Quench the Fire by J.M. Snyder

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Quench the Fire

by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:

In To Love a God Greek god Hephaestus finds his world -- and his mind and body -- set aflame by a minor water god named Aean.

In this follow-up story, Aean interrupts his celestial lover in the one place where Hephaestus is most powerful: his forge. Though busy with work, Hephaestus doesn't mind the interruption, and when Aean suggests a reversal of their usual roles -- this time with him on the receiving end of Hephaestus's attentions -- the smith hurries to comply.

EXCERPT:

As he watches the quivering liquid filling the quench tank, he sees a darkness grow beneath the briny water, a shadow that coalesces near the bottom of the tank and soon flows to fill its length. A man's knee breaks the surface, followed by a strong calf, long and lean, which ends in a large foot with thin, bony toes. Hephaestus stares at the water beading along the bare limb, runneling in crazed patterns through blond hair back down toward the knee, hurrying into the tank below. Experimentally the foot reaches out, easing beyond the tank's boundary, and brushes the hem of Hephaestus's heavy asbestos apron where it rests against his thigh.

The sudden press of material against his crotch flares his libido to life. In the span of a heartbeat, his cock goes from mildly amused to a raging inferno, and Hephaestus shifts his weight from one foot to the other so he can feel that damp, probing foot against the thick, dark hair whorled on his upper thigh.

The toes are cool where they dance across his heated skin. He turns, allowing them to play over his thigh ~ the foot rubs up, reaching for his hip, then smooths back down, the sough of flesh on flesh lost in the crackle of fire, the gentle lap of water. Setting his hammer aside, Hephaestus places his hand over the foot, just behind the toes. His knuckles are dingy and battered against the clean, pale foot, but the toes stretch as if pleased with his touch. Squeezing lightly, he mutters, "This better be you, Aean."

In response, the foot frees itself from his grip and slips beneath his apron to glance along his inner thigh. Short nails scrape through the wiry hair encasing his balls as Hephaestus grips the ankle to keep it from going any farther. His knees shake from heat and lust, and suddenly his dick throbs with the need for release. When the big toe tickles along the length of his cock, Hephaestus's mind blurs with raw, primal urges. Poseidon's staff rolls off the anvil, forgotten, as a growl starts deep in Hephaestus's throat, a sound so ancient, the mountain around him rumbles in response. With one strong tug, he pulls on the extended leg to bring his visitor out of the water.

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To Love a God by J.M. Snyder

Now Available!

To Love a God
by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:

Lame, with harsh features, brooding eyes, a wiry beard crackling with flame, and ropy muscles, the god mortals call Hephaestus is nobody's idea of perfection. Indeed, far from it. A lingering odor of burnt solder clings to him, adding to his manly stench of sweat and musk. His bed is narrow and lonely, his sheets filled with soot and regret.

Blacksmith to Olympus, he hides from his kin on an island in the Mediterranean, commissioned to forge a hero's sword from unbreakable metal. But a brief tryst with a minor water god distracts him. Aean is everything Hephaestus is not ~ young, beautiful, sexy. He stirs in Hephaestus a savage lust the smith has never felt before.

Now Hephaestus wants Aean for his own, and he won't rest until the water god is his.

EXCERPT:

There is a slight current underwater, a tug against his foot, that flickers over his toes and dances along the length of his leg. He stretches his calf, raising it up out of the current, then plunges it back into the flow of the stream running unseen through the pond. Or perhaps it’s a naiad, toying with him, a water nymph looking for a spot of fun.

As if in response, he feels a wet finger drawn across the ball of his foot, tickling him. He kicks out, irritated. “Not tonight,” he growls. His voice is gravelly, unused, as deep and dark as the forge in which he’s been toiling all day.

Those are definitely fingers he feels smoothing up his leg now. He kicks again and covers his eyes with one hand. He doesn’t have to feign his exhaustion ~ it’s written in every muscle, every bone. He hears a splash as someone breaks the surface of the water but there is no tell-tale giggle, no girlish laughter, nothing to give away his visitor. Just that hand, now heavy on his knee, and another drifting between his legs. Cool fingers close over the tip of his thick cock, jolting it awake. Pleasure shoots through him like one of Cupid’s arrows, piercing through his fatigue. In an instant, his dick is hard enough to rival the anvil in his forge, and the blood rushing in his ears drowns out all other sound.

