In the grand scheme of things, Avery Babineaux didn’t have very many secrets from his friends, or his mate. Especially Dylan. Sharing a house, living together day in and day out—it was hard to keep secrets under those circumstances unless you made a real effort at deception. But there was one thing Avery hid. One thing he’d never live down if Dylan or his friends found out.
Occasionally, when no one else was around, he liked to shift into his hedgehog form and play. Not the sort of playing he did with Dylan and his buddies when they ran the forest in shifted form, and Avery investigated scents in rocky crevices or hollow logs, snuffled at the leaves and the soft, loamy earth, or drank from the cool, rushing creek. That sort of behavior was expected from shifters.
This… well, this was the sort of playing domesticated animals did. Cats with their catnip-stuffed mice, dogs with their tennis balls, hamsters with their wheels… and hedgehogs with their toilet paper rolls. And sometimes dinosaurs.
See, every once in a while, he needed to be mindless and Zen, like when he filled the bathtub, went spiny, and floated around in mellow circles for an hour or so. Other times, he needed to be silly. To scurry and burrow through tunnels and chew on crunchy cardboard. That’s when toilet paper rolls came in handy.
He waited for his days off when Dylan was at work. Then he dug his toys from the trunk in his den, stripped naked, and shifted into his hedgehog form.
Nose quivering, he pounced on the plastic stegosaurus and chomped down on one of its back plates. He shook his head and sent the thing flying, taking unholy pleasure in the clatter it made as it skidded across the hardwood floor. If hedgies could smile, he’d be doing it now. But the joy of trouncing the toy dinosaur was nothing compared to his love of empty toilet paper rolls. He gnawed on the edge of one, enjoying the squish of cardboard between his tiny teeth. Then he stuck his head inside and peered around the room, viewing his bookshelves and record player through tunnel vision before shaking the tube off and nudging it in a circle with his snout.
This went on for a while and never lost its appeal… until he stuck his head into one of the tubes and then couldn’t get it back out again. He scrabbled at it with his paws, which ended with him losing his balance and tipping over backward. He tried to pry it off by rubbing against the couch—only to succeed in wedging it on further. He pressed the end of the tube to the floor, hoping to pop it free. Nothing.
Hissing in displeasure, Avery tried once again to use his paws. The problem was, his legs weren’t very long. He could catch the edge of the tube with his claws, but mostly he scraped ineffectually at the cardboard and rolled from his side to his back. The tube didn’t budge and the sensation of being trapped intensified.
Lost in his distress, he didn’t think to try to shift. He forgot that the thin tube would shred apart the moment he started growing. And he totally missed the sound of the den door swinging open. Until a startled laugh froze him in place.
Dylan was home, and Avery was caught, his shameful secret revealed.
Avery plopped onto his stomach and huffed as Dylan kept laughing. All he could see through the narrow tube were Dylan’s motorcycle boots.
He heard the camera click of a picture being taken. There Avery was, trapped and pathetic, and Dylan was using the moment as a photo op?
Avery hissed in annoyance and sprang to his feet. If Dylan posted it on Facebook, he’d be one sorry wolf. A sorry wolf who would be living without blowjobs for a month. No, a year! That would teach him.
Finally, the laughter died down to a chuckle and Dylan pulled the tube free. Avery shook his head and sneezed at the sensation of cardboard tugging his spines in the wrong direction.
Dylan knelt beside him, a huge grin on his face. “Something you want to tell me?”
Avery sniffed and pointedly turned away. He wanted an explanation for why Dylan was home early, but he didn’t want to shift back to ask. Not yet.
Dylan’s big hand appeared in front of him as he set the toy stegosaurus on the floor. Avery’s entire body heated. In human form, he’d be blushing bright red. Oh, the shame. Dylan was never supposed to find out about his little pastime. Not even Jaden knew. Avery could only imagine the ribbing he’d get from Dylan’s friends if Dylan shared the picture with them. Lucas would mock him for the rest of eternity.
Avery bolted toward the couch, intending to curl up and hide underneath, but Dylan caught him before he made it very far. He lifted Avery and turned him so they were face-to-face. Despite his grin, Dylan’s eyes were soft. He was laughing at Avery, sure, but without any malice. Just good-natured teasing and… fondness? Yeah, that was it.
