Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. I’m still doing teasers for Two to Tango, but this week we’re going to feature a not-so-hot scene after Rory makes two very big mistakes, only one of which is breaking into a sociopathic Russian mafia member’s home.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Rory MacLellan, aka the Highlander, is one of the most successful interstellar art thieves out there. He’s careful, professional, and plans his heists down to the microsecond. Surprisingly, he also has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.

Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and about to be laid off from the only job he’s been able to find in the last three years, he never expected a dashing thief to come along and ruin his suicide by saving his life.

With interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or pull them even closer?

###

The world slowly reformed around Rory, brightening from black to a murky grey. He blinked, trying to lick his lips, and winced from the sudden pain that blazed in his jaw. “Ow.”

“Welcome back, Mr. MacLellan.”

Neck creaking, he looked up. A statuesque woman with silver hair swept up in an elegant coif stood in front of him, her dark blue evening gown quite out of place against the plain cinderblock walls. “I’d expected you to be awake by now. I was starting to wonder if Drou has lost his touch.”

She glanced at a huge mountain of a man who stood to her left. He glared at Rory, one hand dropping to the shockrod attached to his belt. “But now that you’re awake, we can get started,” she added.

Rory forced his brain into gear. He was strapped to a chair in a smallish rectangular room that looked like it was somewhere in the mansion’s basement, judging from the damp chill in the air and the block wall construction. More concerning were the tools, both surgical and construction, that hung neatly on wall racks, and the metal rolling tray loaded with unpleasantly sharp shapes. A series of surgical lamps were suspended overhead, and the floor was plain concrete with, yes, a drain in it.

The downward glance confirmed he was naked. Oh, fuck me with a mass driver. This is gonna get ugly.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile despite the shards of agony it caused. “Madame Grishov, I presume?”

Her head tilted. “Indeed. You can imagine my surprise, Mr. MacLellan, when I was informed by my house AI that someone had penetrated the defenses. Most thieves are smart enough to avoid my home, unless they’re suicidal or truly stupid. And from what I understand of your reputation, you are neither.”

Rory tried to dredge up some charm. “You flatter me, madame. It’s a shame you had to leave the ballet early — I wasn’t counting on that.”

“Yes, neither was I. Especially as it’s been a rather busy week and I was very much looking forward to the performance.” Madame Grishov removed her black satin gloves, revealing hands peppered by age spots but with obvious strength in them. She handed the gloves to Drou, who handed back a pair in black leather. “So I’m afraid you’re going to have to entertain me tonight, Mr. MacLellan.”

As she pulled on the new gloves, Rory could see the flat lead pads sewn into the palms, and the blunted chrome studs mounted over each knuckle. He fought to hold onto his smile. “You know, this really isn’t necessary,” he said quickly. “I’m fully aware I invaded your privacy, and I need to pay for that — let’s say, 100,000 credits? I’m sure we could reach a satisfactory amount if we put our minds to it.”

That earned him a faint, wintry smile. “I’m sure we could,” she said calmly. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Her arm went up and back. He had just enough time to brace himself before she backhanded him. Pain exploded through his face, and he swallowed a shout.

An openhanded slap on the other cheek violently rocked his head to the other side, the small lead plates in the glove lending agonizing power to the blow. Blood filled his mouth from where his teeth had gashed into tender flesh. Grimacing, he swallowed what he could, and let the rest of it drool onto his chin. Maybe if she sees blood, she’ll be happy.

Her eyes lit up at the sight. Oh, shit. Wrong kind of happy.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” he managed.

“Not really. I already know you’re sorry.” She gripped his chin hard, forcing his face up. “But I do admit to some curiosity. Obviously you were here to steal the Lady of Kazan, since we found the duplicate in your carryall.” Her grip tightened, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to break his jaw. “But it isn’t nearly as valuable as other items in my collection, items that would be much easier for a thief to carry. So I have to wonder why you went to all the trouble of breaking into my home and risking an extremely prolonged and creative death in order to steal that particular ikon.”

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Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from my current WIP, a M/M SF erotic caper story titled Two to Tango. I’m also doing something a little different this week, in that this isn’t an explicitly erotic tease — you actually get to see Rory in action, and how he met Dmitri.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Rory MacLellan, aka the Highlander, is one of the most successful interstellar art thieves out there. He’s careful, professional, and plans his heists down to the microsecond. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death, because he’ll be damned if he gets blamed for the man’s murder.

Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and about to be laid off from the only job he’s been able to find in the last three years, he never expected a dashing thief to come along and ruin his suicide by saving his life.

With interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or pull them even closer?

###

Rory MacLellan loved this part of a heist.

Grinning, he slipped down the darkened access hallway towards the target. The worn industrial carpet deadened the sound of his footsteps, not that there was anyone around to hear them tonight.

Not unless they really wanted to die.

He checked his heads up display, noting the time. Less than twenty minutes before airtight bulkhead doors would slam down throughout the Novy Vladivostok Museum of Art and History. The atmosphere would then be sucked out of the entire building, replaced with a sterilizing gas designed to kill vermin and artifact-destroying bacteria. The fact that the gas would also kill any humans still in the building guaranteed that the museum would be empty.

