Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Friday, October 2, 2015


Okay-- I am extremely pleased and surprised and flattered at how many of you REALLY love the Cartinski (as a reader has dubbed it) dynamic. (You can chime in as to whether you like that or John/Jack, actually-- I've been calling it John/Jack.)

One reader hath gone above and beyond and made me many many memes with our heroes on it, so I need to write at LEAST enough more episodes to use some of those up.  And I'm not arguing with that-- I like my middle aged dads. Have one myself, actually-- it's just nice to see the appreciation runs deep :-)


* * *

The silence in the hospital room stretched long and thin.  Stiles sat near the head of the bed, arms crossed, glare focused at the top of Jack Carter's blond head.

Jack sat on the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees, blue eyes glued to the pale face of Stiles's father, as John Stilinski breathed steadily in and out.

Derek Hale stuck his head into the room.





Derek stalked into the room, right into Stiles's body space, and bared his teeth. His canine teeth.


Stiles's head snapped back and he stared unhappily into Derek's blue eyes.  "Derek, you can't possibly mean--"

"I do," Derek growled. "Can't you smell them?"

Stiles looked away from those bright blue, innocence-killing eyes.  "I don't have your nose, oh mighty wolfen warrior," he snapped.

Derek let out a sigh and leaned his head until his wrinkled brow touched Stiles's.

"Please tell me you're not just being an asshole."

Stiles darted his eyes to where his father lay, heavily bandaged, and fought for breath.

"Derek, it's my dad."

"I know."


"But he's not just yours anymore."

Stiles let out a growl that sounded surprisingly like Derek's.  "I do not agree with that assessment."

Derek sighed. "I don't care if you agree or not. I can smell them, Stiles. Like Scott can smell me and you. It's a big deal."

Stiles let out a little whimper. "It was my fault--"

Derek shook his head. "So wasn't."

"It was--"

"It wasn't."

Both of them looked, surprised, to where Carter was still sitting at John's side. Tentatively, like he was afraid of his audience, Carter reached out a battered finger and stroked the back of John's knuckles as they lay on the sheet.

"Wasn't your fault, Stiles," he rasped. "Was mine."

Stiles and Derek let out identical sighs.

"It wasn't," Derek murmured to him.

"No, no--wasn't," Stiles agreed.

"Then you need to leave the room."  Derek wasn't a wolf anymore, but Stiles was actually more impressed than ever.

*  *  *

Stiles was the one who discovered that the boundary between Eureka County and Beacon Hills did weird shit to the supernatural.

He'd been out with the others on his mountain bike while Scott, Liam, and Derek were running in their furry forms.  They were further out behind Derek's property than Stiles, at least, could ever remember being, when Scott leapt over a log in his path…

And sparked blue, landing on the other side of the log in his human form, naked and fucking surprised.

Liam went leaping right over the damned log, but Derek stopped, executing some sort of ninja flip to keep himself clear.

For a moment, the woods were silent, as Stiles stared at his naked friends and they stared back.

"The fuck?"

"I feel…"  Scott mumbled, standing and wobbling a little.  "I feel…"  He put his hand out, like he was leaning on a wall, and howled instead as his hand sparked blue again.  they all watched as his paw turned furry, with claws on one side, and then turned pink and raw and human when he pulled it back.

"Oh," Scott mumbled, looking at Stiles in panic. "This is… bad."

And then they heard the gunshot, and the blue laser came out of nowhere, missed Scott by inches, and blew the log he'd jumped over into splinters.

Stiles and Derek looked at each other, and did the couple-sympatico thing that they did sometimes.  Scott and Liam were naked and confused, and Stiles and Derek were not-- somebody needed to distract fire.

Stiles grabbed Scott's phone from his pocket and threw it across the invisible veil.  "Scott!"

Scott's attention snapped forward and he caught the phone with werewolves instincts, and Stiles shouted, "Call my dad!"

And then he and Derek started screaming and yelping at the top of their lungs, and the blue laser bolts followed them through the forest, towards the rubble of Derek's old house, as they screamed back through the forest.

*  *  *

Carter's cock, thick and wide, was stretching John's ass so wide, so sweetly, he lost the ability to brain words.

"Nungh…"  He pounded on Jack's shoulders, trying to beg for faster, for harder, when Jack was just moving slow as syrup.

Jack chuckled and lowered his head to blow in John's ear.  "You really like this, don't you?"

Oh, Lord. Everything had faded into the pressure and burn in his asshole, the swollen ache of his cock, and the smell and texture of Carter's lovely body as he drove hard and slow into John.


In John's whole life, he couldn't remember when sex had taken him so far outside himself, immersed him so totally into this other world with the person inside his body.  He clenched Jack's shoulders harder, so physically needy for pleasure, it was like those long years without any joy had never existed at all.

Carter chuckled more, his breath short, and started to move a little faster.

"Ah… yes…"  John closed his eyes, afraid they'd tear up.  How embarrassing, crying from pleasure, crying in front of another man.

But Carter grabbed a handful of John's hair and forced his head back. "No hiding," he growled, and John nodded.

"Okay… just… just… don't stop…"

Carter nodded, his jaw set, and the deliciously slow lovemaking that had become their afternoon suddenly sped up, huge and fast. Lightning and thunder, rolled through John's body, blinding him, deafening him, to everything but Jack's harsh pants in his ears and the euphoria rushing through his blood.


Like wildfire, the climax rushed them both, and Carter whooped just as John gasped.  Carter's cock pulsed with orgasm, and John moaned, spraying cum over his stomach and chest.  The world stopped, for just that breath, and then Carter fell to the side of him, his spend rushing out all over John's ass, and John let out a groan and threw his arm over his eyes.

The sound that issued from John's throat then was pure joy.

"Good?" Jack asked, tracing a pattern between John's nipple and his belly button.

"You've killed me," John laughed, so replete he wasn't sure he could move.

