As The World Slept

As The World Slept

On June 12^th, 2016 many people woke thinking it was going to be just another Sunday. To those in the LGBTQIA community of Orlando, they were enduring a nightmare.

Sirens filled the air, bullets ricocheted, screams echoed, and cries and pleas for mercy sounded as those who had gone to Pulse in Orlando, Florida for Latin Night to be themselves, to embrace their truth, to kick off Pride Week, to dance, to love freely, were gunned down in hatred. In fear. In anger.

While the rest of the world slept and was unaware, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, partners, husbands and wives, lovers, fathers and mothers, friends, family members, colleagues, mentors, were fighting for their lives. Running for safety. Struggling to escape.

Many of them called for help. Alerted family members, local law enforcement, friends on social media, of what was occurring, in a desperate attempt for help. For safety. While a madman calmly hunted them, shooting them. Killing them. Wounding them. Injuring them.

The shooter, for he is not worthy of being named in this post, was “cool and calm” during negotiations, according to various news outlets. He had no regard for the lives of the people he was attacking. He cared not about the couples he was splitting up, the sons and daughters he was taking away from their parents, the fathers and mothers he was taking away from their children, the brothers and sisters he was taking away from their siblings, the friends he was taking away from their support system.

While the rest of the world slumbered, or started their day, the victims of Pulse, tried to get to safety. They barricaded themselves in bathrooms, they ran out the back door, climbed over the fence, helped complete strangers to freedom, tried to patch up the wounded as they ran; all while a shooter intent on taking their lives continued his assault. Many of them escaped. Many of them did not.

The shooter’s father apologized to the victims’ families and to the city of Orlando, while in the same breath offered an explanation for the mass shooting, stating that it was seeing “two men kiss” that led to the hate crime and terrorist attack—because yes, this was both. However, the absurd notion, this bigoted ideology that “gay panic” can lead someone to commit a heinous violent act is nauseating. The very fact that anyone tries to use it to justify their actions is horrible. What about “black panic” or “Hispanic panic” or “white panic” or “women panic” or anything else? When just seeing someone who represents something you don’t like, or don’t agree with sends you into a rage, or a “panic” is suddenly justification for you to attack them or murder them. Will there suddenly be people shooting heterosexual couples? Cisgender, all white couples? What about cisgender, all white, Republican, wealthy, extreme right-wing couples? What if that causes a “panic” in someone? Will that be justification for them to walk into a country club and start shooting? Will the media and news outlets report that it was a mass shooting in a city, as they reported the shooting in Orlando—erasing the fact that it was in a gay nightclub, on Latin night with POC with trans headliners, or will they report that it was a mass shooting in an “affluent, known Republican, extreme right-wing, country club”?

Too long the gay community has been vilified, oppressed, and attacked in public, and now, in our safe haven, our nightclubs, we have another reason to look over our shoulder. To be on alert. To be watchful. While it will not prevent the dance, nor stop our expression of PRIDE, while we still believe (in the words of Lin-Manuel Miranda) “that love is love is love is love is love, and love cannot be killed or swept aside,” the fear that we live with outside in public, as we hold hands with our partners, our lovers, our boyfriends, our girlfriends, our spouses, our significant others, has now followed us inside the very places where we used to let go of those concerns.

As soon as the world awoke, we all watched and listened in horror as details were given. Those who knew someone, who had family, friends, loved ones, etc. in Orlando, around Pulse, or whom they knew were in Pulse at the time, began calling, texting, checking Facebook, hoping for word that they were okay. Hearts in our throats, tears in our eyes, fear clawing away at us. Terror had gripped the LGBTQIA community, our families, our friends, our loved ones, and the city of Orlando. Video after video was played of family members weeping, their tears and sobs burying deep inside those of us who were rooted to the unbelievable, unfolding story. Details unfolded slowly, and still we watched.

In denial.

In fear.

In horror.

Parents of LGBTQIA children reacted all over the world. Whether it was to call, text, or see their children, contact was made. Conversations were had, and parents who had accepted their sons and daughters coming out were having to deal with the very real fear, the reality, of what their children were dealing with, were facing, every day, simply for being who they were. For living their truth. Simply because someone didn’t agree with who they were.

