Click on image to enlarge.
by Rowan Speedwell
Category: Erotica/Multicultural-Interracial Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: On a frigid winter night, college freshman Will stumbles into the shelter of a church during choir practice. His father has just discovered that Will is gay, and has beaten him and thrown him out of the house. But right now Will's interested only in getting warm.
Will's college roommate Quinn is a soloist in the choir, which is practicing for a Christmas program. He discovers Will in the church--and his friend's condition. Will, who has grown up in a repressed environment, including church school, an abusive father and a passive mother, is taken aback by Quinn's enthusiasm and determination to take care of him.
Does Will have a future after all, especially one that will include Quinn?
Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Interracial
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2011
eBookwise Release Date: March 2012
11 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [74 KB]
Reading time: 44-62 min.
Quinn reached out and touched his forehead again, his hand cool against Will's burning skin. "You're in the hospital; you passed out at the church last night. Do you remember?"
Will remembered being at the church; remembered Quinn's worried face and the other, older guy, and talk of calling his parents--shit! He struggled to sit up, panicking that any minute his father was going to come through that door and he would be so pissedE
Quinn pushed him back down embarrassingly easily. "Hey, don't go anywhere!"
"My parents! Did they call my parents?"
"No, baby, we didn't. You freaked out when Bennigan said that, so we didn't. We brought you here instead. Do you remember that?"
Will shook his head, but the movement only made it hurt worse. He heard a whining noise and realized it was him. "I just remember the church."
Quinn gently cupped his cheek and said again, "Shh, baby, it's okay. Can you tell me what happened? You wouldn't let us call the police, either."
"I fell," he said dully. He sort of remembered saying that before.
"Right," Quinn said, and his voice was flat. It didn't sound right; Quinn's voice was part of what was beautiful about him, so lively and expressive. Quinn MacLachlan didn't do flat. "You fell multiple times on your face and cracked your own damn ribs."
Well, that explained why it hurt to move. "Oh," he said.
He opened his eyes again--when had he closed them?--and looked up into Quinn's face. The shards of anger he saw in Quinn's eyes faded and were replaced by concern. "Did your father do this to you?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.