Vicktor Alexander's Blog, page 34

It's Flash Fiction Friday! Woohoo! And here are your pictures that inspired this piece. Enjoy!





"Come back to bed."

Taylor turned to look over his shoulder at Zeke who lay sprawled on the bed after their most recent bout of lovemaking. He shook his head. How had he wound up here? Again? Naked. Sexually satisfied. His cum splattering the sheets and Zeke's naked torso after three bouts of hot, sweaty sex...

When he'd come over to break up with Zeke for the fourth time.

He didn't know what it was about the other man. Why was it that he couldn't get Zeke out of his system? Couldn't stop sleeping with him. Fucking him?

Why the hell was he so addicted?

"You're thinking too hard again," Zeke teased him, sitting up on the bed, the translucent drops of Taylor's cum sliding down his torso to pool at his groin.

Fuck. Zeke was exquisite. With his sun-kissed brown hair, his torso littered with tattoos, Zeke was wet dream material. Taylor knew that. It was the reason he'd hooked up with Zeke that first night at Club Control. It was the reason that after only three weeks of dating the younger man, he'd moved him in. Zeke was all sexy deliciousness, playful, a free spirit. Taylor, with his brown hair and grey eyes knew that he was a "stick in the mud," but he had to be. He didn't have a fun, interesting job like Zeke as an artist and photographer. He was a stockbroker. He as a successful stockbroker but he was still, just a stockbroker. Moving Zeke into his home was one of the most spontaneous, careless, interesting things that he'd done all year...next to sleeping with Zeke of course.

But the shine had worn off and where Taylor had once seen a beautiful diamond concerning Zeke, he now realized that diamond was nothing but a piece of glass.

Zeke, at twenty-one years old, was all flash in the pan and no substance and at forty-four years old, Taylor needed substance.

He'd come home from work last night determined...for the fourth time...to break up with Zeke. To tell the younger man that it had been fun, but that he'd realized, after ten months of dating, that Zeke just wasn't the right one for him. He'd walked into their bedroom, reciting the lines that he'd written to say to the energetic young man but when Zeke had dropped the robe he'd been wearing and stood before Taylor, wet, sexy and...hard, well, Taylor had dropped to his knees and taken the other man to the back of his throat in one breath. The sound of Zeke's moans had filled Taylor's semi-hard length to full near bursting in under a minute and he'd known that he had two options, he could either keep sucking Zeke's thick cock until the younger man exploded in his mouth, thereby causing Taylor to fill the pants of his Armani suit with his own jizz or he could take his mouth off of Zeke's dick, get undressed and pound the other man into the mattress.

Both were pleasurable options, both had definite points in their favor.

Reaching down, Taylor unsnapped and unzipped his pants, shoving them along with his boxers, down his thighs until they rested underneath his balls. Reaching up with his right hand, he slid it up along Zeke's thigh and around to the artist's ass. His fingers slid down the younger man's crease to his tight, pink hole and he moaned when he felt the bottom of a butt plug.

"I...wanted...to...be...ready...for...you," Zeke panted out and without a word, Taylor took his mouth off of the other man's cock quickly. The sound of his mouth popping off the head of Zeke's dick and the wet smack it made as it snapped up and hit the other man's belly was loud and caused both men to moan.
No other words needed to be spoken between them. Taylor reached out and grabbed Zeke around the waist, his hand reaching down to pull out the toy that nestled inside of the younger man's hole, the very place that his cock ached to be and seconds after he'd tossed the rubber pink sex toy across the room, his own aching length slid deep inside of his lover.

"Fuuucckk," he groaned out as the tight feeling of Zeke's fluttering channel squeezed his cock in a firm grasp. He wasn't going to be able to last long. His pre-cum flowed copiously, coating the inside of Zeke's ass and Taylor walked towards the wall where their bed was and pressing the artist against the wall, began pounding his aching dick into the younger man's entrance.

"Yes. Fuck me T. Fuck me harder," Zeke pleaded before his words turned into incoherent babblings and cries of "harder" and "faster."

