Something Wicked This Way Comes

Friday, August 28, 2015


Welcome to the conclusion of Blowing Hot & Cold. I hope you enjoy the end up Don's story!


BLOWING HOT & COLD; By Tucker McCallahan:

“Wake up.”

Don heard the voice, and didn’t recognize it. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Eric, the blond HVAC guy, standing over him. Don shivered. It felt like he was lying in a meat locker. Troy appeared next to Eric.

“Cold enough for you?” Troy’s voice sounded funny, husky. Don blinked and realized it probably sounded that way because Eric’s hand was down the front of Troy’s shorts, slowly sliding up and down an obvious hard-on.

“Yeah,” Don said, sitting up. “It’s cold in here.”

As Don watched, Troy and Eric came together, their mouths open as their tongues tangled in a kiss hot enough to melt ice. Their bodies collided; bare chests meeting in a sensual press an instant before their hips connected. Troy’s hands found Eric’s ass, gripping and fondling. Eric mewled like a lovesick cat. He slung a well-muscled leg around Troy’s waist, grinding against him as the kiss deepened.  

Don was riveted. Watching two beautiful men make out in real life was hotter than any porn he owned. Warm lips hit his shoulder and his whole body jumped. Jesse knelt beside him.

“We’re all off the clock for an hour.” Jesse gave Don a searching look. “We could spend it here, with you …”

Don’s head spun. He had to be dreaming. Either that or he was on the most fucked up episode of Punk’d that MTV had ever filmed, and Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out of the closet at any minute. Don looked around but saw no sign this was a joke or a prank. Jesse just smiled, tugged his shirt over his head, and removed the silly SpongeBob Band-Aid he wore. Sure enough, two tiny gold rings pierced Jesse’s eyebrow. Don stifled a groan.

“Stay,” Don said. 

“Good.” Jesse leaned forward. His hand went straight to the bulge in Don’s shorts. “You are so my type …” 

Jesse’s fingers curled around Don’s dick, which responded in predictable fashion. It turned to steel. Jesse leaned in and brushed his lips along the soft skin of Don’s throat, his tongue darting out to taste and tease as he trailed the tip along Don’s jaw. Jesse’s mouth moved with deliberate intent to the edge of Don’s ear, teeth nipping the lobe.   

“Wanna fuck me, baby?” Jesse whispered.

“Like he’s gonna say no,” Troy said. 

With Jesse in his lap, Don had almost completely forgotten about the two HVAC guys. Eric was on his knees, his face buried in Troy’s unzipped shorts. Eyes closed and face beatific as he bobbed and sucked, Eric worshipped the dick in his mouth like it was a holy object. Jesse looked at Eric, then up at Troy, and finally back at Don, his face plaintive.

“Say yes?”

This time Don groaned out loud. He was positive his poor dick was going to explode if it didn’t split in two first. What he should do was throw all three of the men out of his house. Then he could masturbate furiously before texting his husband for a lunchtime chat.

Or he could get naked and turn his living room into the kind of scene he’d only ever witnessed in gay porn.

Don gazed at the rapturous looks on both Troy and Eric’s faces. Then he glanced at Jesse, who was still waiting for an answer. With a silent apology to Kyle for not including him in this, Don made his decision.


Jesse’s smile was like sunshine: bright, blinding, and warm. He sat up and started peeling out of his insanely sexy jeans.

“Break out condoms and lube, baby.  We’re wasting time.” Jesse hadn’t been wearing any underwear, and after kicking the jeans to the floor, he stretched out in front of Don gorgeously nude and hard.

Don ran for bedroom. He had to look at the date on the condoms to make sure they hadn’t expired; it had been that long since he and Kyle had made love. Anticipation curled in his stomach like a pit viper, spitting sparks of arousal upward that soaked into every part of his body like a delicious poison. The idea that he was doing something bad added an undeniable thrill. There was no way Don was letting this opportunity slip through his fingers.

No way in hell.

Don returned to the living room, shedding his clothes as he went. Jesse had sprawled out on the couch, one leg up over an arm. His dick was beautiful, ideal in length and width with a thin sheath of foreskin covering the head. The only thing more perfect was the sweet little star Don could see peeking out from between Jesse’s buttocks.

Don knelt beside Jesse and laid a chaste kiss on the inside of his upraised thigh. Squirting a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers, Don slid inside Jesse with ease. The heat and clasp of Jesse’s channel made Don shake and sweat. He bit his lip, eyes closing as he fought for calm. At this rate he would come before they even got to the sex.

Jesse whimpered. His foreskin rolled back as he got harder, the broad shiny head of his cock glistening in the afternoon sunlight. As Don’s fingers feathered over Jesse’s prostate, beads of clear fluid welled up out of his tiny slit like tears.

