(NSFW) Flash Fiction: The Prospect by DC Juris

John Papa Bear Callahan adjusted his eye patch. "So, you wanna join the Moon Riders?" He walked in a tight circle around Jeep, our newest potential Prospect.

Jeep nodded.

"Why?"

"I'm a certified mechanic, and I specialize in bikes. There's not a bike on this planet I can't take apart and put back together with one hand tied behind my back and my eyes closed."

Papa Bear chuckled. "We'll get to the hand tyin' later. It's just about the bikes for you, then?"

"Not just, no."

"Go on."

Jeep looked away and took a deep breath before he met Papa Bear's eyes again. "I'm gay. I've heard you guys are all gay too, but nobody gives you any shit. Not like they do the rest of us. I thought maybe...maybe this could be a place where I could fit in. A safe place."

I rolled my eyes at the thought of a motorcycle gang being considered a safe place, but I did see his point.

"You gotta bitch?"

Jeep blinked several times. "Bitch?"

"Boyfriend," Papa Bear clarified. "Husband. Live-in manwhore. Booty call on speed dial. Significant other."

"No." Jeep laughed and shook his head. "No. None of those."

Papa Bear stroked his chin and looked pensive for a moment, then nodded. "All right then. But you gotta qualify. Can't just join up. Gotta prove yerself."

"How do I do that?" Jeep asked.

"I'm gonna give you a task, and Dale here,"—he pointed at me—"is gonna determine if you've preformed yer task well enough. If Dale says yer in, yer in. There's a vote, o'course, but it's just a formality. Dale gets what Dale wants. Ain't that right, Dale?"

I nodded and bit down on my tongue to keep from laughing at his dramatics.

Jeep thrust his chin out and squared his shoulders. "What's my task?"

"It's twofold," Papa Bear muttered. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. "You suck my dick, and make Dale want you. Easy peasy."

Jeep's eyes went wide as he glanced down to Papa Bear's erect cock.

"Now." Papa Bear cast me a wink. "On yer knees, boy."

Jeep sank to his knees, and, in the middle of the garage, among dirt and grease, proceeded to suck Papa Bear off. He looked quite good at it—he stroked the shaft, cradled the balls, made furious noises of appreciation as he buried his face in Papa Bear's thick pelt again and again. I palmed my cock through my jeans as I watched. And then he did it.

Jeep moaned long and low and loud and looked up, but not at Papa Bear. At me, those big baby blues all lust blown. The heat of his gazed reached out to me, wrapped around me, squeezed me, shook me, raked along my cock before letting me go.

"He's in," I rasped. I turned and walked out of the garage as Papa Bear burst into hysterical laughter.

"Goin' soft in yer old age!" he yelled.

"Fuck you!" I yelled back.

"Any time, any place!" He let out several groans and shouted curses, and then the heavy footfall of Jeep's booted feet approached me from behind.

I turned to him, wanting nothing more than to cover that shit-eating grin of his with my mouth.

"Initiations not over yet, is it?" He licked his lips, looked me up and down, gaze lingering on my crotch before sliding back up to meet my own.

I chuckled as I unbuttoned my jeans. "Oh, it's just stared." I pointed to a nearby bench. "Assume the position."

Flash Fiction: Ghost Story by DC Juris

I watch you as you sit there, watching him. You don't know I'm here; you can't see me. You want to go to him so badly—I can see it in the way you lean forward in your chair, in the way your gaze darts away when he looks up, in the way your breathing hitches when you realize he's still looking at you. You want him. He wants you.

I've done all I can to stay with you. I've given you reminders of my love. I've left you notes, though my handwriting isn't as legible as it used to be. I've pledged endearments to you, though my voice is but a whisper of what it once was. I've tried my best to keep you with me. Chained to me. But you long to leave. If I had more time, maybe I could make you see. Maybe I could make you understand that, despite everything that's happened, I'm still here with you. I still love you. I still want you. I still long for your touch, for the slide of your lips against mine, for the hot tangle of our legs entwined in the sheets. For you to simply see me. Hear me.

