Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

slip the ring on his finger, he whispered these words: "With this ring, I thee wed."
    THE END
    Author bio: Jeff Erno
    Other works:
    Dumb Jock
    Another Dumb Jock
    Puppy Love
    Puppy Love 2 Building a Family
    Puppy Love 3 Reawakening
    The Landlord
    Trust Me
    Bullied
    Second Chances
    Twinsational (Men's Room Series, book One)
    Coming In 2012:
    We Danced
    Cocktales (Men's Room Series, book Two)
    America's Next Superstar
    Works-In-Progress:
    America's Next Superstar 2
    Business Strip (Men's Room Series, book Three)
    Safest Place to Hide
    Gay Baby
    Gay for the Stay
    Contact info:
    Website
    Facebook
    ****

THE WOLF AT MY DOOR
    by Pia Veleno

    "I can't believe my best friend overpowered me and left me trussed up like a cheap rump roast. And who the hell did he phone before he left? Is that his key in the lock? The minute I get loose I'm going to kill him."
    ~ Pender

    genre: contemporary
    tags: mild bondage; pranks; punk twink; smaller top; musician
    word count: 13,532
    Back to Table of Contents

    THE WOLF AT MY DOOR
    by Pia Veleno
    "Sam! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I threw myself against my restraints, but Sam had been raised by a survivalist father. He knew how to tie a knot. He could probably design a leash that would restrain a ticked off black bear out of a shoelace. I was so fucked, and I didn't even know why.
    Sam pressed his cell phone to his chest and shushed me. He shushed me!
    "Fuck you, Sam. This isn't funny. Untie me!" I strained again, and a cowering voice of reason told me that I was likely tightening the ropes further by struggling, but I snarled at reason. Reason didn't tell me why Sam turned one of our random wrestling matches into a crash course in bondage.
    "If this is about that book, the shit is getting old."
    Sam said something into his phone in a voice so quiet I couldn't even guess what he said to whomever. Damn him, I hated secrets. Especially secrets that involved me being trussed to a chair. The rope bit into my arms and wrists and the chair dug at my bare back. I'd just tossed my shirt on the way to the shower when Sam waylaid me. We'd been friends since grade school, so impromptu wrestling sessions weren't unusual when one or both of us needed to blow off steam or settle an argument, but losing one by being tied to a creaky kitchen chair was not a part of our friendship.
    When Sam disconnected and shoved his phone into the pocket of his too-tight jeans, I forced my fury into a dark corner of my mind. I wanted to know what was going on, and if I was yelling at him, I might miss an explanation. The only sound was his heavy, black boots clomping across the scratched and worn hardwood floors. In a harsh whisper that I hoped would convey my anger, I said, "Sam." I took a deep breath, but it didn't help. "This is not funny."
    He said nothing as he pulled on a red and white armored motorcycle jacket and then zipped it up. He remained equally silent as he pocketed his wallet and keys, and grabbed his helmet.
    "It's not supposed to be funny," Sam said.
    The first words he said since he overpowered me with ropes and brute strength and they didn't make a damn bit of sense. Before I could formulate a coherent response, Sam walked out the door. Before he shut it, he glanced back at me, smiled, and said, "The magic word is bubble gum."
    "What the fuck does that mean?" He shut the door without giving an answer. "Come back here and untie me, you asshole!" Still no answer. My best friend had finally lost his mind. We'd joked about it as kids. We'd decided that masturbating melted brain cells, so too much and we'd lose our minds. Of course, back then, we'd try to get to that point on several occasions. Sam definitely lost a few too many brain cells lately… and he's the one who thought I needed to get laid. I screamed at the door: "Bubble gum is two words, asshole. Bubble. Gum. Bubble gum! I surrender! Bubble gum!"
    ****
    I had exhausted myself. Sam didn't leave me any play in the ropes, and as old as the chair was, it was sturdy too. When I'd tried to pop a cross bar to free my ankles, I'd only succeeded in nearly tipping over. Despite the workout of trying to break free, I was still surprised to find I'd dozed off in my awkward predicament. With my arms tied to the back of the chair, my shoulders burned. My neck screamed as I straightened my lolling head and blinked at the dim light in the room. I couldn't see a clock, but based on the fading light I'd probably been stuck in the chair for over an