Wednesday, 28 November 2012

In The Arms Of An Angel - Why Am I Feeling Like This

And it's Wednesday again. Between Dust and Ash on a Monday and flashing on Wednesdays the weeks just fly by and before we know it, it will be Christmas. I can't Wait. I'm SO excited. This year, more than any for a long time I really have something to celebrate and a great year to look back on. Much of that is thanks to you my readers and fellow flashers so I'm saying 'Thank You' while it's on my mind. I feel thanks all the time but my goldfish memory holds me back from saying so often enough.

So... on to the Flash. The prompt I used this week was...When did you become such a....?

Uzzi’el paced the small room. It was oppressive and he could barely stand the claustrophobia. His mind was racing, yet curiously blank and he felt…wrong.
“Will you please sit down?” Gabri’el snapped. “We have important things to discuss.”
“But where is he?”
“Where is who?”
“How the hell do I know? Back at home I should think, unless he was stupid enough to try to leave.”
“Why can’t I feel him?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gabriel stretched his long, lean body, putting his feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles and his arms behind his head. Leather creaked as he arched his back and cricked his neck.
“When did you become such a bitch Gabe?  It doesn’t matter how much you mock me, Pasha is my soul mate and I should be able to feel him through the connection. He must be hurting, full of confusion...”
“Then it’s a good thing, Uzzi’el. It would be a distraction if the human’s emotions were messing up your thoughts.”
“What thoughts?” Uzzi’el impatiently pushed his heavy golden hair back over his shoulder and stopped pacing to sink into a chair. “There are no thoughts in my head, at least none I can hold on to. I can’t focus on anything. It’s as if my mind is filled with fog…no soup.” He laid his elbows on the table and took his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I can’t concentrate on anything, I can’t….” He sighed. “It’s as if I’m half asleep and I can’t wake up.”
“Well,” Gabriel said, stretching again, “you’d better wake up. We’ve got a rebellion to plan and every day we delay Micha’el is killing more humans, trying to smoke us out and the Council is putting the pieces back together. If we don’t move soon, they’ll get enough support behind them to claw their way back and then where will we be? We have to strike now, while they’re still in disarray, while we still have the sympathy of the people.
“Micha’el’s a good soldier but a bad propagandist. I was the master of that. Without me, the Council couldn’t manipulate a paperclip. I’ve been getting the message out there that they’ve fallen and Micha’el’s gone rogue and people are biting it. We’re riding a swell of public support at the moment but when nothing happens and Micha’el keeps pulling in our supporters it won’t last.”
“I know. I know all that. I know people are relying on me. I know it all but I can’t… I can’t get my head together to have concrete thoughts about anything.”
“Then let me do it for you. One of us has to take control.”
“But you’re not….” Uzzi’el sighed and rubbed his temple. “I’m so tired. I….” He raised his eyes and blinked at Gabri’el. It was as if the air between them was shimmering with a heat haze. Nothing felt entirely real.
Somewhere in the back of his head Uzzi’el knew it would be a really bad idea to let Gabri’el take charge. There was a reason why Gabri’el, the brilliant strategist, wasn’t heading the forces of the revolution and he, nothing more than a pretty face and sunny disposition—as Gabriel often told him—was. There was a reason and it was a good reason. He knew it was a good reason but he just couldn’t…quite…remember….
Gabriel got to his feet and walked around the table. Standing behind Uzzi’el he began to massage his shoulders. Uzzi’el melted. He always did when Gabri’el massaged him. The man had magic hands. “Oh mercy, that feels good,” Uzzi’el murmured, letting his heavy head fall back.
“Ssh,” Gabri’el murmured, stroking his hair. “Why don’t you rest? It’s been a hard time for you. You’ve been ill and it’s going to take time for you to get back on form. There’s nothing much happening right now. Why don’t I take you back to your room and help you relax.”
“No, I have to….”
“What? What do you have to do right now? There’s nothing to do right now but relax.”
“But… Pasha…. The…the revolution. I have plans…people….”
“They’ll wait. Let me help you.”
Uzzi’el closed his eyes, letting Gabri’el’s voice wash over him. He knew he should snap out of it. There was enough spark left to be sounding warning bells, but his mind was so slow, so thick with fog, the warnings wouldn’t come through. “Pasha,” he murmured. “I think there’s something wrong with Pasha.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Pasha, little flower. He’s safe. I made sure of it. You know that.”
“Yes. Yes, I…. I know. But…. Every time I try to think of him or open the connection it feels as if… as if there’s nothing coming back but darkness and it’s overwhelming me.”
“Let me help you, Uzzy. Rest your head against me and close your eyes.” Uzzi’el was glad to comply. Gabri’el’s fingers combing through his hair felt good. “If you’re so worried about Pasha, let me help you connect with him. Open your mind and concentrate. I’ll add my energy, see if I can make it clearer.”
“Really? But you hate….”
“I care about you, little flower. You know I care about you.”
“Yes, I know, but not enough, Gabri’el. It was never enough.”
“Well, maybe it will be enough for this. Relax now. Concentrate on Pasha and we’ll see what we can do.”
Uzzi’el relaxed and let his mind go blank. He thought of Pasha, of the feelings he evoked, of his smell, his touch, the colour of his eyes, the sound of his voice. His lips curved into a smiled as he remembered the touch of his hands and…and… Darkness rushed at him as if along a tunnel, a roiling twisting darkness like a wave of dirty water.
“Gabri’el,” he cried, struggling against it.
“Don’t fight it, little flower,” Gabri’el said softly in his ear. “It’s for the best.”

