HO’M,O – Henry O’Malley, Omega

A Sparrow's Hollow Lycanthropic Adventure

by SA Collins

Book Cover: HO'M,O - Henry O'Malley, Omega
Part of the A Sparrow's Hollow Lycanthropic Adventure series:
  • HO'M,O - Henry O'Malley, Omega
Editions:ePub - First Edition: $ 1.99
ISBN: 0692391487
Kindle - First: $ 1.99
ISBN: 0692391487

Hank O'Malley is about to have his idyllic West Virginian life turned upside-down. It's 1956 and Hank leads a quiet and boring life of a senior at Cavanagh Gap Regional High School. Just days before Halloween, on the eve of his 18th birthday, the "pack of bad boys” from school, led by the iconically handsome Riley Raintree, have cornered him and informed him, "It's time..." - just what that means for unassuming Hank, he can't begin to imagine. With a new threat on the horizon, he might not have to.

Supernatural (Werewolves, Witches and Boys, oh my!), M/M slightly erotic twist on the classic monsters of yesteryear. First of a novella series, episodic in nature. My successful NaNoWriMo story for the 2014 writers challenge.

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Arms slinked around my waist and his breath was hot upon my neck, leaving soft pecks and a small swipe of his tongue searing a trail of fire along the skin there.
He purred, deep and gravel-like in the back of his throat. Sexy. Very, very sexy.

“Mmmm, you taste better than I’d imagined.”


I felt him grind up against me, making me weak in the knees again. I tried to turn around to face him. He wasn’t having it. His arms tightened around my chest as he burrowed into my neck. I became so overheated from what he was doing to me. I felt the enormity of him pressing into my backside, the thrust of his hips against me, small grunts from his mouth as he did so punctuating against my neck, making it even harder to concentrate enough to say anything. His hands slipped under my shirt and in one slick move he yanked it clear off my head, flinging it into a nearby bush. His fingers went straight to my nipples, twisting them, fingering them hard and rough. The swelling in my pants was automatic.

A whiff of something on the air caught my attention. Familiar, strong. Deeply strong. Reminding me of …

Before I could finish that thought, a stab, sharp and piercing was at my neck.

A bite.

Riley Raintree had bitten me along that part of my neck that stretched out to my right shoulder. I tried to struggle against it but he growled defiantly, squashing any hope I had of breaking free of him. A round of gooseflesh coursed over me. He reached around my waist and undid the top button of my jeans to shuck my pants down while his bite intensified. I tried to cry out but succeeded in only producing a whimper. It hurt; his teeth seared like a white-hot poker, yet somehow I endured it. The heat from the grip of his teeth upon my flesh only succeeded in making me want him more. A second or two later and I realized he had undone his own pants; his cock was pressing for entry on my backside, sliding between the cleft of my ass. The tip of his cock was very slick; I could feel him dripping heavily along the back of my leg. He growled deeply. He curled his hands up along my torso to grip my shoulders and with one very long thrust he burrowed his way into me.
My mind exploded in a burst of color and intensity that I nearly collapsed under the weight of it all. I had nothing to compare it to, no way to rationalize what was happening to me. He was rending me in two. I was being shredded raw and yet, I still held my ground. Then, like a flash of lightning with his next thrust into me, it came to me.

Riley and I was having sex.

I know I should’ve know’d what was goin’ on but having never done it before, I was at a loss on what it was when it happened. But I knew now.

I keened, loudly — a howl from somewhere deep within reverberated and made the trees rattle. My throat burned with that howl. I was on fire. I heard some wildlife scurry away from us. A few more thrusts and I realized that this was more than Riley fucking me. The bite, the way he was holding me, was nothing short of sheer possession. The nails of his hand brought small welts upon my skin. I didn’t care, it only succeeded in making me want him more. With each snap of his hips, his cock pressing inside of me in a place I didn’t know I had, he was telling me I was his. He leaned me forward so my shoulder came into contact with a nearby tree while he continued to ravage me. I didn’t know it could be like this. It burned, and though it hurt, I found I had enormous pleasure from how he continued to claim me. No matter how much it hurt, I couldn’t think of asking him to stop. I wanted to be his. I wanted Riley Raintree to own every part of me. His mouth, his teeth never relented their hold on me as we fucked. My back was covered in the spittle and blood from the grip he had on me with his mouth. The grunting became frenzied as I could feel him build. The smell of copper lingered around us. Blood, bone, and musk. We weren’t just fucking. He was rutting and giving me all his worth. I gripped the tree, panting with wanting him to bind himself to me. I knew if he finished himself within me I was marked. I would forever be Riley Raintree’s bitch. A very deep snarl broke from his lips against my skin, bringing a new round of pleasure in me. A few hard thrusts later, his hands on my hips, holding so tight that I knew I’d have bruises, we both finally found release.

We both howled, a sound unlike any I’d made before. Guttural, fiercely masculine and primal. Ancient, and very, very dark. The air became still. The forest was quiet. Even the nearby stream seemed to slow its pace a spell.