Taylor gave his lover exactly what he asked for and soon his hips were slamming against Zeke's ass, his balls slapping against the curve of the man's bottom. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh loud and lascivious.

"Oh-oh-gods. I'm gonna-" Taylor warned and Zeke moaned, his head pressing back against the wall behind him.

Taylor turned until his own back was pressed against the wall and taking Zeke's hips in his hand, he slammed the younger man up and down on his dick, Zeke's feet pressed against the wall.

The orgasm that swept over Taylor's body caused him to yell out his lover's name, Zeke's own cries of completion joining his. He could feel his cum coating the insides of Zeke's ass, the wet heat covering Taylor's cock causing the older man to tremble. Zeke's own seed flew up between them, hitting Taylor on the chin and then splattering the walls.

Taylor stumbled over to the bed with Zeke, his cock still buried in the younger man's ass and lowered them both to the bed. They'd made love twice more, each time hotter than the previous one, before falling asleep. Taylor's spent cock resting in the crease of Zeke's ass.

And now here they were, again. Taylor's decision to break up with the younger man still hovered over his head and while he would never swear to it, he almost felt as if Zeke knew what he was about to do and chose to distract him instead.

"Come back to bed Taylor. You don't have to work today. Spend some time here with me. We can go grocery shopping, cook meals together. Laze around the house together. Then I can tell you all about the rings I saw that would be perfect for us, if and when we decide to get married and the adoption woman I spoke to who said we'd be the perfect candidates to adopt," Zeke stated with a smile.

Taylor felt his heart pound in chest. Wait, had Zeke just said, what he thought he'd said. Married? Adoption? Was his lover actually committing to him. Giving him...substance?

"Um...okay," he agreed, feeling slightly dazed as the younger man grinned at him broadly.

"Fantastic! You're gone all the time with work and you're hardly ever here and then when you are here all we do is fuck and sleep. I almost thought you didn't want me anymore. I almost left you T. But then I realized that I love you and I love you enough to fight you, for you. So that's why I stayed," Zeke told him proudly and Taylor felt shame wash over him. He'd been looking for a way out, he hadn't tried to fight for Zeke. He knew that there were certain times when a relationship just had to end, but they didn't have any problems...not really, their biggest problem was that Taylor worked all of the time and never had any time to really get to know his partner.

Fuck. He was lucky that Zeke had decided to fight for him.

"So are you coming back to bed?" Zeke asked with a grin as if he knew exactly what type of revelation Taylor had just had.

With a slow smile and a nod, Taylor turned and settled back in the bed, pulling Zeke's body close to his own.

"Yeah, I'm coming back to bed."