And now let's check out the rest of the flashers this week

Have a good week friends

Monday, 26 November 2012

Annabeth Leong - New Release - Not His Territory

A Young Werewolf Learns The Rules by Annabeth Leong
Nephylim has kindly agreed to host the first stop on my blog tour for my werewolf novella, Not His Territory. I figured I'd honor this blog's flash fiction tradition. Here's a short piece I wrote especially for this occasion, starring a much younger version of the hero from the book.
Raul Silva clenched his fists and strode toward the closet at the top of staircase. He didn't relish the thought of spending hours in the dark inside it, sweating as his body warmed the tiny space and the Change threatened to take him over. He liked unintended Changes even less.
A fine layer of fur had already sprouted along the backs of his hands. Raul moved faster. Changing into a wolf made him feel graceful and strong, athletic and precise. He'd had a few heady nights of running under the moon, jumping and twisting for the sheer joy of it. But every time he'd given in, the feral delight of it seemed suspect and tawdry.
In the years since puberty, he'd learned to control his transformations to wolf without too much trouble, to keep his emotions carefully regulated, especially when the moon hung low and heavy in the sky. By 18, he'd gotten good enough that he only had to give in to his inner wolf a few times a year, happily keeping control on nights when others howled with the madness of a beast nature.
This skill abandoned him when he came to live in this house with a group of other young shifters. The Change turned out to be contagious, hard to resist when someone else had already given in, and harder still if moon fever threatened or blood hung in the air. At the house, it almost always seemed to be all three. It didn't help that the others had caught on to his preference for avoiding the Change. They liked to taunt him, provoking the temper that he already had to struggle to control.
Raul gained the closet. He shoved a mess of musty clothes aside and slipped in, slamming the door shut behind him. He curled into the back corner with his arms around his knees. Wild cries from the others rose in the distance. He wished the closet would shut out more of the sounds and smells.
Raul closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and focused on being human. He filled his mind with television and sports scores and the names of foreign countries, using mundane drivel to keep at bay all intoxicating images of woods and wet earth and sharp claws.
He kept his head more easily than normal, and after a few puzzled moments, he realized the animal noises had stopped. Raul froze. He didn't feel too connected to the others, but the deep weirdness of their sudden silence unnerved him.
Measured footsteps sounded on the staircase. Before Raul could react, the closet door was flung open. A man with steel-gray hair leaned into the closet and poked Raul in the chest with a slim finger. "Come out of there, son. We need to ask you some questions."
Raul cringed. He had never wanted to answer questions — he preferred to follow rules and never inspire curiosity.
"Out now," the man said. The natural authority in his voice made it impossible to disobey.
Raul crept out of the closet and faced the man. His gangly limbs made him nearly the other's equal in height, but he could not match the new arrival's poise. Not even a wrinkle marred his blue-gray suit. Raul would have taken him for human if not for the sharp point of his nose and the inhuman acuity of his gaze.
"Why aren't you running wild like the rest of your friends?"
Raul shrugged. "I don't like the way it feels, sir."
The man nodded approvingly, though Raul couldn't tell if he liked being called "sir" or appreciated Raul's broader sentiment. "We're going to have to take them in for violating Werewolf Council law. We might do something different with you. Have you heard of the Council?"
