“Shut up, that’s not true.” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads

ThursThreads HM

“Shut up, that’s not true!” Arnie growled, and shoved Brett hard.

Brett stumbled back. “Hey! What the hell?!”

“My brother is NOT gay.”

Brett adjusted his jacket and moved behind the tire swing for protection. ”He has a boyfriend.”

“He does not!” Arnie kicked a lump of sand. “Mason is just his friend.”

“I saw them kissing in the locker room.”

Arnie covered his ears and grimaced. “Stop saying things like that! I swear Dan is NOT gay! He’s straight!” Arnie’s last word came out as a sob.

“Arnie…” Brett sighed, and came out to guide Arnie down to sit on the rusted roundabout. “Why is this bothering you so much? You never had a problem with anyone’s sexual preference before.”

Arnie wiped his eyes and sniffed. “Once this gets around school Dan’ll get picked on and treated like crap for being different, just like me. I get bullied for being small, smart, and bad at sports, but it’s all the same. I’d never wish what I go through every day on him. He’s my brother.”

Brett patted him on the back. “That’s kinda sweet, Arn. Still, you’re an idiot.”

“What?” Arnie narrowed his eyes.

“Aren’t you forgetting that he’s your BIG brother? Hasn’t he always had your back in the face of danger? He hasn’t changed. Don’t doubt for a minute he won’t be there for you when you need him.”

Arnie took a breath and nodded. “Yeah. And maybe it’s my turn to be there for him.”


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“Are you sure you want to do this?” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads


Since #ThursThreads is on hiatus this week due to Siobhan participating in Authors After Dark, I will post last week’s flash fiction story. I’m now caught up!! Hopefully, I will be able to continue to post my submissions one or two days after the Thursday of the contest.



“Are you sure you want to do this?” Marcus asked, waiting until I nodded to snap the handcuff around my left wrist. He fastened it to the headboard of the bed and moved over to the other side, his chest hair tickling my cheek. “One of the perks of being a cop.” He grinned down at me with those deep blue eyes.

I chuckled nervously as he finished with the right side, very aware that I was completely at his mercy. He’d already secured my ankles with thick leather straps and now I could barely move.

“You’re so sexy, Aiden,” he purred, stroking my lower lip as he straddled my naked body. I hoped I wasn’t trembling, but his furrowed brow told me otherwise. “Sweetheart,” he breathed, trailing his fingers down my chest. He circled my nipple and I arched into him. “You do know I only want to give you pleasure.”

“I know,” I whispered, touched by the softness in his voice. “It’s just new, and a little overwhelming. But I trust you.”

Marcus smiled and brushed his knuckles over my other nipple. My breath hitched at the sensation, definitely heightened by being this helpless, this vulnerable.

“Promise me you’ll say our safeword if ever you feel uncomfortable. And we’ll stop.”

“I promise, Officer,” I replied, anticipation taking a hold of my nerves. I winked.

A wicked smile spread over his handsome face and I knew I was in for one wild night.


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“No, that didn’t work.” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads


Dr. Rayburn turned to write on the chalkboard, the planes of his lean shoulders and back accentuated as he stretched upward. “Can anyone tell me how the British secured their colonies in India?” He turned back to survey the lecture hall, playing with the piece of chalk as he waited patiently for a volunteer. The movements of his hands drew my attention to the lightly tanned forearms underneath his rolled up sleeves.

Why did he have to be so damn fine?

I wouldn’t be this distracted if crotchety old Dr. Collins taught the class. Heck, I might even get an A. I really liked history, but Dr. Rayburn had my mind wandering to what was hiding in those worn jeans or how he might look on his knees, his mouth wrapped– Shit! I had to get a grip. I exhaled and pulled out my collar.

“Mr. Meyers?” His voice jolted me out of my daydream.

“Um. Yes?” My face flushed.

“You okay up there?”

“Yes professor.” I attempted a weak smile.

“Good. Answer the question.”

Crap. What was the question again? Colonies? India?

“Uh…very carefully?” Jokes diffused the tension, right?

A couple students chuckled, but Dr. Rayburn didn’t crack a smile. No, that didn’t work.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, ignoring the joke completely.

I shook my head.

“Stick around after class and we’ll discuss your lack of focus.” He said and quickly moved on.

Fuck. Well, I guess that’s one way to spend time with the hot professor.


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“Perhaps we should start again?” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads


“Just walk over and say hello. How hard is that?” Kelsey rolled her eyes, buffing the bar with a rag.

Jace swallowed, his gaze locked on the sexiest, most elegantly dressed man he’d ever seen sitting at a table nearby, nose in a book. “But he’s so…”

“Classy? Suave? Sophisticated?” Kelsey offered, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yes…and out of my league.” He sighed, looking down at his rumpled jeans and scuffed up sneakers.

Kelsey groaned. “Oh stop. Who cares if you’re not all dressed up. This IS a coffee bar! Maybe he came straight from work or maybe he’s waiting for—.“

“Someone? Like a date? Perfect.”

“Not necessarily,” she backpedaled. “He could be meeting his boss? Sister? Or mother!?”

“Right.” This time Jace rolled his eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Kelsey came around and pulled him off the stool with an amazing amount of strength. “Now go.” On “go” she gave him a hefty shove.

And suddenly he was careening haphazardly toward Elegant Man’s table.

Elegant Man had only a moment to look up and jump back before Jace landed belly first on the table, sending the man’s coffee cascading across the floor.

Jace’s face went hot as he got up, tripping over apologies. Kelsey ran over to make sure he was okay before cleaning up the mess.

A hand covered his and he realized it was Elegant Man’s. “Perhaps, we should start again?”

Jace smiled at the concern in the man’s eyes. “Yes please.”


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“Shit, that’s nice.” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads


Ken stood alone until the bathroom door banged open and a young, disheveled man raced to the urinal beside him, cursing under his breath with each step.

The man unzipped as if he was fumbling to diffuse a ticking time bomb.

Ken smirked at the mirror in front of him. Been there.

“Holy shit, that’s nice,” the man exhaled as a consistent stream splashed against the porcelain.

Ken finished and zipped up.

“The band’s brilliant. So brilliant I forgot to take care of business.”

Ken turned to smile at him. “Glad you think so.”

The man’s eyes went wide. “Wait! Are you…!?”

“Ken Cross. I’d shake your hand, but…”

The young man zipped up hastily and pulled him into a big hug. “You’re my idol! I love Death Punch, but you’re my fav. You shred like a madman!”

Ken didn’t normally like to be touched by strangers, even fans, but the guy’s enthusiasm was cute. Okay, maybe this guy was cute, too. “Thanks. Hey, you want to come backstage and hang with us?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ken shook his head, amused.

“Can I grab my friends?”

“Sure. Bring them on back and tell John, the bouncer – rainbow. He’ll let you in.”

“Awesome,” the young man whispered, but furrowed his brow. “But why me?”

“Cause I was just like you a few years back. So into the music I could burst. And well, you’re hot, too.”

The man’s cheeks flushed and he bit his lip as he left.


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