“Do it,” Jesse whispered. “Just do it!”

“You sure?”

“Please …”

Don stood up and walked around behind the couch. He reached down, grabbed Jesse’s slender legs, and hauled him ass first up over the back of the couch so that he hung head down, his legs up over Don’s shoulders.

“Oh my fucking God,” Jesse groaned as the blood rushed to his head.

“He ain’t fucking God, dude.” Troy, still on the receiving end of a blow job, laughed as he glanced at Don. “You’re really gonna fuck him like that? That’s insane.”

Jesse’s dick was so hard it lay up on his belly, pointing at his face, and it stayed that way as Don breached Jesse and slid all the way inside him. Don froze as Jesse’s body rippled and clenched around him. It was like a million elastic belts tightening around Don’s dick at once, and he prayed to God he wouldn’t trip.

“Eric, climb up next to dude there and sixty-nine with him while he’s getting fucked,” Troy said.

Eric obeyed Troy’s orders. Jesse’s dick jumped, bumping against Eric’s lips and leaving a smear of shiny liquid behind. Jesse cried out under Don, his body writhing. Eric growled and lunged, capturing Jesse and swallowing him whole. Jesse’s mouth dropped open as he cried out again, and Eric shoved his hard cock between Jesse’s pretty lips. They clamped shut and he sucked Eric strong and hard.

Troy moved up behind Don. As Don thrust in and out of Jesse’s unbelievable moist heat, Troy dropped light kisses along Don’s shoulders and upper back. Big hands roamed Don’s torso, fingernails scratching over nips and through the bit of hair in the center of Don’s chest. As Don moved faster Troy’s kisses got more aggressive, becoming licks, nibbles, and bites. 

Don’s head spun, tingles and chills racing over his skin. This was the single hottest thing he’d ever done. His eyes locked onto Eric’s mouth wrapped around Jesse’s dick, his face so close to where Don slammed down into Jesse’s body over and over again. Every time Don bottomed out, Jesse tightened around him. He was driving Don crazy.

Troy’s mouth moved lower and lower on Don’s back, meandering right and left, over his spine, along a love handle, across a kidney. Then Troy’s tongue swirled around and swabbed Don’s tailbone.

“Oh Christ! Don’t. I’ll come,” Don groaned.

It had been so long since Don had real sex, and Jesse felt incredible. Eric’s icy blue eyes swiveled up to stare at Don. The little fucker grinned around Jesse’s dick. The assault on his body and senses was just too much. Clenching his teeth, Don let the world spiral away. Pleasure rushed up like a warm blanket to cover and smother him as he came into the condom. 

Reality returned as Don caught his breath, his senses coming back online one at a time. He felt strangely disconnected. Then Troy licked him again. His hot wet tongue disappeared and Troy’s entire body pressed against Don’s back, his mouth by Don’s ear.

“Get rid of that condom. Your ass is mine.”

Don was covered in sweat, still tingly from his orgasm. He wasn’t sure he was up for another round. Then Troy’s big hands palmed and kneaded Don’s ass.

“You know you want me to eat you out.”

Don almost fainted. Kyle hadn’t rimmed or topped Don in over a year. Jesse and Eric had collapsed, boneless, on the couch; Don looked down at Jesse. 

“You good?” Don asked.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse breathed.

“You’re kidding, right?” Eric smirked. “He came twice.”

Jesse’s cheeks turned pink as the men chuckled. Don bent down and brushed his mouth over Jesse’s. Troy took advantage of Don’s position and gripped Don’s soft ass cheeks, spreading him wide. Before Don had even finished kissing Jesse, Troy’s tongue swiped over Don’s tight little hole.

“Oh sweet God!” Don arched his hips and shoved his ass back.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought.” Troy’s chuckle was low and evil. He wiped his chin, grabbed Don by the hips, and pulled him up into an embrace. “Come on.”

Don went without an argument. Troy motioned and Eric hopped off the sofa, following them to the center of the room.

“You know what to do,” Troy said. Eric nodded. “And you,” Troy tapped Don’s ass, “need to relax. You’re way too tense.”

Don was so surprised that he laughed. The last thing he considered himself was tense. Troy hauled him close, his sexy black chest fur rubbing against Don’s chest and his hard dick poking Don’s hip. Both men moaned. Don reached down and wrapped his fingers around Troy’s silky shaft, loving the weight of it in his hand.

Arms over Don’s shoulders, Troy applied gentle pressure until Don went down on his knees, then Troy turned and followed him down.  It was a little awkward being on the floor, and damn cold with the air conditioning on high, but when Troy’s tongue traced the upper curve of his ass, Don’s entire body flushed hotter than Hades.

“I like the sounds he makes,” Eric said.

