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The blog of m/m author Jaime Samms. 

Labour Day 2011 Blog Hop

Jaime Samms

For some, it's the end of summer. For some it's back to school.


So today, well, all weekend, really, we're having another great chance to win prizes and hop along checking out fun pics, author news and interesting tales.

As usual, I'm so swamped with ideas and thoughts, I couldn't decide what I wanted to share, but I've decided on a little scene I wrote when a friend threw out a challenge one evening on a loop I participate in. She said to write a scene where one person is trying to get the attention of someone else who is proving difficult to distract. Read on to see what I came up with. I do hope you enjoy! (Oh, and if you are just joining here, hook to that link above and it will take through all the blogs because there's a grand prize for those who hit them all!) Happy Hopping!!!!!

"Stop." Allan batted his roommate's hand off his shoulder.

"You're getting that look."

Allan scowled at the textbook on the table in front of him. "What look, Mac?" A finger pressed lightly to Allan's forehead, just above the bridge of his nose and his glasses, prompting him to swat again.

"The one that puts this incredibly lick-able divot between your brows, turns your lips down at the corners and tenses your shoulders up until you get a migraine. I was just trying to ease the tension."

"Right. That's why you had your hand over my shoulder and half way to my chest. I told you to cool it with that shit, straight boy."

"It's only to ease the tension."

"Go find something to do, please. I have to get this paper done." Mac's bid to ease the tension was only causing more of it, and not in Allan's shoulders, either. It was getting very hard to ignore his attraction to his not-gay roommate, and that was just embarrassing.

Mac snarled softly. "I thought you handed that in yesterday."

"I handed one in yesterday. This one is due on Monday, and I have to still get it in shape. And then type it up." He sighed and once again pushed Mac's hand out of his shirt. "I don't have time for tension relief."

Mac blew a breath out as he trailed his hand off Allan's shoulder. "I think you got that backward, but you know where to find me if you change your mind." His hand lingered at the back of Allan's neck, soft on the warm patch of skin.



Ten minutes later, Allan's cell phone beeped. He reached into his backpack for it and glanced at the screen, texted a frowning face back and hit send before dropping it onto the table. It beeped every five minutes until he turned it off.

"Since when don't you answer your cell?" Mac called from the bedroom.

"Since my dumbass roommate is being a jerk off and trying to distract me!" He tossed the phone back into his pack and reached for another textbook. He counted six paper aeroplanes landing on the table, one in his hair, and one in his lap. Probably there were a dozen more peppered over the living room floor.

Mac was a pathetic shot.

Allan ignored them all, though the pink one with the red lip prints smeared across the wings made him smile.

"Where'd you get the lipstick?" he asked, flattening the plane so the lips matched up again.

"My secret stash," Mac rumbled, still from the bed room.

Allan chuckled, not a bit surprised Mac would keep a souvenir from one of his conquests. Sunshine streaked across the table by the time Allan looked up again. That meant it was well past lunch, and he still wasn't satisfied with his draft, though his stomach growled, far beyond caring about anything but a meal.

"Who's the dumbbass now?" Mac asked, voice gentle as he dropped a plastic plate with a sandwich and handful of potato chips onto the last clear space of table and set a cup of coffee next to it. "Eat."

Allan glanced over as he picked up half the sandwich. "Nice apron."

"You like that?"

Allan nodded around the sandwich. "That shade of pink goes with your skin tones."

"Okay, dude? That is so gay." Mac stalked off, back toward his room and Allan nearly choked on the bit of bread in his mouth as he got a luscious eye-full of Mac's bare ass and long, deliciously muscled legs.

"And that isn't?" he called after his disappearing friend. "What the fuck, dude?"

Mac just laughed.

It took all the tricks Allan knew to get his mind back on the paper he was trying to finish. It was dry, boring fare. Nothing like that glimpse of Mac's ass. Mac's straight, untouchable ass.

"Fuck." Allan pushed his notebook away.

"Maybe not fucking the first time, yeah?"

"What" Allan looked up from where he'd been contemplating the image in his mind to where Mac stood leaning on the door frame of his bedroom. "The. Fuck."

Mac's face pinked. His expression began to crumble. "You hate it?"

Allan's brows shot up. "It. Is a dress."

Mac straightened, ran his hands, decidedly delicate ones, Allan suddenly noticed, down the front of the blue sun dress he was wearing. "You hate—"

"No!" Allan shot out of his chair. "I don't."

Did he?

"It...actually." he nodded. "It looks good on you." And it did. He never would have pictured his old friend in a dress, but here it was, in front of him and inescapable and as objective as he could be about it in this moment, he had to admit, Mac was suddenly so very, very Mac. More than he ever had been in the two years they'd known each other.