-Vicktor Alexander

"You want me to do what with who?" Mitchell turned to look at his roommate in surprise.Rick grinned at the younger boy and shrugged nonchalantly. Mitchell knew that look. The almost too innocent look on his roommate's face always meant that the older boy was up to something. Mitchell and Rick had been roommates for the past three years and while Rick was the eldest of the two of them, there were times when Mitchell felt a whole lot more mature than the other boy."I want you to come with me to my friend Alisdaire's room. He and his roommate Brody have this weekly game of Truth or Dare that they play and they invited us to play with them this week."Mitchell narrowed his eyes at Rick. "Isn't Brody Alisdaire's boyfriend?" He questioned his roommate watching as the other man merely shrugged his shoulders again.Yeah, he could definitely tell that something fishy was going on. Why in the world was Rick trying to get him to go and hang out with a couple? Especially one so...well...different? Brody was a nerd. A bona fide, science geek and Alisdaire was football jock. Just like Rick. Mitchell wasn't a nerd like Brody. He wasn't a jock either. He was just...Mitchell. A future captain of industry. He was in school studying business. He had every intention of one day owning his own marketing company one day. It was something that his parents completely supported. Which was saying something. They didn't support anything else about him. Not the fact that he was gay or the fact that he liked to wear eyeliner and every so often wore panties. Mitchell rolled his eyes as he glanced at the slight pout on Rick's full lips."Fine!" He huffed out, throwing his hands up in the air. Gods, he didn't know why he let the sight of Rick's pursed lips get to him...again. Those lips had gotten him into all kinds of trouble over the last three years. From streaking across the quad, to setting off the fire alarm in the dorms and then dumping flour on the heads of the students who'd run out straight from the showers. It was just luck that had kept him from being expelled or suspended. Or rather it was his parents' money and Rick's family's name.Rick Tortington. Everyone knew the Tortingtons. They were old money. Rick had often joked that he didn't even have to apply to college, he just opened a map and pointed to a state and his parents bought his way into the sports program. If Mitchell hadn't seen Rick playing and studying, he'd be hard pressed to believe him. But Rick was poetry in motion when he played football as the wide receiver for their school's triple A team. Between his steely gray eyes, his firm, square jaw, dark brown hair, and extremely large broad frame, one would expect Rick to have all of the grace of a bull in a china shop, but with every step he took on the field Mitchell heard the strains of Chopin or Mozart or the lyrical beauty of Shakespeare's Sonnet 32.Okay, yes, he'd done a little studying on football. Something that he would never share with Rick. It was something that he'd given into when he'd been unsure about Rick's sexual orientation. Something that he'd painfully found out was straight when he'd come back to the room his sophomore year to surprise Rick with a gift and dinner after a big win against the school's rival and heard the distinct sounds of passionate lovemaking going on. The sight of a pair of blue pumps, a skirt, bra and a tube top, along with the girlish squealing and moaning was just the cherry on Rick's straight sundae and Mitchell's shittastic day. He'd pulled back from his romantic fantasies of the other boy and had instead decided to just focus on being friends with the sports star.It had worked for him. For a while.At the beginning of that year Rick had returned from his summer at an intense football camp and his every interaction with Mitchell was different. He'd been a lot more...friendly than he'd ever been before. It was something that Mitchell would have loved to have happen just one year before, but now, every seductive glance, wide grin, teasing touch just felt like a painful dagger through his heart. Now Rick wanted to go and hang out with a gay couple and play Truth or Dare? What the fuck was going on with the football player? Had he been tackled a little too hard when they'd played Duke just a few days before?Shaking his head, Mitchell ran his fingers through his black hair and shrugged. He knew Rick, the older boy looked like he was a dumb jock, but he was anything but dumb and if he didn't want to tell you something, you wouldn't find it out. The best way for him to figure out what was going on in his friend's head was to go with him and wait until everything was revealed.Turning around to face Rick, Mitchell swallowed against the groan that tried to spill forth from his lips at the sight of the older boy's jean clad ass as Rick bent over to tie his shoes."I-I'm ready," he croaked out, damning his voice for giving away his state of arousal.~~~~Rick grinned to himself. He knew that Mitchell was still attracted to him. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened last year, but the younger man had stopped flirting with him and even worse than that, he'd stopped coming to Rick's games to cheer him on from the bleachers. Rick's performance on the field had suffered and everyone had noticed. Oh, he still got the job done, he still had coaches and NFL scouts after him, but he could tell that the music had left the game for him. It had stopped being fun. He didn't have anyone to run for anymore, no one to catch for.He didn't have anyone to play for now.He needed his muse back. He needed Mitchell. It was Mitchell's face that he saw whenever he held the ball close to him. It was Mitchell that he saw in every endzone. It was his gorgeous, tall, thin, black haired, green-eyed roommate that he chased during every game. Mitchell's voice that he listened for with every touchdown, Mitchell's hiss and boos that he yearned for with every flag thrown on the field against him and his team. It was Mitchell's grin and and cheers that he sought for every victory and Mitchell's comforting arms that he longed for with every defeat.He would do whatever he had to do to get Mitchell back. Even lure him into a stupid game of Truth or Dare in Brody and Alisdaire's room in order to get him to open up.Straightening up from shoes that he'd tied, untied and retied in order to keep Mitchell's eyes on his ass, Rick turned to look down at the other boy.Gods, was there anyone as beautiful as his Mitchell? He couldn't think of anyone. Mitchell's thin, almost fragile frame called forth Rick's protective instincts, making him want to slay every dragon that dared to get close to the other boy and take on any bully that dared to open his mouth against the future business owner. However, there was an almost invisible strength that lurked underneath the surface of Mitchell's skin, something that flashed in his eyes every so often that released the knot of tension in Rick's own stomach. Letting him know that it was okay for him to trust in Mitchell. Okay for him to let go.Okay for him to just feel."Let's go," he directed his friend and led the way out of the room and down towards Brody and Alidaire's room. The entire school had been shocked when Alisdaire and Brody had gone public. The school's star quarterback was not only gay, he was dating the school's biggest nerd. They were an odd couple, but they just...fit.They gave Rick hope for his relationship with Mitchell.Stopping in front of the door of his friends' dorm room, Rick inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders. It was now or never. He was actually going to do this. He was going to seduce his best friend. He could only hope that he didn't fail horribly."Are you okay Rick?" He heard Mitchell ask from behind him. Turning towards Mitchell, Rick offered the smaller man a tremulous smile."Yeah. Let's do this huh?" He stated before turning back to knock on the door. A few seconds later the door opened to reveal Alisdaire, the other jock grinning at them broadly."Glad you guys could join us. You're the last ones to arrive. C'mon in," Alisdaire directed them and with another grin at Mitchell, Rick stepped into the room.His life was going to be changed forever by the time he walked back out of there. Either for the best or the worse, he could only hope that it was for the best.

