by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish
Extracted from the online soap Haven Falls
created by Remmy Duchene, erotic author of gay interracial erotica.
Characters and their contributing authors
in order of appearance
Miles Sutherland - A.B. Gayle
Flynn Archer - Andrea Speed
Aiden Parker - J.J Levesque
Carter (Gil) Gillespie - Jessie Blackwood
Lyle Ashley Tate - Katisha Moreish
with
Henry Vale – Andrea Speed
Asher Rose - Remmy Duchene
Evan Owen - R J Scott
Lance Peabody - Jon Treadway
Angel Torres - Tessa Cárdenas
Savannah Jensen - J.J. Levesque
Christopher Melky – Lee Owens
Jason Biggs – Lee Owens
Haven Falls #5 – Life after Darren
Miles Sutherland
______________________________
Crap. His mouth felt as dry as a dead dingo’s donger. How many beers had he drunk last night just to achieve his obligatory oblivion?
Miles Sutherland rolled out of bed, wincing as he stood upright. In the dark, he managed to bump against: the corner of the nightstand – sharp, the edge of the doorway – hard, and the ceramic sink – cold, before he gained blessed relief, pissing into the toilet. It would have helped if he’d turned on the overhead light and opened his eyes, but he wasn’t going down that route until he’d taken two Demerol. Anyway, if he saw what he was pissing he might find blood there again, and that would not be good.
He scratched his balls as he shook his cock. What time was he expected at the hospital this morning? Whatever time it was would be too early.
Last night he’d been called in to stitch a cut some cowboy had received trying to open a bottle of beer. Brute strength, a faulty bottle and desperation for alcohol had resulted in an inch long gash when he managed to screw the neck right off. Sewing up sliced fingers and tending injuries from over-zealous hip-hop dancing at the youth centre had been the highlights of his job to date.
Had he been drunk when he signed on to come to Haven Falls? He should have gone home, back to Australia or maybe even rejoined Medecins sans Frontiers after Darren died, not stayed in the States even though he had the necessary work permits.
Wow, he must have been awake, what – ten minutes this morning before he thought of Darren. That must be some sort of record. Usually it was the first thing he thought of every day. Missing the warmth beside him, the touch, the feel of him.
Screwing his eyes shut, Miles turned on the bathroom light. When he felt brave enough, he opened them. Double crap. He screwed them shut again as pain threatened to make his forehead explode. He reached for the empty tumbler he kept near the sink and filled it to the brim. Water might help the dehydration, but it was the last thing he felt like. Unfortunately hair of the dog didn’t cut it anymore. Maybe his liver was cracking up from too much abuse.
He opened his eyes again. Big mistake. In the mirror it looked like the dude from Castaway had come to visit. All he needed was the volley ball tucked under one arm to complete the scene. Mind you, he’d need one of those distorting mirrors at Luna Park to make him look like a starving Tom Hanks.
What would Darren say if he could see him now?
In a way, his packing on the weight from too much drinking and take-out food had been a knee jerk reaction to the memory of Darren’s last days - the once strong, handsome man fading to the weak, helpless skeleton he’d become at the end.
They say only the good die young. Darren had proved that one correct. Probably up there fucking some of the angels right now, if he knew him. The ones with the bronzed, lithe bodies and the tight blond curls. Miles smiled at a sudden memory. One year when they’d taken some R&R and visited Sydney during Mardi Gras, he’d had to physically restrain Darren from rushing off after some of the glitter-covered beauties in full feather regalia they’d seen at the parade.
Why did it have to be Darren who’d been infected by HIV? Heck, his years in Africa, tending to the multitude of cases there should have made him the prime candidate, given the prevalence of the disease in the shanty towns where he’d been working. But every test turned up negative.
Miles chuckled to himself as he wandered into the kitchen to have the first of his many dates with strong, black Java. What would the residents of Haven Falls say if they knew their doctor had spent the last nine years shacked up with a guy who was HIV positive? They’d taken all necessary precautions during sex, but the stigma would still stick. It had been so long since he’d had sex without rubbers and plastic film that he’d almost forgotten what it was like. That glorious uninhibited sex where the cock ruled the head. The touch, the sensation of skin on skin. The friction, the feeling. What difference would it make anyway? None of the guys here would look at him twice. Too old, too fat, too hairy.
From what his RN, Millie Broadbent, told him, a lot of the residents were gay. Being a veritable vacuum cleaner when it came to gossip, she’d have her facts correct. He’d seen a few hot hunks when he’d been out drinking, but no-one had as much as given him a sideways glance. He couldn’t blame them. If he hadn’t been dressed so well, they’d have probably kicked him out on the street, thinking he was a newly arrived vagrant in town.
He really should visit the barber and make himself look presentable. It was a wonder the hospital board had given him the job in the first place, but apparently they’d been desperate.
As soon as the caffeine and drugs kicked in, Miles headed back to the bedroom. Sorting through the messy pile of discarded clothing on the floor - another job he’d neglected after the years of looking after Darren - he finally found a pair of jeans that he could still do up.
