Courting Death, Side Stories

Eric’s fingers drift down to his asshole.

Sometimes I'm awake early in the morning. Sometimes, in the strange in-between of hysterical laughter and exhaustion, I write. These are the a.m. sessions.

The Self-Esteem of Magic

Sometimes I'm awake early in the morning. Sometimes, in the strange in-between of hysterical laughter and exhaustion, I write. These are the a.m. sessions.

When Faeryland Fell

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeats, sounding almost tender. “Nothing. It’s just how you are. Say it.”

It’s kind of a nice turnaround, he’s discovering, Adam unsure and a little afraid, and Eric, for once, knowing what he’s doing.

At first Eric thinks he’s dead.

“Oh my god,” Eric breathes, voice barely a whisper.

“Man,” Adam whispers, voice hot. “There is nothing like a popped cherry.”

His head is spinning and he can’t decide why.

He still hasn’t decided if Adam’s dangerous.