Quintus paces the loft, his nerves frayed. He’s sent his novel in for it’s fourth pass at Quillious, a hard to get into publishing house. Normally an author without an agent doesn’t stand a chance but they sent four rejections with notes on how to improve his novel and to resubmit. It’s nerve wracking and his sanity is shot.

“The letter will be here any day. Come relax.” Quill, Quintus’ boyfriend urges. “Have some wine or chocolate. Hell, have both.”

Quintus waves Quill off as he continues to pace. “Why can’t they use email like everyone else in the world?”

“As you’ve said, Quillious keeps their old traditions.”

“Like you?”

“Eh.” Quill takes a sip of wine as he relaxes into the sofa. “I am not old.”

“Didn’t say you were.” Quintus snaps.

Quill’s jaw tightens. He can’t take Qunitus’ attitude any longer. Getting up, Quill digs in his briefcase for an envelope. “Here.”

Quintus snatches the envelope. “What the hell is this?”

With a huff, Quill waves with his wineglass as he sits back down. Might as well bring some relief to Quintus and make his life a hell of a lot easier. Or maybe more complicated? The ripping of paper and the following silence is music to Quill’s abused ears.

“Did you take this from the mail? Hide it from me as some joke?”

Quill sighs. “The envelope is new with the Quillious letterhead and no sending address. What do you think?”

The novelist seems to pause and then inspect the envelope. “Then how did you…?” Quintus looks over the envelope one more time then rescans his acceptance letter.

Quill sighs. “I’m going to need more wine for this.” Getting up, Quill heads for the kitchen and the all important wine with Quintus on his heels.

“Quill.” Quintus’ annoying well, annoying-ness, grates Quill’s nerves.

“I’m Quill Quillious Quinlan. A mouthful I know, my parent’s had a real sense of humor.”

“You’re… you’re my…” Quintus’ mouth hangs open and the acceptance letter falls to the floor. “Publisher.”

“Now, I am. Yeah.”

“How the hell could I not know you are him? He is you?”

Quill looks at the bottle of wine with a frown. He’s definitely going to need more wine. Lots of wine.

“You told me you’re a lottery winner!”

“Mmm!” Quill hurries to swallow his wine. “That’s true. I won fifteen dollars once.”

Quintus gawks. “You…

“Awesome publishing man? The man who gave-you-notes-on-your-novel-personally-so-it’ll-become-a-best-seller man?”

“I was going to say jackass. Is the only reason you looked at my novel is cause we’re sleeping together?”

Quill shrugs. “Yes and no. Before you start,” Quill could see the indignation flaring to life in Quintus, “yes, I initially looked at myself because we’re fucking but then I did look at it and I fell in love with it, despite you’re annoying prissy ass.”

Quintus deflates and eyes the wine.

“Don’t you think about it.” Quill snatches the wine bottle away from Quintus’ lecherous gaze.

“This says I should come to the office on Monday to get my contract.”

“Hell, we could go get it tomorrow.” Quill plops on the sofa with his wine glass in one hand and wine bottle in the other. He’s such a wino.

“Really?” Quintus sounds all to eager like a puppy.

Quill sighs and rolls his eyes. “I do own the place. Have the keys and everything.”

“Okay, smart-ass.”

Taking a gulp of wine, Quill feels the happy fuzzy feelings that comes with too much alcohol. “Be nice to me and I’ll take you tomorrow.”

Quintus kneels between Quill’s spread legs. “Would a blow-job count as being nice?”

“You do realize you’re whoring yourself, right?”

Able hands make quick work of Quill’s pants and his cock springs free. “It’s not whoring when it’s your boyfriend.”

Lips form over Quill’s crown creating a delicious suction. “It’s whoring when you want something.”

Quintus’ lips leave his shaft with a pop. “Then we’re all whores.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Now shut up and suck.”

“Yes, sir.”