Candy Hearts: Valentine's Vow, Book 1

Changeling Press Presents: Candy Hearts #1 Valentine’s Vow Willa Okati All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2005 by Willa Okati

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Editor: Katriena Knights Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Chapter One Ryan stood at the kitchen range, slowly stirring a pot of his special chili. Hot as the seven fires of hell, full of peppers and onions, it let out a smell that made his nose tingle. No one could beat that chili. He paused in thought. Should he serve it over potatoes? Given a few minutes, he could toss a couple of tubers in the oven and get them baking. Or nuke the things. That’d be quicker. Never tasted the same, though. Maybe he should serve it plain. Garnish it with a good sharp cheddar and let it stand as the golden god of bachelor cuisine that it was. Beans and all. He’d gotten the recipe from his great-uncle Joey, grouchiest son-of-a-bitch on earth, and a lifelong bachelor. And, as it turned out, a randy old goat, too. One of the brothers of the flesh and in the closet all his life, although Ryan hadn’t found that out until after the man died and he inherited his cabin. While rooting around in the attic, he’d come across stacks of old letters from “Theodore.” Funny what you don’t know about people until it’s too late. Ryan had taken the letters and run with them. Together with his best buddy and lover Thom and a couple of six-packs, they’d had a hell of a night reading through the stacks. Turned out Joey and Theodore had had a pretty hot on-again, off-again relationship for almost fifty years. Damn. That was something, when you thought about it. Fifty years. From tasty young men with presumably tight asses, to tottery codgers with no teeth bitching about the younger generation. Those two had done everything when they’d manage to snatch a few days together. Theodore had been some kind of banker in the city. Big man. Bigwig. He’d even gotten married for a while, but that hadn’t lasted. He went back to Joey -- Joey and

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his penchant for the hot and spicy. According to the letters, Joey didn’t do it just in the missionary position, with his eyes shut and thoughts fixed on England. He liked it on his back, on his stomach, up against a wall, on the floor, in the bathtub or the shower. Hard and fast, slow and sweet, or spicy like his chili. Theodore raved about that chili every time he had to go to some honorary banquet. Seemed there was nothing he’d rather have done than pull a chair up to Joey’s rickety table and go down on a bowl of the good stuff. Speaking of which, the chili looked like it was almost done. “Hey, Thom!” he called out to the living room, where his friend was flipping channels like he was in a speed-click contest. Bad habit of his. Ryan made a point of never watching TV with the guy. You could have a seizure. “Yeah!” Thom called. “That chili about done? I could eat the whole pot and still have room for you for dessert!” “You fucking wish!” Ryan hollered back, stirring the mess of meat, beans, sauce and peppers. “Your turn to bring the condoms. Did you remember?” A foil packet flew through the open door into the kitchen, skittering to land by Ryan’s foot. “I’ve got a half-dozen just like that!” Thom called. “You have the lube?” “Yep. I even picked up that mango scent you like so much. You know how hard it is to find flavored, scented lubes that don’t damage latex?” Ryan kicked the condom out of his way. If the dog didn’t eat it, he’d get it later -probably when they’d finished their meal and come back for seconds on the sex. They usually ended up in the kitchen, having gone in search of a long cold one and, instead, finding a long… hot one. Gingerly, he took a taste from the tip of the spoon. Almost burned his tongue off. Good; almost ready. He ran a glass of water and gulped it down. Which reminded him… “Did you bring the wine?” “Wine? I brought beer!” “Beer? You asshole!” Ryan stormed out of the kitchen, tearing off his apron. “I told you on the phone. Wine. White wine. Something really dry, and it needed to be

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cold. Ice cold. And you bring me beer?” Thom smirked up at him from his position on the couch. Legs open, leaned back, he looked tastier than the chili. “Goddamn it, you are such a fucking fruit, Ryan.” He gestured at a cooler. “White wine, as you requested. Nestled in ice. Just waiting for that chili. And holy hell, is it done already or what?” Ryan folded his arms. “Maybe. Are you going to apologize for talking to me like that?” “Nope.” “Then it’s ready.” Ryan grinned, beckoning him toward the kitchen. “Bring the wine. I’ll get some glasses.”

