Like Magnets, We Attract

by Jaye Valentine

  Nathan, happy to please, pressed the tip of his wetted cock up against the tight hole of the fairy. With a gentle shove he entered him, slowly, evenly, firmly, until the entire length of his swollen prick was entrenched, up and in and back. Lothar exhaled, sharply, and then sighed as wave after wave of bright orange rings haloed around his body, encasing the both of them in a warm, enchanted glow.

  A string of sparks rose and fell along the prince's sweat-soaked back as he began to retract his cock and then glide it in again, repeating the motion, each time with a joyful grunt that shook the bed beneath, while his hands traveled up his own body, coming to rest alongside two rigid nipples, which he tugged and tweaked, so that both his upper and lower halves were alive with nearly indescribable pleasure. “Yes,” he exhaled, over and over again. “Yes."

  Lothar, rocking his ass into the prince's mighty prick, said, “Now reach around and stroke my cock, good prince. I believe you'll find a surprising trick we fairies are known for."

  Nathan, eager to see yet another of this creature's amazing capabilities, pressed his head down on Lothar's broad back and reached around a wasp-narrow waist to jack at Lothar's cock. Lothar's wings folded over and around Nathan's torso, encasing him in a veritable blanket as soft as velvet. And then, to Nathan's utter surprise, Lothar's cock shook and began to grow. With each stroke of his fist, the already large prick stretched and stretched, at first straight down, but then through its owner's legs, until Nathan suddenly felt the shiny head butting up against his own virgin hole.

  "Well now, that it some trick,” Nathan uttered in astonishment, widening his stance and spreading his cheeks even further apart, so he could fuck while getting fucked in turn. Nathan pushed at Lothar's glorious hole while the fairy pushed at his, entering Nathan and filling him with unspeakable joy, sending a million tingling jolts through his ass and out his cock, which pounded away from the front while he was being pounded on from the rear—an unbelievable event, to be sure, in the long list of unbelievable events that had so recently occurred.

  And one that brought him right to the edge and then right on over.

  With a rapid-fast pounding like the beats of a hummingbird's wings, both Nathan's and Lothar's cocks thickened and pulsed, and then simultaneously exploded, causing the fairy to emit a blinding white glow that traveled through every atom of both their quivering bodies, as ounce after warm, white ounce of come shot and shot and shot, filling and then spilling out of two gaping, spasming holes. Moans and groans and gasps of sheer delight filled the room to the very rafters as one load after the next gushed and spewed forth.

  It was then and only then that the human collapsed atop the fairy, his breath ragged, and his body dripping in sweet, sweet sweat. The fairy held on tight with his beautiful wings, while the human grasped the fairy by the waist and would not, could not let go.

  "This moment will not end so long as we stay together, skin on skin, flesh on splendid flesh,” the fairy admonished with a long, low sigh.

  The prince smiled. “Then do not let go, dear fairy. Do not ever let go."

  And so they stayed as one, hand in hand, two bodies intertwined, until, at long, long, long last, they fell asleep. And, as is common when two lovers slumber, limbs slid and glided over one another, sides bumped, backs pressed against backs, and, ultimately, the great puzzle came undone.

  At their sudden and unintentional parting, the room once more came to life, the breeze again flowing in and blowing out the bedside candles. The two then instantly awoke from their long evening's sleep, staring at each other with glorious smiles.

  With mighty yawns they sat up, rubbed their eyes, and firmly pressed their lips together, kissing deeply and passionately for what seemed like hours, taking turns at licking and sucking at every available body part. “Well,” the prince finally said. “I suppose I believe in fairies, after all."

  "And I have met a human who lives high above the clouds,” added the fairy. “Life is so full of unexpected surprises."

  And it was about to get a whole lot fuller; for it was then that they heard a loud knocking on the bedroom door. Scratching his head, Nathan rose, wrapped himself in his sheets, and walked to the source of the pounding. “Another first,” he whispered to himself. He swung the door open, and to his great astonishment saw the face of his father—the face quite a bit older than last he saw it, which hadn't been since the day of his imprisonment.

  "Sire,” the prince said with a bow of his head and a bending of a knee. “You look ... you look different."

