Friday, January 29, 2016


Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday! I chose to continue last week's flash; I hope you enjoy the conclusion! This week's pictures are the inspirational artwork for my two characters, Shawn and Connor.

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WE CAN CALL IT PARADISE, PART 2; by Tucker McCallahan:

The hotel was not posh.

It wasn't even technically a hotel. The sign advertised it as an inn, whatever that meant. It was one step up from those shitty motels where you park in front of your door, meaning this place had interior hallways. But that was about the only difference.

The room had two double beds, both mussed as if they'd been slept in, and given the state of the room, they probably had. Shawn shrugged his leather jacket off and surprised me by taking the time to hang it up in the twelve-inch space they called a closet. I bent, untied my boots, and kicked them off by the wall, making a mental note not to put my socks back into my boots after walking on the carpet.

Shawn was between the beds, fiddling with his phone. Within seconds, we had music. Disturbed's "The Vengeful One" filled the room and Shawn straightened up, turning to me.

"Too much?"

I shook my head. I didn't give a flying fuck what he played. The only music I was interested in was the symphony of moans and whimpers I intended to conduct over his naked body. I stripped my shirt off and went to him.

Shawn was a little taller than I was without my boots, but it made no difference. I wrapped one hand around his nape and drew him down, mouth hungry for more of what I'd tasted outside the bar. He melted against me, soft and strong at the same time. His mouth was still sweet from those frou-frou shots, and for some reason that made me harder than granite.

His hands went straight to my belt. I stopped him only long enough to get him out of his shirt. Tattoos, some complete and some not, spread across his chest and shoulders. My eyes locked onto two words prominently inked between his nips: PROMISES KEPT. I smirked. Shawn noticed and licked his lips.

"Like that?" Shawn tugged my zipper down. "Guy in NYC did those."

"It's a good motto."

Shawn's gaze roamed over me in the low light of the lone lamp.

"No ink?"


Smirk still firmly in place, I slowly turned around, dropping my jeans and boxers as I went. My bud Kyle had finished up his apprenticeship about five years earlier, and he'd done the work that stretched from the back of my neck to my tailbone. I stripped down pretty regularly to show it off, and Kyle had pics up of it on the internet. Shawn's soft gasp made me clench inside, and that had never happened before.

I finished my three-sixty and found Shawn staring at me like a starved man. His eyes flicked down to my erection and back to my face. I loved how desperate he looked, how needy.

"Strip." My voice was raspy with lust. The longer I stared at him the more I wanted him. Shawn's pants, belt, and wallet hit the floor with a soft whuff. His knees hit the floor exactly one second later.

His pretty face nuzzled my groin. Those bitable lips trailed up one side of my hard dick just before his hot tongue licked the tip. Fuck he was perfect.

His hand wrapped around my base. Liquid fire enveloped my cock as he swallowed me, and I groaned. He sucked dick like he loved it. The world spun as his mouth slid up and down. His lips were silky and his tongue…he was driving me crazy.

"Slow down," I panted.

A cocky grin spread across Shawn's face as he stood.

"Why? I liked you all hot and angry." Shawn leaned in and bit my left nip. I yanked him against me, our erections jousting between us. His big dark eyes locked onto my face. "I like you hard and horny even better."

"My opinion of you has greatly improved over the last thirty minutes."

He chuckled and then my hand trapped our hard dicks. As I stared into his face, those lush lips parted and his eyelashes fluttered closed. I stroked us nice and slow. Shawn moaned and I took his mouth again, tongue sliding over his in a wet tease. He writhed and wiggled, the fingers of his right hand clutching my hip in a death grip.

I maneuvered us to one of the beds and was about to toss him down when he wrenched away from the kiss.

"Other bed. Nick would rip my balls off if I fucked on his bed."

My eyebrows went up, but I let him turn us around and took the one step necessary to get to the other bed. He pulled the drawer out on the nightstand and set a bottle of lube beside his phone. He offered me a condom.

"Do I need that?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not gonna let you do me bare."

"Just what do you think I'm gonna do?"

"Fuck me into oblivion. I hope." Shawn's dark eyes narrowed. "Aw hell. Don't tell me you're a bottom…"

"Definitely not." I took the condom and tossed it on the nightstand beside the lube. "But I don't usually bang guys on the first date." I crowded him against the bed until he sat down.