The shifters in the house were the only others he'd ever met. Raul shook his head.
"We keep order in werewolf society. We're all beasts, son. We need rules to keep us civilized. More rules than humans need, and more strictly enforced. We can't afford mistakes the way normal people can."
Raul nodded. He'd already felt the rush that came from growing fangs when he got angry. He feared it. He understood the man.
"Do you have parents, son?"
"They said I had to leave when I turned 18."
"You didn't question that?"
"No, sir. That was the rule."
The man nodded again. "Stop clenching your fists. You're going to shred your palms."
Raul obeyed.
"My name is Gabriel," the man said. "The smart thing for a smart young man like yourself would be to come with me and get introduced to the Council. We've got plenty of work for a person who understands the importance of proper procedure."
Raul relaxed, giving in easily to Gabriel's authority. Here, for the first time in his life, stood the promise of a solution, a way out of the unruly thoughts and urges that formed his inner wolf. Gabriel turned sharply on one heel and walked down the stairs, not looking back to make sure Raul followed him. For his part, Raul left the house and all its wildness behind without hesitation. It would be years before he questioned the decision or wondered about the lovely, savage power he worked so hard to avoid.
Not His Territory picks up many years later, when Raul is an investigator for the Montana State Werewolf Council. In the years since this story takes place, his relationship with Gabriel has grown a lot more tense, and it's become more difficult to resist exploring the feelings he's held back for so long.
After a devastating encounter with an illegally shifted werewolf, a wounded Raul Silva slumps on Chandra Williams’s doorstep, begging for refuge. As an investigator for the legalistic Werewolf Council, Raul’s been sent to look into instability in the local pack. Chandra’s presence makes him want to succeed at his mission for personal — not professional — reasons.

The Werewolf Council disapproves. Chandra is strictly off-limits for Raul according to both the traditions and laws of the werewolves. But after a life devoted to upholding principles, Raul’s instincts and desires are boiling to the surface. Can Raul resist Chandra, or will he break with everything he stands for to pursue a woman who is not his territory?

Available from:

Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors -- dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. In addition to Not His Territory, Breathless Press published her werewolf story, “The Arcadian Cure,” in its Ravaged anthology. She particularly enjoys playing off myth, legend, fairy tales, and fantastic history. She believes passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual orientations, and freedom of religion. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at Annabeth Leong Blog, and tweets @AnnabethLeong

Thanks for reading! I'm giving away a PDF copy of Not His Territory to one reader of this post. Simply leave a comment answering the following question:
Are you the type who follows rules?
You have until Dec. 3 to respond. Please leave your email address in the BODY of the comment, so I can contact the winner. For more chances to win, check out the other stops on my tour: Writemarket - Annabeth Leong Blog Tour

Wednesday, 21 November 2012

In The Arms Of An Angel - Don't Leave Me

Here comes Wednesday and another flash of brilliance from Mr Sexy Wings. By that I mean that he's very bright and not that I'm brilliant :)

So, Gabriel's come and gone leaving Uzzy and Pasha with a lot to discuss. I hope you like the way things go after that. I have to apologise firstly that I've had to cut a lot of action tags to get it down close to the 1000 words and secondly that I failed to quite get it there. It's still 13 words over but I just can't see where I can cut more.