“If you can talk, you’re not doing your job,” Troy snapped, his tongue scant inches from where Don wanted it most.

Eric slid under Don and quick as a snake strike, he swallowed Don’s semi-erect cock to the root. Don yelped and cursed. Troy spread Don wide again and teased the soft puckered flesh around his hole with the tip of his tongue. God … the sensation of it! That soft, wet heat slowly penetrating him as Troy worked his tongue past the tight ring of muscle …

“He’s hard again.” Eric’s hand circled Don’s thick cock. In one calculated motion, Eric slid Don’s cock into his mouth and down his throat.

Troy mumbled something Don didn’t hear before grabbing the lube. One long finger slid effortlessly deep and plunged in and out as Troy licked and sucked, his tongue spearing into Don like he was a condemned man’s last supper.

Nothing could feel better than what Troy and Eric were doing. Don blushed bright red as he heard the sounds he was making, rocking on his knees between the two men.

“You look so fucking hot.”

Don looked up to see Jesse, nude and beautiful, standing over him as he pulled and stroked a very nice erection. Don didn’t even think; he opened his mouth and accepted Jesse’s perfect dick. 

“Don’t bite him.”

It was the only warning Don got. The latex-covered tip of Troy’s cock replaced his mouth and pressed into Don’s open, well-rimmed hole. Eric’s sucking intensified, and Don bore down, pushing back to meet Troy as he tried to escape Eric’s mouth. He didn’t want to come yet, for Christ’s sake, and the boy had a mouth like a Dyson.

“Suck me, baby.” Jesse ran his fingers through Don’s hair. “God, you’ve got a hot fucking mouth.”

Don held on to Jesse’s hips as Troy slid balls deep. Troy wasted no time finding a rhythm, and Don got lost in the fuck. His body moved mindlessly, impaling itself on Troy, fucking Eric’s mouth, and sucking Jesse.

Jesse came first, pulling free of Don’s mouth with a gasping sigh. His first shot hit Don right across the throat, the heat of it like a whip’s lash. He caught the next spurt of salty sweet pleasure on his tongue, but the last few didn’t have the distance and fell to the floor.

Jesse’s orgasm triggered Don’s. Like a fire in the pit of his stomach, as soon as it got oxygen, it roared to life and consumed him. Don came so hard little black dots danced in his field of vision. Eric choked as Don spurted into his throat again and again.

Troy pulled free of Don’s body in a move that left him feeling empty. The condom hit the floor with a wet splat and another warm, fragrant load landed on the small of Don’s back.

The four men sat on the floor getting their breath back. The whole living room reeked of male sex. Don had the passing thought that he needed to clean the carpet and do something with the condoms. Then he wondered if Eric ever had an orgasm, and glanced over to see Troy kissing him, slow and deep, their entwined fingers running through a sticky puddle on Eric’s belly. So that was a yes.

“You guys want a shower?” Don stood up. Jesse eyed him. How had Don missed the curved barbell through Jesse’s navel? He was damn sexy.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Troy stood and pulled Eric up. “Then we gotta get back to the shop. We’re uh, gonna have to bill for extra time out here.”

Don laughed at the look on Jesse’s face. The insurance adjuster sighed. “Yeah … OK. Put it down to storm complications.”

“You got it.”

Don showed them to the bathroom and got them towels. When he got back to the living room, it was empty, no sign of Jesse anywhere. Don surveyed the mess he still had to clean up and saw a pink form on the antique buffet table. Jesse’s business card lay on top of it. He picked it up and flipped it over. Yep: a phone number in a pretty, loopy scrawl with, “In case you need anything!” written underneath it.

Losing that card wasn’t even an option.

Don tucked the card in his wallet. Just as he’d finished putting the room to rights, Troy and Eric emerged. Troy very professionally gave Don a receipt.

“Thirty day guarantee on parts and labor.” He smirked at Don. “I personally guarantee customer satisfaction.”

Don laughed, and shook Troy’s hand when he offered it. Once again Troy shook hands like it was some kind of naughty foreplay. He and Eric strode out into the early afternoon sun. Don shut the door behind them.

For several long seconds he leaned against the door with his eyes closed. Then he stood up and shook his head. His phone rang, with a glance at the display, he saw his husband was calling.


“Hi honey,” Kyle said. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” Don glanced down and wrinkled his nose. “I need a shower.”

“Didn’t you take one this morning?”


“Did Bryan or Chuck send anybody by?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“So we have A/C?”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Kyle laughed. “You’re in a weird mood.”

“You have no idea.”

“I bet I do.”

“You think?” Don couldn’t keep the skepticism from his voice.

“Uh huh. Bryan promised he’d send somebody special to service you, baby.”

“Uh…” Don blinked, surprise mingling with shock. Kyle… planned it all?

