Trope/s: Age Difference, Criminals & Outlaws, First Time, Forbidden Love, Hurt / Comfort, Interracial Relationship, May/December, Rescue, Reunited and it Feels So Good, Thrill of the Chase, True Love
Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting assassins and not so innocent professors. There are depictions of masochistic masturbation, male chastity, breath play, watersports, humiliation, and torture by eighties hair bands with ginger sprinkles on top.
Phew! Now, that’s out of the way, Hi. I’m Mr. No, your friendly communications agent for The Assassins’ Guild AKA T.A.G.
I’ve been authorized by the head honcho himself, Mr. H, to release approved records from the agent files.
Agent Code Name Mr. W was recovering from a near death debacle by way of an easy assignment in a small mountain town. Red flags sprang up immediately around the seemingly innocent English professor. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery Jacob Peters presented, Mr. W made plans to do what he did best, watch , wait , and then capture and interrogate.
But even the best laid plans can go awry…
Find out what brought Mr. W to his knees in this first release from the archives of The Assassins’ Guild.
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors
A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
Hello again, Mr. No here, communications agent for T.A.G. and your inside source to your favorite agents. Our next file is on Operation Gingersnap and none other than Agent Code name Mr. Kr, aka Connor Foley Turgenev, our snarky and hyperactive computer genius. Connor gets hit with a blast from the past that he’d thought was long dead. Yoshi and the rest of Upper Management must scramble to save him before his situation turns dire. In the meantime, will nearly losing Connor push our gentle giant of a Chef, Asbjorn Sternberg, to open himself up to Connor and truly be the Daddy and partner that Connor wants and needs? Or will he let injuries obtained while serving in the Norwegian Army fuel his self doubt? Find out this and exciting news that might change the face of T.A.G.’s future in this next installment from the archives.
Excerpt
I had been fantasizing about the time I finally got Oz to bend me over his knee and spank me. It was during Yoshi’s promotion party. A few months after we’d gotten Dmitry back Dad promoted Yoshi to Mr. C. It wasn’t unusual to have two agents with the same rank/codename. It happened frequently in the lower ranks, but in upper management it was rare. This led to Yoshi being called Mr. C2 around HQ to avoid any confusion.
Dad wanted Yoshi to start learning more about management as soon as possible. He still wasn’t planning on stepping down for another few years, but he wanted to spend more time with Nigel than over paperwork. No one could blame him. I took the opportunity to get a little tipsy and tease Daddy.
We were in the main dining hall and the music was going, drinks were flowing. I enlisted the help of Karl and Ricky to add a dash of jealousy to my tease. I got them both stacks of ৳10 banknotes. The pink bills were perfect for stuffing in places they shouldn’t be. One of the DJs from The Black Dragon was there, and I had conspired with him earlier in the week to play a song for me. I practiced for weeks the routine I was going to do. I wasn’t the best dancer, but I could shake my butt. I was determined to Magic Mike the fuck out of Daddy and seduce him to my bed.
The song right before my song was almost over, and I climbed up on the table in the center of the hall. Oz was talking to Dad and Nigel and not paying any attention to me. That was about to change. I had on a clean white tank top and my black break away jogging pants with dark green briefs with white trim underneath. I had thought about wearing one of my lace booty shorts underneath, but I didn’t want all the other guards and agents to see what belonged to Daddy. I knew there was a fine line between naughty and disrespect.
The beat started slow and hard. My hips popped and my body rolled. My eyes locked on the hulking form still across the room. Whistles rent the air. My body dropped to the table, and I ground against the surface, popping my butt up and down. More people gathered around the table, both men and women, cheering and shouting. Pink, blue, and green bills spilled across the table. Daddy was standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. They bulged and flexed under the baby blue shirt he wore. His hair was down, but half the side was braided against his skull in several braids and then left loose. There were a few braids in his luscious beard. He was a Viking god with black eyeliner and blue sparkled eye shadow that matched his t-shirt.
I hopped back up to my feet and whipped my tank top off, tossing it wherever. I rolled and thrust my way down the table. Daddy’s gaze burned through me the whole way down. I beat slow and spread my legs wide, crouching low as my hips continued to roll. I put my hands on my thighs and gripped the fabric tightly. I licked my lips and stared Daddy right in his crystalline blue eyes. We both knew what was coming next, and he slowly shook his head.