This week I chose the prompt... he was the kind of guy you could

When Gabri’el had gone there was silence. Pasha had no idea what to say. Eventually, he had to break the silence.
“You remember then?”
“Those men who came were right, weren’t they? You are a warrior and, from their point of view, you are an escaped criminal.”
“Yes.” Uzzi’el wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stared at the floor and chewed on his lip.
“And you’re dangerous.”
That wasn’t a question but Uzzi’el answered anyway. “Yes.”
“What have you done to me?”
Uzzi’el knelt before Pasha, his eyes tormented. “I never meant to hurt you, Pasha. I swear I did  nothing consciously to hurt you.”
“Would it have made a difference if you’d remembered?”
“Yes. I would have run far away the moment I saw you.”
“You’d have run from me?”
“If that’s what it took to keep you safe.”
“I’d like to think I’d have had the strength to walk away but I don’t know. From the moment I saw you there was…a connection. When I started feeling your feelings I knew. I didn’t remember but I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I’d found my mate, my partner.  We bonded and I was helpless to do anything about it. I love you, Pasha. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone.”
“What about Gabri’el?”
“Gabri’el was a mistake. I was young. What can I say? He was the kind of guy you’d want to lick chocolate off. I really believed I loved him— and that he loved me. Sometimes I think maybe he does but he’s not the loving kind. He’s a soldier through and through, always has been. I think he’s forgotten what it means to love. He thinks only of the next battle and how to get his men through it. That’s all I ever was, one of his men; one who was decorative enough to grace his table and passionate enough to keep his bed warm. He cares for me, I believe that. He just doesn’t know how.”
“Do you care for him? Still?”
Uzzi’el stared at him. “I want to be completely honest with you, Pasha. I suspect I have no choice. You know how I feel without me having to say a word. Yes, I still care for him. There’s still a pull but it’s not like it was before. Before when he called I had to come. Now, I can hear the call and walk away.”
Pasha nodded. “I believe you.”
They smiled at each other until suddenly something snapped and they were in each other’s arms kissing desperately, as if it was the last kiss they’d ever share.
Then Uzzi’el pulled away. “Pasha,” he said softly, regretfully and Pasha was hit by a wave of sadness and despair.
“No,” He whispered.
“I have to go.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I have to. I’m a leader. People depend on me for their lives, their freedom. I can’t, in all conscience, stay here safe with you when people are dying in my name.”
“Then let me come.”
“I can’t, Pasha. You’re not a warrior. You wouldn’t last a day and I couldn’t take that chance.”
“Please. Please don’t leave me. Not now. Please. You won’t come back. I know you won’t come back.”
Uzzi’el took his hands and held them tight over his heart. “I swear to you, if I am able I will come back.”
“If you’re able?”
“Only death will keep me away from you.”
“It’s a war, Pasha.”
“I’ll know, won’t I. I’ll feel if you…”
“Will I die too?”
“No. If I die the bond will break and you’ll be free of me.”
“I don’t want to be free of you. I don’t ever want to be free of you.”
Uzzi’el threw his arms around him and pulled him close. “I don’t want to leave you either,” he whispered in his ear. “I want to be with you forever and I will be. When this is over I’ll never leave your side again.”
“Uzzi’el?” The sharp retort drew them apart. Pasha looked up and saw Gabri’el in the doorway, his face expressionless.
“Gabri’el.” Uzzi’el’s voice was cold.
“It’s time to go.”
“I’m ready.” Uzzi’el gave Pasha a last kiss and stood up.
Pasha wanted to throw himself at Uzzi’el, hold onto his leg and never let go, but he was damned if he was going to look that weak in front of Gabri’el.
“I’ve left guards,” Gabri’el said to Uzzi’el. “Your human pet and his family will be safe.”
Uzzi’el glared at him, then strode out of the door and was gone.
Pasha sat immobile until he heard the front door slam then threw himself onto the bed and sobbed hysterically until he felt arms around him. He knew it wasn’t Uzzi’el, the arms were to slender, too soft and the smell was all wrong. It was Anna. She held him until he calmed and lay, gasping, knowing that some of the distress that tore at his heart wasn’t his own. It was comforting to know Uzzi’el was hurting as much as he was.
Somehow, Pasha made it through the rest of the day. The angelic guards were unobtrusive although he occasionally caught a glimpse of a shadow in the garden or heard the swish of feathers outside the window.
“Do you think they’re going to want dinner?” Anna asked
Pasha shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Try to cheer up, darling. You know he loves you and he’ll be back as soon as he can.”
“I know but—” His stomach lurched as someone knocked the front door. He almost pushed Anna out of the way to answer it.
The man who stood on the doorstep was unfamiliar, but Pasha was instantly rooted to the spot in absolute terror.
“You must be Pasha. I thought you’d be bigger.”
“Who…who are you?”
“You might have heard of me. My name is Micha’el.”
Pasha gasped and took a step back. He froze as Micha’el’s hand touched his arm, then the world spun around him and went black.