Then Carter licked his nipple and he laughed, pulling his knees up to his chest.  Carter laughed too and continued to play, tickling behind his knees and his ribs and his tender stomach. John rolled to his side, laughing like a kid, and Carter stopped tickling him long enough to rest his chin on John's upper arm.

"I like this," Carter said soberly.

"I'm not complaining."  John smiled into Carter's pretty blue eyes, feeling winsome and young for the first time in forever.

"I'd like more of this," Carter said.  He smiled. "I'm not a smart man…"

"But I know what I like," John finished for him. Yeah, he'd heard all about Carter's job in Eureka. Carter never said it, never mentioned the times he'd seen something that the rest of the world hadn't, but John was truly coming to believe the world would have been destroyed a couple of times over if Carter wasn't doing what he was doing.

"I'd like more of this," Carter said softly.

"How do we do that?"  Seriously.  "I'm up to my ass in werewolves, Jack. You live in a sentient house that would probably try to eat me if I ever came over."

"I don't share," Carter responded, grimacing.  He sighed. "Yeah, I know. Pretty dreams, right? You and me, setting up house. I mean…"

Allison had left him while pregnant with his child. Carter had two stepchildren, Zoe, and a one year old in shared custody, and all of those people were in Eureka.  He wasn't just going to walk out on them--and John didn't want them to.

"It's forty miles too far," John sighed.  He brightened after a moment. "But, you know, Derek and Stiles might move to Eureka, and maybe Scott can move the base of ops--"

Carter was shaking his head. "No-- no, I don't think so. We had this weird influx of druids one year, and Fargo set up this sort of supernatural border patrol--"

John swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Wait-- what does it do?"

Carter shrugged. "I don't know--but whatever it did to the druids, they left us the hell alone."

John groaned, suddenly seeing all the ways this could go south, just as his cell phone rang.

He picked it up and Scott McCall shouted through the speaker, his voice pitching and yawing as, it sounded like, he swung from form to form.

Carter started throwing on his uniform, which had been strewn around their usual hotel room in anticipation of a long lunch, saying, "Oh man, that can't be good."

John was pulling his writing pad and pen out of his shirt pocket, while he threw the shirt over his shoulders.  "Okay, okay son-- calm down. Now give me the nearest landmark--"  He put his hand over the receiver and glared at Jack.  "They are in Eureka, Carter, and someone is chasing them with a laser, dammit!

"Aw crap," Jack muttered, pulling on his boots.

*  *  *

Jack drove while John conferred with Scott on one phone, and pulled out Carter's other phone to call Parrish.  "The guy with the gun is on the other side of the barrier," he snarled. "But we don't want to shoot him with real bullets if we can help it-- according to… Sherriff Carter, that blue laser will only blow things apart if they're supernatural."

"So Derek's toast?" Parrish asked, as though making sure.

John closed his eyes. "No-- Derek is not toast."  He thought of Stiles, try ing to mountain bike faster than a glowing laser gun.  "My son-- my son is most likely toast."

"Your son is not toast," Carter snapped.  "Here-- give me my phone--"

"You're trying to drive!"

Carter grunted.  "Car!"

"Yes sir?"

"Call Allison."

"Your former wife no longer resides in your resid--"

"She's at the company ruling the world with her husband, dammit. Now poke her, and tell her we need to put that damned border ray on hold!"

"Sir, are you sure she'll take your calls?"

"Tell her my boyfriend's son is in danger, dammit, and use those exact words!"

The car shut up long enough to go have it's conversation, and John looked at him.

"Carter, did you just out yourself to your whole town?"

Carter shrugged. "Allison knew," he said, almost defensively.

"That's really brave," John said, his body remembering the way that possession had rolled through it.  This man was so much more than the dumbest employee in Eureka.

To be continued… 

(Sorry guys-- tired-- I'll continue this next FRiday.)

The Snap

Chicken's Cat, Val, who is chunky and
vocal and loves the boys better.
Chicken adores her.
I'm not sure I can articulate the thing that causes the snap.

There is a moment when my brain--which has been running like a hamster on a wheel for some time--simply stops.

The hamster is thrown off the fucking wheel, into a wall, and it just lays there for a while, looking dazedly around while the wheel continues to turn in the background.

The hamster threw me off of the wheel today.

The only productive thing i did was buy milk, and check in on my offspring.  For those curious, Squish gave a speech for Student Council and feel she did well, Zoomboy has a C in English now, Big T is as flamingly liberal as I am and thinks Trevor Noah is doing a splendid job on The Daily Show, and Chicken has procured a 5 yo rescue cat named Valyrie.  Mate had his own snap tonight and almost fell asleep before we served him his cake.  All the kids are a little put out that Mate and I didn't make much of our birthdays this year, but what can I say? We're both lying dazed by the hamster wheel, going, "Oh for sweet fuck's sake, we have to get back on that thing?"

So tomorrow expect Fanfic Frida-- and if we want some interactive stuff, PLEASE send me pictures (either on FB, Twitter, or here) of the couple you most want to see. I got some VERY wonderful John/Jack pictures for my birthday, and if I don't hear anything definitive, I'm doing John/Jack again, because I think we could do some hurt comfort there, don't you?

And from here on out, it's a dead sprint to GRL, so expect to hear some of that.  I'm hideously behind, I really am.  But I guess I needed to catch my breath before jumping on the wheel again.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Since you all asked...

I had a wonderful birthday :-)

Big T and the little kids gave me the movies Ghost, Blade Runner, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mate took me out to dinner--and my friend Wendy gave us a gift certificate to the steak place we love the most.

Chicken gave me this amazing .gif. gave me Mate's present in time for HIS birthday tomorrow.

Dreamspinner Press gave me Truth in the Dark available on audio, narrated by Nick J. Russo, who's talent continues to blow my mind.

My bestie Mary gave me pretty pictures of pretty boys-- hello new phone screen saver.