I thrusted up hard and ripped my pants off in one smooth motion as the music crested. The cheers got louder, and I twirled around. I bent over and twirked my squat booty right in Daddy’s face. I knew he wouldn’t miss the “Daddy’s” spelled out in white letters across my ass. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around and flung over Daddy’s shoulder. Whistles and cheers followed us as Oz almost jogged out of the hall.
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
That is, his holiday-obsessed boyfriend Nick is wearing nothing but a Santa hat and wants to know what Casey wants for Christmas. There is one thing, but it’s something Casey’s been holding back on. Melting candle wax stirs a burning desire in him. All he wants for Christmas is to experience the hot drip on his body…if he can find the courage to finally ask for it. All the sugar cookie-scented candles are making it hard to resist adding a kinky request to his wish list of gifts from his sexy St. Nick.
With the holiday spirit driving him on, Casey asks Nick to give him a hot present he’ll never forget. It’s the season of giving, after all, and this will be a gift they can share. Will Nick become Casey’s personal naughty Santa and fulfill his secret fantasy?
Waxing Poetic for Christmas is a steamy holiday MM romance featuring kink discovery, wax play, holiday sweaters, and a sugary fireside HEA perfect for the holiday season.
Excerpt
Nick breaks out in laughter, pressing it to Casey’s temple in hot puffs that brush over his ear. Nick gives him a squeeze. He backs away from Casey and waves around a lone tube sock.
Casey raises an eyebrow. “Really, Nick?”
“What? The tube sock method is a tried and true classic.” Nick winks and flips the sock in the air once, catching it with a flourish. He’s so dramatic, but Casey loves it. “We don’t have to live on campus to utilize it.”
“I thought you just said we didn’t have to worry about your roommates,” Casey points out.
“I know. I did tell them we wanted some space for the night, but this is just a little extra precaution. Just in case they do end up coming up for air from their science project.”
Casey watches Nick dance down the hallway swinging the sock around.
“Grab the ice and the bowl of cold water, will you?” Nick calls.
Retrieving the last of their safety supplies, Casey trails after Nick into his bedroom. Nick admires his sock-hanging handy work like it’s a Michelangelo in a museum.
“Ohh, ahh,” Casey deadpans. He hoists the bowl of water. “Here.”
Nick takes it from him and sets it on the nightstand by a small fire extinguisher and pile of washcloths.
“Do you really think we’ll need that?” Casey gestures to the extinguisher.
Nick throws him a boyish grin. “Fire safety first. Boy Scouts, dude.”
The snowman monstrosity of a shower curtain is open and spread across the floor, the cheerful pattern winking up at Casey. He sets the bag of ice down.
“Okay, last checks,” Nick announces. He ticks off his fingers one by one. “Bathroom, protein bar, shaved?”
Casey nods along with each one. His stomach somersaults, but he’s ready.
“Did you pick a safeword?” Nick raises his eyebrows seriously.
“Just use stop lights.”
Nick nods in agreement. “Alright. We won’t make this too long, either. I want to feel out what your tolerance is slowly without tiring you out too much.”
“What about what I said? I want to take it.” Casey’s cheeks burn with the truth of that statement. “Whatever you want to give me.”
“And slow and steady is what I want to give you.” Nick reaches out and threads his fingers through Casey’s hair. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” Casey breathes.
“Get undressed. Leave your underwear on.”
It’s a command, not a request. Nick’s gaze heats with it, pupils going dark with desire. Casey’s stomach bottoms out and he exhales a shaking breath before yanking his t-shirt over his head and flinging it at the bed. His flannel pants follow. Nick picks up and toys with a bottle of oil.
As Casey strips, Nick grabs his fluffy Santa hat and sets it on his head so it sits askew. It pushes some of his wavy fringe into his eyes and he watches Casey as he waits for Nick’s command.
Nick waves to the shower curtain. “Kneel down in the middle. Hand on your thighs.”
Casey’s quick to follow directions, dropping to his knees. The plastic curtain crinkles and it sounds as loud in Casey’s ears as his breathing. A shiver ripples through his body. His nipples harden. It’s cold in the room, even with the building’s heat on.
While he waits, Nick lines up a few candles and a lighter.
“First things first,” Nick murmurs. “I want you to watch me.”
Nick doesn’t even have to ask for that. Casey’s gaze is already glued to him as he lights one candle and lets the wax pool once it begins to melt.
He holds the candle so it hovers over his exposed wrist. His gaze flickers to Casey.
“Are you watching, Case?”
“Yes,” Casey whispers, eyes wide.
“Good.”
