by Quin Perin
Come Play
AN EROTICA CHARITY ANTHOLOGY
Copyright
Cover: Kindly donated by Morningstar Ashley
Come Play © 2019
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
Intended for an 18+ audience only. This book contains material that may be offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.
Trademarks
The authors acknowledge the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Contents
Foreword
Acknowledgments and Thank You
Quin & Perin
Coach’s Little Kitten
Sara Dobie Bauer
Abstract Love
A.G. Carothers
The Kiss
E.M. Denning
Pretty Boy
T.S. McKinney
Particular Tastes
Emma Jaye
Doctor’s Orders
LYNN VAN DORN
Brotherly Love
LUNA DAVID
A Kink Chronicles Short
T.M. Chris
Tamed
K.C. Wells
Watch and Learn
Foreword
Renee Botbyl
We live in a world where ‘different’ is treated as unacceptable. Societal norms are pushed on each of us, whether it’s something as shallow as looks or as deep as the right to love who we want. These expectations are profoundly flawed. We all view life differently. We all have our unique experiences, and we all see a diverse sight when we look in the mirror. Normal may as well be defined as being ‘different’.
My father always taught me the importance of accepting others and I am thankful for his lesson. I remember as a young child how on Valentine’s Day the entire schoolroom class was told to bring in Valentine’s cards to exchange for every student—nobody was left out. It frustrated my dad that as we became older this tradition ended and instead it became about couples and ways to omit others. The older I become the more I recognize my father’s wisdom on this topic. Love should never be about exclusion.
The Trevor Project is deeply important to me. Not everyone has the strong support I’ve always had. This is a charity that works tirelessly to help LGBTQ youth under 25, including crisis and suicide prevention. The organization also works to create safer laws, helps with outreach to schools, and most of all is always there. Too many times the news comes on and takes my breath away when yet another statistic rolls in about LGBTQ youth suicide rates or the amount of bullying these individuals face. It hits me hard because growing up my life was not left untouched by this. I have a dear friend who I almost lost to suicide when I was younger because she was afraid to be ‘different.’ The Trevor Project helps create a community and provide support, something I wish had existed back then. Because even if my friend felt she couldn’t talk to others in her life about her feelings, then at least she would have had someone she could reach out to for help, someone who would recognize she was not ‘different’ and there is no shame in loving another.
These talented authors have all came together to support the LGBTQ community, and will donate all of the proceeds of this anthology to The Trevor Project. Every second of time, every inch of their hearts and souls they have put into these words have been for others, and I can’t think of any possible way to truly thank them for being part of this project. I hope you enjoy every erotic word they’ve poured onto these pages.
Embrace love. Never turn away from it.
Acknowledgments and Thank You
There are numerous people to thank for seeing this endeavor through. We started with the goal of simply wanting to help the LGBTQ community, specifically The Trevor Project. From there we are thankful for so many coming together to make that a reality.
We first want to thank the outstanding authors that willingly gave up their time to write and donate pieces for this anthology. A.G. Carothers, E.M. Denning, Emma Jaye, K.C. Wells, Lynn Van Dorn, Luna David, Sara Dobie Bauer, T.M. Chris and T.S. McKinney, we greatly appreciate everything you have done for this anthology. You are all amazing authors and wonderful people for doing this.
Morningstar Ashley graciously donated the beautiful cover for this anthology. It’s stunning artwork. Thank you.
Lily from Gay Book Promotions, we thank you for helping us reach so many people and always showing your dedication to the community. We’d like to thank the ARC readers, bloggers, and everyone who helped spread the word about this anthology. The publicity means so very much.
Renee Botbyl and Mariela Solis, what would we do without your magic skills? It means the world to us that we had both of you on our side. Thank you so much for every hour and every day you’ve spent making this project happen.
Most of all we’d like to thank you readers who are helping us raise money for The Trevor Project.
We hope you enjoy this anthology.
Quin&Perin
Synopsis
Watch and Learn if the Coach’s Little Kitten can be Tamed. Follow the Doctor’s Orders and read all about Brotherly Love. Understand Abstract Love and then take a peek at A Kink Chronicles Short. It’s all about Pretty Boys, The Kiss, and Particular Tastes bundled up in this must-have erotic anthology.
Come, play with us.
Abstract Love by Sara Dobie Bauer
A Kink Chronicles Short by Luna David
Brotherly Love by Lynn Van Dorn
Coach’s Little Kitten by Quin Perin
Doctor’s Orders by Emma Jaye
Particular Tastes by T.S. McKinney
Pretty Boy by E.M. Denning
Tamed by T.M. Chris
The Kiss by A.G. Carothers
Watch and Learn by K.C. Wells
** All proceeds from this anthology will be donated to The Trevor Project. https://www.thetrevorproject.org **
This anthology features a collection of erotic MM short stories.