And you all?
You all gave me a zillion greetings on FaceBook that made me feel special all day.

Thanks all!  Night!

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

An Unusual Pre-Birthday

So, this morning, the lovely, inestimable, AMAZING fantastic Rhys Ford did a terrible thing to me today.
She wished me Happy Birthday.  

Now see, a couple of years ago, Rhys took me on one of my best and most memorable birthdays to date-- she took me to an alpaca farm, and to eat with her in San Diego, and we dragged Chicken along and on the whole, one of my better birthdays. But when I was down there, my whole "time disability" clicked in-- and I mean extreme. I insisted it was my birthday for an entire day when it wasn't, and Rhys just nodded and smiled and humored the crazy person, and this whole thing would be much funnier if it wasn't for the fact that I misjudged when I was planning to come home (on Mate's B-day) and had to add $100 to my ticket to come back in time. 

So, this morning, the joke was on me-- my birthday is tomorrow. 

And thank God.

I spent this birthday in my sweats, with no makeup, probably creeping out my dentist who was giving me a filling. The filling itself was sort of a pisser-- I hadn't NEEDED a filling until the hygienist accidentally popped out the old one last week while flossing my teeth.  So, today it was the long needle, the deep deep nerves, the drill, and, when they were done? The drooling.

OH, the embarrassing drooling.  Did I mention I went to the post office, mailing Chicken's birthday package and some other envelopes while drooling? So while in the line at the post office, I complained about the damned postage machine that was full of LIES-- while drooling. 

"Da mathine-- da mathine toll me an ga' me da pothdage, thee?"

"Yes, ma'am, but this obviously isn't an envelope-- there's stuff that's not bending inside."

"Dere pothtcards-- DON'T BEND DEM!-- Dere thpothed to be thent…"

"But ma'am, it won't bend--"

"DON'T BEND DEM! Jutht nebermind. Quit i'. Leab me awone to bay a dollar thix. I don' cawe."

And of course, I didn't care by then, either. I was too busy wiping drool.  *headdesk*

Today was too much work to do, and soccer, and me cooking dinner, and jollying the kids to homework and in the background, FB was popping up "Happy Birthday" banners like wildfire. 

I was… flattered. 

It was my faux birthday and people were wishing me happy returns.  

It made me want to dress up tomorrow and do my makeup and try not to drool. (Although I assume that will stay gone now that the damned anesthetic has worn off.)  It made me want to celebrate my birthday, dammit! You know the way you do as a kid, where you wear something special and hope the whole world knows it's your day?

So, thanks Rhys. Apparently that birthday WEEKEND was the gift that keeps on giving.  Hopefully today sucked up all my bad day juju, and tomorrow can be a really nice birthday-- even if I'm the only one who knows why I'm wearing the nice clothes and has done the makeup.  

(Mate will notice-- I think we're doing our birthday date tomorrow, since his birthday is on October 1st. I have ordered his present--I'm so excited. I hope I got the right one!)

Fucking Monday

*  The @midnight episode with Jack McBrayer was the best thing about my day. Saying. Surprising minx that he was, I very much enjoyed watching the other players and Chris Hardwick tease him into relaxing and kicking ass on the show. Favorite moment? 

Chris Hardwick was just about to tell him that because it was his first time on the show, the fact that Jack was in last place still wasn't getting him kicked off of the final round.

To which Jack responded, "Please let me leave!"

I died laughing. Particularly because THAT'S how I felt about this entire fucking day.

*  First of all, I've done some math this year. ZB is going to a different school than Squish, and while Mate drops him off in the morning, I pick him and Squish up in the afternoons. I am losing between 30 and 45 minutes out of my day because of this. And because of a change in the soccer/dance schedule, I went from two nights a week doing extracurricular activities to three, plus some extras on the side (Squish wants in the GATE program, which means I pick ZB up at 2:30 and Squish up at 4:30 and THEN we all ride together to dance lessons!)  All told, I lost between 5-7 hours of time a week which I used previously to work. Given that the rest of my day is a little more fractured, It's like trying to do 40 hours worth of work in 32, and I'm scrambling. So, if I'm late with e-mails, or absent on social media (although I seem to bitch more when I'm stressed because I can't concentrate, so that's not a good measurement) or if you sent me an interview that I thought I could do or asked me a question that I was SURE I could get to--

I can't. I just flat out can't. And it's driving me crazy. I worked so hard to be reliable and I've been a fucking twatwhacking mess since… June, mostly, but I thought it would get better when things settled down. Turned out, things are settling down with 7 less hours and I don't know what to do to get them back. 

So, yes. Happy MOnday, the hamster wheel is going faster, run you little bastard run!

*  And we started out this Monday with poop in the hallway. And under Squish's bunk. And pretty much in piles everywhere. Squish was late to school because: poop.  

Good morning!

*  And I got to aqua and it turns out that the aqua classes that have been keeping me alive and mobile have all been canceled. Seriously-- I was M/W/F like clockwork, and the only ones they have left are T/Th. Which will teach me to bitch about the instructors btw-- I should have known that was coming.

*  Got home and worked past my nap time.  I napped for about 45 minutes and  when it was time to go get ZB and then Squish, I… well, I had my head up my ass, or down the editing rabbit hole or… whatever. I went to Squish's school first, which meant I was 20 minutes late picking up Zoomboy and then 5 minutes late when I came back and got Squish.  They were fine--but *headdesk*-- there goes mother of the year… 

*  Got back and worked past the postage time.  The good news is, I've submitted the damned book, and I can pull my head out of my ass for at least a couple of days. And since I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow (grrrrr….)  I should be able to get to the post office! 

*  The bad news is that I've been holding back the raging waters with my finger in the dike while I've been frantically finishing this project with my other hand. I am SO FAR BEHIND. I can't even write another list, because it will just make me cry.