"What date?" He snorted. "We didn't go on a date."

I slowly climbed onto the bed right on top of him, forcing him down. His big eyes widened even further and that sexy little gasp came out of his mouth again. Damn I liked that sound.

"Sure we did. I came to see your show, and you met me for drinks afterward." I gazed down at him and dipped my head to kiss him again, rubbing against him in a slow undulation. He whimpered, and it was almost as good as his gasp.

"I suppose that part where you told me I sucked and you wanted your money back was just my imagination?"

"Mmm, musta been."

"Oh my God." Shawn shivered under me as I ran my tongue along his collarbone. I dipped lower and nibbled at one of his sweet little nips. "Don't stop."

"Don't have to worry about that." I licked lazily down his breastbone and went to the other nip. He thrust up against me, whining like a neglected puppy. I snickered and kissed his chest. "Roll over."

Anal sex wasn't usually my thing, especially with one-night stands, but Shawn was a temptation I couldn't resist. He flipped onto his belly. One look at his ass and any doubts I had flew right out the window.

"Spread your legs. Nah, as wide as they go. I want your feet hanging off the sides of the bed."

I couldn't tell if my demand embarrassed him or not, and I didn't really care. He looked fucking delicious facedown and spread-eagled. I palmed the lube and flicked it open. The noises that boy made as I got him ready were the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard, a million times better than his singing.

His howl as I pushed inside him made every hair on my body stand on end.

"Oh Jesus. Fuck me. Oh God. Oh shit. Harder. Fucking tear me up." His mouth ran like a porno soundtrack; prayers, curses, and pure filth flowed out in a continuous stream of babble. It turned me on. I laid over his back, arms looped under his so I could pull him down onto my dick as I thrust into him.

His whines and whimpers turned into passionate cries and growls as his dick rubbed against the sheets. And that mouth… Holy shit he only got louder and more explicit. I bit my lip. Sinking into his body was perfection: soft and yielding, yet tight and hot. I tried to make it last, but I couldn't stave off the rush of pleasure. It swallowed me whole and I collapsed against his back, my teeth in his shoulder as my balls tried to climb out of my body by way of my cock.

We laid there through a couple of songs before he wiggled under me.

"As awesome as that was, I'm sticky and you're heavy."

"Sorry." I crawled off him and let him roll over. He'd come pretty impressively and the sheets were a mess. I chuckled. "I almost feel bad about you laying in that."

The look he gave me turned my chuckle into full-out laughter.

"No you don't." He stretched and grinned at me.

Awkwardness quickly consumed me, the itch to get my ass out of there crawling across my skin. His grin fell away and he sat up.

"Feel free to use the shower if you want."

"Nah. Thanks though." I bent over and retrieved my shorts and jeans. "I should take off before your friends get back."

"Yeah, sure."

"You guys playing anymore shows around here?"

"We're stuck here until our guitarist gets out of the hospital."


"Our guitarist got hit by a truck yesterday out in the hotel parking lot. Bust leg, busted ribs, concussion." Shawn shrugged. "He's fucking lucky to be alive."

"So who played at the show earlier?"

"Some guy off Craigslist. We were stuck. Club wouldn't let us cancel so we threw an ad up and that's the guy who answered it." He shook his head. "I'm sure you weren't the only person pissed off."

I pulled my shirt over my head and ran my hands through my hair to smooth it down before sitting back down on the bed beside Shawn.

"Not so pissed anymore," I murmured, and kissed him again. He made little happy sounds against my mouth and damn if I didn't feel my dick stir in appreciation. "How long you gonna be around?"

He laid his head on my shoulder. "Could be a week or more."

"Gimme your phone."

Dutifully he turned the music off and handed me the phone. I stood up and pulled my boots on; clean socks didn't seem to matter as much now. I sent myself a text, and pitched the device back to him.

"If you want company, text me."

"Maybe I will."

My eyes zeroed in on the huge, sticky mess in the center of his bed. The grin that split my face hurt it was so wide.

"You will."

I left to the sound of him pulling the sheets off the bed. As I walked back toward the bar and my car, my phone went off with a new text.

I want company.

What the hell. I turned around.

The End  

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