Farewell from the Bookshelf!

Please note that GLBT Bookshelf -- the community wiki which was the parent to this fiction blog -- went offline on May 31, 2016, after seven years' service to members.

All Gay Romance will remain online till the end of 2016 in order to give contributors every opportunity to recover materials uploaded here.

Many thanks to all who contributed over the years, and good luck to everyone in your future works!


Excerpt From Moving On

The following is an extract from my book ‘Moving On’

I trawled the shops looking at things I couldn’t afford to buy because I hadn’t worked in a while and my bank account was barren except for an ocean of red ink. I hadn’t told Thomas quite how rock bottom skint I really was; even going through the charade of offering him money for all the care he’d shown me. To my secret relief he’d crisply declined. I owned nothing but debt and the contents of my holdall. After losing my last job for turning up drunk I’d impulsively left my miserable rented bedsit and taken to the road hoping to find a new job and a new start in another town. I’d always been fairly lucky at finding something. Not this time though. I was on the downward spiral, fast running out of money and luck.

I moved to a variety of towns where instead of jobs I found bars where my youthful looks got me picked up a few times, but not by anyone who wanted to keep me. Anyone who says it’s romantic to sleep beneath the stars probably has a nice five-bedroom house on standby for when the romance wears off. All I’d had, if I was lucky, was a bed in a YMCA hostel.

After window-shopping I went for a walk in the park. The day moved on. It got dark, it got colder, and then it snowed. There I was sitting on a park bench in a fucking snowstorm, like a tramp without a flea to call a friend. I had no job, no money, and no friends to go to. You don’t make friends when you wander from place to place, you meet other sad people like yourself, people who are trying to escape from something and you share a few words, sometimes a drink or a needle or maybe sex and then you move on and you never see them again. Tears stung my eyes and I reached into my jacket pockets searching for something to wipe them away with. Not only did I not find a hanky but my fingers touched against something secreted deep in the lining that made my tears flow even faster. I hastily took my hands out of my pockets utilising my sleeve as a tissue to soak up self-pity. My only prospect seemed a return to prostituting myself for a few drinks, a bed and a meal. ‘If you ever need or want anything else...’ his words echoed in my mind.

Somehow he didn’t look surprised to see me.
“Did you leave something behind?”
Only my fucking heart, I thought sarcastically while trying to affect an air of casual calm.
“No, it’s just,” I swallowed, “my plans fell through. The friend I hoped to stay with had to go away at short notice. I wondered if I could stay...” I stopped, embarrassed and suddenly tearful. What the hell was I playing at, imposing on this good man?
“Of course, all you had to do was ask. Come in, Andrew, you look absolutely frozen.”

I took a deep breath, gave a shaky smile and stepped inside, setting my holdall down on the floor. Bob materialised, butting my ankles and making loud purring noises of welcome and I bent to pet him. As I straightened, the room suddenly dipped and wavered in a disconcerting way and I swayed. A hand was immediately at my elbow securing and steadying me.

“So much for looking after yourself, you’ve obviously not had a thing to eat or drink today, and as the saying goes, nature abhors a vacuum. You’ll be making yourself ill again you foolish man.”
He lowered me onto the bottom stair, pushing my head down between my knees until the faintness wore off.
“You need someone to take care of you, Andrew, because you certainly don’t take care of yourself.”
The faintness passed. Taking a deep breath I got to my feet, slipped off my jacket and flung it over the end of the banister. “I don’t like you, you do know that don’t you?”
“Of course,” he pointed at the coat hooks and I immediately hung my jacket up properly.

He continued, “it goes without saying that you find me loathsome, but as they say, any port in a storm and it is a pretty bad storm out there, and I have no doubt from those wet clothes that you’ve been mooching about in it all day. You need a hot bath, go on, go up. I’ll get you something to eat and drink.”
“I don’t want a bath, thanks all the same.”
“I’m not asking whether you want a bath. I’m telling you to go and take one.”
“I’m fine, really…hey!” I finished on a yelp as a sharp smack landed on the seat of my damp jeans.
“Tell me, Andrew,” folding his arms he gazed at me steadily, “why did you come back?”
I shrugged, dropping my gaze to avoid his. “I told you, my friend...”
“No,” he interjected, “that won’t do. There was no friend. In all the time you stayed here you never once mentioned friends or family. You said you knew no one in this area when I asked if I could call anyone for you; so don’t persist in lying to me, or to yourself. Why did you come back here?”

I struggled as I tried to find words to fit feelings, ending up getting angry. After all, what right had I to expect anything from him? I took refuge in temper.
“I don’t fucking know. You’re an uptight, pernickety, overbearing bloody pain in the arse. I’m sorry to have imposed on you. I’ll go.” I turned to grab my jacket and promptly tripped over Bob, sprawling full length on the hall floor. Bob gave a screech and streaked off like a rocket.
“Is he alright?” I heaved myself onto hands and knees. “I haven’t hurt him have I?”
“He’s fine, don’t worry.”
Thomas offered a hand to help me up. “He likes you. I’m sure you’re already forgiven.”
“Do you like me?” The words blurted from my mouth as he drew me level, well, almost level with him. I felt like a kid with a crush on a teacher. A look passed between us, a look that finally acknowledged the chemistry that had been slyly building between us. Our lips met and we began kissing passionately. It felt good, very good; somehow I’d known he’d be a great kisser. A tingle of arousal spread through my body. I don’t know who fumbled with whose buttons first; I only knew that suddenly we were both shirtless running our hands over each other’s bodies. He grabbed my hand staying it, as I greedily reached for the zip on his jeans.
“Bed, let’s go to bed, darling. You might be young and supple enough for the hall floor, but I’m not and I want to enjoy you in comfort.”

I awoke next morning to find the room bathed in that strange ethereal light that indicates a substantial amount of snow has fallen overnight, a kind of soft mistletoe sheen of milky grey. I mused pleasantly on the previous evening. It had been good, more than good it had been fantastic. I had never experienced sex like it. He had completely dominated me, expertly manoeuvring my body for his pleasure and consequently pleasuring me in ways I had never imagined. I had loved every moment of submission to his attentions. He had also introduced me to the concept of sensual spanking, the antithesis of a painful discipline spanking. They were two different components of the same drive, he explained, each one serving to underpin the power dynamic that was developing between us. Just thinking about it excited me and made my cock harden.

However, while I might be drawn to Thomas Hall in some odd way, I didn’t really like him. It seemed important that I remind myself firmly of that fact, but he was warm and cosy to cuddle up to on a cold, snowy morning, especially when you were naked. Actually, being naked in his bed was something I’d fantasised about for weeks past and the reality outstripped the fantasy by several leagues. I cuddled still closer to him inhaling the arousing musky scent of our combined body juices, a masculine perfume of sweat and semen.

He stirred, murmuring a sleepy greeting and I kissed him, shyly at first and then more assuredly as he made known his pleasure. Waking up to someone who really wanted me was an aphrodisiac in itself. Sex was less intense than it had been the night before, but more emotionally intimate as we made love face to face in the missionary position. It made me feel special to be tenderly kissed and have sweet endearments spoken to me during the act of sex and I suddenly understood what ‘making love’ really meant.

Afterwards I lay contentedly in his arms…

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