Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

how sure I am," Corin said, making Rafferty laugh quietly.
    "That's not…" Rafferty paused, twisting free of Corin's arms. "You're not agreeing to the priesthood because of me, are you?"
    "Not entirely," Corin said, being honest. "I do want to help."
    "Okay," Rafferty said, accepting that. He held out his hand to Corin, and Corin took it, remembering the first time Rafferty had touched him. It didn't feel at all the same this time, and Corin let Rafferty lead him from the room, nervous but hopeful about what they'd find in the future.
    THE END
    Author bio: Sasha L. Miller spends most of her time writing, reading, or playing with all things website design. She loves telling stories, especially romance, because there's nothing better than giving people their happily ever afters. When not writing, she spends time cooking, harassing her roommates, and playing with her cats.
    Contact Info:
    email: [email protected]
    Website: sashalmiller.com
    Twitter: nikerymis
    More writing: Sasha Miller at Less Than Three Press
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THE PORTRAIT OF HIS SUBLIMITY
    by Cay McKat

    A shirtless man in jeans, his torso and arms covered in tattoos.

    Dear Author,
    I am addicted to ink. Getting it done gives me more satisfaction than sex, or the stuff I have been getting lately anyway. I am not sure if it is the fact that I am a masochist, or the hunk of a tattoo artist I have been going to for the last year. Either way, I may be covered head to toe by the end. The tattoo guy is an artist with a capital A. Dark, brooding, moody, and oh so hot. He is definitely an Alpha male too. But there is no way I am a submissive, or am I? Could I maybe find what I need another way?
    Sincerely,
    Taylor Law

    genre: contemporary
    tags: BDSM; tattoos; soul searching; oral sex; flogging; comfort; feeling from afar; slow burn-UST
    content warnings: pain play, not graphic
    word count: 31,235
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    THE PORTRAIT OF HIS SUBLIMITY
    by Cay McKat
    It felt like a sting right through his core every time. After a year, one would've thought the novelty had worn off already, but it hadn't. Instead Ty found himself just as eager and impatient every time he stepped inside the door. And every time he was close to drooling, because that man was just too good looking to be true. Or perhaps it was just Ty's overactive hormones talking, because he didn't have a tendency to go drooling over anyone .
    "Well hello again," the man said and grinned while leaning against the counter. The tattoo magazine he had in front of him, spread open and taking a whole lot of space from the shining clean countertop was soon forgotten when his eyes trained over Ty's arms. "Ready for another session?"
    Ty nodded, trying to look anything but obvious, but he was sure he failed. "I think the old ones are pretty well healed already."
    The man, the man, the one consuming every shred of a thought drifting through Ty's mind nodded as well, looking all professional while he gestured Ty to follow him to the room in the back, pulling the curtain out of the way and waiting just long enough for Ty to step inside the small space before he yanked the curtain back in place. "Let me think… We finished your midsection last time, right?"
    "Yeah." And that was as far as Ty had given himself permission to go, because he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted the tattoos, or the one doing the ink-work. But there he was again, now rapidly thinking of new areas to get covered with ink, because he really only had a few left un-covered. "The shoulders are still left." Except for the lower parts, but Ty wasn't quite ready for those yet.
    The one holding the needle most of the time nodded and gestured Ty to get rid of his shirt. "Highlights on the arms too, right?" he asked. Ty nodded, already pulling off his shirt. Shoulders and some lining on his arms. That was it. Then he would stop this. "Yep…. And then I think I'm done."
    Liar.
    "Whatever works for you," the man said.
    Ty stood still like he'd done dozens of times already, his back towards the man that was like a voiceless keeper of his every hidden daydream. Chase. That was the name. One Ty knew but had never said out loud, because it wasn't through an actual introduction he had heard the name but simply something he had overheard at the shop. Not Howard or Richard or Harold. No…Chase. Like sex on your tongue when you spelled it slow enough. Not that Ty had done that, because he wasn't that pathetic. Only pathetic enough to go all hot and