“I’m not going to post it anywhere,” Dylan said. Because, naturally, he would guess Avery’s worry. “It’s for me.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to Avery’s snout. “I think it’s adorable,” he added with a chuckle.
Avery huffed. He wasn’t adorable. He was Mother Nature’s cruelest predator. Hadn’t Dylan seen that “True Facts About Hedgehogs” video on YouTube? He was fearsome and deadly… to insects and other tiny creatures. So what if he’d just gotten his head stuck in a toilet paper roll? It happened to the best of hedgehogs.
Dylan’s grin widened. “But don’t think I won’t use it for blackmail.”
Avery snorted. Of course he would. But two could play at that game. He’d get something on Dylan eventually.
Dylan laughed as if he’d read Avery’s thoughts. “Come on, brat. I forgot my wallet in my jeans from last night. Let’s go grab lunch before I head back to the shop.”
He set Avery gently on the ground and Avery shifted to his human form. He took a moment to gather himself, dizzy from the change, as usual. Then he grabbed Dylan’s proffered hand and got to his feet.
Dylan slapped him on the bare ass. “Go get dressed. But stay away from the toilet paper. Don’t want you getting stuck again.”
“Haha. Laugh it up, big guy.” Avery huffed and spun away so Dylan wouldn’t see his smile. It really was funny. If it had happened to anyone else, he’d have found it hilarious. And maybe he would’ve even shown the picture to their friends.
But Dylan didn’t need to know that.
Want more of Avery and Dylan? Buy Prickly Business now!
Birthday flash fic for Malachi and Aaron from “Wood, Screws, & Nails.” 🙂
Birthday Surprise by Piper Vaughn
Happy birthday month, Amber! Thanks for inviting me to contribute to your Birthday Bash. I had a birthday earlier this month too, so it’s extra special for me. 😀 This flash fic features Aaron and Malachi, characters from my co-written book, Wood, Screws, & Nails, which came out from Dreamspinner in April.
Hope you enjoy!
“Happy birthday, Mal.”
Despite being distracted by the sight in front of him, Malachi shivered at the whisper in his ear, the scrape of stubble on his skin, the warm, hard body against his back. He stood in the entryway to Aaron’s apartment—which typically exemplified the definition of “Spartan bachelor pad”—but tonight, it had been transformed into something magical. Candles of various sizes adorned every flat surface, casting a welcoming yellow glow. In the center of the living room lay a red and white tartan-patterned…
View original post 1,397 more words
Welcome to the “First Undressing” Blog Hop! The challenge? Write a flash fic of no more than 1500 words about undressing a stranger on camera. This is my contribution. It’s exactly 1500 words. I hope you enjoy it! And be sure to check out links to all the other stories here.
Let Me Watch
by Piper Vaughn
“Take off your clothes.”
My words broke the silence of the hotel room. The man who watched me from several feet away quirked his lips in a smile. His Xtube handle was showingitoff. I didn’t know his real name…or what his face looked like. He always wore masks that covered his features from forehead to nose. Tonight’s was black with glimmering gemstones for accents, one of the many I’d admired as I watched him online over the last few months. “Why don’t you do it for me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I like to watch. You know that.”
“I do know.” showingitoff played coyly with the top button of his shirt. “But if I’m supposed to be your birthday present, don’t you want to help with the unwrapping?”
Fair enough. This was a gift, arranged and paid for by my closest friend, the only person who knew my secret aside from the man standing before me. I wouldn’t have had the audacity myself. I preferred to do my watching from behind the comfort and anonymity provided by my computer screen. I rarely watched anyone in person. One of my exes considered himself an exhibitionist, but it never went beyond stripping. I liked to give commands; he didn’t like to take them. Thus, ended that relationship. showingitoff had been accepting my orders for months, making him my own personal peep show. All of our interactions had been through chats up until now, and I always watched him with my own camera off.
I wondered if he liked what he saw, having had his first glimpse.
His fingers continued to toy with that top button. “Don’t you want to see what I have on underneath?”
I did; desperately. He shared another of my kinks. He liked wearing women’s lingerie as much as I liked to see men wear it.
I crossed the few feet between us and brushed his hand aside, hoping he didn’t notice the way my own hands trembled. Gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe him. He was lean, with lightly defined muscles, a narrow waist, and a taut, plump ass I’d been dying to sink my teeth into. It looked amazing in a thong, and I should know. He’d worn a lacy one for me on camera just last week.