Now go check the rest of my fellow bloggers who, hopefully, have had more success in obeying the rules :)

Cia Nordwell

Lily Sawyer

M C Houle

Victoria Adams

Elizabeth Morgan


Julie Lynne Hayes

Monday, 19 November 2012

Victoria Bliss. New Release - Proving Santa Exists

When Jonathan transfers from the U.S to the Manchester branch of Computers Inc., Jenny is the first person to make him feel at home. Finding out about his bleak Christmases as a boy, she makes up her mind to involve him in all her English Christmas traditions. 

Passion sparks between the two as they decorate the Christmas tree. Who would have thought such an innocent activity could become so sexually charged? Can Jenny succeed in seducing the hot American and also prove to him that Santa really does exist?

* Includes the Full Seasonal Recipes for meals & snacks mentioned in the story.

Author - Victoria Bliss

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.


"Don't you just love the pine smell?" I inhale deeply as I rub my fingers over a prickly frond.
"Yeah, it's kinda spicy, isn't it?" He passes the boxes of decorations over and I open them up.
“So, there’s a particular way I do this.” I point as I recite the list.
“Baubles first, big at the bottom, small at the top. Then we put on the lights and then finally the tinsel.”
“Okay, boss.” He stamps his foot and gives a salute.
“Ha, less cheek, more work.” I giggle. “You just can’t get the staff these days.”
I settle at the foot of the tree and begin placing the bigger baubles around the lower branches.
Jonathan stands beside me, hanging baubles from the top of the six foot spruce. I adore dressing my Christmas tree. All my decorations have stories behind them: some belonged to my mother, others to my Nanna, and a few I’ve purchased myself.  I retell the tales as I pull them out.
“Oh, I made this one.” I pick up the felt stocking and smile. “I was about eight, I think. It took me ages to sew all the sequins on. There used to be more. Many have fallen off now.”
The red felt is faded and worn, the white edging closer to grey, and the sequins that are left no longer sparkle.
“My mum loved it. She always said it was her favourite.”
“I can see why.” His tone is soft and tender. “You put a lot of love into it.”
I nod and hang it on the tree.
“And this one I bought last year. It’s an owl. I’ve got a thing for owls.”
“Kinky,” Jonathan quips and I slap his calf.
“Never.” He grins. “Anyway, you started it.”
“No, no. Your dirty mind started it. I meant I like owls and this one has a Santa hat on. How could I resist him?”
I look up and I see mischief in the set of his mouth. I slap him again.
“Ow! I didn’t say a thing,” he protests.
“No, but you were going too.”
He doesn’t deny it and we carry on loading the branches in companionable silence.
"Ooh, Jonathan, can you check those lights for me now?" I glance up, and find his crotch just above my eye height. I drop my eyelashes and quickly bend my head down. I try to not wonder about the bulge I'm sure I just saw there.
"Sure." He steps around me, his legs rubbing against my back. "So, er, do I just plug these in then?" Obviously, Jonathan is a Christmas tree light novice.
"Yeah, and if they light up, that's your job done. If they don't, you need to check all the bulbs and find the one—or ones—that don't work and replace them with those spares in that packet." I point as I speak. He follows the direction of my finger.
"Ahh, I see." He nods and sets to work while I move my way farther up the tree.
"Oh, now then, I need to find a good place for Fairy Mary." I hold up a small, old, porcelain fairy, her red dress flared, the sequins lost, only the little blobs of glue to show where they once were. Her blonde hair is more fuzzy than curly, and her gold glittering halo shows mostly silver now.
"Fairy Mary?" Jonathan flicks the switch to red, and the lights come on, fizzle with a sad "plink," then fade to black.