*  Whatever it was I wanted to make for dinner got subverted for my need for comfort carbs and dudes… I don't want to talk about dinner. It was tasty and horrid.  Ulg.


This is sort of a pathetic whine about MOnday.  I mean, Chicken worked sick, and had to deal with $200 repair on her car-- that was a worse Monday. Mate has had soccer meetings for the last month of Mondays-- that would put a damper on ANY day of the week. 

And when I posted a whine on Twitter/FB, the general response I got was, "It HAS been a cruel and unusual Monday, hasn't it?"

So I'm going to be interactive if I can-- what basically miserable stupid shitty thing happened to make your Monday less than ideal?  No tragedies-- I mean… dudes. If somebody passed away, that's not a Monday thing, that's a big painful deal. No-- this is, you know, dogs pooping, cars breaking down, checks not making it on time, the traffic light that lasted 45 minutes with the kids screaming in the back… share your Monday story, because right now, my whine is pretty pathetic, made painful mostly because I had my head up the dragon cave and wasn't functioning on all 8 cylinders. 

What's YOUR Monday?

Sunday, September 27, 2015

What it is I finished...

Well, much of my social media heard me crowing to the stars that I'd finished something last night. I've been editing it today, to submit tomorrow, and then my pre-GRL life can start. Because right now, I'm behind on ALL THE FUCKING THINGS.


I thought I'd share a little bit of Selfie, which is the thing I finished. It's part of the Bluewater Bay Universe (from whence came Deep of the Sound) and this one deals more directly with some of the actors.

One actor in particular. On actor who spent eleven years of his life hiding a big fucking secret from the whole world, and now that the secret has been gone for a year? Connor Montgomery is having a hell of a time finding normal.

Fortunately he's got Noah Dakers to help him find normal. But Noah's vision of normal is a little more san than Con's--and Con's not as ready for it as he should be.

Are you ready? Here's and excerpt from Selfie, which will be out in April.

*  *  *

Simon?” Noah was trying to sound humble—and failing. “Uh… don’t take this the wrong way but—“
“I’m gone,” Simon said quietly. I didn’t flinch from his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll have Anna get Jillian the contract by Monday. Please stay. This show’s so good with you.”
“Thanks,” I said automatically. “Yeah. Of course I’ll stay.”
And then he was gone, and I was alone with Noah.
“You knew?” he said quietly.
“Like I said, not with who. It… I was gone a lot. Vinnie wasn’t…”
“Strong,” Noah said quietly. “I get it. So—why did you leave Warlock Tea?”
I shook my head, not wanting to do this, not now. “Noah—“ I all but begged.
“Got it. Let’s get to the car and get you on some pain meds.”
“No pain meds,” I muttered. “R.I.C.E.”
“All weekend,” he said grimly, and then he squat next to me so I could throw my arm around his shoulder.  He straightened and I pushed, and in a moment I was hopping across the trailer. We got to the steps and Noah made me hold on to the doorframe so he could walk down and steady me as I hopped some more.
God, by the time I got to the car, I was sweating and pissed.
“You know what?” I bitched as he slid me into the back seat.
“You want me to sell your mountain bike?” he asked before shutting my door and getting into the front seat.
“No,” I snarled, using my adrenaline. “I want to get better so I can ride that thing again. I’m going to ride it, and I’m going to scream down that goddamned hill, and I’m going to show it who the fuck is the fucking boss. That’s what I’m going to do. And then I’m going to go down a bigger hill. I’m going to go down hills so steep I need a fucking parachute to get on the trail in the first place. I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of things hurting. I’m tired wanting to hide my head under a pillow and scream and cry and sleep. I’m fucking tired of pain. I’m going to make pain my bitch, and I’m going to fly down that fucking mountain with my hair on fire, screaming bloody murder all the—ouch!”
There was a cattle guard in the driveway of the property we’d leased for the outdoor sets. Going over that fucking set of pipes almost made me throw up.
“Sorry about that,” Noah said gently.
“Don’t be sorry,” I muttered. “Not your fault. I’m tired of pain. I just want to live my life without any fucking pain.”
“Yeah, sure,” he soothed. “But first, you’ve got to heal.”
Neither of us were talking about the ankle, and both of us knew it.
“Yeah, fine,” I muttered. “I’ll fucking heal. I don’t have to be gracious about it.”
Noah laughed softly, and I knew what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth. “And we have the video to prove it!”
I shut up and seethed for the rest of the trip. 
By the time we were done with the X-Rays and the bandaging and the fitting for the brace and, yes, the pain medication that I finally relented and agreed to take, I was too exhausted to seethe. I was too exhausted to talk. In fact, about the only thing I had the energy to do was to fold my arms in front of me, tuck my head in the corner of the door and the seat, and fall asleep. I woke up at the end of the forty-five minute drive as Noah was parking the car.
He got out and opened the door for me, handing me the hated and dreaded crutches.
 “Yeah, well, get used to them. When you’re not standing on the set, that’s your default for the next two weeks.”
I glared. “I can do water aerobics and weight lifting,” I reminded him and he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah. There’s a pool at the Global—if you want I’ll have Anna get you permission to go swim there in the mornings. Are we done being a diva who has to keep his body perfect now?”
“You seemed so sweet when we first met,” I muttered. “Who knew?”
“I’m a philosophy major, Connor. Sarcasm is our defense against the workforce disappointment.”
“Ha.”  I started to hobble forward, letting him open the garage door for me.  He followed me into the house, taking one of the crutches and holding my arm while I used the banister to make it up the stairs.
“Ha what?”
“You have the world’s greatest job at the moment,” I told him facetiously. “You get to watch me completely implode and shuttle me to exciting places like hotels and doctor’s offices. You have nothing to complain about.”
He took my arm over his shoulders as we cleared the landing, and held the crutches in his opposite hand.  I leaned on him until we got into the bedroom. 
“Can you pee standing up, or do you have to do number two?” he asked in all seriousness, and I…
I did not take that very well.
I collapsed on the bed, laughing my ass off.
“Number two?  Oh my God—did you just ask me if I have to take a crap? Because—“
“Yeah, I get—“
“I mean, I know the paparazzi can be intrusive sometimes—“
“Yeah, there was probably—“
“But Jesus, Noah—not even Vinnie used to ask me if I had to take a crap!”
Noah rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he didn’t. Vinnie was perfect and saintly in all things.”
“No he wasn’t.”
“Did I mention the sarcasm?  Now do you have to go sit down and have private time for a while or what?”
I thought about it.  “Naw,” I said, suddenly sober. “Just let me pee and brush my teeth." 