“So you had a good morning?”

 “Yeah,” Don murmured. “I have a story for you when you get home.”

“I can’t wait.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Donny. So, so much.”

Don ended the call, and with a smile, went to take another long, hot shower in the icy cold air conditioning.


Once again, thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Friday, August 21, 2015


Welcome back! I took a wonderful two months off and spent the time with my family. It was a well-deserved vacation. My son entered the fourth grade this past Wednesday; my daughter, though, graduated from high school this past June and moved out of the house to live on her own. So I am - officially - OLD AS DIRT.  

I'm participating in the NaNo Team Games this month. I've had quite a few personal and family things going on over the last six months that have interfered with my ability to write. The Games - since they are a team competition - seemed like a good way to inspire weekly writing and creativity without putting an undue burden on myself. The teams are arranged by region, so my team (Samurai's Word) is made up of writers from Northeastern Ohio.

The first event was a team story where we were given a 3000 word limit, a requirement of a complete plot (meaning a beginning, middle, and end to the story), and a second requirement that every member of our team (we have 9 total) had to contribute writing to the story. We wrote a Young Adult story about zombies that placed 6th out of 7 teams. Not very inspiring.

The second event provided 10 songs in a playlist. The team had to use at least 7 of them to craft a story of up to 5000 words, using the meaning of each song we chose as a plot point in the story. The team chose to use all 10 songs, and wrote a Women's Fiction story. I won't know how we placed in this event until 6PM today, but I'll try to update.

It's definitely been an interesting experience. For those of you who have never participated in team or group writing, I highly recommend you give it a shot. At least once. While it's maddening for those of us who outline and plot-plan to give up control to a group of other people, it's also very magical to see how a story can evolve in a completely unanticipated direction.  

All that out of the way... I decided to interrupt my series with a little gem that I wrote a while back for a friend, specific to this time of year. It's longer than flash so I have to cut it in two and will post the second (and sexier) half next week. But for now, enjoy the first part of Blowing Hot & Cold.


© Tucker McCallahan 2015


The day was a disaster. A freak summer hailstorm tore through the Burlington area of Vermont the night before and the house did not escape unscathed. None of the houses on Sawmill Road came away untouched, but their neighbors sharing in the misery didn’t make things any better. All Don knew as he picked somebody else’s shingles up out of the lawn at 4:30 in the morning was that he was crazy glad he and Kyle didn’t actually own this mess. 

The insurance adjuster was due to show up and take a look at the roof, the siding, the windows, and the central air unit. God only knew why it had decided to stop working. An HVAC crew was coming out to check it. Now that the storm had passed, the weather was hot, sticky, and horrible, close to ninety with a heat index off the charts and humidity so thick anybody walking out the front door damn near choked on the air.

Don tried to lie down before the adjuster and HVAC crew showed up, but it was hopeless. The house, including the basement, was sweltering. He couldn’t even enjoy being home alone. He was just resentful Kyle wasn’t able to stay home and help him today. He felt forsaken, desolate, forlorn even. 

Don felt abandoned.

At 8:30 he gave up and got in the shower. At least under the pounding spray he wasn’t sweating like a pig, and he could pretend there was nothing wrong with the house. Don closed his eyes and ran his soapy hands down his slightly rounded torso. He loved watching and reading porn about twink boys with rippling, washboard abs, but truth was truth, and the truth was the only six-pack Don ever got his hands on was when Heineken was on sale.

That was okay, though. Kyle never complained, and Don was happy, content in his own skin. One hand swept down and wrapped around his dick, tugging insistently as the other hand caressed and fondled his sac.

As was becoming disturbingly frequent, images of other men flickered behind Don’s eyes as his hand moved on the thick stalk of flesh between his thighs. Since Kyle’s surgery to correct a cracked tailbone a year ago, their sex life had become nonexistent. Don wanted to fuck, to bury his dick in a tight, hot ass, and his extensive collection of gay porn wasn’t cutting it anymore. He wanted the real deal, damn it; sweet little pierced nipples on a hairless chest, long arms roped with muscle, a nice hard dick, and a tight, hot hole just begging to be kissed, licked, and rammed full of his hard—

Don shuddered as he spurted, coming in soft waves with a gentle groan. He sighed, thinking about how much more he wanted and wasn’t getting as he finished washing up. That was the price of marriage, he supposed; for better or worse, in sickness and in health. When he stepped out of the shower, clean but just as depressed as when he’d gotten in, despite the orgasm, the oppressive heat hit him full force. Don groaned again. His whole body was immediately sweat-covered. He’d just showered, damn it!

“Oh Christ,” Don muttered. 

A knock at the door brought his head up with a jerk and he squinted toward the clock.


