Vicktor Alexander ^-^ Enjoy!

Justin’s Angel

By: Vicktor Alexander

I struggled with what to write for this guest post for all of thirty seconds (once I sat down to actually write it). There were/are two people in my life (one still alive and well married to his partner of 10 years, the other passed away from AIDS December 24, 2010) who always knew who I was and never questioned that I wasn’t like everyone else. They were also the first two openly gay teenagers that I ever met. In light of the bullying situation that’s going on I’d decided to write a book entitled Justin’s Angel and dedicate it to my two friends Justin and Angel and (once it’s done) donating the proceeds to The Trevor Project in Justin’s honor. I thought that I would share with you a scene or two from this work in progress. Enjoy!-Vicktor Alexander

                “Grab him! Go and get the little queer! Come back you little homo!” Justin Brentson froze, his muscles locking and his breath stuttering in his chest as he prepared for the brutal attack of his tormentors. His eyes slid shut, tears slowly sliding beneath the closed lids and streaking down his tanned cheeks as he realized that he’d only been in his new school for two days and he was going to have to move…again. His parents would be pissed. They’d hated to leave Pensacola, Florida and move him clear across the state to Riverview, in the hopes that he would finally be in a city, in a school that accepted him. No matter what his sexuality may be. It seemed as if they were wrong…again. Maybe they could move to Miami? He heard that there were a lot of gays living down in Miami.

                A lot of gangs too.

                It took him a moment to realize that the attack that he’d been waiting for never came. Instead the sickening thud and the sound of flesh on flesh reached his young eighteen year old ears and he turned around quickly to see a circle of snarling, vicious jocks picking on and beating up, what sounded to him to be, a young girl. Without thought for his safety or of his previous desire to remain anonymous in order for him to complete his senior year of high school in peace and without incident, he charged into the middle of the fray, using his considerable height and weight to shove the boys out of the way. His low, menacing growl drowning out the sound of their now almost pitiful yelps and snarls.

                Turning to face the last young man, who seemed almost insanely focused on inflicting as much pain on the victim as possible, Justin pulled back his fist and then threw his entire body into the blow as he felt the skin of his knuckles connect with the jaw bone of the bully. He heard the crack and winced as he fell on top of the young boy on the ground. He wasn’t sure if it was the other boy’s jaw breaking or his knuckles, all he knew was that the hallway was filled with students, horrified teachers and a livid principal who was storming his way down the hallway towards him. Knowing that what was done, was done and he would probably be suspended or expelled for fighting in school on his second day, he gave little regard for the faculty and his fellow classmates and instead scooted across the floor to the crying and trembling victim of the horrendous attack.

                His eyes and brain finally caught up with what his ears had heard minutes before. The victim was a boy. A very beautiful boy, bruises be damned. His skin was a gorgeous bronze color, his hair black and cut to just below his ears. His face, which Justin could tell was usually flawless, was covered in bruises and blood. He looked out of one eye at Justin, as if gauging his motives and let out a slight hiss of pain when Justin touched his cheek.

                Once again, without further thought, Justin leaned over and lifted the young boy into his arms, ignoring the pain in his hand and turned to face the principal who stood behind him, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his fury.

                “Mr. Brentson! We do not under any circumstances approve of or tolerate violence as a means of justice, revenge, problem solving or judgment. Now, if you would please put Mr. Perez down, you and I can go and have a nice long chat in my office,” Principal Wooddard stated.

                His angel, his beautiful angel, whimpered in his arms and clutched the front of his shirt in a firm but shaking grasp. Justin made a shushing noise before he lifted his head and stared at Principal Wooddard with a grim smile.

                “No sir. Look like Mr. Perez don’t want to get down and I don’t really want to put him down, so I’m thinking that you’re probably going to have to talk to me, with him on my lap,” Justin stated through gritted teeth as he tried to yank his mind away from the intoxicating smell of his angel or the way that his angel seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms.

                “Mr. Brentson you will do as I say!” Principal Wooddard yelled, his face turning almost purple in his fury and shock.

                “No I won’t” Justin replied as he marched down the hallway towards the principal’s office. He was usually a very docile and obedient student and child, but there was something about this boy, this angel, that brought out the almost rabid, savage beast inside of him.

                “Thank you,” a soft voice stated and Justin stopped, almost tripping in his desire to hear his “almost beautiful” angel speak again.

                Looking down into the beautiful hazel eyes of his prince in distress, Justin felt himself drowning…no, not drowning. He was falling. He felt himself falling. He now totally understood what people meant when they said that they fell in love with someone. That was how he felt in that moment. Like he’d fallen into something amazing, something perfect, something so right that it had to be heaven-sent…something that he was well aware, he’d be fighting for and fighting to keep for the rest of his life.

                And he didn’t even know the obviously younger man’s name.

                “My name’s Angel,” the injured boy stated, before pulling Justin’s head down and pressing his full lips against Justin’s.

                It was the perfect kiss from his angel. His very own angel.

****

 

                Vicktor Alexander “Vic” wrote his first story at the age of 10 about his youngest sister and her destruction of the world…with her breath.  Much to his youngest sister’s dismay the story was a hit and became the first story of a series all dealing with the planets that were destroyed by his siblings and their strange quirks and body odors.  Vic moved on to horror stories and then to stories about his friends.  Always one who pushed the edge of convention, it wasn’t long or much of a shock, before he was writing interracial historical romances.  However, Vic realized that his heroes seemed much happier when they were hanging out with other guys and that was when he discovered the M/M genre.

                Vic now enjoys writing about shifters, humanoids, cowboys, firemen, rent boys, fairies, elves, dancers, doctors, Doms, Subs, and anything else that catches his fancy, all sexy men falling in love with each other and having lots of naughty, dirty, man-on-man sex.  He already has two books published about shape-shifting cowboys, a dancer and a cross-dresser which are ARe bestsellers : Unthinkable  Inconceivable, books One and Two of The Tate Pack Series  a third book in the same series entitled, A Very Tate Christmas and plans to release six more books in that series.  Vic is a huge fan of the “happily-ever-after” ending but while his characters all ride off into the proverbial sunset, all sexually satisfied and in love, they all bear the scars of fighting for that love, just like in real life.  No fluff writer here, Vic’s stories can be slightly gritty, dark and hard hitting, but the reason for that, is that love is sweeter when it’s been fought for and won. Never satisfied with only one genre, every book that Vic writes falls into more than one category and has each main character experiencing more than one orgasm.

Out and proud, Vic does not believe that love only comes in one form, one race, one gender and that not only is gender fluid, by sexuality as well.  Vic loves to make people laugh and when he’s not writing, or rather, procrastinating in writing, he’s reading, playing the Sims 3, hanging out with his very supportive adopted family, being distracted from his writing by his partner Daniel and drooling over pictures of John Barrowman and Shemar Moore behind Daniel’s back.