Friday, September 25, 2015

We Shall Never Speak of This Again

Wherever Sheriff Stilinski went with his new "friend", he didn't get back until the shadows were dripping golden through Stiles's bedroom window.

Stiles and Derek were just getting out of the shower when they heard him come through the door, calling, "Guys! Guys! I've got some pizza here!"

Derek half-laughed in the middle of pulling his freshly laundered shirt over his head. "You know, your dad is pretty awesome."

Stiles nodded and pulled his boxers on. "You've got clothes for tomorrow?" he asked. "I mean, now that I did laundry?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, but--"

"Then stay. Again. For dinner."


"Your place sucks. It's big and broody and lonely. Lots of women slept there who either tried to kill you or died. Stay here."

Oh Lord. So easy. Would be so easy just to stay here and pretend they were one happy family.

When John Stilinski called out again it was from the foot of the stairs. "Are you telling me neither of you have an appetite?"

"Be right there, Dad!" Stiles called from his door. "What kind of pizza?"

"I brought three--combination, with anchovies, and pepperoni. Derek can eat them all if he feels like it, because I had a big salad with chicken for lunch."

Stiles's grunt did not sound like he was buying it. "Why would you do that without me nagging?"

"I had lunch with another middle aged man, Stiles. Do you think we both don't check cholesterol?"

"Huh. Yeah, give us a minute."

Stiles closed his door and checked over his shoulder to see if Derek was clothed.

And Derek smacked him in the face with a T-shirt and sweats. "Stop tormenting him," he said. "And yes, I'll stay until tomorrow."

Stiles's grin was so happy/evil, Derek tried really hard to pretend he didn't know what he'd just signed on for. Stiles was going to make him ask "the question".

*  *  *

John Stilinski was still befuddled over the events of the night before.

Well, not really befuddled. Bemused. 

Well, not really bemused.  AROUSED. 

Yes, he probably should have been entering the viagra years, but every time he'd thought about what he and Jack had done in the muted quite of his bedroom the night before, his erection grew both uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Which explained how a trip to Eureka to take Jack out to lunch had gone on a lot longer than either one of them had planned.

Because last night…

They'd both taken off their shoes before they entered the kitchen, and John had listened carefully before they padded up the stairs.

Oh, thank God. Not a sound--just the unmistakeable smell that was probably werewolf sex, because Stiles had been pretty active with boys and girls before Derek, and John had never been quite that… overwhelmed with pungency until Derek.

"Oh my God…" Jack whispered behind him. "It smells like… like sweat sox and elephant semen."

John chuckled as they passed Stiles's room and dragged Jack unselfconsciously down the hall.

"The sweat sox were my son's," he admitted. "The other thing--"

"Werewolf sex?"


John stopped in his doorway and frowned. "Wait a minute-- how do you know what elephant semen smell--"

Jack kissed him again, that same assertive sweetness that he'd given in the car, and John melted against the doorframe.  Fumbling, he reached behind him and opened the door, backing up so Jack could come in and shut the door behind him. He pulled back long enough to turn on the lamp near his bed, hearing the snick of the lock just as he looked up.

Jack was walking toward him with definite intent, unbuttoning the cuffs of his blue dress shirt as he walked.

John was suddenly, acutely aware that he was forty-seven years old. Yeah, sure, he went running more mornings than he didn't, and he worked out his upper body when he could--but still. Time didn't tell kind lies. He knew his chest hair was a little gray and his ass wasn't as tight as it had been and--

Carter finished unbuttoning his shirt and drew near, close enough for John to feel his heat. His rough hands cupped John's cheeks and he made John look at him.

John was really starting to like those crinkles in the corners of his eyes.  "What?" he asked, his voice shaking a little.

"You tell me."

John looked down to the neck of Carter's tank. His chest was muscular and broad, and he only had a few blonde hairs in the center.

"You've got a really nice chest," he said, feeling pathetic.

Carter laughed softly and lowered his head, kissing him behind the jaw. "You've got really nice eyes," he said, brushing John's ear with his lips.

"Backatcha… oh…"

"And I like your laugh," Carter continued, nibbling down the side of his neck.  "And your kindness…"


Carter was unbuttoning the front of John's shirt, and John had lost track of why they were telling each other stupidly nice things--but that didn't mean he was going to drop the ball.

"You've got a really nice smile," John mumbled, as Carter kissed down his chest. They were both wearing tanks under their blue dress shirts, which was sort of funny, really, but John didn't feel like laughing.

Particularly when Carter shoved the dress shirt off his shoulders and then lifted his tank up by the hem and pulled it over his head.

"You like my smile?" Carter asked, his eyes glinting wickedly in the lamp light.

"Yeah," John said, comfortable again in his own skin. He raised a hand and rubbed Carter's abdomen under his tank. "I really like your smile."

"Do you like my teeth?" Carter teased, and John frowned.

"Sure-- they're part of a smile right--ooooh…"

Carter lowered his head to John's chest and nibbled gently on his nipple.  John's hand flailed for Carter's shoulder, and Carter licked the the nipple, and then nibbled again, and then nipped.

