NEW RELEASE: A Heat.Seeking.Missile out today!

My short "A Heat.Seeking.Missile" releases today from Torquere!

This started out as something just quick and dirty and fun, but I fleshed it out and I'm really happy with the final result.

A Heat.Seeking.Missile

by EM Lynley
from Torquere Press, $1.29

Nate and Cory are good friends and co-workers, but Nate wishes there was more to it. On a blistering hot Sunday, as the two are 'keeping hydrated' with plenty of beer, Nate hears the words: "…Heat. Seeking. Missile." Nate daydreams that's what Cory's hiding in those shorts often enough, but he's also sure Cory would never say something like that. Nate tries to cool down but his imagination keeps heating up. Is it wishful  thinking or does Cory really have Nate in his sights?

 

"My cock is a heat. Seeking. Missile," Cory said, pausing between the words for maximum effect.

Nate's eyes flew open and he looked at Cory, who sat shirtless on the couch next to him, tiny rivulets of sweat dripping between the well-defined muscles on Cory's chest while damp, dark-blond bangs clung to his forehead.

Cory had a huge grin on his face and one hand in his lap, rubbing himself, but his face was still turned towards the television in front of them. Nate could see the outline of Cory's hardening cock through the thin green fabric of his gym shorts and blinked. This was not happening.

"And you are fucking hot, Nate." Cory's voice was low and sexy, and full of unsaid promises. Nate wasn't sure how many times he'd imagined Cory saying something like that to him. Hundreds? That might cover it, Nate thought with some embarrassment. It really wasn't cool to have such a crush on your closest friend.

Nate closed his eyes again for a few seconds, maybe a minute. When he opened them again Cory was still on the couch, with the newspaper in his lap, working on the Sunday crossword puzzle with a red felt-tip pen.

"What did you just say?" Nate asked, still pretty sure it had all been a mirage, or a hallucination, or something. He and Cory were just friends, had been since they day they'd met six months earlier in the cafeteria of the software company they both worked for — two Texas boys transplanted into what seemed like alien territory for them. They were pretty close — but regretfully, not that kind of friends.

Of course, Nate would have liked it to be more. Half the time they were together, Nate had to keep himself from imagining what it would be like to run his hands along Cory's muscular chest, feel the powerful arms around him, the soft pink lips crushing his. He just didn't get any vibes from Cory that he wanted to be anything more than friends, and Nate wasn't about to make the first move. Nate wasn't in the closet, but he didn't make a habit of sharing his sex life with co-workers, and while he was almost certain Cory was gay, too, their conversations had somehow never touched on dating.

"I said it's fucking hot and what's a 6-letter word for 'type of missile'?" Cory replied, eyes on the newspaper rather than Nate. "Oh, and we're almost out of beer."

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