Coach’s Little Kitten
Quin & Perin
Coach’s Little Kitten
Baxter slipped his wedding ring past the first knuckle of his finger, pausing with it held between two fingers. The yellow lights of the parking lot reflected off the highly polished gold band, glittering and gleaming with the memories of all his infidelities. His wife was at home, no doubt curled up in front of the TV while watching terrible true crime shows. As far as she was concerned, Baxter was at some kind of dance club, hunting meaningless sex—something that she didn’t want to give him—with strange women. She wasn’t far from the truth.
Leaning over, he opened the glovebox and flicked his ring into it. It shut with a loud thump and a click of finality. He slipped out of the car, stretching his arms over his head and listening to his back pop. He’d been in the car for an hour, and though he u
sed to be able to drive long distances in one go, he was getting older, and even a short drive made him stiff.
Brown eyes of a deep, dark color turned toward the nondescript black building. It looked absolutely uninteresting. Its windows were painted over with no light peeking through, and there wasn’t any sort of flashing neon to announce what happened inside. No sign of the sins that took place in there. No hint of what twisted things lurked in the darkness. An anonymous place where Baxter could be nameless. Pretend he was someone different. Or perhaps stop pretending and let his true self surface for a few hours.
Thick, muscular legs carried him across the asphalt and toward the heavy metal door. He walked like a bull, charging at its goal with no regard for anyone who got in his way. A holdover from his days of playing football. When everyone fell before him, helpless to resist the sheer force of his wide, sturdy body. Sometimes he missed it. But like so many things, time had passed, and they had changed.
“ID?”
A tall, decently cut man with the tiniest pair of black leather shorts and a rather exquisitely crafted harness sat at the counter behind a large ledger. His hair was cut with a tight fade on the sides, long brown curls tousled on top. Baxter recognized him. He was one of the club owner’s boyfriends; he liked helping out...and dancing naked in a cage.
“Yeah. Here you go.” Baxter passed it over without a thought. The leather-clad man carefully copied down all the information. He knew from experience that at the end of the night, all those pages were shredded and thrown away, but while there, they needed them for security reasons.
The man handed him the ID back. “Haven’t seen you here in a while,” he commented, peering up at him. They’d gotten friendly enough, and Baxter allowed the man to have some familiarity with him.
“You know how it is,” he said with a chuckle. “Shit gets in the way.”
“Yeah, but you’re here now.” The man smirked. “And you know what they say, waiting for a good thing makes it better.”
Baxter laughed, a proper, rumbling laugh. “You’re very right.”
With the boring formality finished, Baxter finally walked through to the next door and entered the sprawling club. It was beautiful chaos. Sex and lust hung heavy in the air, coating his lungs as he took a deep breath. A scent sweeter than even the most expensive of perfumes. Accompanied by a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh. Leather cutting into skin. Moans, whimpers, cries. Sobs. A debauched soundtrack of lust; his favorite song. Baxter could already feel his thick cock swelling in anticipation of sating his twisted desires.
First though he made his way to the bar. He didn’t get to do this as often as he liked, so when he did, he enjoyed taking his time. Savor every moment. He’d go to the bar, get a nonalcoholic drink, and then form a plan of action. He felt eyes on him while he moved; he knew he wasn’t unattractive, even if the spark with his wife had long since died.
He was big, stout. His body might not have been as cut as it used to be in college, but even twenty years on, he was still strong. Broad-shouldered with thighs like tree trunks. Kinky hair shaved at the sides and kept short on the top, and his black goatee was starting to be sprinkled with white. Dark brown skin almost flawless, except for a scar on his chest above his right nipple. He missed his defined abs. However, so far he hadn’t gotten any complaints, and he still had that deep V leading down toward his dick that drove everyone crazy. Past forty, he could still keep up with younger men. In fact, it was rare that they could keep up with him. His hunger for sex was insatiable. Always had been.
After he received his soda, glass cold against his fingers, he rested back with his elbows against the bar and scanned around for his first victim of the evening. For a moment, his gaze lingered on a slender redhead wearing a pair of tight leather shorts that did little to hide his erection. He was lying on a couch, reclining with half-lidded eyes. His feet rested in the lap of a portly older man who lathered them with lotion; the guy looked at them as if they were dinner. The redhead’s body was appealing, though for now, he seemed content where he was. Baxter made a note of him before moving on. He was an option.