One by one, I undid the buttons of his shirt. He was a gift, but if his clothes were wrapping paper, they’d be the plain brown serviceable stuff. Simple shirt, plain jeans, worn canvas shoes. Underneath, his chest was bare, but as I undid the fly of his jeans, vivid purple lace peeked out from the gap.
My hands trembled a bit more as I shoved the jeans down to his ankles. He slipped off his shoes and kicked away the jeans as I stepped back to take in the view. Delicate purple panties clung to his erection, which slanted sideways beneath the lace. A matching garter belt rested low on his waist and lace-topped stockings covered his legs to mid-thigh. My breath escaped in a rush of shaky air. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I wanted to touch him, but that wasn’t part of the game. Instead, I took another step away, to distance myself from temptation. He’d been paid to let me watch, nothing more. Kisses, touching, fucking, that was all out of the question, even if I was hard as stone for him, trapped in the tightness of my own briefs. I considered taking my cock out to stroke it while I watched, torn between leaving it there, straining beneath the material of my underwear and jeans, or letting it hurt until I got home to relish the ache as I jerked myself off.
“Lie on the bed,” I said. “On your back, spread your legs.”
showingitoff pivoted slowly, presenting me with the perfectly rounded curves of his ass. The top of the purple thong disappeared into his crack. I wanted to pull it out with my teeth. Instead, I fisted my hands and walked over to the desk. After checking to make sure my camera was still filming, I adjusted the angle, flipped the desk chair around, and sank down into it, ready to enjoy the show. This video would be another gift, for my own personal collection. I loved the fact that no one else would ever see it.
He laid himself out on the bed, letting his knees fall open. The lacy panties couldn’t quite cover his balls. Deep pink and hairless, they escaped the material on on either side. showingitoff kept himself scrupulously groomed; I knew that from simply watching him online. There wasn’t a hair on his body, save for the dark locks that fell over his forehead, and I assumed his eyebrows, though the mask hid them.
“What shall I do?” he asked.
“Show me your cock. Take it out and touch it—slowly, with only one finger.”
showingitoff didn’t play coy now that we’d officially begun. He lowered the front of the panties until they rested beneath his balls. His dusky cock angled toward his stomach, hard enough that it seemed to hover a couple of inches above the skin. He drew his long forefinger from the base to the tip, lingering there to toy with that sensitive spot on the underside of the head.
He nodded and said in a breathy tone, “Very.”
“Play with your slit.”
Shuddering slightly, he obeyed. He ran the pad of his thumb over his cockhead, then dug into the slit with his nail, hissing through his teeth as he did so.
“Squeeze your balls with your other hand.”
Without hesitating, he gripped his sac with his free hand, squeezing and tugging it down. He continued to thumb the head of his cock, rubbing in circles, spreading pre-come. I bit back a moan at the sight. I wanted to lick him there, taste that bitter salt on my tongue. I wanted to be close enough to smell him. Would his scent be as musky as mine was? Or sweeter from the lack of hair?
“Have you ever thought about me touching you?” I asked.
He groaned and squeezed his balls ever harder. “Yes.”
His eyes met mine, glittering beneath the shadows of the mask. Today I’d gotten close enough to know they were green, almost cat-like in their intensity. “My nipples. My mouth. My cock, my ass. Everywhere.”
“Have you thought about touching me?”
“The same places I want you to touch me.”
My cock throbbed in my briefs. As much as part of me wanted to savor this moment slowly, now that I had him here, in front of me, the stronger urge was to watch him fall apart, watch him writhe and arch his back as he did when he came for me online. “Wet a finger and put it inside you. Fuck yourself with it while you stroke your cock. When you come, I want you to imagine it’s me touching you. My finger in your ass.”
He shuddered again and stopped playing with his balls, raising that hand to his mouth to coat his middle finger with drenching licks. He swirled the pad around his pucker only once before pressing his finger inside, down to the last knuckle. A soft grunt was the only sound he made as he slipped it in and out, quickly finding a rhythm that complemented the one he used to stroke his shaft.