Looks like he’d need to get back into training. It’s a pity they didn’t have a rugby team here. With his weight he’d be able to pack a mean tight head in the scrum. Only problem is he’d fall flat on his face as soon as they broke away and he had to run.
Sighing, he dropped the jeans back on the pile and reached for a pair of sweats. If he wanted to lose weight, he better start jogging now.
Haven Falls #7: Damnatio Memoriae
Flynn Archer
___________________________
Flynn took a look at himself in the mirror, and wondered yet again how you dressed to apply for a bouncer job. His first thought - oodles of black leather and spikes - was probably more appropriate for a leather bar. He wanted to seem tough, but not an insecure idiot playing dress up. He wasn’t any of those things, but maybe he should come across that way. What would be more intriguing to an employer: capable but dull muscle head or slightly nervous kid eager for a job? It would depend on the employer. He’d have to improvise. Luckily, he was good at that.
He’d gone with a simple, basic outfit of black jeans, Doc Martens, and a sleeveless shirt tight enough to show off all the sculpted muscles in his torso and upper arms. He’d worked hard enough to get them, and they were the key to cementing this job. A black leather jacket completed the effect.
This was still a bit of a problem though. Who was Flynn Archer?
He hadn’t decided yet. He just went with random good time boy, but then he got here and wondered if that was just too generic. He spent an hour at the beach, observing, and saw a lot of hot guys in skimpy trunks, a lot of party boys. If he wanted to stand out, he might have to adopt another persona.
He frowned at himself in the mirror as he fussed with his hair one more time. He didn’t want to look too made up, too desperate, but where was the line? There were so many lines: fitting in without try too obviously to be incognito; being different enough to seem genuine, but not enough t
o stand out too much. Maybe the real problem was he’d been pretending so long he wasn’t sure who he really was anymore.
Flynn went to the window and looked out at the scenery. It was mostly the street, but between buildings he caught a glimpse of the sea. He didn’t know what to expect from Haven Falls, but he was surprised by how pretty most of it genuinely was (the same went for the men). He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
He picked up the old hardcover book that sat on his dresser drawer. It was a battered old used book store copy of Marcel Proust’s “Remembrance of Things Past”. It was a dense book, and honestly he wasn’t able to get past the first two pages, but he found it to be an excellent hiding place. Whoever picked up an old hardcover of Proust, even when trashing a room?
Wedged inside, he found the photograph. The pictured time stamped the afternoon of the day before his mother’s murder, showed her standing on a street corner talking to his father and a mystery man. He had already been able to confirm that they were standing on Alberen Street, right here in Haven Falls. But he hadn’t been able to identify the mystery man yet, and if his father was in town, it wasn’t under his real name. But if he was here, he’d find him.
The lying bastard. Could he have really killed his mother? Why? And who sent him the photo in the first place? It may have included a note advising him to ‘Keep running’, but when they wrote Haven Falls on the picture, they had to know it would bring him straight here. He had considered the fact that this could be a trap, but how could he not come? Even if it was a trap, who set it and why? He had to know, even if it destroyed him.
Hadn’t Jesse always accused him of being self-destructive? He would be pleased to know he was right … wherever he was now. Last he heard, Jesse had gone into porn and was kindling an impressive meth habit, trying to self-destruct in a more self-possessed, spectacular manner than Flynn ever could.
“My people,” he muttered, smiling sourly to himself.
He watched as a guy on the sidewalk down below jogged past, laboring in the surprising early morning heat. He stopped to put his hands on his knees and pant for breath, his t-shirt sticking to the sweat on his back, and Flynn smirked down at him. If he ever got that out of shape, he hoped someone would shoot him. Of course, it was probably wishful thinking to assume he’d live that long.
He was turning away from the window for a last hair check when he spied someone across the street out of the corner of his eye. Just a man coming out of a small mom and pop hardware store, the kind he didn’t think existed anymore thanks to the global hegemony of Home Depot. But something set off an alarm bell in his mind, and he turned back, just in time to catch his profile as he walked down the street. He snatched the photograph from the book, and quickly held it up to the window. The hair cut and color were different, but there was no mistaking the prominent nose or rugged chin.
That was the mystery man.
He raced out of his apartment, running down the flight of stairs and almost tripping in his haste to get outside. There was no one in the lobby, so he was spared anyone seeing him behave like a clumsy idiot.
Shoving open the glass door, he ran into the wall of heat as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, and looked to see where the man was. But somehow, in the short journey down from his second floor apartment, the man had disappeared. He sprinted up the street, in the last direction he saw him headed, hoping he was just getting into his car or something, but there was nothing on the street beyond but people who looked nothing like the man he was after.
Damn it! How could he be so close and yet so far away? Perhaps that was the story of his life.
He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath through his nose. At least he knew the man was here, that he was on the right track. He just had to keep his cover identity intact, and to do that, he had to get that damn job and keep his head down. Either Flynn would catch up to him, or the mystery man would spring his trap and catch him first.
Flynn turned and walked the opposite way down the street, headed for Renegade Steel.