Stay Tuned for Next Week's installment of Truth or Dare Lustful Thursday. And before you ask, no, it won't be Rick and Mitchell. There are a few more couples to introduce and then we'll get to the game and it's definitely going to be a doozy.Don't forget to come back by tomorrow for the Flash Fiction/Friday Blog Pimpage.
- Vicktor Alexander

*We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tommy stared around the room in amazement. He was used to seeing the wolf shifters, they were a part of his daily life, and wasn't that just strange? But the family room of Vet and Richard's home was now filled with vampires, faeries, elves, hybrids, and someone that looked like an angel. Oh, not just because he was beautiful, though he was that, but because he looked like an angel. Tall, gorgeous, emanating strength. Adding in the humans and the wolf shifters that lived on the Tate Ranch on a daily basis and they were their own QUILTBAG of shifters, though he should probably come up with another acronym.
FEWVAHH just didn't roll off the tongue though. 


- A Holy Tate Easter  
- A Tate Pack Anthology: Love, Liquor, Chocolates & Loyalty. Tate Pack Book 5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  I never know going into a book or a series who is going to meet who. I never know what series are going to overlap or if Tommy and the other Tate Mates might take a trip to Chicago and meet up with The Dom, Vicktor, and learn a little bit about The BDSM Lifestyle. So when I started writing Unassumed and Michael, Howell and Katharina met up with Ginnessa I was flabbergasted. Ginnessa (Ginny or Gin) is another controversial character of mine from a totally different series, Sacred Duets, that is still being written. I shrugged it off, figuring that the boys knew better than I did who they would meet up with and why, when I started writing The Tate Pack Anthology. What ended up happening was so amazing to me that I had to run to older sister Cherie Noel and tell her what was going on. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Vic: OMG! Cherie! You will NOT believe this!Cherie Noel: (turns from computer to stare at Vic in amusement) What?The Vic: So, Maurice has ties to our Tonawanda Faery Tales series!Cherie Noel: Oh, that's so totally cool!The Vic: But, wait! It gets better!Cherie Noel: (laughing) Ookkaayy, what else?The Vic: There's vampires and elves and an angel and hybrids and second class shifters............Cherie Noel: Wow, so how many crossover series are you looking at?The Vic: At last count? About....six.Cherie Noel: So you know what that means.The Vic: (looks at older sister in confusion) What?Cherie Noel: That you need to get back to work.The Vic: Oh yeah! Right! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ But how hard is it to write a crossover? Very. Very hard. Unless you keep notes and have a "Bible" for each series. Which I thankfully do. You all may remember my "World Building" post from before. Well I also have a notes form for each series. In this notes form I have everything that I need to know about every character, book and series. So when I'm crossing The Sacred Duets  series with The Tate Pack series and having a member of The Sacred Duets elves talking about meeting his mate, I have to remember to include all of the ways that he would know that he's met his mate. *Note: Don't forget the music, Vic!* In the same way, I know that there's no way that I can have the Tate Pack mates meet up with The Dom in Chicago because in Vicktor's world there is nothing paranormal that goes on. There are no shape-shifters or vampires in The Dom series so I must be aware of that. But, being able to crossover series that occur around the same time and showing that six-degrees of separation thing only makes writing much more fun for me. So having an event that drags all of these different species and paranormals together was one that could only be inspired by The Vic Brain. One that's been hinted at since the very first book of The Tate Pack. What is it? Well, you'll just have to read to find out. And while Tommy, Richard, Michael, Alex and Maurice all loved their cowboys, they enjoy checking out the other men who are all gorgeous as well but all desperately in love with their own mates, or looking forward to finding them. I invite you to come along on the journey.   -Vicktor Alexander  *Oh yeah, that Angel that Tommy mentioned? Well, let's just say that he's very dominant and the one chosen for him is not at all what he suspected. You'll be able to read his story in My Angelic Dom which is part of the Heavenly Warriors series.*