Then, the names of the fallen began to be released, and those of us who were in denial, who thought—who hoped—that maybe, just maybe, this was all just some horrible nightmare gone wrong, something they just couldn’t wake up from, had to face facts that yes, yes, dear god, this actually. Happened.

Tears flowed. Bodies trembled. People clutched each other in sorrow. Some collapsed in grief.

Oh god. Oh god. How could this have happened. Again? And why?

49 people killed, at least 53 people seriously wounded, and that’s just the numbers that have been reported. Will the death toll rise? Will more of the wounded appear?

And as the world struggled to come to grips with this tragedy, controversy after controversy began to pop up. But then, what did we expect? This was both a hate crime and a terrorist attack on the LGBTQIA community in Orlando, Florida. From media outlets who refused to say “gay nightclub” or “hate crime” or “LGBT” in their broadcast whatsoever, thereby erasing the very real reason why the attack happened. Ignoring our fear, downplaying our suffering, brushing aside the agony of the families, and diminishing the lives of the fallen and the wounded. To politicians who used this tragedy to either push their agenda, or to speak hypocritical words of sympathy to a community they’d vilified, attacked, oppressed, and discriminated against, time and time again. Even to politicians who took the time to congratulate themselves on being “right” about “Muslims” and pushing more hateful, Islamaphobic speech and rhetoric, the same kind which led to the LGBTQIA community at Pulse in Orlando in the first place, only by a different party.

But then the love poured in. From celebrities. From countries around the world. From the Tonys. From strangers all over social media. From strangers all over the state who stood in line at blood banks for hours to donate blood and plasma, even arguing about the right for gay men to donate blood to gay men. The Tonys handed out silver ribbons. Google put up a black ribbon on their website. There were Pulse icons made. People changed their logos. Hashtags were made for Orlando, for Pulse, for the gay community. When word came that a man had been prevented from attacking the L.A. Pride Parade, though people were shaken, the community was still even more resolved.

We would not be deterred. We would not be moved. We would not be driven back into the closet. Forced to live our lives in the way that those with certain extreme religious or political beliefs thinks is “acceptable.” We would not cower. We would stand strong. We would stand tall. We would have spines of steel. Our brothers and sisters had not died in vain. We would and we will carry their names in our hearts with us forever, we would carry the weight of the wounded on our shoulders as we continued the march forward towards true equality, safety, and freedom.

This horrible event, no doubt concocted in the shooter’s mind in an effort to weaken the LGBTQIA’s community, did nothing but strengthen us. We ceased any in-fighting, put a halt to any grudges, and instead of separating into cliques, we joined arms, bracing each other up, becoming stronger, becoming one cohesive unit. We did not yield. We did not fall. We did not bend, nor did we break under the assault of the attacker’s weapons. Instead, we began to breathe in sync with one another, our pulse beat as one, strong, our skin became impenetrable, our backs unbreakable. We supported each other and knew that we would continue to do so. The outpouring of love continued on through the night, from James Corden’s opening monologue at the Tony’s through Lin-Manuel Miranda’s sonnet when he won for Best Original Score to Adele’s heartbreaking dedication as she sang during her concert, and much, much more. We, members of the LGBTQIA, community, knew that while we were often the ones on the front lines of this war, there were others, allies, who stood with us, behind us, to hold us up when we grew weary, and even to stand beside us. We did not have to fight alone.

And yes, this was a hate crime. A terrorist attack. Against us. The LGBTQIA community. On Latin Night. While trans POC were on the flyer advertising for the event. We are aware of what this means. We know what’s going on, even if the media wants to pretend that it’s not, but still we embraced our allies because their blood was welcomed at the blood banks, they donated, they offered up support, they held us as we cried, tweeted, retweeted, and marched with us. They stood on the sidelines with us when we needed them to. Pride may be for us, but we still appreciate them.

And then, the world slept again.

And as the world slept, the victims and the fallen, their families, their loved ones, friends, significant others, partners, etc. continued to suffer. When the news vans pulled away, they stayed, waiting to hear word, waiting for a glimpse of their family member, to see if they had made it, hands clutched around cell phones, tears streaming down their cheeks as fear sank deep into their bones. They waited at the hotel, pacing the floors, walking the sidewalks, smoking outside, walking the streets, checking the posted sheets of those who had been located and were in the hospital, receiving treatment, or in surgery, or waiting to be called by phone or by name by the authorities to be told that they’d lost someone that they loved.