Thom pushed himself away from the table, holding his stomach and groaning. “Damn if your great-uncle Joey didn’t know how to do more than fuck.” “He’s one up on you, then.” “God rest his soul.” Thom lifted his glass for a toast. “Or may whatever devil’s got him stuck on his personal pitchfork be a very happy demon.” “Pervert.” “Prick.” “Horny bastard.” “Bottom boy.” There was a moment of silence. “To great-uncle Joey and Theodore!” they chorused, clinking their glasses together. Both men tossed their wine back in a gulp. Rude. Crude. No way to treat good wine. It was pretty damn tasty, though, after the burn of that chili. Ryan got up reluctantly. “I should do the dishes,” he said, scooting toward the sink. Just as he’d hoped, Thom was right behind him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Fuck the dishes. They can wait.” He rubbed his cock, already a nice-sized lump in his pants, against the crease of Ryan’s ass. “I can’t.”

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Ryan laughed a little, leaning back against Thom. “They’ll get all crusty.” “Crusty dishes versus horny fuck buddy. Is there a contest? I think not.” Thom bit at his earlobe. “Come on. Make love, not chores. Besides, I’d rather not have dishpan hands on my dick.” “God, you have a filthy mouth.” “And you love every syllable that comes out of it.” Thom rubbed against him, a little more firmly. “Love sucking on it, too.” “But I don’t love you,” they said together. The words came out in a perfectly chimed chorus, said so many times that they sounded pure and clear as a note from the throat of a Vienna choir boy. “Fuckbuddies,” Ryan murmured, leaning back so that Thom could brush his lips over his mouth. “Lovers,” Thom said before nibbling on Ryan’s lower lip. “But not in love.” “Screw love.” “Rather screw you.” “Give me a chance to get a toothbrush.” Thom pushed Ryan away. “You have onion breath.” Ryan pretended to pout. “So I’m not good enough for you the way I am?” “Babe, you are one-fucking-hundred-percent perfect.” Thom swatted Ryan’s ass. “Especially in bed. Race you to the bathroom and the toothbrushes.” “I get the minty stuff!” “Like hell you’re leaving me with the baking soda paste!”

*** Joey leaned back against the wall of the cabin, drumming his fingers against his knee. He paused to examine them. Damn good thing he’d reverted to his prime when he died even if he was, for some reason, stuck as a ghost. Who’d want to be seventy forever? Better still, he had his Theodore, young again, and horny as he used to be in the

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good old days. Speaking of whom, Theodore rounded the kitchen door. “I do wish we could still eat. That chili smells as good as what you used to make for me, darling.” “It should,” Joey grumped. “My great-nephew knows how to make a mean dish.” “He’s a fairly mean dish, himself.” Theodore settled himself beside Joey and put a hand on his thigh. “So’s that Thom who’s always over here. Tell me again, why don’t they settle down together?” “Damn dummies. Got some fool idea in their heads that romance is for queens. They’re tough guys. Don’t need love.” Theodore shook his head ruefully. “That’s a pity. Don’t they know how much they’re missing out on?” He wrapped his arm around Joey’s shoulder and squeezed. “I lost so much, not being able to share all my mortal life with you. If I had to do it over again, to hell with being in the closet.” “Your life would have been hell if you’d come out.” Still, Joey leaned into the one-armed hug. “Now, these boys -- they can strut in lavender T-shirts and no one’s gonna say ‘boo’. Why they don’t take advantage of it…” He sat up straight. “Well, we’ll just have to convince them, won’t we?” Theodore eyed his lover. “Should I be afraid of that look in your eye?” Joey grinned. “Not really. I’m just going to call in a favor from a little saint that owes me one. His special Day is coming up soon, and this is right up his alley.” “Not Valentine.” Theodore’s mouth protested, but his eyes sparkled. “Yep. The V himself. Let’s see what he makes of these two ‘fuckbuddies’. He ought to set them straight! Or… well… you know what I mean.” Joey stood up and hollered at the sky: “Hey, Valentine! I got two hard sets of nuts for you to crack this year! You feel like taking on a toughie?” Theodore chuckled. “You’re calling down the Patron Saint of Love while those two are rutting like dogs in heat?” “You bet your ass. Can you think of a better time?”

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“Not really, honey.” Theodore leaned back and grinned. “As the young ones say, bring it on.”

