A Small Taste:
The bathroom door opened and Akira saw Takeshi standing in the doorway. “You’re still here?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s Juro?”
“He said he was going to make us something to eat. Are you hungry?”
Akira stared at the bubbles floating in the tub. “I don’t think I should eat. Not...considering what we’re going to do tonight.”
“You should try and eat something. It might be a long time before we have a chance to eat.”
“I’ll just throw up if we...” he sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. The water is so nice and warm, I think I’ll just stay here.”
“Smells like strawberries, too,” Juro commented from behind the guitarist. Akira watched as Juro put his arms around Takeshi, and smiled as the bassist splayed his hands over the taller man’s lower belly, moving them down slowly. Juro was grinning at the reaction his hands were having on Takeshi, the guitarist visibly relaxing except for the one place that showed an increase in tension.
“I thought you were going to cook us something to eat,” Takeshi murmured, actually leaning back into Juro’s embrace.
Watching them made Akira smile. They were both so handsome, and he loved them for so very many reasons. His cock rose, going hard, his body wanting the touch of his lovers.
“Well, I couldn’t decide what I wanted. Then I saw you standing in the doorway and realized what I wanted a taste of,” Juro remarked as he kissed along the side of Takeshi’s neck.
The guitarist sighed. “Oh. Should I guess what it was you’ve decided on?”
“Sausage,” Juro replied and Akira saw him pressing his hands more firmly to the erection he could see beneath Takeshi’s trousers.
“Do I get some of that sausage too? You know it’s my favorite meal,” the drummer said as he rose out of the water, bubbles sheeting down his slender body, dripping off his erection.
He heard Takeshi’s groan and Akira grinned when he saw what Juro was doing to the guitarist with the palms of his hands, but Takeshi’s eyes were on him, traveling over his body as if he were a man starving and the drummer were a meal.
“Speaking of sausage,” Takeshi groaned, eyes going half-lidded with awakened lust.
Akira swallowed, mouth gone dry at the sight of his lovers. Takeshi was actually pressing his ass into Juro’s crotch, something he’d never seen the older man do, not even once.
“I think you should just stay right where you are,” Juro instructed as he walked Takeshi into the bathroom and kicked the door shut.
Akira smiled, giving Takeshi a smoldering look that told his lover exactly what he wanted. Sex. Now. But he obediently sat back down in the tub and watched as Juro guided Takeshi closer.
The pair of men started to shed their clothing while Akira watched them with lust-bright eyes. Juro was using his right hand to slowly unbutton Takeshi’s shirt, his fingers a bit clumsy, yet he was slowly revealing smooth skin for his caresses.
The slow teasing was wringing soft pleasured moans from the guitarist that went right to Akira’s groin, his cock aching fiercely with desire.
Akira watched the display, licked lips gone dry. His heart was pounding, cock twitching and he started to get out of the tub to go to them, but a snap of Juro’s fingers froze him where he was, the normally easygoing bassist’s demands sending a flare of heat through him.
Michael Barnette
Michael Barnette grew up in the wilds of Miami, Florida where he enjoyed the nightlife and wide variety of cultures, but not the late night driveby shootings. Deciding on a change of pace, Michael moved to Athens, Georgia where he’s lived for several years. He misses the ethnic food in Miami, he doesn’t miss the driveby shootings.
The last two years he was in Miami, Michael went from being a poet to writing short stories. One of the short stories he wrote, Zoner, was also the first gay erotica he’d ever written. Set in his cyberpunk world setting—which takes place in a future variant of Miami—and using characters established from an unfinished novel he was working on, he submitted the story to Circlet Press. The story was published and has been well received in the gay community, garnering a Spectrum Award nomination in 2003, while the anthology, Wired Hard #3, was a finalist for the Lamda Literary award that same year.
Seeing the popularity of erotica—and finding it much easier to sell than poetry—Michael changed his writing focus in 2003 and started researching the types of erotica popular with readers.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Hello... And Farewell Page 4