I HAZ WINNERS!

I have my three winners from the Hop Against Homophobia giveaway  and also three honorable mention/special winners. I chose my winners through Random.org so there you have it.

Here are the winners:


3rd place: Tj (2 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th) 2nd place: Crissy (3 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th) 1st place: Wulf (4 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th plus $20 ARe gift card)

And I changed the gifts a bit due to the honorable mentions/special winners.



The three honorable mention/special winners are:

Jayanx Andy (AM Burns) Andi (Andi Anderson)

The three of you will receive a free copy of one of the Tate Pack books or the next release (A Tate Pack Anthology) that will be released at the end of the month.



Chipmunk also chose for Katey Hawthorne, Judi, and PaParanormal to take home some Tate Pack swag and I am a father who has a hard time telling my daughter no (she actually thought that you should all win something, everyone who commented or even everyone who read any of the posts, so we compromised. I'm going to post a free short on my website and blogs. Not a Tate Pack short, just a free short story. So she's happy)


Congratz to the nine of you!!! I will be contacting you via-email shortly to let you know more information and get more information from you.

Now I'm exhausted. Whew! It's time for me to go and eat breakfast and get back to writing.


Have a great day everyone!!!


-Vicktor Alexander

There have been a lot of AMAZING posts during this HAH/T (I'm #10 on the list of like 260). Many people, bloggers and those who commented on the blogs, shared stories of homophobia/transphobia, bullying. We shared our disappointment in the past, the change we see in our present, and our hope for our futures.

So what now?

The hop is ending, how do we go forward from here?

What's our next step?

Well, we never stop talking about it. We never stop blogging about it. Oh, we'll resume our regularly scheduled programming. Authors bringing you books and teasers, interviews with their characters, updates on their WIPs. Reviewers bringing you reviews for said books. Bloggers blogging about their life, their love, their struggles and pain. Life will continue and the world will keep spinning.

But maybe, just maybe, one person was affected. Maybe one person was so touched by a post that it brought a change to their life, to their household, their job. Maybe someone read a post who never took a stand against homophobia/transphobia who will do so now. Maybe someone read a post who was afraid to come out because they were uncertain that they would have true support and now they see just how many people are in their corner.

Maybe this hop saved a life.

We'll never know unless you tell us. Unless you share it with us. And no, I'm not delusional in thinking that this hop could have saved a life (I'm delusional about marrying John Barrowman AND Shemar Moore one day, but not about this), I'm hopeful. Optimistic.

Realistic.

Because I know that one person can save a life.

One blog.

One post.

One survivor telling another victim that they can survive.

