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Blog

The blog of m/m author Jaime Samms. 

Spooky Smutt in the City

Jaime Samms

ghostslovers_200 First of all, my most humble apologies to all who came to visit and found this dismal image of a book cover and nothing else. I had a computer melt down over the weekend and have been slow to catch up. spookysitc For any who wander by after the fact, or come back, please leave a comment and I'll be in touch. You can click on the poster there to get to the list of other smut in the City posts, and the winners of the draw will be receiving a copy of Ghosts and Lovers, along with the other booty.

Now, for the kiss.

Tim leaned away, reached up to find an arm and moved his hand up to the shoulder, not quite daring to go further. "I heard you. You took tomatoes from the neighbor's garden and you slept on our porch with the cat." He gripped the flannel shirt under his fingers and leaned loser, lowered his voice. "You took my father's shirt, and you sometimes climb up into the tree outside my window." His voice was barely a whisper now and Gordon's nearness sent a shiver through him. "I bet you watch me sleep."

There was a snicker, and Gordon jerked Tim's hand free of the fabric, crushed it in a tight fist.

Tim grimaced, but didn't utter any sound.

"I watch you do a lot of things, Tim‐tim."

"Why do you watch?" Tim asked, trying not to let the pain into his voice. He felt his way through the thick air, the threat, his own uncertainty, to find lips. "When you could do it with me?" he whispered against those lips.

Gordon drove him to the ground under his weight. "What do you want me to do with you, Tim‐tim?"

Tim didn't mind the reassuring weight holding him down. It was warm when they did this, and almost felt like what they did together mattered. He ran a hand over the smooth, cool skin of his companion's cheek, sliding his thumb along the side of his nose and over his lips. He raised his other hand to the man's forehead and slipped his fingers over the lines of worry there, down his face, gently over his eyes, exploring with his hands what the darkness hid. "Kiss me."

"Kiss you?" The body above him rose a little, and Tim clung to a handful of flannel and tiny buttons.

"I always wanted to, when you used to come at night and peer in the windows. I wanted to sneak out and talk to you, meet you. But I never did."

"Why?"

"You stopped coming."

"No. Why did you want to meet me?" There was a hint of wonder in the question, and Tim relaxed his grip to reach up and read the emotion with his fingers, in the slack set of the man's jaw, his lax lips. He touched Gordon's bottom lip with his thumb and smiled.

"Because you could have snuck into anyone's porch, peeked in anyone's window. You kept coming back to mine. Maybe I wanted to know why."

Gordon kissed his thumb and leaned close again, kissing along Tim's jaw to his chin, pausing just before their lips met. "Because you left your curtains open." His hand snuck under Tim's t‐shirt. "All that pale flesh on display. You did that on purpose."

Again, here's the link to the other posts: http://spooky.smutinthecity.co.uk/