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Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

Josh Lanyon

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Josh Lanyon
Mouths
Tested
Molding
Lips
Soft
Parted
Mines
Hot
Jake
Mine
Mouth
Seal
Sweet
Familiar
Harbor
Inside
Tongue
Seals
Startlingly
Found
Findings
Harbors
Achingly
Like
Finding
Pushed
Tentatively

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I thought I recognized you. Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
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You don't look so hot, Adrien. Yeah, well I'm having a bad heart day. His upper lip curled in a semblance of a smile. Tell me about it.
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I know you've all heard the advice, Show, don't tell. The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.
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You're kind of a smart ass when you're not flat on your face.
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Focus on someone else’s problems for a change, I instructed myself. You need the practice. From now on you’ll have to live in a world you didn’t make up. Horrible thought.
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I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.
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He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.
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I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?
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The only thing worse than opera is someone who hums along with opera.
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Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, He writes murder mysteries.
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...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.
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I dug out the powder blue cashmere cardigan my mother Lisa gave me the Christmas before last, pulled on my oldest, softest Levi’s. Comfort clothes the next best thing to a hug from a warm, living body. Lately there had been a shortage of hugs in my life. Lately there had been a shortage of warm, living bodies.
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I love you, Jake whispered. Are you strong enough for this? I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, Sure. Would you tell me if you weren't? I grinned. Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide. That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.
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And I thought maybe I didn't need to worry about my heart anymore because it had stopped beating a couple of seconds earlier, and I was still sitting there living and breathing-though admittedly I wasn't feeling much of anything.
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The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.
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He needed fresh air and sunshine. A walk in the woods and afterward a good book to read by the fire. Yeah, that was the life.
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