Here’s a scene from Golden Boys, http://www.amazon.com/Golden-Boys-Amber-Green-ebook/dp/B00993KG6C/. I will be giving away a free copy of this book to a random commenter, so feel free to post an entertainingly random comment. Amber
Jell and I crouched between a brick wall and an inadequate windbreak of coontie palms and West Indian hawthorn, freezing our balls off. The streetlight overhead wasn’t working. Neither were my efforts to talk sense.
“Jell, we have to flag down a cop.”
“You go on, if you want to. I’m talking to no cops tonight!”
He’d been saying the same thing for the last half hour or so, just as I had, while we both kept getting colder. We were three blocks from the detox center, which was as far as we’d run before seeing the first police car. His teeth chattered. When the wind shifted, clattering the palm fronds, he doubled over to hug his knees.
Terrific. I moved behind him, spooning up against his chilled back and folding my arms about his pucker-skinned chest.
He leaned back against me, wriggling his butt right into my crotch and letting my thighs bracket his. I didn’t know whether to take that as a tease or just someone fitting himself to a warm surface.
Didn’t matter right that minute, did it? I took his weight by leaning my own back against the cold brick wall.
The brick stole whatever heat he gave me, plus some, but Jell’s shivering became less violent. I was spooning Jell Richardson—a wet dream come true—but my dick was too thoroughly chilled to embarrass me. His neck and shoulder smelled faintly of Old Spice, the same shower gel I used, while his hair smelled faintly of cigar. “We must go somewhere, Jell. It’s hours until daylight. We’ll only get colder if we stay here.”
Thunder rumbled. Another gust of wind lashed us with twigs and leaves.
He sighed, shivering again. “Okay, genius-boy. Where?”
“Cops, FBI, and your folks, right? None of the above.”
“Four choices, then. I have some cousins right near here, maybe two or three miles away.”
“Miles? I’m barefoot!”
He wore a size 12, or he’d be wearing my shoes now. “You going to be any warmer barefoot here than barefoot walking?”
Actually, the pinestraw mulch we squatted on now would draw out far less body heat than would the road or the sidewalk, but the action of walking would warm us.
Socks. My socks would fit him, and luckily I had to wear the thickest socks made. Had to special order them, since Florida is not known for needing Polar-expedition quality socks. They’d go a long way to protect his feet from the road, and their wool content would help keep him warm even when the rain hit. “Hey, I can wear the shoes and you can wear my socks.”
He hesitated, then relaxed in my arms. “Yeah. Yeah—if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll both have some protection. I’ll still be better off than you.”
He reached down and felt my shoe, tugged at the lace. “How did you end up with size eight feet, anyway? Girls wear size eight.”
Size eight, and so narrow my shoes never fit properly without double-thick socks, a fact you should be very grateful for right now. “Comes with being queer, I guess.”
He went still, not even breathing.
I hadn’t thought out the words beforehand, and wished desperately I could take them back. This was how I was going to find out Uncle Ron was wrong, that Jell had demanded a blow job not because he was gay but simply because he was a guy. This was when Jell would jump out of my arms and beat the shit out of me for touching his bare skin. And I’d never see him or touch him or smell him again, never hear his voice except through a speaker.
The moment stretched out. Then he laughed softly. “Is that how you tell? So, you’re what—four sizes queerer than me? I should have measured your feet years ago? That’s what you’re saying?”
I locked my fists together and squeezed his chest.
He cupped my hands in his and leaned back harder, then let up. “Off with the shoes, Eth. My feet want those socks. We can snuggle someplace else.”
So now was it a given we would snuggle? I needed to say something witty or profound. But all I wanted to say was his name, feel it in my mouth to see if it tasted or sounded different. I let him pull out of my arms and turn to face me, and I watched like a little kid as he worked at untying my shoe for me