So today I want to welcome not one but TWO fabulous Tuesday Teaser authors:
Author Number one is the amazing Marie Sexton. She of the fabulous shoes.
Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway. You can find Marie at her website, HERE, and on Facebook and Twitter.
His art took him away, as it so often did. He lost all sense of space and time. He barely noticed the soreness in his backside from sitting on the ground, or the pain in his shoulder from his hunched position. He knew only shapes and lines, reflections and light. It was a calm place inside him that occupied him, yet left some remote corner of his mind free and clear to think of other things. Today, he thought only of the sun and the grass and how surprisingly good it felt to be there. He had worried he wouldn’t fit in here, and maybe he didn’t, but he found it suited him all the same.
He didn’t see or hear ****** approaching. It wasn’t until he sat down next to **** in the grass that he noticed him at all. **** looked over at him in surprise.
****** didn’t look at him. He didn’t say anything, either. He sat there, his knees up and his forearms draped over them, staring out into the field, and **** waited, wondering what in the world was on the man’s mind.
****** finally looked over at him and he seemed startled to find **** watching him. “Am I bothering you?” he asked.
“Not at all,” **** said. “I missed you at breakfast.”
****** shrugged uncomfortably, obviously disconcerted by such a frank statement. He looked down at ****’s sketchpad. “What’re you drawing?”
**** hesitated, afraid ****** would make fun of him for his art as he had the first day they’d met, back in Milton, but he saw no mockery in his eyes. Only friendly curiosity.
He held his sketchbook out and ****** took it.
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. He looked at the drawing, then up at the bull in the field, then down again at the drawing. He seemed puzzled. “I don’t get it,” he said at last. “I can see it’s the bull, but it’s not the same at all.”
****’s heart fell at the words. “I guess it’s not very good,” he said, reaching to take the pad back.
****** pulled it out of his reach, still looking at it. “That ain’t what I said. It’s just…” he looked up at the bull again, then down at the sketchpad, his brows furrowed as he tried to find the words. “When I look at your picture, he looks… Well, I guess he looks strong. And proud. He looks special, like he’s something way more than all the other cattle.” He looked back up at the bull standing in the grass, lazily chewing his cud. “But he’s just a bull,” he said, pointing out at him. “Nothing special at all.”
It was such awkward praise, and yet **** found himself smiling. He felt something inside him swell with pride. “That means I did it right,” he said.
CR writes in many genres, but is most happy writing the love between two men (or more!).
CR has a huge warren of plot bunnies that is growing every day and can’t wait to fill out the story ideas and share them. CR is a committed advocate for the GLBT community and does her best to change society’s attitudes, one mind at a time. You can find CR’s blog here.
Now for CR’s excerpt:
The nurse led **** down a sterile, white hallway lined with glass doors and most covered with thick curtains. The ones that were open had no patients. They stopped outside of 9B and **** felt himself shaking. The nurse turned back to him, laying a hand on the sliding door’s handle.
“As many times as I tell people not to be shocked or dismayed at the condition of their loved one or the number of machines and wires connected to them, it never really helps. It will look much worse than it is. He’s comfortable, shouldn’t be in any pain and is healing. Do you have any questions before you go in?”
**** was nodding at the nurse. “Um, just one. I was told he was being kept in a drug induced coma, but heard his mother say he was waking up?” **** asked. The nurse smiled at him.
“Mr. ******’ last CT scan this morning showed the swelling in his brain had gone down by almost 89% so he has been taken off the drugs to keep him unconscious. He does have pain medication and antibiotics in his IV and he has a g-tube and catheter. At the rate he’s going, he might even be moved to a regular room by tomorrow.” The nurse said and then giggled. “It is common knowledge around here what Mr. ****** said to Dr. *******, so you have become somewhat of a celebrity. We all believe his recovery is directly related to how much he loves you.” She added and **** blushed furiously. The nurse patted his arm kindly. “Everyone only has fifteen minutes to visit him in ICU, however, you have authority to stay as long as you like. Just don’t tire him out too much. He needs rest…and your presence…more than anything to heal.” The nurse finished, gave him a gentle push towards the door as she slid it open and then walked to her station outside ******’s room.
**** stared at the curtain, then gently pushed it aside and entered the room. Immediately, he was assaulted with the antiseptic hospital smell, the constant beeping of machines and the low drone of the TV mounted on the wall in the corner. He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to gaze at the man he loved. He cringed at the bruises that were the most prominent thing he noticed first. ******’s face was a mass of blue, black and purple. One eye was almost swollen shut. ****’s gaze quickly traveled down ******’s body. Most was covered by a light blanket, but he could see the bulges that indicated casts. He knew there was one on ******’s ankle and his right arm. His left arm was scraped, the skin raw as it lie on top of the covers, the IV needle taped to the indent at his elbow. **** didn’t know what they were doing for his hip, but he certainly could relate to that discomfort. He noticed ******’s feet were moving restlessly and almost grinned. He knew why. From the time he’d met ******, the man could not stand to have his feet covered. **** moved quietly to the bottom of the bed and carefully lifted the blanket and sheet off ******’s feet. One had a cast on it, but looking at ******’s face, **** saw the immediate relief there, and ****** sighed. Silently, he moved to stand next to the bed, his hand coming up to gently brush ******’s hair off his forehead. He skin was cool to the touch and **** was thankful. Hot skin could mean infection. Even **** knew that much. He should after his hip had gotten infected, which was the main reason he would be forever dependent on prescription pain killers. Just even being here was playing havoc on ****’s bad memories. The smells and sounds bringing back his own stay in the hospital. He continued to gaze down at ******, watching him sleep. So overwhelmingly grateful that ****** was alive, **** leaned down and pressed his lips to ******’s, giving him a tender kiss. He pulled up only far enough to whisper to him. “I love you.” When he stood again, he was startled to see ******’s beautiful hazel eyes open and directly on him, boring into his own green eyes. *****’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He did mouth ‘I love you too’ back at **** and ****’s eyes stung with tears. One escaped and traveled down his cheek. ****** lifted his uninjured arm and brushed the tear with the back of his fingers. **** captured his hand gently and held it against his chest, right above his heart. ****** mouthed again, ‘Don’t cry’ at **** and **** gave him a wavering smile. ****** puckered his lips at him, making a smacking sound and **** laughed. He leaned down to kiss ****** again, feeling ****** kiss him back. God! It felt so good to have ****** respond. To feel his lips move under his after thinking he’d never feel that again. **** heard the heart monitor attached to ****** speed up and he reluctantly broke the kiss.