He makes the decision for you. For both of us. He leaves his table and walks over to you. Walks right through me. Gives no mind to the rush of air or the sudden chill he feels as he grins down at you and asks if he can join you. You take a deep breath…uncertain. Hesitant. You look to your right, though you're not sure why. Your lips part in a silent gasp and you look up. But not at me. You will never look at me again. But you feel the press of my nearness even as a slow smile tugs your lips upward and you nod.

It's time. And I must go. I press an invisible kiss to the top of your head and you shiver.

"What is it?" he asks, reaching out to touch your hand.

"Live well," I whisper against your ear.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. "Noth…" You clear your throat. "Nothing."

Flash Fiction: Fresh Meat by DC Juris

I have stalked him for a long time. Days. Weeks. Months. A year? I am no longer certain. Time has stretched out and blended into one unending stream of craving. He is beautiful, though he does not know it. Even as an unkept mess, his inner light shines. In the ancient days, we would have called him a wretched beggar. Now the politically correct term is displaced. They assume him unwanted. Unloved. Perhaps he is. By them.

I walked by him as I did every night, hidden in the shadows. But that night, he raised his head and squinted into the darkness. Seeing me? Sensing me? I stood there waiting, for what I still do not know. Perhaps some sign I should leave off my course. But none came, and I stepped forward into the glaring light of the street lamp. It dimmed and hummed louder as I approached. His nose twitched. But his eyes never left mine.

"I can end your suffering," I whispered.

He backed away from me. "I don't want to die."

"Not death. Not exactly." I stepped closer and ran my hand over his arm.

"I'm not like that," he muttered.

"Not like what?"

"Men. I'm not into men."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "I have been watching you."

He nodded. "I know. I've seen you."

"Then you know I saw you sit by his corpse for days, unmoving, uneating, barely breathing. I thought you would die from it. Do not tell me you did not love him." I had no idea who the other man had been, but my vagabond had cared for him.

He turned away. "As a brother. Nothing more."

I chuckled and he looked at me. "I wonder..." I stepped close to him, leaned in and sniffed his neck. The tang of sweat and filth filled my nose, assaulted my senses. But the sweet scent of his blood hovered just under. "Would you kiss your brother's frozen lips so fondly, I wonder?"

He sighed and glared up at me. "I know what you are."

"Let us not go all Twilight, shall we?" I chuckled and he frowned, and I chuckled harder. "I am what I am. And you...you can be more than what you are. If you are willing."

"Does it matter if I'm willing?"

My turn to frown. "Of course it does." What kind of monster did he take me for?

"You're evil." He turned away from me.

I grinned and ran my tongue across one of my fangs. "Evil is a point of view, and I see from many angles.  In the illumination given us by truth, the right and the wrong become clear, clear as glass, pure as white snow.  But darken the room, search out those shadowy places in the back of your mind, areas where the gray and the pale look bright, and decisions become less important and easier, like kissing the one your mother warned you about behind the bleachers in the gym.  Or taking the offer of a creature you cannot hope to understand yet. Irresponsibility. That is what I am. Evil, if you will, but surely evil simplified." I laid a hand on his shoulder. "The decision is yours. Stay in this squalor. Unloved. Unnoticed. Unwanted. Or accept my offer of a different world." I leaned in and placed my lips close to his ear. "A world in which you are the one in control. A world in which you beg for nothing, and no one will stand in your way," I whispered.

He turned back to me, raised those dark eyes up to mine, leaned his head to the side in invitation.

Ah! There it was. The moment when skeptic became believer. When saint became sinner. When wrong became right. When meager need became raging necessity. I slid my hand around to grip the back of his head and pierced his flesh with my teeth.

Flash Fiction - False Advertising

Flash Fiction - "False Advertising" by DC Juris

"Put your load here." I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing as I looked at the ad for my lover's newest modeling gig. "It's um…"

"It's awful!" Ken wailed. "I knew it was a moving company, but I had no idea that's the verbiage they were going to use."