He wasn’t sure how exactly he lost track of time, or how the hot water managed to last through a forty-five minute shower, but it was a quarter after nine. Somebody was banging on his door. He hoped they hadn’t been out there since nine.

Don dashed around, grabbing clothes and hauling them on as he stumbled to the door and tried to rub a towel over his head and face at the same time. He opened the door.

“Hey, sorry about that I was—”

“Busy. That’s okay. Want us to come back later?”

Don’s head snapped up at the teasing tone. Two men stood in the doorway. Each wore khaki cargo pants and a white polo emblazoned with a patch that read Chuck’s Heating & Air Conditioning. Don’s mouth went dry and his cheeks flushed even pinker than they already were from the shower and the heat.

The man who spoke was gorgeous. He had thick black hair with tight curls waving through it that were just long enough for somebody to thread their fingers through and get a good strong grip. Little wisps of curling jet black hair peaked out from the bottom of his open, unbuttoned collar. Deep, warm, Mediterranean olive skin made it impossible to tell if he was naturally dark-complexioned or just amazingly tan, and perfectly shaped, black eyebrows arched over golden eyes that danced with mischief as he grinned at Don. 

The light to the darkness stood beside him, short, slim, and compact with a body that made Don immediately think of a Russian gymnast. Short blond hair capped icy blue eyes that traveled over Don, the house, and the interior without changing expression. He carried a toolbox nearly as big as he was, and his biceps and triceps bulged like he was powerlifting. He’d shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to show off some kind of tribal tattoo that encircled his upper arm.

A quick flick of Don’t eyes confirmed that both arms had the intricate tribal ink around them, and a fast and dirty fantasy of blond boy bent over a pommel horse almost incapacitated Don. He lowered the towel he held over his crotch to hide his rapidly expanding erection. 

“No! Uh, I don’t want you to go, I mean. It’s way too hot.” Don blushed even brighter when his brain caught up with the words that had just come out of his mouth.

“Yes, it’s definitely hot around here.” Mr. Dark grinned, shifted his clipboard, and offered a hand. “I’m Troy. This is Eric. We’re from Chuck’s Heating & Air Conditioning.”

Don stared blankly at the proffered hand, but then manners kicked in and he shook. Troy’s hand was warm, slightly damp, and his handshake was firm. Don knew he was not imagining things when the handshake lasted just a few seconds too long. Then Troy’s middle finger ran down Don’s palm in a gentle wisp of touch that sent tingles shooting straight down Don’s spine.

“The homeowner knows Chuck and Brian, huh?”

“Uh … I don’t know,” Don managed to choke out.

“You do live here, right?” Eric asked.

“Yes,” Don said, then added under his breath, “with my husband.”

“S’all good.” Troy gave Eric a reproving glance. “We got the order to come out and take a look at your ailing AC unit. Lightning hit it?”

Don was so grateful they were finally talking about something he could discuss without feeling tongue-tied or blushing. He slipped his shoes on and led the two men to the central air compressor.

“We’re not sure what happened. It was working fine, then suddenly, no cold air.”

“We’ll take a look at it. Brian said anything you needed, since you’re friends and all.”

Don nodded helplessly. Kyle had made all the arrangements; Don had no idea what they were talking about. But if they were willing to do anything he needed …

Another knock turned all three men toward the front of the house. 

“That’s probably the insurance adjuster,” Don said. 

“Don’t worry about us,” Troy said. “Take care of whatever you need to do, uh …”

“Don. My name’s Don.”

“Great. We’ll be right here, Don.”

Don speed-walked back to the door, hoping the insurance adjuster was either female, or possibly eighty-years-old, wrinkled, and bald. If any more hot men showed up to torment him in this heat he was going to wind up in the hospital.

Rounding the side of the house, Don got the picture from the back first. The ass did him in on sight. Nobody should have an ass that begs to be grabbed and squeezed like fresh produce, but the man at his door—in ripped, faded, low-slung jeans and a T-shirt bearing the name of the insurance company—had just such an ass. He turned, and Don almost ran shrieking for the trees. Really, how much was one guy supposed to take?

The bleached blond streaks in his brown hair were what Don saw next, then the SpongeBob Band-Aid that obviously covered a piercing in his eyebrow. The sultry brown eyes under SpongeBob drew Don like magnets and he had a terrible time pulling his eyes anywhere else. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass defined an elfin face, and the man smiled lazily.

“Hey! 76 Sawmill Road, right?”

Don nodded dumbly, unable to get any words off his tongue, which seemed far too big for his mouth.

“I know. It’s the jeans, right? We dress down for storm and disaster assessments now. After Katrina a lot of the national rules changed.” He offered Don his hand to shake. “Jesse Cynco.” Don shook, and hoped to God Jesse didn’t notice the slight tremor in his hand. “Unless you have questions, let’s get started. I’m sure you have all kinds of things you’d rather be doing than walking me around your house.”