"There's a bulb loose somewhere. You'll have to fiddle with them then screw it in." He raises a long narrow brow, and I realise how suggestive that just sounded. "And, yes, Fairy Mary," I quickly continue, avoiding eye contact. "She's been passed down from my Nanna's Mum—who might even have gotten it from her mother, though we're not sure. She always has the most comfortable branch to sit on. She's an old lady now, you see."
He nods and continues to turn the lights in his fingers. "So, do you have a lot of Christmas traditions?"
"Oh, a fair few: the decorations, baking my own Christmas cake from scratch, watching The Muppet Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve. After that, I go up to Tom Jenkins's farm and look at the tree and Nativity scene before going to church for midnight mass. That's before we even get to Christmas Day!"
"Do you have many people here on Christmas Day?"
 I nod. "Yeah, a few. There's my sister Marie, and her husband Mike, and their two teenaged girls. Aunty May comes over with her friend Queenie, and then there’ll be Uncle Charlie and his wife, their son, his wife and the newborn boy—what's his name—oh yes, Jake."
"They'll all fit in here?" He has very expressive eyebrows; with the tiniest movement, he conveys great scepticism.
"Well, not all at once. Charlie and his lot come over at teatime. He had a falling out with his sister some years ago, and I've just found it easier to have them round separately." Just then, Jonathan tries the bulbs once more and the trailing vine lights up. Reds, greens, blues, and pink grapes shine with gaudy Christmas symbolism. I squeal in delight and clap my hands. "Just in time, too! I've just finished the decorations."
The lights are easily trailed through the forest of baubles, Santa's, fairies, and hanging toys. "Right, just the tinsel now. You start at the top, and I'll go from the bottom, and we'll meet in the middle."
Tinsel trails through my fingertips as I twirl around the tree, stooping low, then bending at the waist, then almost standing straight with just my shoulders stooped. As I raise my head to see how Jonathan is doing, I crack against something hard.
"Oh, I am sorry." I reach out automatically and rub my hand against Jonathan's bumped chin, cupping his cheek in the palm of my hand, like a parent comforting an injured baby. However, the slight prickle of his end-of-the-day stubble reminds me in a powerful way that this is a grown man I'm handling so intimately.
Then, there are lips: softly demanding lips pressing gently against my own. They have to be Jonathan’s as he’s the only other person in the room. They form a kiss. They don't apologise or ask permission; they take possession of my mouth. Brooking no argument, confidently they mesh with mine, moving sensually as his hands come round me, sheltering me, cradling me close.
I want the kiss to deepen, urge Jonathan forward by stroking his cheek. I’ve forgotten everything else but him and me joining so intimately. His touch has made me a mass of tingling anticipation. His kiss makes electricity flow through my veins. I feel like an extension of the fairy lights. I must be lighting up, I’m so turned on.
But no sooner has the kiss been created than it is torn apart. We are red-cheeked, unable to meet each other's eyes.
"I'll, erm, turn off the lights then so we can see the, er, lights." Sentences just aren’t forming. My lips are still in kissing mode and my mind is in turmoil. Why did he pull away from me? I scurry over to the switch and flip it. "Ooh." I gasp as the glaring main light dims and the Christmas tree comes into its own, bathing my room in festive cheer. "It looks just about perfect." I walk back to the tree and tweak the tinsel here and there, so the lights come through a bit clearer. Jonathan says nothing, just stares into the softly glowing tackiness.