As the world slept, 49 members of the LGBTQIA community were lost, and 1 homophobic person snuffed out their lights. 50 lives lost. Over 53 others in the hospital. As the world slept, 49 families had their world’s devastated, whether these were biological families or families by choice, their lives were changed forever.

As the world slept, their tears flowed like rain, never ceasing, their grief felt like a heavy cloud in the air here in Florida. As the world slept, more names were added to the list of the deceased. As the world slept, exhausted from the bickering, from the shock, from the politicizing, from the posturing, from the fighting, from the fear, from the anger, from the hatred, from stirring up the phobia, these families, these friends, these loved ones continued to mourn, to wait, to fear, to grieve.

And as the world awoke again, some of them returned to their lives, having brushed off the residual dust of the previous day’s explosions and returned to their regular lives. Others were once again plastered to their computers, spewing hate and vitriol at the LGBTQIA community, misquoting and mistranslating a Bible and a religion they claim to believe in. A God who represents love and forgives and hates judging, condemnation, murder, and those who misrepresent him. Others climbed online to offer support, financially, with their words, with their blood donations, or by hosting or attending candlelight vigils all over the country and the world.

People cried and wept with the families, mourning with them, mourning for their loss.

For while the LGBTQIA community had suffered an attack on a place that was considered a safe haven for us, while we had lost the innocence and belief that the hatred would not follow us into “our sanctuaries” we had to remember that there were others who lost more.

Parents who lost children. Children who lost parents. Spouses and couples who were separated. Friends who lost their support system, siblings who lost their brother or sister (or both) and their grief was palpable. It could be tasted on the air. It weighed down on us all.

So, let us all take a moment to remember those who lost their lives, and to remember and have a moment of silence for those who were wounded or injured. Let us remember and thank the first responders, the hospital staff, the staff at the blood bank, and the volunteers. Let us remember that we will not be silenced, we will not be broken, and we will not allow ourselves to be driven by fear. We will be strong and we will stand up and remember those who lost their lives in a nightclub on June 12, 2016 in Pulse Nightclub, Orlando, Florida, a LGBT club in a hate crime and a terrorist attack.

The Names of the Fallen:

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old

Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old

Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 years old

Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old

Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old

Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old

Kimberly Morris, 37 years old

Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old

Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old

Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old

Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old

Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old

Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old

Amanda Alvear, 25 years old

Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old

Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old

Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old

Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old

Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old

Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old

Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old

Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old

Cory James Connell, 21 years old

Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old

Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old

Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old

Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old

Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old

Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old

Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old

Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old

Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old

Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old

Yilmary Rodriguez Sulivan, 24 years old

Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old

Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old

Frank Hernandez, 27 years old

Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old

Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old

Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz 24 years old

Post words of condolences to the families of the fallen, their loved ones, and friends, as well as pictures of two men or two women kissing (preferably two men/women of color, since this event happened on Latin Night), or of trans women/men of color in solidarity, and to show that we will not be frightened away, and we will not give into defeat or quit, bend or break. We will not give into fear.

And don’t forget the hashtags: #WeStandWithOrlando #WeStandWithYou #OrlandoStrong #Pride2016 #Pride #PulseOrlando #Pulse #PrayForOrlando #PrayForPulse #GoneButNotForgotten #LGBT #LoveWins #LoveIsLoveIsLoveIsLove

-Vicktor Bailey, out and proud

(aka. Author: Vicktor Alexander)

Vivianna Week, Day Six: Justin's Letter

Today's post for Vivianna Week comes from my friend Justin. Yes I know, Justin's passed away and he and Vivianna are hanging out together up in Heaven, but my best friend, Angel, has been searching diligently for something to post and he found an old letter that Justin had written to Vivianna and sent that to me. When I read it, I knew that I had to share it.

Hey Vic,

    I found this old letter that Justin had written to Vivianna when you were like four months along. Thought I’d send it to you for Vivianna Week. I’m still writing my post for you. I changed your name so that it said Daddy Vic rather than Mommy Vee-Vic, because you know that Justin used to call you Vic, but the letter was going into Vivianna’s baby book and he wrote it so that it would be understandable to her and your birth family. But that’s the only thing I changed besides the pronouns. Love you, sexy man. James says hi.