Oh yes, Don thought. All kinds of things, none of which were permissible and several of which might be illegal. But he kept his thoughts to himself and dutifully showed Jesse the damaged areas of the house he shared with his husband Kyle, who he loved very much. Continual reminders of his marriage were a good idea, Don decided, particularly when they got back to the central air unit. Troy and Eric had unzipped the legs from their trousers so that both wore shorts now. They were also bare-chested, having ditched their polos.

The glistening chests of the two men made Don clutch the towel he’d never put down a little tighter. Maybe the hailstorm was a blessing in disguise. If he could just snake a few pictures of this bonanza, he’d have jerk-off material to last a week.

OK … a couple days.

“Chuck’s? You must know somebody.” Jesse made a note on his iPad. “They’re good … and expensive,” he added, his voice low.

“I heard that, Mr. Insurance,” Troy said, a wrench in his hand. “FYI, this ain’t a big deal repair. Storm knocked out a relay circuit. Once we replace it, we’ll crank this baby to Antarctic and see how fast we can chill it down inside. Don, you got beer? Maybe we’ll just take five and wait to see how well it works.”

They all laughed. Jesse made more notes. “That’s not a bad idea. The test on the system, of course. Not encroaching on Mr. Douglas’s hospitality.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” Don said quickly. “I’m not doing anything else today. You should stay for lunch.”

Oh God he sounded like a desperate idiot.

“But I’m sure you have other jobs to go to,” Don mumbled, and took off with his head down. He had to find a place to hide from all these beautiful men.

Back inside, Don fought the prickle of tears in his eyes. What kind of numbskull was he? They were working! They weren’t friends stopping by to hang out. And why would they want to hang out with him anyway? God, he was such a fool. He just wanted them all gone, now, immediately. He wanted Kyle home with him, Kyle to hold him and make him feel better, Kyle to tell him how much he loved him.

Knowing he would have to face at least one of them again, Don took a deep breath and let it out. He dropped the towel—now totally unnecessary because he was so far from turned on it wasn’t even funny—in the bathroom. God it was fucking hot! He went into the kitchen and got a drink along with two ibuprophen. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the situation, but his head was pounding.

Swallowing the pills, he heard Jesse call to him from the front of the house.

“I need to get up on the roof. Troy and Eric are going to let me use their ladder. They’re turning the AC on now. We’re going to wait and see if it works before we close up the AC work file. All that copasetic?”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Don flopped down on the couch and put an arm over his eyes. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d all be gone when he woke up.

I hope you enjoyed the first part of Blowing Hot & Cold! The (x-rated) conclusion will post next week!

Once again, thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Be Sure To Check Out The Other Stories:

Follow all your favorites and read the first 100 words on the group’s website: 

Monday, June 15, 2015


Thanks for joining me for another installment of my new story, Birth Day. I hope you enjoy it.


BIRTH DAY #6; by Tucker McCallahan:

My bare feet pounded down the cold floor of the hallway. Palon’s lush lime scent wafted up from the rear stairwell. One second I was dashing down the main chute of our Emergency Department, and the next I crashed into the rear stairwell door, some one hundred twenty feet distant. I hit the door so hard the handle smashed into the wall and lodged itself in the plaster. I leapt into the stairwell, eyes darting around and nostrils flaring.

Glancing back at the reinforced steel fire door and its mangled handle wedged into the wall, I frowned. Before I could ponder how I’d managed any of what I’d just done, Palon’s scent hit me like a combination punch: one to the gut, one to the head. I whirled around with stars spinning across my field of vision and one hand grabbed for the stair railing. Before I even had time to think, I vaulted over the rail.

It was fifty feet to the bottom of the second sub-basement.

As I fell through empty air, I braced for impact and pain, but neither happened. When I opened my eyes I stood on the floor at the base of the stairs. I glanced up at the stairwell stretching multiple floors above me.

I knew the grin on my face was unbecoming a dignified Chief of Surgery, but damn. Just damn.

I could get used to this.

A blast of cool air from the building’s ventilation system carried a strong waft of that telltale lime aroma. I focused down the main corridor. He was in the generator room. For the third time, I moved from one place to another as if the intervening space didn’t exist. I was about to open the door and paused, my hand hovering over the handle.

The generator room was huge. It took up most of this floor. We didn’t use the main machine; we couldn’t. No utility company existed to pump natural gas into our pipes. The emergency generator was powered by an NF battery, and could be run directly off electricity. I knew this room well because of that – I’d been in here repeatedly since the Rising.

Plenty of places for somebody to hide in there.

“When his master or mistress comes to reclaim him, and make no mistake, his owner will come for him, the least of outcomes will be his removal from your custody.”