So much for a quiet evening alone. Damn.

A hand encircles his shaft, gripping it fiercely. Hephaestus gasps, hips rising off the rock, his body wanting more, no matter how tired he might be. He feels his lame leg pushed aside to part his thighs and the hand lifts his dick as it kneads him, working his erection. He fucks against it, suddenly needful. Cold lips touch his balls but the tongue that licks out to trace his veins is as warm as any mortal’s and Hephaestus melts beneath it. “Yes,” he sighs, aloud this time, hands gripping the rock beneath him for purchase, legs shifting wider apart. That tongue delves deeper, tasting his musky center, and he writhes with delight as his dick throbs in the unseen hand. His voice rises to Olympus, scratchy with desire. “Gods, yes.”

Slowly the nymph climbs onto him. Hephaestus keeps his eyes closed, unwilling to scare his visitor away just yet. These creatures can be skittish at times, and he’s learned the hard way not to spook them when he wants relief. A damp leg presses along the inside thigh of his lame one, and another rests high against the outside of his right hip. Something hard and heavy hangs down against his stomach, rubbing in the furry hair of his abdomen. His cock stabs between the nymph’s legs ~ he thrusts up, meeting nothing but air, and a frown crosses his face. Where ...?

The visitor rocks back and Hephaestus feels wet buttocks with his next thrust. Firm like ripe apples and damp from the water below, the ass cheeks part easily around his cock, giving him some much needed friction. He grips the knee closest to him in an attempt to keep the creature close. If he can just roll over quickly, pin the nymph beneath him, thrust inside in one swift move, maybe he can find release tonight.

But a strong hand catches his, and the male voice that purrs in his ear surprises him into opening his eyes. “Oh, no, smith. You’re mine this evening, not the other way around.”

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Like a Father, by Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books

Blurb:
Todd’s sister had married a loser, and was now divorced from a loser. She and her stepson, always welcome in Todd’s enormous house, were now living with him. Todd was like a father to Kyle, the young man he had nicknamed Scout, and Kyle loved the man he had come to know as Uncle Todd. Having no idea that this young man, who would be in college soon, had feelings for his soon-to-be male roommate, Todd is surprised when Kyle shares with him his concerns about his own sexuality. Kyle knows that Todd his gay. Todd has never kept that a secret from anyone. When Kyle comes to Todd one afternoon while he is sunbathing in the nude by his pool, the only thing he can do is what he has always done, and be like a father to this young man. Neither Kyle nor Todd is certain, however, of the unspoken boundaries of their close relationship. At Amazon, All Romance ebooks, 1Romance ebooks.

Excerpt:
Kyle was good at everything he did. He was good in school, good at sports, and yet he was very humble. Deanna had raised him well, practically all by herself. Kyle, or Scout, had been on the swim team in high school and his abilities had earned him a scholarship which was paying for much of his college. He had a lean build from the sport, and had filled out nicely over the last couple of years. He looked like a man now. He carried himself with a great deal of confidence. Kyle was built like his dad, about the only good thing that had come of Todd’s sister’s marriage, according to Todd, and because of the bulge in his pants, Todd could tell that Kyle also carried a rather large tool, just like his dad.

Todd had had a very brief fling one night with Kyle’s father, when the two of them had gotten drunk together. He had bet Todd that he couldn’t get off on a man giving him a blowjob, and Todd had proven him wrong, very wrong. The man had enjoyed it, too much for his own taste, and had spent much of his married life sleeping with other women just to prove that he was straight. Deanna had never known about Todd’s one little tryst with her husband, and never would, if Todd had anything to say about it. He knew that her ex wouldn’t say anything. He had been far too embarrassed to admit that he had had the best orgasm of his life the night that Todd had sucked him off.

Fortunately, Kyle did not have the arrogance of his father, just the body. Todd only hoped that Kyle didn’t know about his father’s many indiscretions during his marriage to his sister. The man had had his share of women. That was for sure. Eventually, Deanna had had enough and asked for a divorce.

“Make yourselves at home,” Todd had said, showing them to their rooms. “You’ve got the entire upper floor to yourselves.” Todd looked at his sister’s somewhat sad eyes, and hoped that the kid would be all right, anyway.

