An excerpt from our torrid San Francisco romance novel, "One Carlton B. Goodlett Hall, Room 200." Chapter LXVIII: That's The Way I Roll:

Spent, Chris ran his fingers through Gavin's hair. I need a napkin now, Chris thought. He pushed that thought away. He and Gavin looked so good together, spooned together on that plush Oriental rug. Why were they fighting again? He couldn't remember. How could he remember the nice details of a budget spat, when Gavin smelled so good?

"Chris," Gavin rasped. "Chris. I can't believe it's been two years since we've talked. I miss you. I miss your big strong arms holding me."

Inwardly, Chris sighed. Was it always going to be like this between them? Hate turning to love, which then so rapidly turned back into hate? Well, at least the love would taste that much better as a result. "You didn't tell me. I didn't know you needed that money for the police academy. You never tell me anything."

Chris felt Gavin's body tense. "You're the one that never talks to me! Come by anytime! I told you, I have an open door policy with supervisors. Chris, please! Open the door!"

Chris smiled and leaned over. "Oh, I'll use your open door policy."

How were relations between Chris and Gavin that day? "Cordial, yes. Productive? It remains to be seen."

Your Junkie tries a hand at some slash fiction, SF politics style! We're no KWillets, but we'll do our best.