"Ahh…"  John's hands flailed, finally finding purchase on Carter's hard biceps. He squeezed hard, knowing he couldn't hurt, couldn't bruise, and he realized there were unexpected good things about being with a man.

Carter chuckled and licked over to his other nipple and John groaned and sat down hard on the bed.

"Lay back," Carter ordered.

So easy. Just do what this kind, funny man asked him to and touch back. Run his hands down the smooth skin of Carter's back, knead his chest, enjoy the little catches of breath he made when John hit something particularly sensitive.

And keen as Carter paid copious amounts of attention to a part of John's body he'd thought had fallen off years ago.

John's hips were arching off the bed, and Carter's hand at his groin made him ache. "Oh God!" he breathed. He reached awkwardly down between them, trying to reach Carter's groin to see if he had an erection that could pound nails.

Carter pulled back and laughed.  "YOu want to do this like gentlemen? I'll show you mine and you show me yours?"

John had never felt like a nervous virgin before--like Stiles, he'd pretty much thrown himself into sex with a sort of practical joy. You had to have it, right, or your dick would fall off? (He'd actually heard Stiles say that to his first girlfriend-- if he hadn't used that line on Stiles's mother, he would have smacked the kid in the back of the head.)  But he felt like a nervous virgin now.

"Yeah," he said, trying not to hide. "But, uhm, can we do it under the covers."

Jack's laugh and smile were enough to make John's stomach flip.  "Yeah, sure."

"God--your dimples--fucking lethal."

Carter chuckled some more as he stood and gave John a hand up. John had to turn his back to strip, he was so embarrassed. By the time he'd gotten naked and scrambled under the covers, Jack was naked too. He stood next to the bed and held his hands out before doing a little turn and presenting himself again.

His stomach was the washboard stomach John had once possessed in his youth, and his chest was just as wide and wonderful as it had felt under John's hands.  His skin was a sort of natural gold, even the pale part of his hips and thighs.  And now that John had taken that inventory, he could move down to the thing that scared him the most.


Yeah. It was big. John couldn't seem to come up with a comparison-- was it bigger than his? Longer? Wider? Or did all the bigness come because it was probably going to end up inside John's-- uh, either way, it was wide and thick and long and erect. 

Basic sex mechanics seeped into John's brain. "Uh, that's for me?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, John. I, uh, don't normally spring one of these for someone I'm not excited to see."

John bit his lip again and whooshed the covers down, exposing his pale, middle aged glory for Carter to inspect.

Carter didn't. He slid into bed next him, and caught his mouth in another knee-melter of a kiss. John was glad he was lying down, seriously. And then Jack threw his leg over John's hips, and blew his mind.

OH God, two male naked bodies, sliding together, their chests touching, their groins… oh God. Carter's cock was touching his. It was the most amazing, wistful sort of foreplay.

John wanted to touch it!  He reached down between them, not so awkwardly this time, and grabbed him, appreciating the size and texture of him in his palm. He closed his fingers and squeezed, stroking up toward the head, and then he rubbed his thumb.

"Oooh…" he breathed. "Skin's so soft…"

Carter's pained chuckle made him flush, and then Carter's hand on John's erection, doing exactly what John was doing to Carter, made him groan.

STroke… stroke… stroke stroke stroke stroke stroke… oh God! A man's hands were on him, a man was touching him, kissing him, and his body was vibrating, swelling, aching, and climax was rolling in his thighs and his stomach--

"I'm gonna come!" he gasped.

"Come…" Jack whispered. "We've got the whole night…"

"Ahhh…"  Oh, it had been so long. His testicles tightened up between his thighs, and the edge of Jack's thumb caught on his slit, just as his fingers tightened around John's crown and…

"Ohhh…" He whimpered into Jack's mouth and Jack captured the sound.  Oh… oh God… Ohhhh…. Oh, he'd forgotten what climax at someone else's hands felt like. A hand job, naked bodies, a passionate kiss--apparently these things were the same no matter who was giving them.

Or maybe because the person giving them was giving them right.

John melted into the mattress, aware that Jack had continued stroking him through the slickness of come.  After a moment, when his dick had swelled again, and he was hard and tight and a little tender, he grunted and pulled his hips back.

"That was amazing," he breathed, smiling at Carter with a sort of innocent gratitude. "What can I do to… you know…"

"YOu ever given a blow job?" Carter asked, his hips twitching with a little bit of urgency.

"Nope."  John grinned. "But I'll try anything once." He rolled his hips and moved his body until he was eye level with Jack's chest. "But first, I'd like to try these…"

Male nipples were tiny and hard, and he liked them very much. He especially liked the throaty sounds Jack made when he nibbled on them, and he understood why the other man had spent so much time there. But John had a goal now, and he kissed his way from nipple to nipple, staying just long enough to make Carter grab his shoulders and keen with frustration.

"You know what you are," Carter mumbled and John kissed his way down a mildly furry abdomen to a perfectly shaped, bald cockhead.

"A middle aged man learning how to give head?"

"A prick tease," Carter said, then he leaned his head back and gave that appealing, throaty laugh just as John licked his crown.

The laugh turned into an "ooooh…" and John realized he was enjoying the hell out of this. His own cock still tingled, and it was already aching. And the taste of the pre dripping from Carter's cock had really flipped his switch.

He didn't even have to think, didn't have to feel, didn't have to have the big epiphany about, "Oh my God, I'm touching a guy's dick with my mouth!" because he wanted to taste that again. 

He carefully positioned his teeth and lips and tongue and sucked Carter in like he was pulling on an extra thick popsicle.

Jack's hushed grunt and his fingers scrabbling in John's hair were enough to keep John hard for hours. Oh, man, this was power. It had been power with a woman and it was just as powerful with another man. He was doing something for Carter, something important, something huge. 

He pulled up his fist and started stroking, using his lips and tongue together. He wasn't a pro or smooth or sophisticated--he was what he always had been: serviceable and competent.