Nick waits a beat, moving the candle just enough so the flame dances. Then he allows a drop of melted wax to fall onto his wrist. Nick inhales through his nose and hums. The wax skips down, hardening into a pearly line across Nick’s tan skin.
“Nice,” Nick murmurs. “Want me to do another test drop?”
In his head, Casey says yes.
What happens aloud is a sound that’s some approximation of an affirmative that half-lodges in Casey’s throat. He sucks his lips between his teeth, eyes trained on Nick’s wrist. They’ve barely started and already his chest is expanding, pulse thrumming beneath his skin in anticipation. Casey swallows thickly and resists the urge to shift on his knees, keeping still under Nick’s gaze.
About the Author
Mara Townsend is a bisexual indie author of LGBTQ+ romances. She loves to explore intimate relationship development of the feels-inducing variety to invoke the eternal just kiss plea from the reader, as well as crafting strong platonic friendships with heaps of heart and soul. Her stories showcase diverse representation, love stories with realistic emotions—never mindless fluff, a healthy dose of humor, and a side helping of her favorite tropes.
She hangs out in fan communities online and learned how to write the kind of stories that she’s passionate about through experimental character-driven fiction based in her favorite worlds. When not writing, she can be found soaking up sunshine at the beach, traveling the world to fill in her passport, perpetually collecting plants, and reading as many fake-dating romance books as she can find.
Zach, Stevie, Adam and Garth are four friends spending their summer break from university working at the local amusement park. A shared interest in kink brought them together though their personalities and preferences are as varied as the rides they run. The last thing they expect is to be drawn into a world where the thrills are more about danger and death than an adrenalin rush.
Garth’s summer job running the ghost train at the local amusement park is supposed to be a stress-free way to earn some much-needed cash. His Goth looks are a bonus as far as his boss is concerned. The sunshine is a stark contrast to the macabre, spooky scenes inside the ride, but when one of the corpses proves to be more realistic than it should be, shadows are cast on the summer.
Clem sees potential in the moody fairground assistant with spiky hair and pretty blue eyes. He can’t wait to explore Garth’s submissive nature. But Clem isn’t quite what he seems and he might be all that stands between Garth and a violent death. Earning Garth’s trust won’t be easy in a world where secrets can mean survival.
Stevie is sweet and shy—the only hint of an independent spirit comes from his lilac hair. For years he’s harboured a crush on his best friend, Adam, who is everything Stevie isn’t. The problem? When it comes to love, Adam is a bit slow on the uptake.
On top of that, Stevie fears the escaped killer known as Harlequin is targeting his friends, and clings to his role managing the merry-go-round for some semblance of normality. But someone is watching from shadows even the summer sun can’t penetrate.
Realising that life can be all too short, Adam takes steps to ensure that Stevie will be his. All his protective instincts kick in when Stevie attracts some unwanted—and very dangerous—attention, but he can’t take care of him alone. The group of friends needs to band together because the bright lights and whirling horses of the merry-go-round won’t be enough to keep Stevie alive. Some killers are far too good at hiding in plain sight.
Life can slide out of control when you least expect it.
Blurb
Of his group of friends, Zach is the only one yet to find his kinky-ever-after. The contract killer, Harlequin, is still on the loose, Zach’s dad is ill, a result of the stress caused by knowing the family amusement park is being used as an exchange point by drug runners, and Zach is faced with problems much tougher than the mathematical equations he’s used to.
Daniel Raynott has had his eye on Zach for some time. Now that Zach is no longer in his class at the university, he can act on his instincts and give Zach the guidance he desperately needs. As a Dom, Daniel demands obedience. As a man, he falls hard for Zach’s vulnerable innocence.
A boring summer has a lot of appeal, but Zach has about as much control over events as he does a trip down the helter skelter. He finds himself in danger more than once. Will Daniel be able to protect him or will the holiday season culminate in tragedy?
“Turn around,” Daniel said. “Bend over the bench.”
Zach stared at him. The expression he got in return was implacable.
“You can always use your safe word.”
Slowly, an internal debate raging in his mind about the wisdom of his actions, Zach did as he was told. The top of the bench cushioned his body. He shifted his feet wider apart for more stability. It felt strange to have his arms loose and dangling so he grasped the handle set in the side of the bench. He wondered if Daniel would tie him down and the thought made him grip the ring harder, palms sweating. When Daniel touched him, he gasped.
“Try to relax. We are going to take this as slow as you need. I’m not going to restrain you—you don’t even need to think about your safe word. You can just stand up and walk away if this gets too much.”
“If what gets too much, Sir?”