Dark eyes flicked around, favoring the young doll-like men, on the search for the perfect porcelain twink to bounce on his cock. He had a type, and he couldn’t help it. He craved it. A lion hungering for its next prey. All of a sudden his gaze halted, and his eyes widened. He glanced away and then back, blinking a few times and letting out a breath.
No.
He recognized that figure.
What. The. Fuck.
Shaggy golden hair fell against pale white cheeks. Blue eyes were ringed by long lashes. The boy—Baxter knew for a fact he was barely eighteen years old—was lithe, almost too thin. Porcelain skin stretched over a petite, delicate form. Cute pink nipples were pierced through by barbells, and a thin red collar with a large silver bell wrapped around his willowy throat. He knelt in front of a large black couch, near the stage area. An elegant silver chain was connected behind the bell, and the end of it was held by a hulking man with a deep tan and long black hair who was seated. But what really caught Baxter’s attention was a set of white, fluffy ears nestled in the boy’s hair. When he cocked his head to the side and looked up at the man holding his leash, he looked exactly like an inquisitive kitten. Something about the sight sent blood rushing to Baxter's cock.
Baxter set his mostly empty soda on the bar and headed toward the boy. His eyes were fixed on him, large hands clasped into massive fists by his side and heart pounding out an anxious rhythm in his chest. He felt drawn to the figure, a moth to a flame that could burn him up and destroy his carefully curated life.
As he got closer, he could see something white and fluffy draped in the boy’s lap. His fingers stroked across it absently, and Baxter realized—with a twinge in his gut—it was a tail. He couldn’t see where it disappeared to, but he had a very good idea.
When he stopped a few feet in front of the little kitten, blue eyes peered up at him. Recognition and a blush shot across that delicately pretty face. He looked embarrassed at the situation he was caught in, almost as worried as Baxter felt. It calmed him. Reassured him. The boy wasn’t going to tell a soul what he had seen.
“Caleb,” Baxter murmured, giving him a nod of greeting.
He knew the boy quite well. In one of his last semesters, he’d been a student in his gym class. Caleb was definitely not an athlete; that had been clear from the very beginning. He seemed frightened of balls. Soccer balls, baseballs, volleyballs; he cringed away from them all. Whenever Baxter attempted to speak to him about it, he would just blush and look down at his sneakers. Always polite, always quiet. He didn’t seem to have many friends. The more athletic boys loved to make fun of him, calling him a fairy. There had even been a very nasty incident that ended with Caleb getting a bloody nose and Baxter having to bench one of his best football players for three games. Baxter had tried to stop them, but asking teenage boys not to be dicks was like asking a politician not to lie. He’d felt bad for the kid. Boys like him didn’t have much of a life. Or so he thought.
But now dorky little Caleb knelt half-naked on the floor of a sex club, collared and leashed with fluffy ears and a tail.
“Do you two know each other?” The man holding the leash tugged at it, looking between Caleb and Baxter.
Caleb nodded, lowering his gaze while Baxter slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The boy didn’t speak, pale pink tongue darting out across his lower lip. Baxter wondered if he was allowed to speak or if he was being a good, obedient little whore that let his master speak for him. “Yeah. I know Caleb,” he said, keeping his eyes on the boy. Fuck. He looked gorgeous like this. Baxter had always thought he was cute in class. With those soft, rose petal lips, shiny hair, and delicate features, he should have had other guys throwing themselves at him. But he never seemed to.
“Oh?” Pulling Caleb close so he could grab his chin, the tan man yanked his head up and stared into his eyes. “Where do you know this
man from?”
A red flush burned bright on Caleb’s cheek and all the way down to his chest. “Meow?”
Holy fuck.
Baxter had not expected that quiet sound to come from Caleb. It threw him for a loop and made his heart give a mighty beat that pumped a surge of blood straight to his cock. Baxter had seen puppies at the club before. Very attractive men, covering their faces in intricate leather masks and walking around on all fours. Some had tails, though nothing as pretty as what Caleb was playing with. They didn’t speak either. Pups had never done it for him. He’d given it a try, but most of the ones at the club were a bit too built for him. A bit too strong. He liked delicate things. Waifs and twinks. And...kittens, apparently.
The man, Caleb’s Master he supposed, tugged at the leash again and smirked. “You may answer the question,” he assured him. “Now, where?”
“School.” There was that featherlight voice Baxter was familiar with. The voice of a shy boy who didn’t like speaking up in front of people.
“School?” The Master tilted his head to the side. “Is he a teacher of yours?”
Caleb nodded and gave a quiet mew of agreement. The Master’s eyes scanned over Baxter, and then he chuckled. “Let me guess...the gym teacher,” he said, loosening his grip on the leash and leaning back. “I think Caleb told me about you. Coach Baxter?”