As far as he was concerned, the museum higher-ups couldn’t have picked a better time to do their yearly sterilization sweep. Their new exhibit Other Worlds, Other Gods was scheduled to go on display tomorrow, and its star attraction, a fist-sized chunk of pure opal known as the Eye of the Mother, was tonight’s prize.

He’d already done the tricky part; bribing underpaid planetary border agents for access, parking his cloaked skimship on the roof of the museum, and using a worm app to open a hole in museum security. The actual break-in activities were much simpler. A mimetic bodysuit and helmet took on the pattern of whatever was behind him and diverted body heat to sinks in the boot soles, rendering him effectively invisible to both standard and infrared cameras. His faceplate, doubling as a heads up display, turned the shadowy hallway into a brightly lit corridor. All the tools he’d need for safecracking and related activities were securely stored in a mimetic bag on his hip.

Now he just had to get to the museum’s workroom, pick its electronic lock, break into the safe there, retrieve the Eye of the Mother, and get out before sterilization commenced. Easy.

Still grinning, he reached the workroom door and pulled out a small black cylinder with a rubbery grey end from his bag. Pushing the rubbery bit against the lock, he waited until the smartgel sussed out the electronic code. A loud click sounded and he eased open the door, sliding through the gap into the workroom. A sudden flash of light made him wince. His faceplate cut in, compensating for the unexpected glow from a workstation lamp.

Rory tsked. Wasting energy was just sloppy. “Molly, room schematic,” he sub-vocalized.

“Coming up, sir.” The HUD now showed a graphic overlay of the workroom, and a glowing red outline in the far left corner indicated the safe. “May I remind you that you have eighteen minutes to complete your retrieval before sterilization commences.”

“Yup, I know.” The countdown in the lower left corner of the HUD was impossible to ignore.

“Your bodysuit will protect you from the gas, but all exits will automatically seal and I will not be able to re-open the roof hatch.”

“I know.”

“You’ll be a sitting duck when museum security returns in the morn—“

“Molly. Stop telling me what can go wrong.”

A beat of blessed silence. “Sorry, sir.”

Rory rolled his eyes. His ship AI was the finest in the business and the closest thing he had to a best friend, but sometimes she really chapped his nads. “Moving to the safe now.”

#

Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev sat at his workstation, ignoring his headache and the painful growl in his midsection. He’d hoped that some of his coworkers had left some food in the employee lounge. Even a sealie of chips or a stale sandwich would have been nice. But they’d cleared everything out in advance of the sterilization.

So he would die hungry. At least it’ll only be for a little while longer. After that, it’s up to God. Assuming that whatever deity there was, if there was one, took pity on someone like him.

He went over the workstation again, tidying the tools, putting everything in its place. There wasn’t much to do, really, but he was a stickler about keeping his personal spaces neat. He’d already cleaned out his locker, and his suicide note was logged in the system to be delivered to the museum director at six AM, long after the sterilizing gas had done its job.

There would be an investigation into how he’d gotten into the building, of course. Security had already done their pre-sterilization sweep, and the place was supposed to be locked down tight to guard against any accidental deaths. Fortunately for him, one of the friendlier security guards had showed him how to get around the entry codes a few months after he’d started. “Tired of having to come rescue you folks when you lock yourselves out,” he’d said, giving Dmitri the bypass instructions.

Of course, he’d wanted a little something in return. And ignoring the roiling self-disgust in his belly, Dmitri had gone along with it. Compared to three years ago, a quick fuck in the loading dock was nothing. At least the guard had fed him, too. He sometimes thought it was a shame the guard had gotten married soon afterwards and left the museum. If nothing else, he could have used the free food.

Absently, he wondered if anyone else should be notified about his death. His family … no. And he had no real friends. He toyed with the idea of sending a copy of his note to Joss and Helene, but finally decided against it. If they still remembered him after three years, they’d probably feel relieved that he was dead. And the last thing he wanted them to feel was relief.

Something wet trickled down his face. It took him a moment to realize he was crying. He felt numb inside, so why would he be crying? It didn’t make sense. He swiped a sleeve across his eyes, the cheap fabric of his coveralls smearing the water more than absorbing it. His stomach rumbled again painfully, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the day before. What was it? A biscuit? It didn’t matter. A few more minutes, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

He took a deep breath, trying to imagine what it would feel like when the searing gas entered his lungs. Would it feel like drowning, or breathing fire? And how long would it take for him to die? He was so wrapped up in his oncoming death, he almost ignored the soft noise behind him.

Then he heard a second sound, a metallic ka-clink.

Turning in his chair, he stared at the cheap room dividers that separated the workstations from the larger cleaning zones and the workroom vault, a sizable walk-in space located in the far corner. Normally the vault was used to store rare items that were undergoing restoration or pieces that were being prepared for display.