Last night I found out that the NAACP has decided to endorse same sex marriage (you can read the article here: The NAACP Endorses Same Sex Marriage). I was shocked. I was excited. I virtually collapsed onto the floor (which means I told the person who told me that I'd collapsed onto the floor but didn't literally do so). Being transgender and/or gay in the black (African/American) community is not only taboo, it's dangerous and taboo and dangerous and condemned. Black comedians condemn gay men on an almost daily basis (Warning: Some of these links may trigger some readers, read articles and watch videos cautiously) (Tracy Morgan's Homophobic Rant, Jamie Foxx Jokes About Meeting Prince and being a F**) whereas other black stars and pastors react negatively to being gay or having a gay child (NFL player David Tyree on Gay Marriage, The Root Magazine Discusses Black Homophobia, Black Pastors Oppose Same Sex Marriage, T.I. Supports Tracy Morgan's Homophobic Jokes).

Yes, Tracy Morgan, Jamie Foxx and T.I. apologized and now say that they support gay marriage and they have no problem with gays but in the black community homophobia is alive and well.

However, with this latest development, with the NAACP supporting same-sex marriage, a tide is turning in the black community. Maybe, just maybe, change is actually coming. Maybe our dream of one day having a hop for the day homophobia/transphobia ended is not that far fetched.

Maybe one day, and one day soon, same-sex marriage will be passed on a federal level as well as rights for transgenders.

We can hope.

We can keep talking about it.

We can keep fighting against homophobia and transphobia.

So going forward, our eyes are open, we are more aware, more educated and we see the large group of people supporting us and we know that we are not in this fight alone.

By jove, it really does get better!




-Vicktor Alexander



*It's the last day for you to leave comments on the blogs to be entered for the contests. Tonight names and email addresses will be pulled. Have you gone to the Official Hop Against Homophobia blog page and visited all of the blogs to leave a message? Over 250 blog posts have gone up over this past weekend. Did you read them? Did you comment? Did you get involved? Did you stand up for something?*

If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything-Malcolm X


Welcome to Day Three of the Hop Against Homophobia! I know that there are a lot of posts for you all to get through (I'm trying to make my way through and whew! It is a lot), so I really appreciate you coming by and reading my blog posts and leaving comments. I'm so glad that we can all stand together in this. This HAH has introduced me to some really awesome people and I'm really happy about all of that.

Even with all of the support, the encouragement, all of the voices being raised against homophobia and transphobia, one of the things that has been glaring me in the face are the people who haven't said anything. The ones who don't take a stand, the ones who keep silent for whatever reason.


My voice doesn't make a difference.


One person can't bring change.


I'm not an activist.


I'm just a regular person, not an advocate.


People will always be ignorant and stupid, so talking about homophobia and transphobia isn't going to change anything.


I don't like to stir up trouble.


I don't like to think about bad stuff.


I read the posts, but I didn't comment, one more comment isn't going to make a difference.


I haven't experienced homophobia or transphobia so I don't have anything to add.



I don't know if it's because of how I grew up or if maybe there's some gene in me that makes me speak out, always makes me stand up against injustice, regardless of the consequences to myself, but I've never understood those who don't speak up. When in school, I was always the student that told the teachers when I saw something wrong happening to another student. I quickly gained the reputation of being a snitch, but the greatest thing about my parents being in the military is that every year I was moving to another school in another state or country and for that reason my reputation didn't exactly follow me as much as restart.

By the time I hit the sixth grade I realized that I couldn't just spend my time telling the teacher about everything. There was a lot of reasons behind that. One was the fact that by this point we were living in Polk County, Florida, with no plans to move soon, so I would have to live with whatever reputation I got. Another was that the teachers that I had didn't always step up to fix the situation. That was when I learned how to stand up for the ones being bullied and oppressed myself.

That was when I learned to fight. Not just physically, but verbally as well.

I learned then that I may not be able to change the mind of every bully, which is really just a shame, but that I could change the mind of some of them. I'd rather go to my grave knowing that I took a stand and affected change, even if it's on a small scale, than to go to my grave with regrets.