  The old king stared in wonder at his son and replied, “Strangely, Prince Nathan, you do not. You look barely older than last we saw each other."

  It was then that the prince understood what had happened, time apparently standing still only around the room he and the fairy occupied. “Sire,” he said with a nod of his head, “might I guess that you have at last come to offer me the throne? Is today not my fiftieth birthday?"

  The king gave a weak cough. “Though you do not look it, yes, my son, today is the day you are to attain the crown, to preside over this great land just as I have done. You may now also seek a mate, to rule beside you as your mother has by me, lo these many years."

  The prince, now king, grinned widely. “Father, I have no need to seek, for I have surely already found. And I thank you for locking me up so high above the earth all this time, for I would not have otherwise met my soul-mate, different in every regard though he may be.” He laughed, and quickly added, “And that is what I believe is called an ironic twist of fate."

  The fairy, hearing the exchange, rose from the bed on wings as sheer as a spider's web and came to a soft landing by the new king's side, his smile big and bright and beguiling. And when he held his mate's hand, time no longer stood still as it once had. After all, love indeed transcends time, and binds surer and faster than any bit of magic ever could.

  And it binds, as the saying goes, happily ever after.

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  Lucky

  by A. Steele

  If you want to know—and you probably don't—my name is Carl Ruiz. I'm a janitor at the very prestigious, very elite, Westenvale College. And I work hard, everyday, at not being a resentful dick.

  It's these kids, you see. These rich, spoiled, almost uniformly good-looking, kids. I know—it's not their fault. You play the hand life deals you. These guys just happened to draw a royal flush.

  Kinda hard not to be bitter, though. Not so much because of the silver spoons shoved up their asses, but because I've turned into the invisible man around here.

  Four years ago I was one of them.

  No, not rich. Never that. Here on a full scholarship. Affirmative action at its finest, baby.

  I had a future ahead of me.

  Then Mom got sick and I started to fuck up. When she died I finished the process. A grand mal fuck up, as it were.

  My future and my mother, both dead in the same year.

  So here I am. Invisible. A goddamn janitor.

  Mom would be so proud.

  Even the guys I used to hang with try to pretend I don't exist. Mumbled Hey, Carls as they look up, look down, look anywhere but at my face. So embarrassed to ‘know’ the help. God, what did I ever see in these assholes? I wanted to be these assholes.

  Okay, so I guess I don't work that hard at not being a resentful dick. Can you blame me?

  Take this guy walking toward me now, for instance. Dark red hair, milk-pale skin and a trim, tight-assed little body. Fuckin’ gorgeous.

  Four years ago we'd have exchanged smiles, numbers if I was lucky—and I often was. Preppie white boys seem to find tall, broad-shouldered Latinos hard to resist—as long as they're wearing the right school jacket, that is. Today, he's going to blow past me as if I don't even—

  "Hey there."

  I look over my shoulder to see who he's talking to. When I realize it's me, I wait for him to finish his sentence. Maybe with, ‘The toilet on three's backed up again,’ or ‘Ther
e was a chili fight in the cafeteria, can you get on that?’ I mean, there has to be more. No way this pretty boy just said hi to me for no good goddamn reason.

  He looks as puzzled as I feel when the silence stretches past comfortable. With a shrug, he smiles and strolls away.

  I belatedly mumble something—some garbled version of ‘Hey back,’ I think. Too late. He's gone.

  I watch his ass twitch as he moves from sunlight to shadow, imagining its contours long after I'm able to see them clearly. Then I sigh at my own stupidity, adjust my cock, and fish the iPod out of my shirt's front pocket.

  Eminem's irrational bitching fills my ears.

  Exactly what I'm in the mood for.

  * * * *

  It's been two weeks since that first embarrassing exchange, and though the guy's never attempted another conversation, it seems like every time I turn around he's watching me.

  His name's Joshua Camden.

  Pretty, pretty, little Josh Camden. Twenty years old. Pisces. Auburn hair, green eyes, 5'-8", 155 pounds.

  Ain't Google grand?

  He's the star of Westenvale's lightweight rowing team and Senator Holt Camden's son.

  I'd laughed when I found that out, pushed my chair back from the computer and laughed fit to burst. Senator Camden is so far right he's practically horizontal. And his gorgeous little boy—his youngest son—is queer.