Wasn’t something going on display tomorrow? The Eye of something? He’d caught a glimpse of it over the shoulder of his manager that very morning, a fist-sized chunk of carved black opal from some planet on the outer Rim.

Frowning, he stood and went over to the room dividers, peering around the edge. The cleaning zones were fairly dim, and his night vision was nonexistent thanks to the lamp on his workstation. But he could still see the vault door. It was closed.

Idiot. He’d been imagining things, illusions most likely brought on by hunger and lightheadedness. He turned to go back to his workstation.

Then turned back. There, against the far wall, something moved. A vague outline, almost like a heat haze on a hot day.

A man-shaped outline.

A burst of anger-fueled adrenaline surged through him. He remembered the security lectures from his first days there, how modern art thieves used mimetic technology to break into buildings and remove artifacts. Of course a thief would pick the time right before sterilization to steal something.

You greedy bastard. You couldn’t just let me die in peace, could you? A giddy sense of outrage joined the adrenaline, and he clenched his fists. Fine.

If he was going to die in that miserable place, at least he could take a thieving honor guard with him.

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Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from my current WIP, a M/M SF erotic caper story titled Two to Tango.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Rory MacLellan, aka the Highlander, is one of the most successful interstellar art thieves out there. He’s careful, professional, and plans his heists down to the microsecond. Surprisingly, he also has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.

Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and about to be laid off from the only job he’s been able to find in the last three years, he never expected a dashing thief to come along and ruin his suicide by saving his life.

With interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or pull them even closer?

###

Dmitri felt Rory’s tongue dipping into his slit, tasting him there. Lips and a hand worked together, carefully urging his foreskin back, and Rory took the newly bared head into his mouth. Dmitri grabbed the sheets to stop himself from bucking up into that wet, perfect heat.

Rory’s mouth came off him with a luscious pop. “Jesus, you taste good. Why do you taste so good?”

Before Dmitri could answer, Rory sucked him inside again, running his tongue around and around the sensitive edge. He couldn’t stop a low, needy moan, and Rory chuckled, the vibrations traveling down the shaft and resonating in his balls. “God, don’t stop,” he begged.

“Wasn’t planning on it, angel.” Still chuckling, Rory alternated between toe-curling deep throating and intense, short strokes while he played with Dmitri’s balls, rolling them in his broad palm and teasing the softly wrinkled skin with the tips of his fingers. The combination of sensations set Dmitri’s nerve endings on fire, and he was on the verge of coming explosively when Rory suddenly pulled off.

Dmitri couldn’t help groaning at his balked orgasm. “No!”

“Gotta stop. It’s too soon.” Rory clambered up, moving until he’d caged Dmitri in his arms and legs. “I want to come with you. Let me do that, baby.”

Dmitri nodded and tried to regain control of his breathing as Rory leaned over, fishing in the toiletries kit next to the bed. Triumphantly pulling out two bottles, he held them up for Dmitri’s perusal. “Looky here.”

One was lube — Dmitri recognized the brand from their massage session — but the other was unfamiliar. “What’s that?”

“Latest in barrier technology. You’re gonna love this.”

Rory flipped open the bottle cap and turned it upside down. A soft purple blob with a shimmering swirl running through it extruded from the tip.  “Now, it’s a little warm when it goes on at first,” he said, reaching for Dmitri’s cock, “but some guys like that—“

“Wait.” Dmitri struggled to sit up, peering at the bottle. “You — I mean, you want me—“

“To top, yeah.” Rory hesitated. “Oh, crap. Do you only bottom?”

Dmitri couldn’t help laughing at the expression of dismay on the other man’s face. “No, either’s fine with me. I just assumed you’d top.”

“Yeah, well, I know it kinda clashes with the dashing art thief persona, but sometimes I like being fucked into oblivion by a nice, thick cock, thank you very much.” Carefully, Rory applied the blob to the head of Dmitri’s penis. The purple and silver mass dissolved, streaming down and coating the shaft in a warm, even layer before stopping just short of his balls. “Now, that’s not to say that I’m passive about it at all—“

“God forbid,” Dmitri murmured.

Rory shot a mock glare at him. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good. How does that feel?”

Dmitri considered the thin nanosheath. It didn’t have the normal tightness of a regular condom, but still seemed secure. “It tingles a little. Feels nice.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Quickly shucking out of his clothes, Rory grabbed the first bottle and squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto his fingers, then slipped them between his ass cheeks and worked on opening himself up. “You can do this next time, I promise,” he said, slightly breathless. “But I really want you to fuck me, and I don’t want to waste too much time faffing around.”

“I don’t faff around, whatever that means—“

“You’d go slow, and be very nice and gentle, which will be great when we’re back on board and don’t have to worry about someone banging on the bedroom door.” With his other hand, Rory pushed Dmitri flat on his back and slung a knee across his body, positioning himself over Dmitri’s groin. “But right now, I just want you to fuck me hard and fast. Think you can do that?”

Dmitri felt the tight muscle against the head of his cock and groaned. “Yeah, I think so.”

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