He could tell by Carter's increasingly frantic tugging on his head that he was about to cum, and suddenly, he didn't want to pull away. He was lost in it, in giving someone pleasure, in doing something, something of importance, even if it was making this charming, kind man climax.

"John… coming…"

John's response was to move his hand and lower his head and bottom out as best he could.

Jack bit his own shoulder and grunted, and poured into John's mouth, the saltiness and bitterness enough to make John gag a little, and spill some out of his mouth. It puddled in a mess over Jack's balls, but John didn't have time to be embarrassed, because Jack  pulled him up by the shoulder.

"C'mere," he muttered thickly. "Here…"

John went, proud and aroused and thrilled, because… oh yes! There was Carter's mouth, and his tongue exploring, tasting again, and John answered, the shyness and hesitation gone. He'd do anything-- everything-- because doing it with this man felt so right.

The kiss went on, and on, and on, until they were both thrusting against each other's groins some more, and Jack pulled back with a gasp.

"So," he panted, a sleepy, sated, aroused smile on his face. "Round two?"

"God, yeah," John answered. "Who does what?"

Jack's smile was sin itself, and his voice made John's cock even harder…

* * *

Derek went down the stairs first, knowing Stiles would wait a scant five minutes before crashing the supposed ten minutes of talk time he'd given for Derek to answer the all important question.

God, he didn't want to do this.

"Derek!" Sheriff Stilinski said, sounding genuinely happy to see him. "Come get the pizza before it becomes, you know, tepid."

Derek smiled a little, recognizing Stiles's sense of humor and dorkiness wrapped up in the stolid, no-bullshit man he'd once been so contemptuous of.

"Tepid pizza is better, sir," he said gravely, and was rewarded by John Stilinski's quick grin.

"That should be on a T-shirt," he answered, just as gravely. "Where's Stiles?"

Derek sighed. He couldn't go through with this. "Waiting for me to ask you the most embarrassing question of all times, sir."

Sheriff Stilinski paused in the act of getting plates out from the cupboard. "Oh hell. Could we not?"

"He's relentless. You know he's relentless."

"Even if I give the answer, you know what's going to happen--"

"Squeamishness? Weirdness? Having your name dragged into my sex life for at least another month? Yes sir, I know."

"Oh God."  John shook his head and set the plates on the table, very carefully not looking at Derek. "So why are you--"

"Because if we get it out of the way now, I'll get my boyfriend back sooner. So, uhm, do you mind?"

"Jesus. I swear-- if I wasn't going to see the guy for as long as humanly possible, I'd say it wasn't worth it--"

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. "You know he'll be awful, right? He'll be asking that nice Sheriff Carter until the poor guy runs screaming from the house--"

"Yes. Yes I know."  John grabbed napkins and a glass bowl and put them both on the table, and then took the salad out of the plastic thing and put it in the glass bowl.  "Dammit. Fine."  He turned and balled the salad bag up and pitched it into the trash can by the sink. "Both of us. Happy?"

Derek thought about it.  Both. For some reason that canceled shit out. "Best answer we could hope for-- thank you sir."  Then he turned his head and shouted over the stairs. "Stiles, they both topped! Now stop being a child and get down here and eat!"

"OH my God! You told him I told you to ask!"

Derek met John's eyes and for a moment they were both in complete agreement.

"We shall never speak of this again," Jon said gravely.

Derek nodded his head. "A-fucking-men."

Thursday, September 24, 2015

Hmm… A bit salty...

So… GRL is in 20 days, and you know what? I need to frickin' plan.

Anyone want to know what's on my plate?

God-- me too.  Shall we list?

* Birthday Week-- Mate and I turn 48 next week.

*  Swag ASSEMBLE! Price tag tiny stuffed soccer balls to book cards.

* Tie book cards around the neck of Clopper stuffed dogs.

*  Buy M&M's and put them in Amy Lane mugs.

*  Buy more paper swag cause what I've got now is weak shit

* Clean the kitchen table, cause, ulgh

* Do laundry

* Finish Selfie, cause I have a frickin QUEUE.

* Start the category romance I'm writing for DSP-- fun!

* Finish edits on Bound, part 1&2.

*  Moar laundry. And some folding!

* Do I have the clothes I need?

*  Shoot! I have a game I need to map rules for! GodDAMMIT how did that sit so long?

*  Two interviews on my dashboard.

* Uhm… I'm promoting two blogs this month?

*  A character interview for Amber Kell's B-day celebration-- I'm thinking Deacon?

* PLanning a panel for GRL

* Assemble my setting workshop for GRL

* Crap-- do I have enough swag?

* Can I order it NOW since I only have 20 days?

* Clean my bathroom, cause DAYUM.

* Squish is in choir and GATE, so I need to revamp the way I pick up and drop off kids.

*  Help Squish with her student council speech and poster

* Make sure ZB gets his English grade up. Frickin' reading logs!

* Make sure the crack house moving into the abandoned place next door does not kidnap my children. I only wish I was kidding.

* Decorate for Halloween.

* Get kids costumes.

*  Oh crap, I've got another edit for Winter Ball.

* RITA awards are when?

*  I'm on a blog tomorrow, aren't I? I know I must be…

* Happy Birthday Chicken!  (She's 21.)

*  I absolutely must watch NBC's The Player. Because Phillip Winchester in his underwear, that's why. It's not negotiable, I shit you not.

*  Soccer games every weekend.

*  Dance on Wednesday.

* GATE'S on Wednesday too?

*  Feed the cats!

*  Walk the dogs.

* Aw man-- I've got another dentist appointment next week!

*  What was that about finishing the book?

* And don't forget to clean my plate, because there's veggies on the bottom.

That's not a moon, it's a space station!