 I don't want to get to the end of my life and see the faces of the people that I didn't take a stand for. I don't want to get to the end of my life and have my room be filled with books I've written, movies/tv shows that I've written, albums I recorded but no people in the room to see me off into eternity. I don't want to be laying on my death bed and know that there were people out there who I never stood up for, people who I never stood behind or beside and told them "I've got your back. We're in this fight together." Because at the end of the day I would rather people know me as "Vicktor: The World Changer & History Maker" than "Vicktor: The Best-Selling Author."

Maybe it's because I'm aware that money is not the cure to everything. Maybe it's because I've been surrounded by people who were focused on being the shit out of me and no one jumped in to help me. Maybe it's because I've gotten letters from those who I did stand up for or those that I stood with, thanking me for standing with them.

Maybe it's because of Susan.

Susan was my friend from sophomore year of high school. I'd moved from Winter Haven, Florida to Pensacola, Florida to live with my biological father because I was in danger of losing my life to the lifestyle that I was living. I was doing drugs, drinking all of the time, sleeping around, angry, in an extremely abusive relationship and none of my friends and none of my family members could reach me. Looking back I know that some part of me was trying to escape the pain and the horror of my past. I was trying to kill myself.

When I moved to Pensacola I began hanging out with a group of teenagers who were completely different from the bad crowd I'd taken up with in Winter Haven. This was a group of teenagers who were all Christians, but not like Westboro Baptist Church Christians, but open-minded, arms open to everyone Christians (that would unfortunately change as they got older, but that's neither here nor there). I began hanging with them and my grades improved, I got involved in after school activities, joined school clubs, began helping around the community. My life did a complete 180. Then I met Susan. Susan was an exact replica of me from when I first moved to Pensacola.

Susan and I began hanging out and I tried to be for her, what my other friends had been for me. We called and hung out together all of the time. Susan was bisexual and in the closet and I was transgender and gay and in the closet and while we both could see what the other was desperately trying to hide, neither of us said anything to the other. That is something that I wish I could have changed.

When I moved back to Winter Haven my junior year, Susan and I promised to keep in touch and we did for the first few months, but when Susan began telling me about being bullied at school, I felt helpless. I wasn't there to protect her, and I was dealing with stuff at my own high school so how could I help her? I suggested that she ignore the other teens and maybe she could "try to fit in more." *Grimace* I know. Remembering that now, I want to smack 16 year old me in the back of the head.

Susan took my advice and sent me letter after letter telling me how miserable she was, asking for help, for guidance.

Asking for a friend.

But I was too busy, and I didn't want to make waves, and I had my own stuff to deal with. I was only one person. One student. One teenager. What could I do?

Over the next two years when Susan's letters turned dark, I didn't speak up. When I got letters from other friends from Pensacola, telling me about how they were trying to "help" Susan turn away from her destructive lifestyle, sleeping with both boys and girls, I didn't stand up for her. When Susan stopped calling me, I didn't start calling her. I knew how she felt. I had experienced, was experiencing and would experience the oppression, the bullying, the self-disgust, the self-hatred, the darkness that she was living with. But I didn't call her because I didn't think that my voice would make a difference.

When I found out that Susan had committed suicide just days after I'd moved back to Pensacola to attend seminary school (two days after I promised to call her and never did), I was wracked with guilt.


Was this my fault?


What could I have done differently?


Why didn't I stand up for her?


Why didn't I stand up with her?


Why didn't I speak up for her?


When did I become so mealy-mouthed? So neutral? So...cowardly?


Susan's suicide sparked a flame back inside of me that had burned out of me at the end of my freshman year (I had a friend who was murdered and something in me died and I stop fighting). That urge, that need, that desire to fight. To speak up. To stand for what was right, to stand for justice.

To change the world.

I've marched for Darfur. I've spoken up for Invisible Children. I've marched for the Jenna Six. I've signed petitions, donated money, marched, attended rallies and sit-ins for Equality. I've written letters, blog posts, papers, newspaper articles, I've called Senators, Congresspeople, written Presidents (Bush Senior, Clinton, Dubya, Obama), I've written to celebrities urging them to join the fight. I've Tweeted, Facebooked, Myspaced...I've marched in parades and marched in protests for rights, for equality, against injustice, against bullying, against homophobia and transphobia, against racism, against discrimination.