Sales Links

And this link on my website covers both links and has a blurb/excerpt for people too:

Thursday, 15 November 2012


Today, I have the great pleasure of interviewing two of my favourite characters, Erik Von Nordgren and Asher Berkley from the soon to be released Upstaged – Opening Act.

If only you could see what I could see. Asher has always had a somewhat…unique, dress sense. I have to say, I love all the leather.

So, now I’ve cooled down with a drink of water, let’s begin.

1 Where and how did you two meet?

Asher:  My sister way playing bass for this dodgy grunge band I went to pick her up one day and the singer was this guy...typical american big brash, couldn't sing for toffee. He was being a complete ass so what could I do? I kissed him.
Erik (snorts): Yeah and you totally threw me for a loop. But in a good way.

Asher: Yeah right You shit ‘em. If I could bottle the look on your face I'd make a mint

Erik (laughs) I think Billy would've sold the first bottle. I was shocked to my core, but damn it was a great kiss.

Asher: Of course My kisses always are

Erik (rolls eyes): that they are... you sure make the impression, don't you?

Asher: What can I say? I'm a freak But a damn sexy one.

Erik: I second that one. (Awww…. Erik moves in and kisses him. These guys are so cute together) You're my sexy ninja freak. Who can sure dance too. So can I after you taught me...

Asher: Ummm no I am NOT taking responsibility for that. It was Billy who taught you all his erm moves. Although you do make a pretty good pole sometimes.

Erik: What can I say? I'm as graceful as a dead goose

Asher:  Haha. I've seen dead geese who are more graceful, more crunchy too, and they smell great when they're just coming out of the oven Not that I'm saying you don't smell good

Erik: You love my smell, and my....lack of grace... I'm good off the dance floor

Asher: Not as good as I am

Erik: Then you'll have to teach me more

2 Did you know from the start you were going to be together?

Erik  (laughs):  Oh hell, no.

Asher (snorts): I thought we'd be fighting forever

Erik: Are you kidding? The guy was a jerk. Sure, he was kind of cute, I suppose. Know it all... show off. He was just a big kid, I had to tease you mercilessly

Asher: You stole my clothes, arse If anyone was a show off it was you

Erik: Oh right, you kept one upping I had to keep it even

Asher: Like you had to try to flatten me at the Ninjitsu lesson

Erik: And then you end up twisting my shoulder. It's still sore from that little move

Asher: You asked for it

Erik: Well, to answer the question, obviously that was a no but we are now... after about a dozen more fights

Asher: He tried to kill me

Erik (groans): Here we go again. I did not try to kill you. Billy was there. He saw it.

Asher (crosses his arms and rolls his eyes): You threw me in the pool, almost drowned me and tried to give me brain damage. Wait a minute. Hang on. Shit, you DID give me brain damage. That's how I ended up with you.

Erik: I'm not quite in my right mind either... that's how we're still together after you socked me in the eye

Asher: You deserved it. You were being an arse

Erik: But I'm your arse...aren't I?

Asher:I guess so.

Asher elbows Erik and they end up kissing again

3 What were the highs and lows of your relationship?

Erik: High was definitely our first real kiss

Asher: Shit, there were so many of them. It's been like a roller coaster

Erik: Monster coaster

Asher: For me the lows were ending up in hospital but even more realizing Erik had no intention of dancing with me at prom. That just about killed me

Erik (pauses): I regretted that as soon as I'd said it. Did you know Billy slapped me hard for even saying it?