Daniel stroked his back, then his arse, resting his hand on the curve of his butt. “I’m going to paddle you, give you something else to think about other than your dad. The pain will focus your thoughts.” He undid Zach’s jeans then pushed them down to his thighs. “I’d prefer to do this with you naked but that might be a step too far for today.” Zach’s underwear went next, the fabric catching on his erection as Daniel rolled the cotton shorts down.
Zach trembled and his breathing sped up. He can see my arse. He’s going to spank it. Oh my God. The tip of his cock brushed the side of the spanking bench.
“Stunning.” Daniel stroked Zach’s backside. He pushed a finger between his cheeks to brush his hole and Zach’s mind blanked. “I’ll start slowly. The heat will build before it becomes painful.”
The first blow was little more than a tap. Zach sighed as Daniel built a rhythm, placing the strikes evenly on each arse cheek.
“Nice and pink now. Very pretty.”
The impact increased, creating a deep-seated ache. Zach clenched his glutes, craving more. As if sensing his need, Daniel landed a blow on the crease between arse and thigh. Zach sucked in his breath.
“Too much?”
“No, Sir. More please.” Zach lost himself in sensation as endorphins flooded his system. He humped the side of the bench, desperate for friction, and sobbed, overwhelmed by the revelation that he took pleasure from pain.
About the Author
LM lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.
LM is winner of the National Leather Association’s Pauline Reage Award for best novel and the 2016 and 2018 Golden Flogger Awards for best BDSM novel in the LGBT category. She has received multiple Honorable Mentions in the Rainbow Awards and won the Action and Adventure category of Divine Magazine’s Book Awards.
Two Doms falling for each other. What could
possibly go wrong?
Wesley has everything under control. He
works as a professional Dom at the Dungeon, the only BDSM establishment in
town, and though he’s single, his life is satisfying as it is.
Then Connor, a fellow Dominant and future
colleague, comes along, and Wesley begins to question himself and his choices.
Is he really a Top? And how can he continue working at the Dungeon as a Dom
when he wants nothing more than submit to Connor?
For the
first time in longer than he could remember, Connor felt nervous. It wasn’t
performing in front of an audience, which he had done before, as much as doing
it in front of Wesley. There was something about the man that made him feel
unworthy.
He closed the door behind him, and rested
his back against it. How would it be today? Would he be able to handle it or
would he flash back to Alin, his ex? Fear chocked him at the thought. He wiped
his clammy palms against his pants, the image of his dead lover burning his
retinas.
No. It couldn’t happen. That part of his life was over. Dead and buried, just like Alin, Connor cursed the day they had met. The man, barely legal, had been a force of nature. He took Connor by storm and it had taken him a long time to see Alin’s true face. And like so many times before, doubt ate away at Connor. Had there been something he could have done for Alin? Anything to stop his deadly spiral downwards? What kind of Dominant was he when he failed to see what his lover was going through?
Bile rose to his mouth and he swallowed it
back. Awkwardly, he rubbed his palms together in another attempt to wipe them
off.
What was he thinking, coming to work in the
Dungeon? Yet, there he was. Lucas had given him a chance and he wasn’t planning
on throwing it away.
Alone in the chamber assigned to him, he
tried to shake off the worries and memories and focus on the job at hand.
Despite the name of the club the room he was in was fairly common, like one would
have found in any house, with a table and a couple of chairs in the corner, a
large Saint Andrew’s cross on the wall opposite the door, and hooks dangling
from the beams on the ceiling.
He knew there were more impressive chambers
in the place, Lucas had mentioned them when he had signed the contract, but he
hadn’t had a chance to take a tour. For his first time, he was just happy with
the plain room he’d been given.
He checked the unfamiliar room, trying to
get himself used to the layout and the paraphernalia at his disposal. He
whistled at the array of toys exposed. It was the best stocked playroom he had
ever seen. He walked over to the cabinet and perused the array. There were some
items there, like the silver hooks, he had drooled over for months without
being able to afford them. His fingers tingled to touch them, so he linked his
hands behind his back to restrain himself from reaching for them. There would
be enough time to explore when he wasn’t fighting nerves.
Pulling himself from the cabinet, Connor
opened the gym bag he was carrying across his back. He extracted the mats he
had brought with him and began spreading them on the floor to form a neat
square. Satisfied with the end result, he checked his watch. The soft knock on
the door confirmed he was running out of time. Pushing the empty bag out of his
way, he went over to open the door.
Wesley’s shy smile had Connor’s heart skip a
beat.
“Am I early?”