***

“Your house is beautiful, Todd,” Kyle had said. “Thanks, Kyle. I didn’t expect you to notice something like that, but I like your taste,” Todd had teased. Todd made a pretty good living, and being single, he had no one to spend his money on, except of course is nephew, so the house he lived in was rather large and very tastefully decorated. One of his former lovers was a decorator, so the house was really quite a showplace by even the toughest standards. “A friend of mine decorated it,” he said, not wanting to say the word lover in front of Kyle, although Kyle knew about his Uncle Todd, of his homosexuality.

Being eighteen and very self confident, Kyle was not shy about asking questions or speaking his mind. “Todd, can I ask you some things?” he said one day while his mom was still at work. “Sure, Scout, sit down, take a load off.”

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an Italian Affair, Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books

Intro:
Business was good at the firm where Ken worked. It was so good, in fact, that the company had opened a branch in Italy, and Ken had been assigned the job of mentoring the new manager of the Italian interests. Roberto was a good fit for the company, and Ken soon began to look forward to his weeklong trips to Italy. He and Roberto had a good time together, both escaping their somewhat dull lives of nothing but the same every day. When in Italy, Ken felt very exotic and wanted to do exotic things. One night during one of Ken’s weeklong business trips, Roberto confides in Ken that he misses the excitement of group sex that he had often been a very willing part of years ago. Ken listens intently to every arousing detail of Roberto’s past escapades, and admits that what Roberto is telling him is making him more than just a little horny.

Excerpt:
Ken met Roberto several years ago when he had first flown to Italy on a business trip. It had been his first time in Italy, and Roberto had just joined the firm and was in charge of the Italian interests. Ken had made several trips to Italy after that, mentoring Robert, and working closely with him.

Ken had fallen in love with the beautiful country of Italy, its cities with their beautiful architecture, and the Italian countryside was breathtaking. Roberto had shown Ken a little more of his beloved country with every trip that Ken had made. Roberto had taken Ken to all the magnificent Italian sites, the great, the good, and the seamy.

***

Ken and Roberto were both married, with two kids each. Ken had two girls and Roberto had two boys. “When you come to the U.S., bring your wife and kids,” Ken had said every time he had flown to Italy. “Bring the family here, Ken,” Roberto had offered, with his usual hospitality. They both promised that they would, and both knew that they would not really do it.

Weeklong business trips to Italy for Ken, and business weekends for Roberto, were their only escape from their somewhat stagnating lives. They both loved their families, but when the two men were together, it was almost as if they were young again, and unencumbered.

***

On this night, Roberto started to really open up to Ken, and as Ken drank more wine, he talked freely about sex to Roberto, which was unlike him. They both realized that they were looking for other opportunities to screw around. “You know, Roberto, I always think about doing exotic stuff when I’m here in this exotic country of yours,” Ken admitted. “Yeah, like what?” he asked, grinning. “You may be surprised, but I’ve thought a lot about group sex, threesomes, that kind of stuff,” Ken admitted. “No way, not my sweet little American friend,” Roberto teased. “You don’t have it in you.” Ken lightly touched Roberto’s hand. “You might be surprised.”

Roberto grinned at Ken again. “It’s fun, Ken, a threesome. I did it a couple of times years ago, in college, the days of experimentation, don’t you know.” “Yeah, how was it?” “Well, it was with my best buddy and a girl. You really have to trust the people you do those kinds of things with, or at least trust one of them.” Ken just looked at him, waiting and wanting to hear more. “It was the best sex I ever had,” Roberto said, looking off into the distance. Ken was getting horny now, just imagining it.

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Victory Fuck by J.M. Snyder

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Victory Fuck
by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:

A young speedskater lusts after an older, more experienced teammate. Problem is, his teammate doesn’t seem to notice him in the locker room or out on the ice … until after they win the finals.

Amid flashing lights and screaming fans, the two come together in one perfect moment to celebrate their victory. But when reporters snag his teammate’s attention away, the young skater returns to his hotel room alone, sure he’s been forgotten again.

Or has he?

EXCERPT:

He came to me a winner.

The roar of the crowd drowned out my thoughts as I stood on the ice with my teammates, adrenaline rushing through my veins, basking in victory. Their shouts sang through me like blood, like lust, validating the moment.

Amid all the flashing lights, his eyes were all I saw.