I heard my Sire’s voice as clearly as if he stood behind me, his lips to me ear, his words laced with the peculiar lilt of his Chinean accent.

Rage consumed me, the heat of it boiling away any fear I might’ve felt. I threw the door open and stormed inside. The huge open room was dark. With no stealth of any sort, I stomped in, grabbed the nearest chair, and slammed it under the door knob of the heavy door, wedging it ajar.

“Palon!” I roared. “Palon, it’s Van!”

Nothing. I listened, straining to hear anything over the continual hum of the smaller generator. My mind separated out the unique sounds: generator’s hum, rushing air, a squeaking fan belt. When I was on the verge of giving up, I finally heard it.

The echoing cacophony masked an odd, soft snoring. Drenched in relief, I took a tremendous breath of my own and headed into the maze of equipment, cords, and cables to find my young friend. 

Hank and I had coiled the extra cable off to the side of the emergency generator. Palon was curled up asleep in the center of the largest mound of cable. He lay in a big black nest of the stuff, and the odd quality of his snores was because he’d fallen asleep sucking his thumb. All of my aggression and panic drained away as I gazed at his thin face, his perfect lips lax around his thumb like an infant who had soothed itself to sleep.

I approached and laid a gentle hand on his elbow, squeezing slightly as I shook him.

“Palon? Wake up.”

His pale eyelids fluttered and he gazed up at me, his eyes as blue and clear as any summer sky. My heart contracted painfully. He sat up, stretching like a cat who’d been sleeping in the sun.             

“What in the world are you doing down here?”

“You never came back.”

He said it so simply, as if that explained everything. I frowned and shook my head.

“I got sick, Palon. I was in another part of the building.”

“I thought Yaz found you and took you.”

I leaned down and helped Palon rise. My hands wrapped around his ankle and slid up each leg. By the time he’d stood, I’d done a full physical assessment to assure he was all right.

Old habits die hard.

I indulged the desire and pulled his slight form against my taller body, hugging him tight. That was all the encouragement Palon needed; he clung to me. My fingers tangled in his mop of wavy white hair.

“Who’s Yaz?” I whispered, petting Palon’s head.

“He’s…” Palon clutched me so tightly it hurt. “He’s who I was running from.”

“Come on.” I lifted him free of the floor and headed for the propped open door. “We need to talk.”


The others found us in the stairwell. Palon was walking on his own by that point, holding my hand and following me up the stairs.

“Chief!” Rosy slid to a stop on the landing above me and holstered the two Glocks he’d been carrying. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I’m fine.” I held a hand up to the others to stop them from rushing down at us. Palon was already cowering behind me. “Everybody, this is Palon.”

“How the hell did he get past Hank?” Everett Rosemond, Rosy to his friends, had been an oncologist before the Rising. Now his hobby as a gun enthusiast made him the perfect person to handle building and grounds security for us.

“He didn’t.” I motioned for everybody to climb the stairs. “He got past you when I stumbled in here a couple days ago.”

Rosy blinked, his mouth dropping open, but I interrupted him before he could say anything. “We have a lot to talk about. Palon and I need a shower first; he was sleeping by the generator and I’m covered in dried fever sweat. ”

“Why don’t we meet up in the triage room in thirty minutes?” Trish looked a little better. She wasn’t sporting the Lithium “moon face” anymore. I silently reminded myself to check her stitches after the meeting.

As the group headed toward the Emergency Department, I turned Palon back toward my room. Rosy reached out and grasped my shoulder.



“You want any security outside your door while you clean up?” Rosy met my eyes and then he glanced down at Palon, a mixture of curiosity and distrust clear on his face.

I drew Palon out from behind me and tucked him under my arm. He wrapped his thin arms around me and clung tighter than Velcro. I stared at Rosy until his eyes rose and found mine again.

“Palon and I don’t need anything else. Thanks, Rosy.”

I led my beautiful boy to my room and another hot shower, deliberately ignoring Rosy as his hot stare burned our backs.  


Thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Be Sure To Check Out The Other Stories:

Follow all your favorites and read the first 100 words on the group’s website: 

Be Well ~ Tux

Friday, May 22, 2015


Summer's finally here! I have several projects going on this summer that I haven't been involved in before, including the NaNo Games. Hopefully I'll remember to blog about it all. In the meantime, enjoy the latest episode of Birth Day.


BIRTH DAY #5; by Tucker McCallahan:

Flashes of memory from my encounter in the woods played on the inside of my eyelids as fire raged through my blood vessels and surrounded my organs. Sweat poured off me in thin rivulets. For the first time in my life, I wished I was able to trust blindly, to believe without evidence. Despite my desire to protect Palon, I hadn’t been able to suspend a lifetime of disbelief.