-A-

Dear Vivianna,

                I still remember the day that James, Angel and I got the phone call that your Daddy Vic was pregnant with you. We were shocked because your Daddy Vic has never been anything more than this self-assured, extremely vulnerable, more man than woman, in control person from the moment that we met as freshmen in high school, so the thought that he was pregnant was a shock to us. Because he seemed to have absolutely no control over anything (remind me to tell you about him talking about the morning sickness and tiredness. Your Daddy Vic is a way bigger drama queen than me). But Vivi, your daddy is happy that you are on your way. I’ve never seen him so happy. We’ve all gotten into the Vivi Spirit and gone crazy buying things for you. I’ve just bought you the cutest “baby diva” outfit. All in pink. Your Daddy Vic will probably be annoyed because he hates the color pink, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you wear it whenever you want to. You’re out perfect little girl. You are our miracle baby. A bunch of gay men are excited to have you as the baby that we all are going to share.

                I don’t know who is more excited though, your Daddy Christopher or me, because no matter what your Daddy Vic says, you are my baby. You are the child that he and I created back when we were sophomores in high school. We’d both always wanted children and had agreed to have children together. You are the reality of that dream, my sweet Vivianna. Because your Daddy Vic may be engaged to your Daddy Christopher, but he’s my soulmate. Always was and always will be.

                So you keep growing in there and we’ll see you soon, sweet Vivianna. And you’ll know who I am when you see me, I’ll be the gorgeous man holding you welcoming you to the world and telling you that I love you.

Love Always and Forever,

Justin

Your Uncle Daddy Justin Thomison

You Can't Love God and Be Transgender & Gay

I just got an email from someone, an old friend of mine who had heard about my "struggle with my true identity and the one that the devil is trying to give me."

I shit you not, that's what she said to me.

Now, it's been a few years since I went to seminary school, but I do remember attending and more than that I remember being at the top of my class...getting higher grades than this "friend" of mine, so I do know a thing or two about the Bible and the Torah.

I was raised in a home that practiced both Christianity and Judaism. I pretty much grew up referring to myself as a Messianic Jew, which means that I studied the Torah, celebrated Chanukah (Hanukkah for you Gentiles-LOL), celebrated the different Jewish holidays, and believed that Jesus is the son of God, sent down to the Earth to die for the sins of the world to give us access back to the Father (YHVH). I speak a little bit of Hebrew, can say some Hebrew prayers, listened to Christian music...

I was one confused, but extremely devout...something.


When I got older, one of the things that I always, always, always struggled with was the amount of judging and condemning that went on in the two different religions: Christianity and Judaism. These were the two religions that weren't supposed to be judging people. The God that they served (YHVH) was a God of forgiveness, second-chances, acceptance and most importantly LOVE. Like seriously, as I grew up I wondered how the God I served, and the God that my biologicals served could be so glaringly different.

My God said to "bless those who curse you and spitefully use you." Their God said "I will curse those who curse you." My God said "Love your neighbor as yourself." Their God said "Vengeance is Mine saith the Lord."

My God said "Judge NOT lest ye be judged." Their God said "And all liars, prostitutes, gamblers, those who practiced witchcraft, deceivers, adulterers, those who burned in lust, murderers, thieves, blasphemers...all burned in the lake of fire for all eternity."

And yes I know that all of these verses are in the Bible...I studied it...thoroughly and I began to notice how some things contradicted with other things. It was almost as if God changed his mind about some things and said "Okay, this wasn't as bad as I thought," and then on others said "OH! Wait! Nope, changed my mind, you see this? THIS is going to send you to hell...forever." Being a seminary student attending school to become a pastor and having been raised in the home that I was I accepted a lot of what I'd been told without question...for the most part.

However, when I'd get alone I'd study different words and realize that the truth of the Scriptures had been completely lost in translation.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Well this is a verse of Scripture that the biologicals used to say to me and the other kids so that we would have a healthy "fear" of God. I grew up thinking that if I screwed up, God was going to strike me with a lightning bolt. Upon further study I found out that that "fear" was actually "awe".

Yeah, makes that verse of Scripture take on a whole new meaning huh?