  Yesterday, Josh winked at me, and I know there was an extra wiggle in his walk as he went by. I tell ya, I'm seriously considering a hard shove into the nearest broom closet the next time I see him. Whether to lock him in alone or whether to throw myself in after him, I haven't quite decided.

  I just don't know what his game is. I mean, one can only assume he's having a chuckle at my expense. The senator's son and the janitor. Yeah, right.

  Shit.

  Josh is coming down the dorm's wide front steps with Leo Schyler. Leo has blond hair, blue eyes, is 6'-2” and weighs 178 pounds. Leo's a Leo, coincidentally, and one of Westenvale's typically tall handsome-and-wealthy. He's a pharmaceutical prince of the realm. Worth billions.

  Mmm, hmm. I've researched all of Josh Camden's friends, too—pathetic nutjob that I seem to have become.

  I thought Josh had already left for Thanksgiving. Most everyone else has. Leo's getting into his $80,000 beater right now. Yep, folding that smokin', long-legged frame right in there.

  I realize I'm staring and make myself turn away. There are no leaves to blow over in this corner, but who cares?

  Not me.

  I couldn't give a shit if Josh Camden kisses Leo Schyler goodbye. I don't even know the guy. Either guy. Whatever.

  The blower only partially masks the sound of Leo's Porsche 911 roaring off into the sunset. It fully covers the sound of Joshua's footsteps approaching. His hand on my arm makes me jump.

  I cut the blower and the hush of a late fall twilight crashes in on us.

  "Hey there,” he says. His voice is soft enough that I might not have heard it if the whole world hadn't suddenly turned so darn quiet.

  "Hey,” I say back. Crap. So much for the shoulda-coulda-wouldas I'd thought up should this opportunity ever present itself again.

  The waning November light makes his eyes look more grey than green. Moss touched slate. And his mouth ... Good God, what an amazing, pouty, cock-sucking mouth he has.

  A smirk curves his full lips, probably because I'm ogling them. Cashmere-covered fingers trail up my arm. “I'm done hinting,” he says.

  Josh's hand reaches my cheek, skims around to cup my nape, and his lips mash hard against mine. My mouth's fallen wide open, so it's really no problem for his tongue to thrust inside and wrestle with my own.

  My cock leaps to attention. Hey, Josh! it says. Wanna fuck? Right here? Right now? D'ya wanna?

  His long wool coat parts as he pushes his body against me. His cock, just as hard as mine, bruises my thigh.

  The last ray of sunlight dies.

  We have one blessed minute of darkness, groping and moaning, before headlights sweep over us. Stop on us. We freeze—my hands on his ass, his arms around my neck. Both of us red-cheeked, swollen-lipped.

  "Our chariot,” Josh says. His voice has a husky quaver. It complements the faint southern twang nicely.

  And his eyes are green after all. Dark, vibrant green like a mountain meadow in the spring. They sparkle as he hauls me into the cab's back seat.

  "The Marriot, please,” he says to the driver.

  Then he's in my lap, kissing me again. I lose myself in his mouth and thrust against the ass I've spent the last two weeks fantasizing about.

  After what feels like just a second but is probably closer to ten minutes, the driver's churlish voice intrudes. “Marriot's comin’ up in two."

  I turn my head and break the lip-lock. “What exactly are we doing here?” I ask, only panting slightly. Yay me.

  "Right now? Nothing much.” Josh nuzzles my ear and whispers, “But in a few minutes, I very much hope we'll be fucking each other's brains out."

  I can't stop my groan, nor can I control my wandering hands. Or maybe I just don't want to. His shoulders are so much more muscular than they appear in his tailored burgundy jackets. “You don't even know me.” I'm not sure why I say it. It's not like I want to dissuade him or anything.

  "Not yet.” Josh waggles his eyebrows, wriggles his bum. “But, okay, a quick intro may be called for,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. He leans forward so that his hard, square pecs bump my own. His breath is humid on my cheek. “My name's Josh—"

  "Camden. I know who you are.” He smiles—I feel it against my skin—and nips the sensitive spot just behind my jaw. I make an effort to get out my own name. “I'm Carl...” His tongue slithers into my ear. “R ... ahh..."