I watched as he obeyed me, the purple lingerie a stark contrast against his creamy white skin, his legs splayed wide, chest rising and falling with quickening breaths. Seemingly of its own accord, my right hand went to my fly. I unzipped it and pulled my cock free. I’d come with him, here and now. In exchange for his gift to me, I’d let him watch, let him see how he undid me every time we played this game.
“Soon?” I asked.
I spat into my hand and started jerking on my cock, tugging it with quick, determined motions. There was one goal here—to come at the same time he did. I could tell by his stuttering breaths he was well on his way.
His words set me off. My balls hiked up with his first moan and I spurted over my fingers as his back arched and he writhed, head thrown back, as I’d known he would.
For several moments, only our panting filled the room. Finally, he said, “You have me all night. Maybe next time it’ll be your finger in me. Or your cock.”
I considered saying yes. God knew I wanted to. But not as much as I wanted to see him in person again. I shook my head. “Not tonight. Next week. Here. Same time.”
It was a risk. He stared at me for so long I thought he’d refuse. Then he smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “As long as you help me undress.”
© 2014 Piper Vaughn
by Piper Vaughn
“Okay, everyone! Places!”
Chris shifted from one foot to the other, fiddling with the permanent marker he held as other people moved around him. With all the yelling and the running around, he’d forgotten the directions he’d been given earlier. He was supposed to be in front of the stage but behind the barricade—that much he remembered—but he’d forgotten specifically where.
He sought out a lady he vaguely recalled introducing herself as the assistant director at the beginning of the day. She was in the middle of barking orders at a couple of cameramen. Chris hesitated to interrupt her, but there really wasn’t any time to waste. Things were starting, he wasn’t where he should be, and he didn’t want to be the person holding everything up. Girding himself, he tapped her on the shoulder.
The woman gave him a harried look. “Yes?”
“Um.” Twist, twist, twist went the marker between his fingers. “I forgot where I’m supposed to be.”
She glared with such heat, Chris was amazed he didn’t wither to a husk. “Name?”
“Chris. Uh. Christopher Carmichael.”
She grunted and consulted her clipboard. “Stage left, stand on the yellow X. Jimmy is going to walk by—you know who he is, right? The redhead?” Chris nodded. “Good. So you’ll pull your neckline down and offer him the marker to sign your chest. He’ll sign and he’ll move on. That’s all you have to do. Got it?”
Her gaze raked him from head to toe. Clearly, she doubted his ability to follow even the simplest instruction, but in the next second, someone else snagged her attention, and she stormed away, screaming something about props.
Chris turned back to the stage. The floor area was already filled with people. Apparently, no one else had suffered an ill-timed memory lapse. Heat suffused his face as he started toward the front of the crowd. He had California dreams, as many an aspiring actor did, but this was his first time as an official extra. He knew he’d been chosen for his looks, not his intelligence or any particular talent. Not that he minded. Starring in a music video for Pale Coast made for great resume material, even if he was only on camera for a few seconds.
As he approached the stage, though, his confusion returned. She’d said stage left—did that mean his left while facing the stage…or if he were on the stage? Chris winced. Maybe the assistant director had been right to doubt him. He debated trying to ask one of the other extras, but suddenly, the music cranked on, the band took the stage, and it was go time.
Hurriedly, Chris squeezed his way to the front, turning at the last second to his left while facing the stage. The X was neon orange instead of yellow as the lady had said, and a girl stood half on it. Chris edged up next to her, but she was dancing in place and the music was so loud, he didn’t bother trying to tell her to move over. Instead he started swaying and watching the band as they lip-synched and pretended to play their instruments on stage. It was a little ridiculous—dancing while he watched a band pretending to play. The song was going in the background simply so everyone stayed on beat. He knew the actual audio would be added later during editing, but it still struck him as amusing. He let his smile show and bounced along to the music, figuring anyone who noticed his grin would think he was playing it up for the cameras.
It took two takes for them to get what they wanted on the stage. From what he understood, the video would be a sort of compilation of Pale Coast performing at a few different “venues,” along with behind the scenes footage from the tour bus and backstage. His role was simply to let the bassist sign his chest in permanent marker—and thankfully he hadn’t lost the thing in his last-second scramble to get in place.
