I’ve been sweeping dust off stymied WIPs in various stages of revision, trying to start 2017 with a bit of a clean plate. This is going… let us say medium-well. One of the great things is finding stories you love but, for whatever reason, have put aside. For me, a favourite is this sci-fi with a cranky and foul-mouthed protagonist and corporate overlords – and kissing. Of course. So here’s a snippet – with hopefully more to come before long!
“Do you really want to do this here?” Yeven asked. He stared straight ahead.
Wynfield’s stomach twisted. He knew what he should say. He’d just met the guy, they were in the middle of the leather district, and—not least—Yeven was Tanner’s brother. If he’d read this wrong, Wynfield was done in the city. He was probably done anyway; Yeven outweighed him by twenty pounds. Wynfield was trained, sure, but he’d fought with fliers not his fists.
Also, he couldn’t fucking see half the time.
He tipped his chin. Let the asshole take a shot. “I want to do this here.”
Yeven shook his head and Wynfield figured he was screwed. Then Yeven twisted around to snag Wynfield by the hoodie and, before anyone could ask what the hell, propelled Wynfield backward down the nearest alley. He shoved Wynfield against the wall and loomed in close, smelling like coffee and sweat, like a long day at the office. Wynfield grabbed Yeven’s hips for balance, feeling the ridge of bone under his thumb through Yeven’s light jacket. His head swam. His dick twitched.
“The fuck is this?” Wynfield asked. Like he didn’t fucking know.