by K. Z. Snow
THE day would have been perfect, Will thought, if only the city of Purinton hadn’t been wheezing away and smirching the sky to the west. So when he and Fan reached the top of the observation tower, the wind ruffling their hair and clothing as if in playful welcome, he immediately faced the sea. In spite of the omnipresent haze, the sun still managed to carve diamond points into the waves.
He glanced to the immediate south, but only briefly. The Marvelous Mechanical Circus was speckled like an anthill with moving figures. It looked cleaner somehow, although it really wasn’t much different… except for no longer bearing Alphonse Hunzinger’s name. The Big Mister had taken his big money and departed for warmer climes.
Fan’s arms came around Will’s waist as he stood at the railing. He nuzzled and kissed Will’s neck, and a shiver ran down Will’s arms and legs. He rubbed his head against Fan’s, relishing the catch of their hair. Gulls wheeled like shards of ivory against a sky that was much bluer to the east than it was to the west.
“Do you think anything will change for long?” Will asked. He’d found it difficult to slough off all his pessimism. The exodus of one clutch of amoral people didn’t mean there weren’t more, salivating to take their places.
“Oh, I suspect the workings of City Hall won’t change too much,” Fan said, the side of his face still resting against Will’s hair. “There’ll still be corruption, laziness, incompetence. But as long as the politicians and their lackeys stop treating Mongrels and twors like offal, we’ve triumphed. I’m happy with that.”
He was. Will had been able to tell. Fan had seemed strong and serene since the meeting in the meadow. He still took Lizabetta’s powder, of course. Even a major victory couldn’t alter that aspect of his being, any more than it could restore his once-beautiful ears. But there now seemed to be stillness at his center, an anchored contentment that couldn’t be disrupted by temporary episodes of mania or melancholy.
Will had known for a while that his love for Fan certainly couldn’t be disrupted. Or ignored. That’s what now comprised his center.
“Think you’ll accept the new owners’ invitation to sell here again?” Fan asked.
“Only if they accept my terms,” Will said. “I choose the product, I get a larger cut of the take, and I only sell when I want to.”
Fan snickered against the nape of Will’s neck and, with his lips, pulled at the straggling hair that needed trimming. “Should I expect your new sense of power to show up in our bedroom?” He tightened his grip on Will’s waist and more languorously kissed his neck, his warm lips pressing and lingering. “Would you like to have your way with me, William? Would you like me to submit to your desires?”
The proposition was so arousing, it lightened Will’s head and weighted his genitals. He turned to face Fan, his cock rapidly hardening. “You want me to take control?”
“Occasionally, yes.”
“Gods.”
Their mouths teased one another—a quick flex of lips, a touch of tongues.
“Right now,” Will said breathlessly, “what I want more than anything is for you to fuck me while I stand at this railing and imagine taking you.” He pushed his stiffness against Fan’s.
“You sorely tempt me, William.”
“Good. Because I need you to do something. And the sooner, the better.”
Fan massaged Will’s cock with his own. “Would waiting be agony?”
“You know it would.” If this kept up, Will would soon mess himself and his underclothes. But the friction of their contact was so exquisite, he couldn’t bring himself to back away. “I suppose… we’d be inviting arrest… if other visitors… came up here and saw us.”
Fan kept rocking against him, coaxing him. “I suppose we would, since Clancy isn’t here to spirit us away.” He lightly grasped Will’s arms and led him away from the platform’s railing. “I have an idea.” Gripping the right edge of his cloak, Fan lifted his hand to Will’s left shoulder. The spill of dark cloth now served as a curtain. “Free both our cocks. Squeeze them together and pump them. No one will see.”
The idea alone put Will on the edge of climax. His hands quaked as he fumbled to undo the flap of his trousers. Once he’d loosed his own rigid prick, his fingers tripped over Fan’s fingers as Fan continued to undo his own buttons. Will could feel the rod beneath them. He butted his own bare rod against the ridge. When the flap finally fell, his hand worked with Fan’s to pull out that hot length of flesh and seal it against his own.