My conversion-my awakening-had come at a price.

I burned.

As I hung somewhere between human and dragon, created and Altered, my brain would not turn off. Lists of symptoms formed in my head only to be discarded and dismissed when new agonies assaulted me minutes later. Just when the pain reached the bone-melting point, something in my mind cracked wide open. It was as if my senses all possessed new volume dials. Instead of being able to adjust from one to ten, now the world could be fine-tuned from one to a million.

Every piece of medical knowledge, every theory, journal article, experimental notes, or bit of advice that I’d accumulated over the course of my entire career came into focus, sharpened to fine detail, and was properly catalogued in my mind. Joy and a fierce altruism struck me like bolts of lightning, and then the fire hit its flash point. With a scream I’m sure they heard in Old Philly, a darkness filled with fire-breathing dragons, gleaming scales, and razor-sharp teeth swallowed me whole.


I woke up in one of the ER beds.

All of my senses came back online at once and I sat up.


I turned and jerked at the sight of the woman sitting beside my bed. Dr. Kalyani Rao was a board-certified anesthesiologist. When the hospital had been a real hospital she’d been the Director of our Pain Management Clinic. I’d always thought she was handsome woman. My new eyes saw the perfection of her smooth caramel complexion and the luster of her black hair. Her delicate black eyelashes wrapped her eyes like layers of thick lace. For a moment all I could do was stare at her, because I was gay, and I’d never looked at a woman this way.

I’d certainly never looked at Dr. Rao this way.

She was returning my scrutiny, but a frown marred her beauty. She whipped the penlight from her pocket and checked my pupillary dilation.

“Relax, Kalyani. I don’t have a concussion or any intracranial bleeding.”

“You’ve been in a chemically-induced coma.” She tucked the light back into her pocket next to a pen and withdrew a syringe full of clear liquid, which she held up before me. “And I haven’t given you anything that would bring you out of it. You shouldn’t be awake, Chief.”

Her eyes held such compassion and concern. I’d already done a complete self-physical and pronounced myself fit and healthy, though. For the first time I understood how the Altered who were brought to us by their frightened families must’ve felt.

“Some of the drugs we’re using have expired. That, combined with the fever I know I had-”

“One hundred four. Do you have any idea what you were infected with? Hank and Jake couldn’t culture anything.”

I nodded. That meant they hadn’t given me any antibiotics. Our resources were too precious and scarce. Gone were the days of using shotguns to kill flies. We only treated something if we were sure we could kill it.

“I don’t have anything communicable. We all need to meet though. I assume somebody checked my room?”

“Of course.”

“Where’s Palon?”


“Palon. The boy I brought back from Old Philly.”

Kalyani stood, her dark eyes shadowed. “I’ll call everybody to your room here for a short meeting.”

“Why are you ignoring my question? Did you let him leave?” Panic struck at that thought. “When?”

“Chief, you stumbled back across our border from your trip with evidence you’d caught flash from the burn. Rosy found you while he was walking the perimeter and you’ve been here ever since.”

Confusion, apprehension, and not a little bit of fear seized my heart.


“Lie back. Your blood pressure is shooting up.”

I hadn’t even heard the sound of the monitor going off. I laid back in the bed, dazed and feeling completely sideways. Was I losing it? What was going on? The notion that this was all planned to cover the dragon’s tracks slipped through my mind. That was followed by the conclusion that madness seeking to justify and ground its existence in reality was a really special kind of crazy.

I’d always been lucky.

My next thought, and it strengthened into a full foregone conclusion immediately, was that not even my imagination could create Palon. He was too innocent, too perfect, and too pure, which meant he’d either been claimed by his previous master in the absence of my protection, or he’d run when he woke up and I wasn’t with him.

The ache in my chest was so awful I rubbed the heel of my hand over my sternum. Regardless of what had happened, I’d find Palon and make sure he was free. I had no right to claim him, but by all that was still holy, no demon that had crawled out of some Chinean gate was going to use him. I laid back in my bed and gazed at Kalyani.

“Get everyone in here. I need to talk to them.”

“Of course. Take some deep breaths. Slow your heart rate down some.”

I nodded. She rose and left the room at her usual brisk pace. I concentrated on taking lonat g, slow, deep breaths. I drew air in through my nose as I counted off ten seconds, and then blew it out, making my exhalation last just as long.

On the second cycle, I caught Palon’s scent.

He was still in the hospital.

Every part of my body came alive, including my cock, which stood up and saluted. I climbed out of bed, stopping long enough to stretch a bit and find what clothes I had left here. I tugged them on, and dashed out the door, following my nose.


Thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Be Sure To Check Out The Other Stories:

Follow all your favorites and read the first 100 words on the group’s website: 

Be Well ~ Tux