Seriously-- I was NOT expecting the many and the varied quotes I got! The FB thread is truly astounding, but even here on the humble blog there are quite a few. Feel free to keep suggesting-- I've already gone back and started to change my chapter titles using ones that you all suggested. Wow--just… so much awesomeness! Can't even…



So thank you!  I wish I had something really astounding for the blog to reward you-- but I think we're going to have to stick with the Fan Fic Friday and hope I can keep it up.  For today, I'm going to yammer as usual.  Okay with everyone? Okay then.

The new aqua aerobics instructor has no actual experience in aqua. This happens sometimes because the bosses don't have quite enough instructors for coverage if the really GREAT instructors who are already there have to be gone for a reason.  This particular very young instructor has a lot of energy, which is fine, but when she tells us to do water sprints, she insists on keeping up with us on the concrete. Now, I've actually been taking aqua classes for nearly twelve years, and there are a few things that I've learned from watching instructors self-destruct and then come back after surgery--and I'm so afraid she's going to hurt herself. But that's not the only thing she doesn't know, and it's starting to make me a cranky bitch, so I'm going to share.

*  For starters? Don't run on the concrete. There are NO pads and you will destroy the cartilage in all the body parts if you do that. Oh--so taking the advice of the fat troll in the pool is too hard for you? Well then… keep doing what you'll doing and then when they have to repair the meniscus in your knee or inject cartilage n your back, you'll know why.

*  For also starters-- that awkward thing you do when you tell us we need to lift our arms out of the water and above our head before putting them back? Well, if we're  doing an actual stroke, with specified moves, we could do that and propel ourselves through the water. What you are asking us to do will damage our joints, because lifting your arms in and out of the water like that puts stresses on strange places. I know you think it looks like fun OUT of the pool, but it's not when we're IN the pool.

*  Speaking of out and in the pool-- OUT of the pool, you are twenty something and perfectly willing to screw up your own body with your own stupidity, but IN the pool, we are either elderly, overweight, or suffering from some sort of physical problem from fascaeitis to arthritis to e.d.d..  Some of us are trying to exercise safely because there have been cardiac threats in the past. (Not me, thank God, but I get very protective about the little old ladies in my pool!)  Now, me personally? When you play that catchy little guitar riff that could kill a hyperactive otter? I tone it down out of instinct-- I never trust the person on stage, you are no different. But the sweet little old women in the pool with me are killing themselves to keep up. Every instructor I've known, in or out of the pool, reminds people to go with their own pace.  You need to as well, because otherwise you're being irresponsible.

*  And speaking of irresponsible-- when several people tell you that a move-- say, thumbs down breast stroke, for example? Is bad for people, please don't blow them off and do it anyway. I watched the authority effect happen today--half the people in the pool should have known doing that could tear their shoulder muscles, but instead, they watched perky young thing on the poolside making that motion and copied her.  She did the same thing with extension exercises, and I foresee a lot of strained backs.  Plank position, sweetheart, because we can hyper extend our legs behind us really easily in the water, and hello, that would fucking hurt.

Now, I know a lot of people probably read that rant and thought, "Gees, lady, you teach the class!"  I was actually asked to-- and for a whole moment, thought about it.  It sounded like a lot of fun-- but I just don't have time right now.  But that doesn't mean I don't have some things to offer.

Or, you know, at least kvetch about.

I guess my biggest beef was that we tried to offer advice-- little things like thumbs up instead of down make such a difference in the water, because you have SO much pressure magnifying every move.  But she wasn't listening.

Of course, it was probably karma. I remember when I was a new teacher and I thought I knew SO MUCH MORE than all of the old people trying to give me advice.

Well, life is a funny old dog, innit?

In this case I'm trying not to let that old dog bite all of us oldish women on the ass as we thrash about in the water.

*whew*  So thanks for letting me get that off my chest-- tomorrow, I whine about them kids on my lawn!

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Heartbreak Blue

Oooh-- pretty, right?

Okay, so, today's blog is interactive, yeah?

I'm currently working on Selfie, about a film and media star who is silently mourning the lover that the whole world assumed was his friend.  I'm venturing back to first person, like I do every so often, and I'm sort of digging Connor--he's kind and self absorbed and a little lost--what's not to love?

Anyway-- everybody really enjoyed Beneath the Stain, in which I used song titles as chapter titles, and I had a lot of fun with that.  What I started doing with Selfie was use movie titles as chapter titles…

And it's not nearly as easy.

See, movies have so much more behind them, I think.  When you use a movie title, you're drawing a REALLY deep and wide analogy, very often one that doesn't run just between a chapter, or even a moment in the chapter, and the movie, but between the entire book!  I mean, this is about the pain of losing someone when you were both hiding the secret. Exactly which chapter of this book would be best named Brokeback Mountain, right?

So, I'm thinking maybe quotes--short and specific, no more than five words--would be better.  I'm going to have to go back and edit in.  But things like, "Wish I could quit you!" or "As you wish," or "Planet of regret" are all perfectly good chapter titles, and they're all classic moments from movies.

So, since I have to redo this entire thing-- and I'm going to have around 20 chapters-- I thought I could put out the all call. Now do remember-- this is like going shopping with your girl/boyfriend. The minute he/she puts something on and says, "Do you think I should get this?" you are pretty much fucked. If you say yes, he/she will definitely get the other one. If you say no, he/she will want to know why and something about what you say is definitely going to hurt his/her feelings. "I don't know, hon-- it has Star Wars emojis all over it, and aren't you a Trekkie?" will cause the love of your life to wail, "You don't understand my sartorial irony!" and, well, did I mention the fucked?

So I can't promise I'll actually use your suggestions--but I can promise to be highly entertained by them, and to be grateful should they spawn others that I do use, and really grateful if you leave a comment that makes the angels weep with perfection.  I mostly just want some pinballs to bounce off, and I've been doing this for a while-- I know you all have the best ideas!

So, Twitter, FB, GR or here-- leave me your "teeny movie quotes" and let's have some fun, okay?