*** Holy fuck, what a sight they made in the mirror behind the bed. Ryan caught a glimpse of the pair of them as he knelt above Thom on the bed. His thighs were stretched wide, his head tilted back and his mouth open, panting for breath. From below, his naked cock was being devoured, disappearing between Thom’s hungry lips as he suckled and licked, his hand pumping what he couldn’t swallow. Sweat beaded on Ryan’s forehead as his fingers curled into fists on the headboard. He was close, way close. Thom could tell, he knew, but he kept on working that wicked tongue. Bastard! “Stop,” Ryan gasped, pulling back. “Spoil my fun,” Thom grumbled. His mouth was so deliciously swollen and red that Ryan just had to scoot down the bed, drape himself across Thom’s body, and kiss him. “That’ll help make up for it,” he admitted, just before their mouths met again and their tongues tangled together in a frantic dance. Just like the hundreds of times they’d fucked before, Ryan found that he wanted to climb inside Thom. Be part of him. All that heat, that fire. He wanted to pull those strong, lean legs up until Thom’s knees were level with his chin, and bury himself ballsdeep in that sweet ass. “Uh-uh,” Thom growled against his mouth. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s my turn to top.” Damn it. He was right. “But I wanna,” Ryan whined, shaking with lust. “Come on. Trade you for next turn.” “Nope. Gonna have my way with you.” Thom’s strong hands came down to grope the globes of Ryan’s ass, parting them and snaking a finger inside to circle around his pulsing hole. “My wicked, wicked way.” “What’s keeping you, then?” Ryan wriggled on top of Thom. “Get with the

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program.” “Any sweet time, buddy.” Thom pulled him close, then reversed their positions, so that he lay on top of Ryan. “You want face-to-face? Your legs draped over my shoulders? Me close enough to kiss? To reach down and stroke you off while I pump you like an oil rig? Or you want to be on your belly, letting me split you open wide?” Ryan thrashed as Thom’s engorged cock bumped against his own. He groaned out garbled versions of his friend’s name. “Sounds like face-to-face to me,” Thom teased. “Give me those legs.” Ryan relaxed his thighs, spreading them open wide. His cock slapped against his belly, slick and sticky. “Condom,” he managed to gasp. “Lube’s in the drawer. Mango.” “You remember everything,” Thom ground out, stealing another ravenous kiss. Ryan moaned loud, louder than before, shuddering hard. Oh, hell. Oh, hell, hell, hell. “Fuck me already,” he tried to order, grasping for Thom. Thom rummaged in the drawer, and pulled out a tube. “This isn’t mango. It’s papaya.” “My -- mistake,” Ryan panted. “Just use it already!” Thom’s eyes glittered as he lifted one leg, then another, and arranged them over his shoulders. He leaned in, close enough that his cock almost touched Ryan’s aching hole. “You’re a bad boy, you know that?” Oh, so we’re playing that game? Ryan lowered his eyes and nodded. “A very, very bad boy.” His voice came out in nearly a whisper. He moved one of his hands to glide gently up and down his cock. “I’m naughty.” He rubbed his thumb across the tip and captured a drop of clear precome, watching it sparkle in the failing evening light. “Gonna punish me?” “Like a bad little boy that needs to be disciplined?” Thom grabbed a condom and tore it open with his teeth, spitting out the foil. “Put it on me, boy. Watch my face while you do it.” “Yes, Thom,” Ryan whispered. His hands knew what to do, smoothing the latex over Thom’s cock, savoring the feel of steel under silk and the pulsating throb of the big

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vein as it pumped still more blood into the swollen organ. “Spread yourself wide,” Thom directed roughly. “Open up for me.” He coated his fingers with lube, thrusting two, then three into Ryan’s fluttering hole. “Oh, yeah. Stretch for me. Fuck, you’re tight. Still so tight, no matter how many times we do this. You work out?” Ryan burst into laughter. Thom swallowed the sound with a hungry kiss, suckling at his tongue until Ryan tore away for a gasp of air. “You ready for me?” Thom growled, nudging his cock at Ryan’s entrance. “Ready,” Ryan breathed, aching for that stretch and burn. Thom filled him like no one had ever been able to. Every time, he was pushed to the limits by the tool that man carried in his pants. “Split me open.” Thom shut his eyes tight, let loose with a groan of anticipation, and moved. And then all there was, was the feeling of that rod driving deep into Ryan’s ass, pistoning in and out, first slow and sweet, then hard and fast. There was a hand on his cock, stripping him hard. “Fuck,” Ryan whimpered, his senses overloading. “Too much. Too fucking much. Gonna come, Thom. Gonna --” “Come for me,” Thom panted, pumping his hips. “Gonna lose it, too. Come with me. You ready?” “Fuck, yeah. Ready.” Ryan strained up. “Kiss me, now. Hard. Deep.” Their mouths met. Thom thrust in so deep that his wiry pubic hair brushed Ryan’s ass. He froze, his back arching. Between them, Ryan’s cock twitched and spurted out streams of hot jism, coating Thom’s hand. The condom kept Thom’s seed from coating his insides, but he’d swear he could feel the hot pulses filling the latex barrier. Thom collapsed against Ryan, still buried inside him. “Fuck,” he mumbled eloquently. “Oh… fuck.”