Connor dry swallowed and stepped back to
allow Wesley to enter the room.
“No, no. Right on the dot.”
“Where do you want me?”
Connor paused, gaping at Wesley in shock,
images of a naked Wesley swirling in his head.
“Oh, for the scene.”
Wesley frowned, confusion written clearly
all over his face. Connor recovered quickly and jumped to answer, trying to
hide his slip.
“You can take one of those chairs, if you
don’t mind.”
Wesley nodded and headed for his place. The
clocked chimed the hour and the knock on the door marked the beginning of the
session. With one deep breath, he welcomed the submissive into the room.
****
“Come on in.”
Robert hesitated in the doorway, eyes
darting from Connor to Wesley and back.
“Sir Wesley is here to assist. Is this
alright with you?” The question took Wesley by surprise. Connor had already
checked that Robert had been informed about Wesley’s presence in the room, so
there wasn’t a need to ask him in person. But the fact that he did so, that he
wanted to make sure for himself that the sub was indeed fine with the change,
denoted a level of care that only a highly responsible Dom would exhibit.
“Yes, Sir.” Robert reacted to the command in
Connor’s voice. His posture changed, his back straightening and his eyes
looking slightly past Connor.
“Good. Come on in. Take off your shoes.”
If the request surprised Robert, he didn’t
show it. He obeyed immediately. As the sub took off his sneakers, Wesley looked
around. When he had entered the room, he had missed the mats on the floor. They
were blue, thick and clearly custom made. Uncomfortable, he glanced at his own
shoes, and tried to retrace his own steps, hoping he hadn’t stepped on and
dirtied them. He couldn’t remember, so he pulled his feet back, under the
chair, just to be on the safe side.
In his socks, Robert stood up, waiting
patiently for the next command.
“Socks too.”
He started toeing off them, but Connor
stopped him.
“Do it elegantly, please.”
Robert froze, panic flashing across his
face, before he crouched and removed them one by one, as careful and graceful
as he could. Once done, he looked back at Connor, his eyes not really meeting
the Dom’s.
“Stand up. Come closer.”
Robert complied, taking two steps until he
stood at the inner edge of the mats. Wesley watched Connor carefully, observing
the concentration the man showed, the way he was taking in Robert’s reactions
and posture. He clearly wasn’t as inexperienced as Wesley had thought, after all.
“Closer.”
By then, Robert was standing in the middle
of the square the mats made.
“Now sit.”
Robert sunk to the floor in one smooth,
practiced move.
“Very nice. Make yourself comfortable,
please.”
A bit surprised and unsure, if Wesley was
interpreting the sub’s expression correctly, Robert complied. He wiggled, a lot
less graciously this time, until he was sitting cross-legged, hands resting
awkwardly over his knees. Yoga, he didn’t practice.
“Now, let’s talk some.”
“Sir?”
“Before we start, let’s go over the rules.”
Wesley leaned in, eyes narrowing to slits,
breath held as he waited for Connor’s next words. There were house rules, which
all the employees, be them dominants or submissives, had to obey. Wesley, like
everyone else there, had a set of his own on top of the Dungeon’s, some
dictated by his personal boundaries, other times by the concern for others’
safety.
“As you wish, Sir.”
“I am Connor. Sir Connor to you. You will
address me properly. You will answer my questions immediately. Is this clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” There was no hesitation in
Robert’s voice.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Apricot.”
“Apricot.” Connor repeated the word, as if
trying to imprint it his own mind. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“What are your limits?”
Surprise had Wesley straighten his back.
Maria had extensive files for everyone who frequented the Dungeon. Did Connor
think Robert had hidden things from Lucas and his partner? Judging from the
sub’s expression, he was just as shocked. However, he recovered quickly and
proceeded on listing everything that was on his list. Connor listened to him
patiently, his entire attention on the man on the floor. Wesley watched Connor,
taking in the body language.
Robert finished talking and remained seated,
eyes forward, his pose perfect and elegant, waiting for the following commands.
Without a word, Connor walked to the table
by the wall and wheeled it by the mats. He took out the ropes and spread them
on its surface. Wesley noticed with satisfaction that Connor preferred hemp
over other materials too. Robert remained still, though Wesley caught the gasp
escaping his lips at the sight of the hemp.
“Sit up. Take off your shirt and pants.”
Robert scrambled to obey, some of his
elegance lost in his hurry.
Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting assassins and not so innocent professors. There are depictions of masochistic masturbation, male chastity, breath play, watersports, humiliation, and torture by eighties hair bands with ginger sprinkles on top. Phew! Now, that that’s out of the way, Hi. I’m Mr. No your friendly communications agent for The Assassins’ Guild AKA T.A.G. I’ve been authorized by the head honcho himself, Mr. H, to release approved records from the agent files. Agent Code Name Mr. W was recovering from a near death debacle by way of an easy assignment in a small mountain town. Red flags sprang up immediately around the seemingly innocent English professor. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery Jacob Peters presented, Mr. W made plans to do what he did best, watch , wait , and then capture and interrogate. But even the best laid plans can go awry and what Mr. W discovered derailed his plan to kill Jacob. Find out what brought Mr. W to his knees in this first release from the archives of The Assassins’ Guild.
Shortly, after the cock cage incident, Dad sat me down to have The Talk. I knew by then that I liked dick. At first, I thought maybe it was because I was around men all the time and hardly ever any women, but one day I pulled up cameras from the women’s locker room just to see. Yeah, even the more masculine looking females did nothing for me. I got off my dad’s laptop quickly before he caught me and went back to my room to look at the gay porn I had smuggled from the sex shop. So, my dad sits me down and I’m worried. Even as isolated as we were on the compound, I had access to the outside world. I knew how homosexuality was viewed. Yes, there were changes being made and it was more accepted now, but I still worried.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when Dad came in with a dildo in one hand and a weird looking toy in the other one. It looked scary from afar. He put them down on the table along with a condom and a bottle of lube before he sat down. I was already blushing and ready to make a dash back to my room, but he pinned me with that look he got when he was dead serious and started his explanation. He showed me how to put a condom on, which I rolled my eyes at because duh. That was proceeded with a long talk on all STDs, how you can catch them in non-sexual ways, symptoms, and pictures. He pulled up pictures on his laptop. I was mortified, but damn if I was going to make sure I used condoms no matter what.
He then picked up the item that I had been avoiding looking at. It was multicolored and just weird looking. It turned out to be a big silicon asshole more or less. It was weird. Later, I found out why it looked so weird, but that’s just not something I want to think about. Although, I did end up buying a few dildos from the fantasy dildo company it was from when I got older. But back to my horrifying sex talk with my dad. He opened the lube and briefly went over the best kinds of lube to use and when. At this point, it hadn’t occurred to me how my dad knew all this stuff. He was my dad. He knew everything as far as I was concerned. He then showed me how, if I were to have sex with another man, how to prepare them or myself for it using the silicon asshole of course. He explained things like the prostate and other key erogenous zones of the male genitalia. By the end, I knew I was scarlet and dying of embarrassment. If my dad was embarrassed in anyway, he didn’t show it. He was very clinical about it. He used his instructor voice and could have been going over the parts of a P-90, he was so unphased.
He never once said anything about women. The next day, I went to his office and asked him, “How did you know?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Yoshi, do you really think Mr. Th (that was his assistant) got you stuff from the adult store in town without my permission?”
I turned beet red and stuttered, “No, sir.” I thought I was in huge trouble and kept my eyes on my feet.
My dad pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, surprising me. “I’m not mad. I’m glad that you went to him rather than try to sneak off on your own or do something irresponsible. I figured you weren’t ready to talk to me about those kinds of things and that’s okay. Just know that I’m always here if you need me and I’ll never judge you.” I nodded and hugged him tight, not realizing that I had started crying. I hadn’t really thought how much I was worried about it until I felt the relief his words brought me.
“I love you, Dad.” The words came out more of a whisper than I intended.
He pushed me to arm’s length, so he could see me and wiped my eyes. “I love you too, Son. Now, go out to the range. You have a test tomorrow.” I nodded and headed to the door. I had my hand on the knob when he spoke again. “Just so you know, I’m gay too.”
I turned my head in shock. The surprise evident on my face, my eyes wide. He furrowed his brows at me. “What? Did you not think I had a love life, too?”
I tried to pick my jaw up off the ground to answer. “No, Dad. Honestly, I never thought about you having a relationship much less sex.”
Dad burst out laughing then. “Well, I do.”
I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing, “Lalalalala. I don’t want to know, Dad.”
My dad sobered then and cleared his throat. “Do you think if I found someone I really liked that you’d be okay if I brought him round?”
I took my fingers out of my ears and went back and threw my arms around him again and squeezed tight and then let go. “Yeah, Dad.” Before things could get any more awkward, I dashed out the door and closed it behind me. I hissed traitor as I passed Mr. Th’s desk and went out to the range.
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
