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    Fall
    Fall
    Fall
    Ebook94 pages1 hour

    Fall

    By Hollis Shiloh

    ()

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    About this ebook

    As rising boxers, they're scheduled to fight one another.

     

    Liam doesn't think anything can interfere with their feelings for each other.  That is, if they do both feel the same.  But in their world, many things can keep two young men apart.  Do they have any chance at a life together?

     

    Length: 22,000 words
    takes place in the same world as "Memories and Marco"
     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateMay 5, 2017
    ISBN9781386401186
    Fall

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      Book preview

      Fall - Hollis Shiloh

      About the story:

      Ettore and Liam are trying to make their way in a city where life is sometimes magical, sometimes unbelievably hardscrabble.  As rising boxers, they're scheduled to fight one another.  Liam doesn't think anything can interfere with their feelings for each other.  That is, if they do both feel the same.  But in their world, many things can keep two young men apart.  Do they have any chance at a life together?

      22,000 words

      Some angst.  Happy ending.

      Heat level: fairly low

      Fall

      by Hollis Shiloh

      I rolled over in bed, waking up enough to stroke the softness of the tousled head next to me, to smile down at Ettore.  It was a special occasion — usually we couldn't get a whole afternoon to ourselves, not with all the training we were doing these days.

      Shame to waste it.

      Hey.  I leaned closer and kissed Ettore on the cheek.  He was all curls and muscles and hot sweetness while he slept like this, sprawled on the rented bed with abandon.  The sheets were rumpled, didn't cover him properly.  He looked like a work of art, a David in human form.  He blinked sleepily, dark lashes rising to take me in.  A smile spread over his generous mouth, his full lips showing his pleasure, flashing the white teeth, lighting his dark eyes. 

      Hey, Liam.  He leaned closer, kissed back. 

      Our lips met gently, a tenderness between us, playful now the urgency had passed.  Not that we weren't playful in bed together.  And everywhere else.  Even sparring in the ring, it was difficult to take things too seriously, when Ettore gave me that flashing-eyed look.

      Ettore kissed me, moving closer, sliding a hand down my chest, fitting himself nearer and fondling lower.  His touch was friendly, intimate, and very familiar.  Ettore was my first lover — my only lover — and that was how I wanted it.

      I was nineteen, and a boxer.  Still in hard training, but climbing the rankings steadily.  Me and Ettore both.  We'd started at the same gym within nine months of each other.  Ettore had that much experience on me, but the rivalry and flirtation had spurred me on and I learned quickly. 

      I'd learned other things quickly, too: Ettore was a generous and caring lover, inventive about finding time and places to be together and this room he'd rented.

      He must've used all his excellent gift of persuasion to get it, rented from a grandmotherly woman who almost certainly wouldn't have approved of renting a love nest, but seemed very pleased to rent a room to two nice boys who needed a place to rest between workouts.  It's so noisy at the gym, I could almost hear Ettore saying, and Mrs. Zola's face getting that sympathetic look all women seemed to get when Ettore turned on the charm.  He was half devil, half angel, I sometimes thought.

      Oh, how could anyone be fooled by him?  He was wicked and saucy and lovely and very good in bed — and then sometimes he was so sweet and tender and almost innocent (if a guy like Ettore could be said to be innocent), taking pleasure in the smallest gestures of kindness, smiles and touches and just bumping shoulders as we walked side by side, jostling each other a little more with each step, getting in a hip check if we dared and no one was watching, or a quick ass grope even.

      But for all his wicked teasing, he was NOT a tease in bed.  Not at all.

      Ettore rolled me onto my back and straddled me, smiling down at me, checking my face to see if this was good for me.  I smiled up at him soppily, taking hold of his shoulders, squeezing to let him know it was good. 

      We were keeping it down for Mrs. Zola's sake.  We had plenty of practice being quiet.  Ettore's grin widened, and he hardened further where he pressed against my thigh.  Slowly, but with hot and purposeful intent, he began to slide us together, an easygoing lovemaking. 

      I moved his hands lower, touching and caressing as if I didn't already have this beautiful flesh memorized, and needed to learn it all over again.  Ettore lowered his mouth and gave me a firm, thorough kiss, then released my mouth with a popping sound.  You worried over the bout Tuesday? he asked.  Still humping against me with that steady, building rhythm.

      Torre, I said, rolling my eyes, complaint in my voice.  "Not now."

      What, you can't talk while we . . . ?  He thrust again, harder, for emphasis, and heat tore through my lower half.  I thrust back against him helplessly, enjoying the slide together.  Ettore chuckled, reaching down for us both.  He snatched another quick kiss, and worked his magic.

      It was magical.  I saw stars when I arched my back and uttered a bitten-off cry, pushed over the edge by Torre's hand, Torre's sensual skill.  Ettore chuckled above me, and thrust to lazy completion between my thighs.  He gave me another quick kiss, sealing the lovemaking, and rolled off.  He reached for a cloth and with quick, efficient, well-practiced strokes cleaned us both up with the minimum of fuss, then tossed it on the floor to join the other handkerchiefs we'd used earlier and flopped back and sighed. 

      He crossed his hands behind his head, eyelids hooded in a way that made him look sleepy and sensual.  His chest muscles flexed a certain way in that posture that made it hard for me to take my eyes off him.  My mouth was dry and my heart still pounding and I couldn't look away.

      I knew very well I was in love with Ettore.  But I wouldn't have said it, not unless Ettore wanted to put things like that into words.  So far he hadn't.  It didn't bother me.  Ettore was the best thing in my life, whether we said more words or not. 

      So, the Tuesday?  You worried?

      I snorted derisively.  Shit.  Shut up.  I reached across and gave Ettore a shove on the shoulder.  Ettore's posture shifted quickly as he rolled with the push, moving onto his side, laughing. 

      Growling a little, I pressed against his back, squeezing him close in an intimate hug.  I pressed a bitey sort of kiss again Ettore's neck, breathing in the smell of him, the sweat and soft skin over hard muscle, the smell that was only Ettore's. 

      Just wondered if you'd have trouble trying to bash my face in, said Ettore, snuggling back against me in a way that would've been unabashedly erotic if either of us had had any stamina left for sex.  You know, not wanting to spoil my pretty face.

      I snorted.  Son, I would spoil your face right now.  I slid a hand up his chest, feeling his muscle definition with the easy allowance of a

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