Chapter Two Valentine, patron saint of all things heart-shaped and candy-coated, sat down with a chuckle and pulled his laptop toward him. Good thing the ethereal plane had kept up with Earth’s technology. Really, how else was he to get his job done without a hotlink to all the candy companies, florists, and to-do lists of absentminded lovers? So, Joey had finally called in his favor. Not a bad time to do it, and not a bad request. Nice and selfless. Valentine liked that kind of job. After all, Joey was set for however long the Powers That Be saw fit to keep him and Theodore around as happy, horny ghosts. Why not pull a few strings for his great-nephew and the boy’s -Valentine’s nose wrinkled -- ‘fuckbuddy’? He tapped at a few keys, bringing up dossiers on both Thom Clare and Ryan Southerd. Young, male, and definitely attractive. Edging toward thirty, but it wasn’t quite on the horizon yet. Both used and abused, lusted after and dumped so many times that by the time they met each other, they’d sworn off love forever. Valentine grinned and stroked his chin. They’d just see about that. Ryan and Thom were perfect for one another, and it was about time they got the memo. First… a little reminder of his Day, fast approaching. That should get them off on the right foot…

*** Ryan’s laptop computer, open on the desk facing the bed, lit up and jingled a merry little tune. Thom jerked his head up from Ryan’s chest. “What the fuck?” “I don’t know. It’s not supposed to do that unless it’s reminding me of something.” Ryan wriggled, pushing Thom off him and sitting up. He peered at the screen. “The hell?” Thom squinted. “Valentine’s Day: Tomorrow.”

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“I didn’t put that in there.” Ryan made to get out of the bed, but Thom’s strong arm caught him around the hips to pull him back down. “Not so fast, buddy. Explain-o.” “I swear, I didn’t put that reminder in there.” Ryan lay back, frowning. “Maybe it’s a default with my ISP program.” Grumbling under his breath, Thom settled in beside him. “It better be. Celebrate Valentine’s Day? I’d have to be out of my fucking mind.” Ryan toyed with one of Thom’s nipples, running his fingers across it. “Trust me, celebrating Valentine’s is the last thing on my mind.” “A holiday for the heteros.” “Festival for the breeders.” “A chocolate-filled catastrophe.” Thom hooted, pulling Ryan a little closer. “If there’s one thing we’re gonna do this year,” he informed him, “it’s avoid ‘That Holiday’ like the Black Plague. No chocolate, no flowers, none of that lovey-dovey shit. Things are perfect like they are between us. Beer, beans, and fucking.” “Are you coming over tomorrow, though?” Thom reflected. “On principle, I shouldn’t. But it’s a perfectly good Saturday. No reason to waste a chance to get laid just because it’s --” he shuddered -- “V-Day.” “So? Maybe some hoops in the driveway, a good cold six-pack with some… say hamburgers and fries, and then back here.” Ryan gave Thom’s nipple a good tweak. “You know. For a little more of this.” Thom grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me. Swear to St. Valentine himself?” “Swear. Fuck romance.” “I can think of other things I’d rather fuck. In fact…” Thom tugged Ryan close enough to kiss, twining their tongues around one another’s. “I could go for seconds on the sex right about now.” He guided Ryan’s hand down to his cock. “See? Feel that. All for you. Not even turned off by the thoughts of love.” “The mast for a ship guided by lust alone,” Ryan chuckled, running his fist up

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and down Thom’s sturdy erection. Thom drew back a little. He gazed at Ryan. “Not just lust,” he said seriously. “Friendship. That matters, too. Maybe most of all.” Ryan ducked his head. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he glanced up with the devil in his eye. “More than this, though?” He cupped Thom’s balls and gave them a squeeze. Thom yelped, then arched his back. “Spawn of Satan,” he accused. “Do it again.” “Your wish,” Ryan said with a grin, “is my command. My turn to top, though.” “Anything your heart desires,” Thom said, reaching up to bring their mouths together.

*** Valentine frowned. Well. Joey wasn’t kidding when he said those two were hard cases. And really, all that nasty talk about his Day had him feeling more than a little… yes, he’d say the words… pissed off. Honestly! As if his Day were no more than a reason to blow money on flowers, chocolate, and spew out promises no one intended to keep. Well. It looked like he’d have to work a little extra magic on those two. By this time tomorrow night, he’d have them declaring their love for each other. It was right in front of their noses, if they would just open their eyes to it. Open their eyes… Valentine grinned. Pulling his laptop toward him, he began tapping away at keys and clicking the mouse. So he hacked for a hobby. It was all for a good cause. And what better cause than love?