A second or so after, he relented upon my neck, the blood trailing down my chest and back I was sure. He still hadn’t extracted himself from me. I felt his forehead on my back.

“Am I yours?” I didn’t know why I needed to have him say it, but I did. He needed to say it. He needed to complete whatever it was that we’d just done.

He pulled out and slowly turned me around so I could face him, pressing my back into the tree. His mouth was bloody, covered with my blood, and yet somehow I knew that, too, was all right. It didn’t make no kind of sense. Everything was cattywampus. Tilted. Off-kilter. Yet, the simple truth of it remained.
Riley and I were connected somehow, weren’t we?

He leaned in so his forehead could touch my own, his breath softly billowing against my face.

“No, Hank,” he whispered so softly, I could feel the pain in them. “No.”

Those simple words sucker-punched me worse than any beating I’d ever gotten. I thought I knew of pain. When he said that, I realized how wrong I was about it all. My heart sank; I felt myself inwardly recoil. I started to pull away to bend down and pick up my pants, ashamed for what I thought this was, for what I’d allowed him to do to me. As I pulled them up and began to redress he grabbed my wrist.

“NO!” he bellowed.

I tried to shake his hand off of me but he was so strong, like a metal vice kinda strong. I couldn’t help the tears that were falling from my face. I was so ashamed. I wanted nothing more than to run. Run and run and never come back. Never find peace again. I was so deeply hurt by him, by what we’d done and what I’d allowed myself to think it meant.

“Hank! Listen to me. Hank!” His voice darkened, deepened and vibrated through me. A shrill of sparrows nearby took off at the loudness of his voice. Then everything went deadly silent.

I stopped, looking down at my feet, though my eyes darted to his exposed cock. I marveled for a moment of how much there was of him, even in that spent state, and how it had all recently fit so well inside of me. He hadn’t even bothered to dress himself yet, his pants still pooled around his ankles. It was a bleary vision to behold through the stream of tears that found no end.

His hands came to my face, forcing me to look up into his eyes. His deep, dark eyes. Eyes I could’ve lost myself in forever and not care that I’d be missed.

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

I nodded, trying once more to pull away. He held me firm.

“Hank! Listen. Please, baby. I need you to hear me.”

The plea in his voice hurt me even more. That he felt pain, pain that I’d caused, cut me deeply. Then like a tumbler in a lock, something inside of me clicked.
Baby? Now that sure as hell got my attention some.

“What I said to you was true. You are not mine. I wish on everything I hold dear and true to me that ’twas that way. But ‘tain’t that way ‘tall. This here’s the important part, are you listenin’ to me?”

I waited, trying to figure out if I should give him the benefit of the doubt I was feeling or not. I finally nodded just once. That seemed to satisfy, so he continued.

“I wish I could claim you to be mine. But it don’t work that way. Though it makes me happy to think that you want it like that. Over the moon happy, Hank. You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear you say that about me, about us. But,” he ran his right hand very softly down the side of my face, a lover’s caress I’d like to think. “It’s me who now belongs to you. That’s why I said no.”

“But uh, what we just done …”

He nodded, the most beautiful smile I’d ever witness played across his face. Even with his blood-stained lips and teeth, I’d take that smile from him anyhow.

“Yeah, I can see how you’d think ’twas me in control there,” he smirked. “But ‘tweren’t like that. I wish ta God ’twas, but ‘tain’t how it works. I am yours. I will be nothing but yours. The guys may think that I am their leader, but really they’ll see that we all will belong to you now. I will be exclusive to you for life. I was hopin’ it’d be like that. And I think you want me to be like that. Don’tcha?”

I leaned down and he let go of me, not sure what I was gonna do next. I reached for his pants and brought them up and fastened them for him.

“Riley Raintree, are you fixin’ ta ask me to marry you?” I said with a quirk to my brow.

He pushed me up against the tree and we kissed for the longest time, smiles breaking out over our lips as we did so. I let my hands move over his hard muscled body as his did over mine, until a soft cough broke the spell.


About the Author

SA "Baz" Collins hails from the San Francisco Bay Area where he lives with his husband, their daughter and wonder of all wonders, a whirlwind of a granddaughter. A classically trained singer/actor (under a different name), Mr. Collins knows a good yarn when he sees it.

Mr. Collins specializes in character study work. It is more important for him as an author that the reader comes away with a greater understanding of the characters, and the reasons they make the decisions they do, rather than the situations they are in. It is this deep dive into their manners, their experiences and how they process the world around them that make up the body of Mr. Collins' work.

This is Mr. Collins foray into writing but, as with all his creative endeavors, he leaps right in and figures it out as he goes along. It's been a winning combination thus far so why break a working formula?

Baz also runs the popular WrotePodcast with Vance Bastian and roving reviewer Jayne Lockwood. Released weekly on Friday, it is available iTunes, GooglePlay, Stitcher, Soundcloud and other points of distribution across the net.

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