And the verse of Scripture "Spare the rod, spoil the child," that my parents used to justify whipping us with a belt or a switch when we'd misbehaved (really all of the adults in my family used it-even the ones who didn't believe in God), has also been wildly mistranslated. The "rod" that's being referred to in that Scripture is not an instrument of discipline, it's the Torah. Yes, the roll of Scriptures, or book of Scriptures, known as the Torah, is referred to as "the rod." So in essence that verse of Scripture is "If you don't teach your child the Torah, they will grow up disrespectful, spoiled and rebellious."

So I said all of this to this "friend" of mine. Pointed out to her that there was no way she could use any Scripture to justify her statements to me, that Romans 1:26-27 had been wildly mistranslated, that there were 6 times as many Scriptures, cautions, and chastisements in the Bible for "religious, saved, Christian heterosexuals" as there were for "heathenistic homosexuals" and that she should really study her Bible a whole lot more than she did when we were in seminary school if she was going to tell me that my lifestyle "choice" was wrong.

Then I pointed out to her that there's not one verse of Scripture in the Bible that speaks about transgenders.

Not one.

I don't think I'll be hearing back from her. Especially since at the end of my reply I told her that she'd broken more "laws" of the Bible and had committed more acts of sin by emailing me, than I have by living my truth and loving my man.

So while she told me that I can't "love God and be transgender and gay," I'm very happy to tell you that that's not true. YHVH (God, Jesus, the whole gang) and I are good friends. I love Him and He loves me and I am an OUT AND PROUD, transgender male homosexual who knows for a fact that I'll get into Heaven.

Thank you very much.


-Vicktor Aleksandr B

*My name is Vicktor and I approve this blog post*

Love Across The Big Pond: The Adventures of BradVic and Dangelina #3

Here's my 2nd letter to Daniel. Okay, it's not technically my second letter, but it's the second one I wrote with this title. And even though I scoffed at people who said it was a good idea at first, it has helped a little bit.



Dear Daniel (or Dangelina-which you know I love calling you that):

Do you know what I did after you went to bed last night? I started thinking about next year. This is our first Christmas "together," the first time we're celebrating your birthday "together" but still apart. I'm happy you're here, that you're in my life, so happy that I have you, but that damn ocean that's separating us? Well, it's starting to piss me off.

So I've decided to wage a war against the ocean and do all I can to make sure that next year? Before it gets close to the holidays, you are here with me where you belong. In my arms, in my bed. Wearing my ring.

I love you baby.


Love Always,

Vic (BradVic)

The Nieceling and the Flat Puppies

So since moving to Buffalo, NY with my adopted big sister the "flat puppies" or what's known as "plot bunnies" to other authors, have been flying around the apartment smacking both my adopted sister (who's a published author) and myself in the head.

Most of them are being thrown around by my nieceling and I've been catching them and writing up a storm.

I've started on a series entitled:  The Last Men on Earth that's in addition to The Virgin Special Forces series that I'm dedicating to Matt and Brad of the blog 2 Boys In Love.  There's the stand alone books: Light the Way, An Agean Task, and Not a Second.


You'd think that's be enough, but beyond those, there's the other 13 stand alone books, then the other six series that I'm writing (Can you say: That's a LOT Vic!).

Ahhh but you see...my brain has said that that's not enough because The Nieceling inspired 2 single title YA books: My Best Friend Shay, Friends Like Mine (which turns into a series but the last two books are 18+), and then there is the Sacred Duets series for YA.

Yep, I think I'm pretty much set as far as writing goes for the next few years.

But can I say how wonderfully exciting that is?  Because I can write here and the inspiration is just all over the place, the apartment is littered with "flat puppies," but it's all good because the more inspiration, the more books I write, the more books you all get to read.


Vic

The Virgin Special Forces

*I decided to share this on both of my blogs because I'm sort of excited about it now.

I am shaking my fist at Matt and Brad mentally as I write this.*

So, everyone knows that I used to be in the Army.  (What do you mean you didn't know?  It's a well known fact!)

And at some point I was a virgin (Although it was so long ago that I'm beginning to doubt it ever truly existed).