*** Thom swung open the doors to Adam in Eden. Ahhh… heaven. The smell of silicone and fruity lubricants filled the air. A gay man’s paradise. God, the shop was busy. He glanced around in disdain. Tons of men and women alike filled the place, grabbing up every bit of buzzy action or fur-lined, split-crotch lingerie they could lay their hands on. Late Valentine’s shoppers, anticipators of a hot

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night to come, or just wishful thinkers. Wishful thinkers, he decided, staring at the crowd. Still, that store was his idea of heaven. Or at least it could be, for someone with a few bucks to spend. He chuckled, thinking about the mango-papaya mistake of the previous night. Trust Ryan to think that one tropical fruit was just like another. And trust the manufacturers to come up with just another nifty little thing to keep in his bedside drawer. Ryan was a little lacking in that department. No worries, though. Thom was slowly introducing him to the delicious taste of kink. He liked the “punish me” game pretty well. Soon, he might move on to a few light spanks on that ever-so-fuckable ass, and see how Ryan took to it. Then maybe he’d buy one of those nice soft ribbon floggers, and… He blinked out of his lust-induced haze to realize he was on the verge of popping a boner right there in the sex shop. God, wouldn’t that make him look pathetic? Well, he couldn’t help it. The shop just led his mind in that direction, and where his thoughts went, so followed his body. It happened. And why not? So he thought about sex a lot. He was single, young, attractive, and had a buddy at least as horny as him to get his rocks off with. He had everything a gay man could want. And tonight, he’d get a little more. He paused to finger the floggers wistfully. If he were only sure Ryan wouldn’t get creeped out… they sure were gorgeous little things. Silk-soft… wouldn’t hurt a fly. Oh, what the hell? He pulled one from the rack, tossed it in his basket, and moved on. Lubricants next. God, he loved the store’s variety. Everything from White Chocolate Mousse-Ass to Peter Butter to the sweet, sweet tropics. He uncapped half a dozen bottles, filling his head with the delicious scents and adding to the ambience of the store. He could almost smell those fragrances mixed in with the musk of Ryan’s sweat. Could just feel his hands gliding the sweet gels over that fat cock.

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Three bottles joined the flogger. Feeling a little daring, Thom ambled over to the dildos. Now how would Ryan feel about a little buzzy action? Maybe when Thom’s cock was buried deep inside the man, he could titillate Ryan’s fine upstanding erection with something that hummed and tingled… Batteries and a purple silicone vibrator joined the other goodies. Then a multibox of condoms, guaranteed to stand up against any latex un-friendlies. OK, he decided. That’s enough. He’ll start to think I’m buying tokens of the day. And he wasn’t. Just getting a few things to spice up the night. “Hot night tonight?” the heavyset girl behind the register asked, ringing up his purchases. “Ooh, mango. Someone’s gonna get some.” He winked at her. “You know it. And that someone’s gonna be me.” “Celebrating the day?” Thom recoiled. “Fuck no! Just getting a few trinkets.” “Well, how about tossing a couple of these in with the rest of your stash?” She gestured to a rack of… dear God, were those what he thought they were? “Cock Suckers!” “Damn straight, or not.” She pointed. “See? You’ve got your cherry-chocolate, your white chocolate, your dark chocolate, and look, over here…” “Dirty Dipsticks?” Thom picked one up and sniffed at it. “These are just cockshaped chocolate biscotti, you con artist.” “So? They’ve been selling like you wouldn’t believe. Make a nice gift for someone. Give it to them, then give it to them.” Thom’s hand hovered over the treats. Oh, hell. Ryan loved chocolate. He’d sniff through an entire pantry like a hunting dog, searching for a rogue chocolate chip. Hung over the bowl every time Thom broke down and made him cookies. The sight of that man, licking melted chocolate off his fingers… But they’d said no sweet treats, in avoidance of the day. They’d promised. Thom hovered in an agony of indecision. The cashier tapped her register impatiently. “Well? You gonna buy some, or

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what?” Thom’s hand closed involuntarily over the Dirty Dipsticks. “Gonna buy several.” While he was at it, he reached for a selection of Cock Suckers. So they’d said no candy. This was different. Special. Wasn’t it?