Accompanied by the voices of a man and woman, footsteps shuddered up the tower’s zigzagging flights of stairs.
“Don’t stop,” Fan whispered.
Will couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. Feeling Fan’s stiff cock nestled against his made him mindless with excitement. Legs trembling beneath him, he held their jacks together, root to crown, and firmly began stroking. The platform trembled beneath his feet.
He and Fan had company.
Will couldn’t suppress the thin, quavering ahh that came from his mouth with each exhalation. Fan had often said the sound drove him mad with lust. Recalling that confession only made Will whimper more.
What must that couple be thinking?
“It’s all right, lad,” Fan said, cupping the back of Will’s downturned head with his free hand. “She isn’t the only girl in the world. You’ll find another.”
“No… I won’t. Ahh… ahh….”
“Don’t grieve so. Tears will only make your eyes burn.”
Will licked his lips as he watched a droplet appear at the hole of his cock, then a droplet appear at the hole of Fan’s. He swiped a finger over both and lifted the moisture to his mouth. The fingers of his other hand moved over the sleek plumpness of the nestled heads, gently pinching each apex, then fondling the sensitive skin below each brim. Fan let out a sharp breath as his hips pitched forward. Will resumed pumping.
Gulls swooped and screeched over the tower, as if trying to draw attention to this illicit activity.
“Billy, please… stop crying.” Fan’s strained words ended in a low moan.
Climax gripped Will, the thrill of it sapping the strength from his muscles. His whole body trembled. Two seconds later, cream began to spurt out of Fan’s cock. Their essence mingled as it coated their crowns and dribbled down Will’s fisted hand.
The couple who’d been on the platform with them began to descend, their soft, wondering voices trailing behind them.
Fan rested his head against Will’s. They snickered between labored breaths.
“We’re beasts,” Will said. “Shameless.”
“And the seagulls knew it, fucking judgmental birds.”
Still laughing, they pulled handkerchiefs from their pockets, swabbed at each other’s cock, and made themselves presentable once more. When they straightened, they kissed.
“By the way,” Fan said as he looked into Will’s eyes, “there’s something I neglected to tell you when we were on Seagrass Lane.”
Will gave him a bewildered look. That disturbing adventure was weeks in the past. Why resurrect it now?
“I should’ve said something as we sat on the embankment.”
“Said what?”
“I love you too, William. Very much.” Tenderly, Fan smiled.
Will remembered then—the whispered declaration that had come from his own lips, so unexpectedly that it had startled him. “You heard me.”
“I heard you.”
“I meant it,” Will said. “I think I was afraid to mean it, but I meant it.”
“I know.”
They were about to step into each other’s arms when Will noticed something drifting from the sky. A gull dove past the platform, circled out to sea, then turned back toward the dunes. Reflexively, Will snatched at what was falling.
“Look, Fan,” he said with a delighted laugh. “Poor thing must’ve been carrying these to a nest. Or thought they were food.” Will held up two ribbons, one blue and one violet.
Fan stared at them. His
wide eyes turned up to Will’s face. Slowly, his mouth stretched into the most dazzling smile Will had ever seen. He grabbed Will and held him close.
Will chuckled, bemused. “They’re only ribbons, Fan.”
“I know. I know. They’re only ribbons.”
About the Author
If there’s one thing K. Z. SNOW loves more than indulging her wayward imagination, it’s the natural world and, especially, animals. She’s been a companion to most domesticated creatures and a good number of the feral ones commonly known as men. After too many turbulent years, her life in the upper Midwest is finally boring as hell—an achievement as well as a blessing.
She’s overeducated, underskilled, and has written a lot of stuff. Her only awards are two medals she received, obviously out of sympathy, for playing the bassoon and making it sound like a malfunctioning chainsaw.
Visit K.Z.’s blog at http://kzsnow.blogspot.com.
Also by K.Z. SNOW
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also by K.Z. SNOW
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Mongrel ©Copyright K.Z. Snow, 2010
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
December 2010
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-693-4