"It's not all that bad. You look sexy," I offered.

"I look like a douche! Put your load here? For God's sake!" He buried his face in his hands and moaned. "This is awful. I'm never going to live this down. I can hear them now. Hey Ken, got a load for ya!"

I stared down at the ad, an idea forming. "Is this your only copy?"

He shook his head, still hiding his face. "I have dozens. Everyone has dozens. It's everywhere!"

I headed to the kitchen, fished in the drawer under the microwave and grabbed out the scissors. I cut off the top of the paper, licked the back generously, and stuck it to my forehead. I looked up at it over the rim of my glasses. Hopefully it would stay. I unbuttoned my shirt, shrugged it off, and slid off my jeans, strutted back into the living room in just my boxers and socks. "It does have its uses."

Ken looked up at me and burst into laughter.

I moved the paper to my chest, held it just above my belly. "Or how about here?"

He beckoned me over and I knelt between his legs, slid my hands up his thighs.

"I love you," he murmured before he pressed his lips to mine.





Photo Credit: >zurijeta / 123RF Stock Photo

Flash Fiction - End of the Line

Flash Fiction: "End of the Line" by DC Juris


Rain slashed the air, falling hard and fast in fat drops that hit my head like tiny pebbles. Might've been annoying if I'd had any time to give it thought. The piece of shit on the ground beneath my boot had all my attention, though. "Where is the girl?"

"You don't know who you're dealing with." He spat blood onto my boot. "You're in way over your head, copper."

A slow grin lifted my lips and I showed my teeth in a snarl. "I'm not a cop, asshole." I pressed my foot down on his throat and cocked the gun. "The girl?"

He coughed and sputtered, clawing at my boot. He struggled to speak.

I lifted my foot a fraction of an inch. "Beg your pardon?"

"Fifth and Maine." He rubbed his throat. "The old coffee plant."

I nodded and aimed the gun at his head.

"Wait! I gave you what you wanted! You can't kill me!" He held shaking hands up to me. "No! Please, God!"

I smirked. "God won't recognize you when I'm done."

Flash Fiction - Cat Tale

Flash Fiction – "Cat Tale" by DC Juris

I answered the knock against my better judgment, it being after eight at night, and I being in rather a grumpy mood. My left eyebrow arched of its own accord as I took in the scene on the other side of the threshold. Angelo, the hunk from three doors down and frequent star of my masturbatory fantasies, stood clutching a white cat in his arms against his deliciously bare chest, gazing down at it. I cleared my throat. "Can I help you?"

He looked up, eyes glittering. "You're a vet, right?" He thrust the cat at me. "This is Midnight. I think she's sick."

"Midnight, hmm?" I gathered up the furry bundle and nodded him inside. "Most people name white cats Snowball or something like that." I sat Midnight down on my kitchen table. "Hold onto her, will ya?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people," he answered as he moved to the table. He cooed and whispered to her while I found my stethoscope.

"What are her symptoms?" I asked, fishing for my penlight in my bag.

"Symptoms?" He shrugged. "Nothing specific."

I checked her out, all the while realizing she wasn't the only one under scrutiny. Angelo seemed more interested in watching me than the results of his cat's exam. To test my theory, I dropped my penlight on purpose, and the resulting gasp as I bent over, showing off my tight-shorts covered ass, confirmed my suspicions. I straightened. "There's nothing wrong with your cat, as far as I can see."

"No?" Angelo rubbed the back of his neck. "Huh." He glanced around, then fixed me with a heated stare and a sexy smile. "Well, since I'm here, maybe you can help me out with something?"

I took a step toward him, gliding my hand along the tabletop until it made contact with his. "What's that?"

He licked his lips. "I seem to have this...lump." He reached down and palmed his cock through his jeans. "It crops up every time I think about you."

I grinned and nodded. "I'm not a human doctor"--I covered his hand with my own, brushed my lips across his--"but I'm more than happy to take a look."





Photo credit:

Image credit: >dmitrimaruta / 123RF Stock Photo