Ryan puttered around the cabin, picking up bits of debris left over from the night before. An empty wine bottle, the chewed remains of a condom packet, wine glasses. He took out hamburger patties to thaw, and briefly faced down the crusty dishes and chili pot. Eurgh. He’d leave the dishes for later. A lot later. How much worse could they get? Yeah, he knew the answer to that question. A lot worse. Still, with the place mostly neatened up and ready for Thom’s return visit tonight, he needed to kill some time while he avoided tackling the chili pot. Greenhouse? Yeah, I missed watering the plants yesterday. Oops. Humming under his breath, he headed for the small greenhouse tacked on to the side of the cabin. In his sixties, great-uncle Joey had developed a fondness for growing roses. They were thorny and prickly as he’d been, but he’d come up with some great hybrids. Kept journals full of notes, too. Lately, Ryan had been piddling around with the notes and cuttings himself, cross-pollinating and seeing what he could come up with. There was one bush that had looked like it was ready to bloom, a couple days before… And by damn, it had. Beautiful deep red-and-purple flowers covered the small bush, releasing their rich fragrance into the air and letting him know they’d forgiven his forgetting to look after them the day before. A little awed, he approached the bush. Hot shit. He’d never seen a bush just burst open into full flower like that. And such roses! Small, just the size to fit in the palm of his hand, velvety-soft, and… No. No way.

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He peered at the marking on the petals. Was that what he thought it… It was. Ryan burst into laughter. “Hey, great-uncle Joey!” he called out to the thin air. “Bet you’d love to get a load of these!” He’d seen strange markings on roses before, but nothing like these. On each petal, the marbling of deeper, nearly-black purple looked like one of those Rorschach tests. Blotches shaped just like a man with a massive cock and an equally impressive erection. Chuckling to himself, he picked one of the blooms. Thom would get the biggest kick out of these. Maybe he’d put some in water for the table that night. But -- wait. He frowned. Thom might think they were meant for V-Day -- in celebration of it. Better not to pick any more roses at all. He could always show them off another day. His lips twitched. Yeah, he should wait, but he couldn’t get past the thought of Thom’s face when he saw those cocky roses. Well, why not? Determined, Ryan reached for a pair of garden gloves and shears. So they’d said no flowers for Valentine’s. These were different. Special. Weren’t they?

*** Valentine rubbed his hands together, cracking the knuckles gleefully. Okay, so he’d had to take the unorthodox route, but the trappings were a go. A little chocolate, a few flowers. Perfect accessories to celebrate his Day. Now, to set the stage… He frowned. How best to go about it? Ah! Yes. Perfect…

Chapter Three Bananas. Peaches. A nectarine. Yogurt. Throw them all in the blender, and hit “frappe.” It was the only way Thom could hack eating that clabbered milk shit that was supposed to be so good for him. Better than chips and salsa when he craved a snack, anyway. And he wasn’t a yuppie for drinking smoothies, no matter what Ryan said. Thom hummed to himself as he added the ingredients. His favorite travel mug waited on standby. He’d just pop the top onto the blender, whip that up, and haul it with him over to Ryan’s. A little extra energy before the hoops in his buddy’s driveway. Not that he couldn’t kick that sweet ass from there to the county line without breaking a sweat. But when it came to breaking that ass… He grinned to himself. Absently, not thinking, Thom pressed a button on his blender. Without snapping on the lid. It was a fruit explosion. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Thom yelped frantically as he fought to reach the “off” button. Splatters of creamy goodness hit him square in the chest, decorated the walls, and splashed over the counter as he fumbled for the blender. His hands slipped in the sticky goo and skidded away from the machine. “Come on!” Finally, he managed to turn the blender off. Panting, he stared at the wreckage of his kitchen counter. The smoothie-that-would-have-been dripped off absolutely everything. Including himself. His jaw dropped as he took in the wreckage of his favorite hoodie and comfortable sweatpants. It looked like he’d made a mess in the pants, and thrown up on his shirt to boot. There weren’t curse words enough. For once in his life, Thom was truly speechless.

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Numb, he picked up a roll of paper towels and started to sop smoothie off the counters. This would make him late. Ryan hated it when he was late. And worse, what was he going to wear? He’d chosen this outfit specifically for its good, all-American slob qualities. And like any self-respecting bachelor, he’d let his laundry grow in a pile that rivaled Mount Everest. The only things left hanging in his closet? A tuxedo he’d bought for his sister’s wedding, and the outfit he’d bought when he talked himself into going clubbing one last time. The clothes he’d been wearing when he first met Ryan. A tight, stretchy top and leather pants he had to pour himself into. Sexy clothes. Celebrating clothes. He shut his eyes tight. Valentine’s Day clothes. Fantastic. He’d have to go over there dressed fit to kill, clutching a handful of obscene chocolate. Ryan would think he’d welched out on his denial of the holiday. But what the fuck else was there for him to do?