So when my "little brothers" Matt and Brad (of the 2 Boys in Love blog) put up a post about "losing" their virginity I was equal parts intrigued and slightly "cringey" (yes cringey is a word...I'm making it one), because you know, they're like my little brothers.  LOL.

Anyway, so when I went to read their post today and then saw the words: Virgin Special Forces, my mind, through no further enticement, jumped on the title AND the idea and I saw a group of guys, ten maybe, who are all in the military together, five of which are gay virgins, who are deployed to Iraq and how those five guys lose their virginity.

Sounds interesting huh?

I think so too (Damn you Matt and Brad for giving me MORE inspiration to write).

So rather than spending my day watching horror movies all day (*sigh* Halloween).  I will be drafting up the books for The VSF Series, which I of course will have to dedicate to JayHJay and Matt and Brad.

And so you can see how quickly my brain works with these things, here's the first part of book one's chapter one.  Called, The Alpha Team:


"I'm losing my virginity to him before this week is over or I'm going to throw myself in front of the next suicide bomber and just be done with the whole thing," Luke pouted before throwing himself onto his cot in frustration.  He heard the other members of his platoon laugh and huffed in frustration before rolling over to stare up at the ceiling.


"Still pining away for the Sergeant, huh O'Malley?" Luke's best friend Traven Anderson snickered from the cot next to his.  Turning his head to look at Traven, Luke gave into his childish urge and stuck out his tongue.


"Hey O'Malley.  Try not to go waving that thing around unless you plan on using it," Francis Trout, their platoon leader grinned from the floor where he lay doing one-handed push ups.


Show off, Luke thought to himself, before turning his attention back to Traven.  "You don't understand," he whined, feeling his cock thicken at the thought of their Commanding Officer, First Sergeant Connor Wilkins.  The man was a walking wet dream.  Standing at six foot six, his black hair cut in a buzz cut, his blue eyes dark as twilight, his body broad and hugely muscled and his voice...


Luke shivered with uncontrollable desire.  "He is the sexiest man alive and he has no idea that he is.  I just want to lick him from head to toe and then bend over and ask him to ride me hard and fast," Luke confided in his best friend moments before he heard the loud bellow of the man in question, calling for bunk inspection and he leaped to his feet and brought his body to attention, immediately.


His eyes drank in the sight of First Sergeant Wilkins as the man strode down the line looking over everyone's bunks as he passed.  This was their last bunk inspection before they were deployed to Iraq on Sunday and he didn't want to fail this one like he'd failed all of the others.  He glanced surreptitiously at First Sergeant Wilkins from the corner of his eyes as the man stepped closer to him, his gaze taking in his ever movement.  He watched as the larger man stopped in front of him, standing close to him as he looked at his bunk before glancing down at him sternly.


"It's about damn time O'Malley.  You finally learned how to pass a bunk inspection," he stated, his voice low and next to Luke's ear.


"I wanted to make sure I showed you that I know how to handle a bunk, sir," Luke replied breathlessly, holding his First Sergeant's gaze steadily, even though his heart pounded in his chest.  He watched as First Sergeant Wilkins's eyes darkened with desire before clearing as if someone had placed a wall in front of them.  He held onto his barely controlled desire with two clenched fists as he watched his CO finish the inspections before declaring that everyone passed and striding out without another word...and without glancing in his direction again.


As soon as the door closed behind him, Luke sank to his bed, his body trembling.


"Oh my god," he breathed.


"Damn O'Malley.  I thought you and First Sergeant Wilkins were about to start fucking like animals right in front of us," Phillip Roan, another member of the unofficially named "Virgin Special Forces," stated with a grin.


Luke smiled back at Phillip, who hi-fived his twin brother Peter, and collapsed backwards onto his bed again.  "By the end of this week, I swear I'm losing my virginity to him," he declared.


~~**~~                             ~~**~~


Leaning against the wall outside of the barracks, Connor Wilkins grinned wolfishly.  So Luke O'Malley wanted to lose his virginity huh?  Well, Connor would give him what he wanted, and maybe a little more than he bargained for as well.




So there you go.  The Virgin Special Forces has been started in my mind and I can already tell that I'm going to enjoy writing Connor and Luke's story.

Happy Reading and Happy Halloween!!

{HUGZ, SQUEEZES, FIST BUMPS AND SALUTES!}

Vic