  "Ruiz.” His turn to finish my sentence, it would appear. I grab two big handfuls of silky auburn hair and tug his head back until I can see his eyes. “How the hell do you know my name?"

  Josh is wearing a smirk again. I resist the urge to kiss it off. “Guess you're not the only one with a computer, Carl.” He strains against my hold, trying to close the gap between our bodies. I let him.

  The driver scowls at us in the rearview mirror. “Ye gonna get out, or do I hafta throw ye out on yer asses?"

  I hadn't noticed we'd stopped.

  "What do I owe you?” Josh sounds much more polite than I would have been.

  "$24.13."

  Josh tosses a twenty and two fives onto the front seat.

  "Yer father would be ashamed, young man,” says the cabbie with a shake of his greasy grey head. “Ashamed.” He's reaching for the bills when Josh snaps forward over the seat back and retrieves a fiver.

  "My father can fuck off, old man,” Josh says. “And so can you."

  The cabbie doesn't give me time to clear the door before he squeals away. Josh yanks hard on my coat, saving me from a broken foot or worse, and we both topple over backwards.

  "Damn,” I hear him mutter. “So much for suave.” He stands first and offers me his hand; it's no visible effort for him to pull me to my feet—all 220 pounds of me. “Sorry about that,” he says. Still holding my hand, he begins to draw me toward the hotel entrance.

  "Wait a minute.” I pull back. “Wait."

  He turns around, exasperation plain on his face. “Problem?"

  "You're serious about this? You're going to take me, a—” A nobody, is what I'd been about to say. “—a perfect stranger—” I say instead. “—into this hotel and fuck him ... me?” Gah. My eloquence deserts me at the worst times.

  Josh's teeth flash. “Unless you'd rather fuck here, yeah, that's the plan."

  All right, then.

  I try to maintain some semblance of cool as we stumble into the lobby. Josh isn't making it easy. He's groping my ass, pressing kisses to my throat. He doesn't seem to give a shit that people are staring.

  "Stop that.” I slap his hand away from the front of my jeans. My cock twitches in disapproval. “Let's just get a room
, okay?"

  His distracting fingers slip inside my shirt. My nipples are already hard, eager for the attention. “Got one,” he says. “Third floor."

  What clever, cruel hands he has. “Confidant, were we?” I ask on a gasp.

  "Hopeful."

  I switch direction, steering my sexy little hard-bodied friend toward the elevator now, instead of the front desk.

  The doors open as soon as I press the button. There's no one inside. Thank God.

  Josh leaps on me when the doors swish closed. I stagger, falling against the mirrored back wall. He rips my shirt open and plastic buttons go flying. I feel some fleeting irritation at that. I only have three work shirts, but then his tongue's on my nipple and his hands are at my belt. Ah, screw it, I'll learn to sew.

  When his teeth take over for his tongue my eyes start to roll back—fuck, I love having my nipples chewed on—that's when I notice the blinking red light. It belongs to the tiny camera set high up in the corner. “Err, Josh."

  He's worked my buckle loose. The zipper slides down; he's reaching inside my jeans. His hand wraps around my cock.

  "Uhh, Josh. Camera ... up ... damn it!"

  "Wha—"

  His fingers still. He lifts his head. I sag against the wall, grateful for a reprieve, however temporary. At this rate, he's going to get me off before we even make it to the room.

  I gesture toward the ceiling. “In the corner."

  Josh grimaces. Concern—or is that fear?—flickers in his eyes. The elevator dings, the doors swish open, and his expression clears. “Ah, well. Done is done,” he says, using my cock to pull me out. I follow like a puppy on a lead.

  We're the third door on the left. Josh lets go of me long enough to dig a keycard out of his pocket. Before I know I mean to move, I'm behind him, grinding into his ass. He drops the keycard and splays his hands against the door, the better to grind back.

  "I'm gonna fuck you so hard.” My fingers twine through his. My mouth's against his ear. “You're gonna forget every other guy you've ever been with."

  He rotates his hips and chuckles, wicked and throaty. “Confident, are we?” My prick chafes between his ass cheeks. Christ, I could come any second.