Asher:  Really? No, I didn't know that. Billy was always the one with good sense. I don't know how you'd have made it this far without him.

Erik: Always. He's a good kid.I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have you, that's for sure.

Asher (rests his head on Erik's shoulder): The absolute high point though, was the song No one's ever written a song for me before

Erik:I needed to do something... just for you, and to show I meant it

Asher: It was amazing

Erik: It was like being naked on stage, but it was worth it

Asher: I wish you had been naked on stage

Asher nibbles his ear

Erik  (kiss) Maybe one day

4 Is there anything in particular you regret about how things have gone with you two?

Erik: That I was a stubborn jerk.

Asher: That he was a stubborn jerk.

Erik: Very funny
Asher (grins and elbows him again): Seriously I was just as bad, I behaved like a kid sometimes

Erik: I wish that I'd been out and comfortable, been able to kiss him and hold him out in the open, like I wanted. You were definitely a kid at that party.... I hated that

Asher: I kept running away. Don't talk about the party that was a nightmare

Erik: Yes it was

Asher: Did you know I spent ten minutes throwing up in the bathroom?

Erik: Shit! no, I didn't know that

Asher: I just wanted to go home

Erik: I just remember we fought again and I went home alone

Asher: I didn't

Erik: I know that too, but we've moved on from all of that

Asher: I'm not ashamed of that. But I am ashamed of the way I treated Vince

Erik: I know you're not... it just got really complicated after that. I felt bad for Vince too. Yeah, he's a nice kid.

Asher: Yes he is

Me: Do you think that if it hadn’t been for you and Erik you’d have made a go with Vince?

Asher: No. He’s a nice kid, way too nice for me. I’d just have kept screwing him up like I did the first time, and that had nothing to do with Erik.

They both get quiet

5 What do your parents think? Friends?

Erik: Shit...mine knew already, at least Mom did. My friends knew, too. Way before I did. Billy was the one keeping me sane through all of this

Asher: Who gives a shit what my parents think?

Erik: All our friends were there for the ride though.

Asher: I think they're all just pleased the drama's died down

Erik; Oh bigtime I know Billy is happy now at least. He's got his own happiness and your sister does too I'm glad to have their support, all of them now

Asher: I could always count on Daisy to keep me real. I don't know, maybe it's something about being twins but she always seems to know the right things to say

Erik: She kept me hoppin for sure-- between her and Billy...but I respect her even when it's not something I want to hear 

Asher: You better had You're going to get battered around the head if you don't And not by me

Erik: She's a spitfire, for sure, and I don't doubt that for a second.

6  What do you see in your future if you plan beyond today?

Erik: College. The band. Life and things continuing on with us, always

Asher: I've got a place to do fine art

Erik; He's an amazing his work

Asher: I’ve found a job during the holidays at a gallery. Art's my life-- well apart from this buffoon.

Erik: Music is my life, apart from this.... high maintenance ninja

Asher: High maintenance? No way You're the high maintenance one

Erik: Ha! pot, kettle!

Asher: You're a diva, admit it

Erik: Only if you do

Asher: Okay I admit You're a diva  ( he laughs) You're my diva

Erik: You're my guy....forever

Asher (beams) And you're mine. Forever

7   What are your favourite:


Erik: Blue … Asher’s eyes

Asher: Black  like that's a surprise

Erik: Shocker


Erik: Die hard!

Asher: Voodoo Moon

Erik: Never heard of it


Erik: Grunge! Always

Asher: Loads of stuff… except grunge. Eew

Erik (snorts): I'll turn ya

Asher: At the moment it's Black Veil Brides


Asher: Viper

Erik (takes his hand): Viper. That was a great afternoon

Asher: I ran away again

Erik: Shocker. I ran to you.

Asher: You made me come back

Erik: I had to....I couldn't let you get away again

And who could disagree with that?