About Bruised 3: Combustion
by Sean Michael
35 pages
/ 12000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-544-2 1-60370-544-9
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Billy and Johnson see less of each other now than they did when they first met. Billy's job as a lawyer is taking its toll on him, working him long hours and leaving him aching for Johnson's touch. Johnson is just as frustrated, wanting his Billy with him, wanting them to be together.
When things get really bad at the office, Johnson knows just what to do to make Billy feel better. A little vacation, a little bruising, they all go a long way to helping Billy relax. Can Johnson make it all better when Billy's boss gives Billy an ultimatum that might tear them apart?
Sample
Billy knocked on the door with the toe of his boot, hands filled with grocery bags and tomorrow morning's donuts and a twelve pack of beer and his briefcase and his laptop and his dry-cleaning and some roast beef sandwiches from the deli for supper tonight. "Johnson! Man! You home? My hands are full."
He kicked again. If he had to put everything down to find his keys, he'd never figure out how to pick everything back up and then it was back and forth and back and forth and sure as shit some asshole'd steal something.
"Johnson? Bird? Open up!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Where’s the fire?"
The door opened. "Oh. Billy, man, you should be here -- there's a big mound of stuff at the front door. I think it was knocking, even."
"Jackass." He stumbled in, chuckling. "I didn't want to make another trip down to the Jeep again."
"You should have called me on your cell phone." Johnson was still laughing at him, but his arms were suddenly carrying a lot less. "Good grief, is there any errand you didn't do?"
"Hmm... I didn't go to the movie store, and I didn't go get a new battery for my good watch." He followed Johnson into the kitchen, stopping to deposit the suits and uniforms in the hall closet and his briefcase in his office. "I got your uniforms while I was out. My suits were done."
"Are you sure they're mine? Last week they switched 'em with some guy named Bob. Now, while I don't mind folks calling me Bob -- he was about your height, and I was singing soprano until they found Bob and we got our overalls switched back."
"I'm pretty sure, Bird. I held them up and was looking right at the crotch." He cackled, putting the milk in the fridge and bumping hips with his Bird.
Johnson laughed. "Perv."
"Who? Me? No..." He chuckled. "I got roast beef sandwiches for supper."
Bird's eyebrow went up. "And pervs don't do roast beef sandwiches for supper?"
"Huh?" It took him half a second, then he grinned. "Nope. These are non-perv sandwiches, deli-guaranteed."
"Well, color me disappointed -- I thought I'd shacked up with an honest-to-goodness perv."
They finished putting up the food, and he pushed into Bird's arms. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
"Does that mean perv is back on the menu?" Johnson grinned at him, tugging him close.
"All fucking weekend long." He raised his face for a kiss, hungry for Bird's taste.
"Hallefuckinglujah."