*** Helpless, Ryan stared down at himself, fidgeting in the uncomfortable clothes. Well, that was what he got for turning on the sprinkler system in the greenhouse before getting out of the way. He was well and truly soaked. His favorite sports jersey and loose cargo pants were sopping wet. He’d been lucky to escape with his fistful of perverted roses intact. Those same roses lay on the table, waiting to be put in water, but just then Ryan was regarding anything agua-related with something approaching loathing. Thom was a bad influence on him sometimes, he really was. They usually went to the laundromat together, but every time he’d asked lately, it was always “Some other day. Come here, you,” -- and the laundry kept on piling up. After the catastrophe with the sprinklers, he’d had to dive for his closet in search of something, anything else to wear. And what had he come up with? Jeans a size too small, and a T-shirt, washed paper-thin, that wouldn’t stand up to a spring breeze, let alone the February chill. His nipples stood out like hard pebbles underneath the shirt. But he didn’t have another clean stitch available, except for a pair of gym shorts and a tank top that he slept in

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when he was alone. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The worst was that he looked like sex on a stick. OK, so maybe that was a little conceited, but what he had on was a ‘fuck-me’ outfit and he knew it. Everything outlined, just waiting to be groped by a pair of greedy little hands. Add that to the roses he’d already cut and Thom… Ryan groaned. Thom would think he’d gone soft and given in to the allure of Valentine’s Day. But what else was there for him to do?

*** Valentine cackled out loud. Perfect. He couldn’t have orchestrated it better. Everything had turned out just as it should have, down to the last drippy glob of smoothie. Now. Take two horny gay men, who won’t own up to being in love, and dress them fit to kill. Give one flowers, give another chocolate. Bring together and mix. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

*** Ryan dropped his jaw and stared. After a moment, he managed to squeak: “You’re dressed like a club slut!” “Yeah? Well, you’re dressed like something out of a House Painter porn video,” Thom growled. They faced each other in the doorway, staring. Neither would admit it, but each looked better to the other than they had in bed the night before. Ryan glanced down. A plastic bag dangled from one of Thom’s fists. The handle of a -- dear God, is that a flogger? -- poked out of it. But beyond that… he sniffed. “Do I smell chocolate?” Thom blushed bright red. “I do!” Ryan accused. “It’s just some novelty shit they had at the sex toy shop,” Thom grumbled, shoving his hand into the bag. He came out with a fistful of phallic, chocolate-coated

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treats and pushed them at Ryan. “I thought you’d like them.” Ryan took the goodies, but eyed Thom with suspicion. “I thought we said no candy or flowers.” Thom threateningly gripped the handle of the crop in his bag. “Yeah, we did. So why do I smell fresh-cut roses?” Both men swallowed. “Well, it’s like this…” Valentine pumped his fist in the air. Score! “I didn’t mean to come over here dressed like a hooker --” “I had something else on, I swear --” “It was an accident --” “An accident --” “And the chocolate’s just a gift, right? It’s not in honor of the day --” “Neither are the flowers! I mean, I just thought you’d like them. They’ve got these markings that --” “I mean --” “I just --” Both men fell silent, staring at each other. Valentine leaned forward. Come on, he urged. Go with it! Thom slumped onto the sofa. “Oh, the hell with it,” he muttered. “Sit down beside me. Cock Sucker?” “So are you,” Ryan pointed out with a frown. He still sank down on the cushions next to Thom, and even let his buddy put an arm around him. “No, that was a question.” Thom pointed to one of the penis-shaped chocolates Ryan held. “Have one. Let me take a bite, while you’re at it.” Ryan glanced down at his handful of goodies. Selecting a dark chocolate one, he laid the rest on the cushions and unwrapped the chosen treat. Licking at the rich cocoa covering, he took a small bite off the tip. Thom muffled back a moan. “Share,” he said gruffly. “And let me see those

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roses.” Ryan passed them over in silence. Thom took them, looking closely at the petals. His lips twitched. “God. Shellac those and sell them. At the sex store. You’ll make a fortune.” “So… you like them?” “You know I do.” Thom heaved a sigh, and slid another bite of the chocolate cock into his mouth. “You want to give in now, before the universe throws something else at us?” Ryan fought back a grin. “God only knows what would happen next.” “I’m scared shitless just thinking about it.” Thom held out the candy. “Last bite?” Ryan took it from Thom’s fingers, suckling at the chocolate smeared there. He licked his lips. “Do you want to say it first, or should I?” “Oh, hell.” Thom laid the roses carefully aside. “I will. Happy Valentine’s Day, you prick. And yes, in case any force of nature out there was wondering, and despite my swearing up and down never to say this to anyone again, I love you. And I mean that. Happy now?” “If you were asking fate, or karma, or whoever’s had it in for us, I don’t know.” Ryan’s smile looked a little like the sun coming out from behind a bank of clouds. “But I’m satisfied. Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, jerk. I love you more.” “Fine,” Thom grumbled. “But I get to use the flogger on you for making me say that.” Ryan perked up. “So that is a flogger in your bag, and you’re not just happy to see me?” Valentine smirked, leaning back. Mission accomplished. Two men in love, heading for the bedroom with hard-ons of steel, bent on fucking one another into oblivion, or at least the mattresses. Flowers, chocolate, and a soft silken whip. What better way to celebrate The Day? Thom and Ryan thrust against each other, cocks that leaked ribbons of pre-come slippery against their hard bellies. They’d hit the bed at a dead run, so desperate to get at one another that they’d all but torn one another’s clothes off. The discarded garments