Out of nowhere he swept me into a strong embrace. There was only a second of shock -- my heart stopped in my chest, my breath caught in my throat, and despite the crowd, I heard one thought clearly in my mind. Finally.

He pulled me to him in a fierce, triumphant hug, burying his face in my hair. I thought I felt his lips brush my neck, but I might have been dreaming the sensation. Heaven knows I fell asleep often enough these past few months wishing for this very touch. No words of encouragement, nothing said between us, just that maybe-there kiss and his arms tight around me, his body flush against mine, and the crowd wild with approval.

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On the Down Low by JM Snyder

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On the Down Low
by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:

Nick's the only white guy at his roommate Tyrone's hip hop party, but Tyrone's friend De'Andre is the center of attention. The moment Nick notices him, he gets sprung. De'Andre is big and black and hot damn, but he's sexy.

Nick feels out of his league -- he's young, he's white, he's gay, and he's desperately looking for a chance to spend some time alone with De'Andre. As much as he hates to admit it, that man is fine.

When Tyrone finally introduces them, De'Andre seems just as interested.

NOTE: This story appears in my print collection Eight.

WIN A COPY: Send an e-mail to contest@jmsnyder.net with On the Down Low as the subject and I'll draw one winner on Saturday, May 8th, to win a copy of the book!

EXCERPT:

I bullied my way back into the apartment, the main room, the hall, and almost got as far as the foyer when the bathroom door opened to block my path. Through the thick haze inside I saw my roommate sitting on the closed toilet seat. I ducked under the arm of whoever was exiting the bathroom and followed the stench of pot inside. "Tyrone."

De'Andre's deep voice answered. "There's our token white boy," he said, and I spun around to find him stretched out along the edge of the bathtub, leaning back against the wall with his long legs crossed as he toked on one of my buds. Raising the joint, he told me, "This chronic is phat. Where'd you get it?"

Now that I had found him, I didn't want to admit I'd been looking in the first place. Shoving my fists into my pockets, I shrugged and muttered, "I got my sources." I glared at my reflection in the mirror and wished Tyrone would go away.

With a laugh, De'Andre grabbed the back pocket of my jeans and pulled me to him. I felt like a fish, caught on a rod and reeled in. Before I could think to fight him, I plopped down into his lap. A slight groan escaped his lips when I sat on the hardness that bulged at his crotch, then his arms were around my waist, holding me in place. Each move I made earned another little moan. I fought against the urge to put my hands down on his jeans to reposition myself and cop a feel. Through the thick denim his dick swelled against my ass, hard from the drugs or the party or me, I wasn't sure which.

Remembering Tyrone, I tried to stand but De'Andre held me tight. "Lemme go," I muttered, but I didn't mean it and he didn't comply. My roommate snorted laughter and foamy beer bubbled out of his flat nose. I kicked at him across the bathroom but my sneaker missed his leg by a few scant inches. "Shut the fuck up, Tyrone. Where's the rest of my pot?"

Tyrone rolled his eyes and pointed at the smoke hovering above us before dissolving into giggles. "Up in smoke, my man. Up in smoke."

I kicked him again, this time leaning forward to connect with his shin. "Hey!" he shouted, slapping my foot away. A wounded look crept into his eyes. "Fuckwad. Who invited you to this party anyway?"

"I live here," I reminded him as De'Andre pulled me back. "How much --"

De'Andre's hand clamped over my mouth, his other arm coming up behind me to hug me against him. "Don't be haten, boys. Tyrone, get lost."

My roommate stopped in mid-giggle. "Wha?" he asked, frowning at us. "Man, that blunt's not done yet."

Keeping one hand over my mouth, De'Andre reached around me with the other and plucked the joint from his mouth, then chucked it in the sink. Tyrone scrambled to retrieve it before it went out. "Take it and go," De'Andre said. His hand smelled of pot and a deeper, darker scent, a musk all his own. When I licked out to taste him, the tip of my tongue tingled and he snapped at Tyrone, "Get the fuck outta here already, will you? I got business to attend to with Nicky."

"Nick," I corrected, my voice lost in the folds of his hand. Tyrone glared at me as he left, slamming the door shut behind him. For a long moment, De'Andre didn't move, didn't let me go. Finally I raised my hands to his and tried to pry his fingers away. He let me get beneath the first two fingers, then brusquely turned my face to his and pulled me down for a rough, hot kiss.

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