Haven Falls #13 - Another School Day
Aiden Parker
____________________________
After the mistake he made yesterday, Aiden knew he had to change his morning routine. Dante out first, and then shower, or there would be a mess waiting for him on the floor. Rolling out of bed and slapping off his alarm, he heard his puppy start to whine from his crate in the kitchen. He couldn’t wait for the dog to be trained so he could let him sleep in his room. He had no problem with it. In fact, he’d always wanted a dog to sleep at the foot of his bed, but his father hated dogs and Peter had been allergic.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, padding barefoot down the hall. The sound of his voice only set the puppy off even more, and he rushed to open the crate. Thankfully there was no mess.
“Good boy!” Aiden said as he hurried the white ball of fluff over to the back door. He opened it, shooed him out, and watched as Dante ran around the enclosed space, barked up a tree at nothing, then did his business. It took a few more minutes to get him in the house, and Aiden set his food out with a bowl of water. Finally, he could take a shower.
It was just another day at work, but as he showered he ran through his lesson plans in his head. First period would be starting a new novel, and fourth period would be working on creative writing. A relatively easy day, as long as none of the students gave him any problems.
When he thought about it, though, he couldn’t complain. None of his students here were anything like those at Windsor Academy, his last school, and for that he was grateful. Reluctant learners he could deal with. He enjoyed the challenge, even. He liked getting them involved in books and watching them grow to love them. It was those that thought they were entitled to it all that he couldn’t stand.
After his shower he dressed in a pair of khakis and a light blue shirt, ate his breakfast, and let Dante out one more time before loading him into his large crate. It broke his heart to hear his whining, but there was nothing he could do.
“I know you don’t like it, boy. But if I leave you out, you’ll destroy the house.” Dante whined at him one more time and Aiden tossed a few toys into the crate. The puppy settled down, but Aiden was still torn about leaving him. Maybe if he had a partner or a roommate it wouldn’t be so bad.
Grabbing his bag and keys he quietly left the house and climbed into his SUV and headed for the high school.
Haven Falls High School was a great school. It was set up to be comfortable and not like a prison. It may not have had the same access to technology that his last school had, but the staff were friendlier and with kids that actually wanted to learn – for the most part – so he’d take it. The pay wasn’t so bad, either. His house was close to everything he needed, and the drive to the school was so quick on nice days he would be able to walk. He had yet to make friends, but he figured that would come soon enough. Maybe he’d even go down to the bar one Friday after school. Take a chance for once.
Unloading his things he nodded to the few other teachers that were there early and made his way to his classroom. He turned on the lights and his computer and began to prepare for the day. After that was all set, a quick stop in the teacher’s lounge for a cup of coffee and some idle chat with one of his co-workers before he snuck his way back to his room. From the windows he had a gorgeous view of the city and mountains. It wasn’t just the students that would space out and stare in that direction sometimes. He was guilty of it once or twice since he started there. Thankfully the administrator hadn’t been doing a walkthrough at the time or he would have been busted for sure.
The warning bell rang and Aiden’s homeroom students started to filter into the classroom. He smiled and greeted them, then groaned silently when one came in with tears in her eyes. More boyfriend drama. So much for his easy day.
Haven Falls #17: New Guy on the Block
Carter Gillespie
_______________________________
S
aturday morning. Carter ‘Gil’ Gillespie sighed and wondered what the hell he was going to do with his day off. Morning run, maybe? Grab the bike and go out into the hills, do a little exploring? Go find a ranch and see if he could arrange some riding? It was the end of his first week, a week that had proven to have familiar elements as well as completely different ones and he was eager to go exploring his new, albeit temporary, home. Haven Falls. Half a world away from Manchester. He smiled. Wouldn’t do him any harm to get away for a while. He thought back to his home city and felt a momentary pang of homesickness which he quickly buried. No time for that.
The day was sunny, a state he understood to be the norm in Haven at this time of year. The norm where he came from was rain. Manchester had a reputation as a rainy place and it didn’t disappoint, even in summer. Looking out of the small apartment window at the sea, crystal blue beneath an equally blue sky, Gil thought it looked a little otherworldly, a tad unreal. He would really have to find another place to stay though. The apartment had been arranged for him as part of the exchange. It wasn’t bad, just a little small. One bedroom and a galley kitchen. He liked space, two bedrooms at least, so he could have guests to stay. Maybe he ought to go see an estate agent today. Real estate agent, he corrected himself. He would have to get used to that, all the differences in names for things. What was it that writer guy had said? Two nations separated by a common language? He hoped not. He wanted to make a special effort to get things right.
Thinking about it, maybe he wouldn’t take the bike out today after all. Driving on the wrong side of the road was doing his head in. Maybe he would take a leisurely walk into the town, go shopping. He had brought the bare minimum with him. He hadn’t required anything much – apart from a week’s worth of clothes all he had was a few framed photos of family and friends, a few keepsakes to remind him of home, that was all. The flat - apartment he corrected himself - was furnished. None of it was his. All he had to do was find another furnished apartment and move in.