eyes were half-lidded. The mattress dipped slightly as his partner lay down next more »

People don’t know me, they assume I’m some don’t-give-a-damn punk. It’s the hair, the piercings, and maybe a little bit the clothes. I don’t dress in ripped band shirts and jeans full of safety pins, but it is enough I have to change when I get to school. I don’t really mind; in high school more »

It was the sort of thing that happened. Not to him, oh no, it was most definitely not the sort of thing that happened to him. But to other people. It was the sort of thing that happened, now and again. No big deal. Not even the sort of thing one planned on — especially more »