by Mel Bossa
“Oh, I’m not afraid of it.” Honoré hesitantly touches his chest, sending a jolt of desire and love straight through McGauran’s heart. “I’m afraid of the happiness I feel. It’s too vast, too magnificent for me take in all at once.”
Relief washes over him and McGauran cups Honoré’s face, raising it. “I understand that feeling. I really do.”
“Gaury, what you did for me…”
“No, no, see, what I did, I did for us.” McGauran can’t hold back anymore. He bends his face to Honoré’s mouth and skims his lips with his own. “Give me your hand.”
Honoré shivers, and with eyes half shut, offers his hand.
McGauran spreads Honoré’s long fingers open and caresses his palm. “I want, no, need, you to open your heart to me again.”
For a moment, Honoré stares at his open hand, his eyes hidden from him. Then he stands on the tips of his boots, and clutching McGauran’s coat, presses his lips to his. The sweet kiss steals a groan of pleasure out of McGauran, and he locks Honoré into his arms. When he has Honoré breathless and wild-eyed—his dark hair all in a mess—McGauran steps back to the door and shuts it. He turns the key in the lock.
With vivid, lustful eyes, Honoré stands still, watching him approach.
“This,” McGauran says, unfastening Honoré’s blue neck tie, “is a cruel invention.” He slides the silk tie out of Honoré’s stiff high collar and tosses it over his shoulder. “And this is a nuisance.” He detaches the collar and throws that over his shoulder, too.
Honoré chuckles, but his eyes remain fixed to McGauran’s hands as McGauran begins to undo the golden buttons of his red satin waistcoat. McGauran pulls the vest open and starts on the shirt buttons. “This,” he says in a husky voice, “is elegant but unnecessary.” He slips the frock coat off Honoré’s shoulders and lets it falls to the floor. Hungrily, he stares at Honoré’s milky white skin now exposed between the open shirt and waistcoat, and a memory of snow-covered ground flashes through his mind. Yes, all these artificial layers have to go. He wants Honoré as naked as the truth. With eager hands, McGauran removes the shirt and waistcoat off Honoré’s slender body, and presses his mouth to his warm skin, right over Honoré’s pounding heart. Honoré seems to weaken then, his knees bending a little. “Sweep me away,” he whispers into McGauran’s ear.
Pushing Honoré to the bed behind them, McGauran falls over him, lavishing him with a thousand kisses—each one a prayer and a promise.
As their bodies commune, loving hands and eyes meeting in the light, outside, church bells begin to toll across the city, summoning and warning sinners all at once, their loud chant drowning the words Honoré whispers so sweetly in his ear.
The ninth hour.
The time when the Devil walks the earth in search of men to tempt and souls to claim.
But enraptured, McGauran is engulfed in the scent of Honoré, so green and pure—fresh as the pines were that night he flew across the moon…
THE END
ABOUT MEL BOSSA
Mel Bossa is a Lambda Literary Award finalist and author of numerous novels featuring LGBT characters. She lives in Montreal's gay village with the love of her life and their three kids. As a bisexual Franco-Italian feminist raised in a patriarchal family, duality is her middle name. She's felt like the Other for a great part of her life and finds peace in dreaming up worlds where grace wins over fear.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!