He watched as the guys started coming off stage, moving into the narrow walkway between the stage and the barrier that held back the crowd. They were waving and giving high fives, as he imagined they would at a real concert. He saw the redhead, Jimmy, coming and prepared himself, stepping as close to the barricade as possible. He opened his mouth and lifted his hands to his neckline, but it was the dark-haired lead singer who stopped. The guy—Dominic, Chris’s brain provided—gave him a startled look, gone in a flash. Then he shrugged one shoulder and smirked. Next thing Chris knew, Dominic’s fist was in his hair, and their mouths were mashed together.
Chris made a surprised noise, something like meep that was lost under the volume of the music. Dominic took advantage of his lips parting to slide his tongue into Chris’s mouth.
Okay. Okaaayyy. So this was happening. It wasn’t what he’d prepared for, but obviously he’d missed the memo about changes since his instructions earlier. No worries. He could handle this. Roll with the punches. Kisses. Whatever.
Tentatively, Chris reached up to settle his hands on Dominic’s sinewy shoulders. He let his tongue get into the proceedings, returning the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he could muster given the fact that he was still recovering from the shock. He’d never done this before. Well, not exactly this. He’d kissed strangers at bars and clubs, of course, but even then, there had usually been flirting or dancing or some type of build-up prior to the lip-locking. People didn’t just grab his face and dive in. So, this…this was strange. Not bad, no—Dominic sure as hell knew how to kiss—but strange.
Despite the weirdness, Chris forgot about their surroundings as their tongues twined, tasted. Dominic kissed him as if they were somewhere private getting down and dirty instead of on the set of a video shoot. It should’ve been awkward. In a way, it was. But it was also deep and hot and slick and…God, when was the last time he’d been kissed like this? Ages.
Chris let his fingers wander to the close-cropped hair at Dominic’s nape, feeling the prickle of the short strands as he stroked upward and the downy softness when he changed directions. Dominic’s free hand settled firmly at the base of Chris’s spine, and he pulled Chris closer, as if he wanted to yank him over the barricade to mold their bodies together. Chris moaned into the kiss and lightly nipped at Dominic’s lip, feeling it quirk as Dominic smiled in response. Only then did Chris register that someone was yelling “cut!” and the music had died.
Abruptly, he found himself faced with one furious assistant director. “What are you doing? You’re in the wrong spot! I said stage left.”
Chris gaped at her. He noticed then that Dominic was laughing, and the girl who’d been hogging the orange X stood next to him looking pissed off. “Oh,” Chris said. Ohhh. So that explained why she’d been standing there. And why Dominic had seemed surprised when Chris stepped forward. Oh my God.
Belatedly, Chris realized he was still cupping Dominic’s nape in his hand. “S-sorry!” He jerked back as mortification blazed in his cheeks. “Sorry. I—I’ll go—”
Dominic grabbed his wrist before he could move away. “Terri,” he said, speaking to the assistant director above the dull roar of the crowd. “Let’s switch things up. We can film it again, but I want him to be the one.”
The lady, Terri, seemed torn for a moment. Then she nodded, snatched away the marker Chris miraculously still held, and waved it at the girl who should have been the one kissing Dominic in the first place. “You, take this and get over to the spot where Chris was supposed to be. Yellow X. Stage left,” she emphasized.
Chris felt her glare scorching the side of his face as she spoke, but he couldn’t tear his attention from Dominic. None of this made sense. Jimmy was the only openly gay member of Pale Coast. Chris had never heard so much as a rumor about Dominic. “I…but you…you’re not…” He shook his head.
“I’m not gay.” Dominic shrugged, his amusement plain. “I’m not straight either.”
Chris just looked at him helplessly. “But you never…”
Dominic reached up and touched Chris’s cheek. He smiled crookedly. “I don’t care if the fans know. It’s not a secret. And I have to say, despite the mix up, that was a damn good kiss.”
That startled a laugh out of Chris. “It was.”
Dominic’s smile softened. He dragged the pad of his thumb across Chris’s lower lip. “Let’s see if we can outdo it.”
“Okay, everyone!” Terri shouted. “Places. Again.”
She was probably glaring Chris’s way with that last word. As Dominic winked and turned away, Chris couldn’t bring himself to mind.
(Word count: 1499)
First Kiss Blog Hop Schedule
Here’s our lineup of awesome authors, including links to their website, Twitter handles, Facebook accounts, and First Kiss posts!
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