"Yeah. Strangely." He took a moment to just breathe and look. "Yeah."

Mac's bright smile was as wide as ever, but somehow also shy. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Allan pushed his glasses up his nose. "Wait. You're straight."

Mac's smile vanished. "I'm a lot of things, actually."

"Clearly." Allan took a few steps forward. "Clearly I have not been paying attention."

"Very clearly. Are you now?"


"Good." Mac took the last few steps, and then took Allan's face in both hands and kissed him in a way that definitely could not be ignored. Or mistaken for straight.

When he let him go, Allan's glasses perched crookedly on his nose and Mac carefully removed them and set them on the table. "You're not freaked out."


"Good or bad?" Mac studied him, eyes darting over his face, teeth biting inside his lower lip.

"Stop that." Allan touched his mouth. "Two years, and you've been hiding dresses in your closet all this time?"

"Just the one." Mac's voice barely rose above a whisper. "Just in case, you know?"

Allan nodded. "You could pass it off as left behind by some chick if I found it."

Mac gave a slight, nodding shrug. "Lame, I guess, but—"

"Practical." Allan reached over and lifted a bit of the silky skirt between thumb and finger. This was new, this fascination about what was under the filmy material. Not that he hadn't seen Mac swagger around the apartment enough times buck naked, but this was different. Allan liked men. Always had. Liked the way jeans hugged their ass and cradled their package and the way a sweater stretched across broad shoulders...and he liked the way this skirt flirted around Mac's thighs and hid what Allan knew was under there.

He stepped a little closer, dropping the skirt and laying his palm flat on Mac's thigh, slid it up slowly, watching Mac's flecked hazel eyes for any sign of discomfort. His fingers encountered lace, and a hard bulge beneath. He cupped the delicately wrapped package and squeezed.

Mac's eyes dropped closed and his breath sighed out. His hips rocked forward pushing his dick into Allan's palm.

"You ever been with a guy before?" Allan touched his lips to Mac's throat, kissed his way up.

"Not seriously."

Allan leaned back a bit to look into his eyes again. "You sure about this?"

"Very." He sighed again and leaned into Allan's caresses. "I've been sure about this for two years. I just didn't know." He stepped back and spread his arms. "I knew with you, it had to be all or nothing. I didn't want to hide..."


"Now you're freaked out."

"I never thought a guy in a dress would turn me on like this."

"Enough to do something about it?" Mac moved, boldly spreading his hand over Allan's own erection, caged in his jeans.

"Not standing here."

If anyone had ever told Allan a guy in a sky blue sun dress would ever drag him off to bed, he would have laughed. From the moment the dress hit the floor, Mac didn't give Allan a chance to catch enough breath to beg for mercy, never mind laugh. And yet he couldn't remember sex ever being so much fun as Mac laughed his way through trying to give his first blow job. Allan would have regretted coming all over his face if Mac hadn't grinned so hard as he wiped it off with his fingers and licked them clean.

Allan wiggled down from where he was leaning against the headboard and pulled Mac against his side. "How did I miss this?"

Mac kissed him gently. "You didn't. We're here."

"I guess so." Allan breathed in Mac's scent, closed his eyes and just relaxed into the idea that this was real. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Morning. Allan groaned and rolled out of bed. Mac's bed.

"Oh shit." The sun was well past up and on its way down again, and he had not even thought about typing his paper. "Shit!"

"Problem?" Mac appeared in the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hands

Allan half expected to see him in some sort of satin negligee, but he stood there in his familiar old grey track pants rolled up at the cuffs and hanging off his hips in a way that only made Allan want to push them the rest of the way down.

"Don't even,' Mac warned, holding his coffee out with one hand and his pants up with the other. "You have work to do. Come on."

Allan sighed, shuffled out to the table and sat. "I don't want this degree anymore."

"Yes, you do." Mac opened his laptop and tapped the mouse. "Better read it over. There might be typos. I'm told spell-check is really, really stupid."

"Oh my god. You typed my paper."

Mac grinned at him.

"You type with two fingers."

Mac nodded.

Allan turned in his seat and gazed up at his ... lover. "Last night you blew my mind and this morning you got up and typed up my paper for me."

Mac shrugged. "You didn't laugh at the dress." His grin softened to a less certain smile. "You have no idea how huge that is, do you?"

"I just don't know" Allan stood and reached for Mac's hand, "how I never noticed."

Mac punched his shoulder lightly. "You're hard to distract."

"Congratulations. I'm distracted."

"You sure? Because I could put the dress back on," Mac offered, pointing in the direction of the bedroom.

"I'm pretty sure all that would accomplish is you ending up naked again."


"And...." Allan glanced at his laptop. "No idea what my point was."

Mac handed him his coffee and picked up the computer. "Come on. You can read in bed."