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lay in piles around them, stripped hungrily away for the sight and feel of hot flesh under their palms. Ryan wiggled under Thom, pushing the curves of his ass back into Thom’s questing hands, then moving forward to slide their pricks together. “Oh -- fuck,” Thom groaned. He fumbled at the side of the bed, finding the crop he’d brought with them. It had survived their wild tumble into bed intact. Time to play? He slowly trailed the soft ribbons along Ryan’s chest. “You don’t stop that right now,” he warned, “I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” “Good.” Ryan grinned, cheeky. “Teach me. Show me. Punish me. Make it hurt so good that I come screaming.” Thom broke. Come on, too much temptation is too much! Making a wild grab for Ryan, he rolled the man over and brought the flogger up, then down on his shapely ass. Ryan arched and bucked beneath him. It probably just barely stung, but he reacted so prettily. Oh, hell yes. Thom stroked the light pink mark where he’d brought the flogger down, laughing as Ryan moaned and wiggled. “That’s my good boy.” Oh, there were some good games in their future. And they had a future, Thom was sure of it. He paused, surprised at how good that felt to know. With a cry of delight, Thom lashed at Ryan again, rewarded by a soft cry of pleasure-pain and another hitch upwards. “You like that?” he teased. “You want some more of it?” Ryan wiggled his ass at Thom. “More. Give me more.” “I’ll give you more,” Thom promised. “Give you all I’ve got.” He reached for the bedside drawer, rummaging through it and coming up with mango-scented lube. “You want one finger to start with? Two?” He probed at Ryan’s tight hole with slippery fingers. “Three?” “Bring it on.”

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“It’s on.” Thom slid two fingers knuckle-deep into Ryan and twisted them until he found the sweet spot. He pressed down hard on the small of his lover’s back as he twisted and writhed, groaning out his pleasure. “You like that, baby?” “You know -- I do,” Ryan panted. “More!” “Anything for you.” Thom plucked up one of the condoms scattered in the bedside table drawer. Tearing the foil open with his teeth, he plucked the rubber out and tugged it down his length faster than he’d ever done in his life, covering his stiff, blood-purpled erection. He pumped it in his hand, feeling his muscles twitch. Ryan moved up against him. “Come on,” he urged. “Teach me. I’ll bet you think I’ve got a lot to learn…” “You do.” Thom lowered himself, pushing his cock at that hole. As he sank inside, both let out a deep, wordless sound of satisfaction. “Love you,” Ryan moaned, moving with Thom, pushing greedily backwards to take every bit of him. “Love you,” Thom said roughly, sucking in air as he slid in the last inches, fully seating himself. His balls slapped against Ryan’s ass. He spread his hands over the man’s warm back, adoring the way it felt. Adoring Ryan. “Always loved you.” Ryan bucked against him, hands fisting in the covers. “You know what?” he said with a breathless laugh. “I think I always knew that. Now fuck me, Thom. Fuck me hard. Take me to the stars.” And Thom felt just fine about doing exactly that.

*** Oh, yes. Everything got Valentine’s stamp of approval. He sent a brief buzz down to Joey and Theodore, telling them he’d held up his end of the bargain, and that there would be a good show going on in the next few minutes if they were interested. Then, well satisfied, he closed his eyes for a snooze. That’d keep him satisfied… until next year, when someone else tried to deny him his Day of glory.

The End

Willa Okati Willa Okati is a long-time devotee of all things vampire and supernatural, but an even bigger fan of stories that feature beautiful men exploring their desires for one another. Physically, she lives in North Carolina, but mentally thrives in a world where each adventure is bigger and brighter than the next. She is also owned by far too many cats, but she insists that they serve as emissaries from the Muse and can’t spare a one of them. You can visit her at her web site, http://www.willsheornillshe.com