For justice.

I stand for what I believe in. I stand for something so that I don't fall for anything. I do my research. I talk to people, I talk to people affected. I talk to those who need to be heard. I talk to those who need advocates.


I am someone who needs advocates.


Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still Black and that racism exists. I haven't forgotten that I still get discriminated against, regardless of who loves me online.


Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Veteran of the United States Army. Someone who went into the service, ready to risk his life for justice, democracy and freedom.



Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Gay man and homophobia is alive and well. Whether I live in New York or not, if every gay person's rights aren't protected then none of our rights are protected.


Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Transgender man and transphobia...yeah, transphobia is a snarling, fire-breathing, livid, clawing, growling monster, still waiting to tear me apart and others just like me.






Because this isn't Utopia.


I'm standing against homophobia. Against transphobia. I'm fighting. I will be an advocate. An ambassador. An activist. Every day until I take my final breath, because at the end of the day, at the end of my days, I want my obituary to be filled with the causes I fought for, the charities I supported, the change that I helped bring to the world.

I want my funeral to be filled with people whose lives I've touched and helped change for the better, more than I want the funeral to be filled with people who liked the fact that I wrote about men falling in love with men so well. 

Because I want someone to remember me fondly, the same way that I remember William Neale and Pastor Randall and my Granny Mary and Christopher and Justin. These weren't just people who were nice to me. These were people who, one way or another, and in ways unique to them, touched my life, changed my world and made me a better man.

They all stood up for something at some point in their lives.

I can do no less.

Will you stand with me against homophobia and transphobia? Will you make your life count?



Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.-Martin Luther King, Jr.



Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can't ride you unless your back is bent.- Martin Luther King, Jr.


An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.- Martin Luther King, Jr.


Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.- Martin Luther King, Jr.

A right delayed is a right denied.- Martin Luther King, Jr.

If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.- Martin Luther King, Jr.

He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.- Martin Luther King, Jr.


Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.- Martin Luther King, Jr.



-Vicktor Alexander




*Don't forget about the other blogs/contests taking place this weekend. You have until 12am midnight tomorrow night PST (4am EST) to leave comments, your name and email addy to be entered to win. You have until 8pm PST/12am EST to leave comments on any of my blogs or my website to be one of three winners that I will choose. The contests are just the icing on the cake, the message we're sending out about ending homophobia/transphobia is the reason for the hop.*

What's the point?
So, you're straight....
Wouldn't it be safer if you just lived as a female?
Aren't you really lying to people?
I know you consider yourself to be a man...
Not like you, but you know, real men...
No offense but I don't think transgenders really exist, you know, like I think they're just a bunch of lesbians and gays who can't handle being lesbian or gay and still want to be considered straight...
I'm an advocate for gay and lesbian rights, but I don't really consider transgenders to be in the same category....
But you could pass. Why would you choose to make things more difficult for yourself?
What's the point?


What's the point?


What's the point?


Yesterday I spoke about homophobia and transphobia in a broad sense, but I started off the post with some of the statements that my friends and I had made over the years. Yesterday was really about homophobia and transphobia from the outside of the community. Today I'm talking about homophobia and transphobia (most specifically transphobia and some bisexualphobia) when it comes from inside of the GLBTQ community. The thing is we can't hope to educate those on the outside when we're still bickering, fighting and tearing each other apart on the inside.

All of the statements above were made by people within the GLBTQ community...to me, all except one. "What's the point?" Was a question asked about me to someone else, but it's the one that keeps rattling around inside of my head without fail.

What's. The. Point?

I think the reason that question sticks out so much is because this person is speaking as if being transgender is a choice and isn't that just completely backwards? If we can acknowledge that being gay and lesbian is something that people are born being, then how is being transgender any different? For that matter, how is being bisexual different?


Growing up as a kid I always hung around the boys. I wore hats and shorts (I lived in the South-it gets hot down there), sat with my legs open, watched sports and had absolutely no interest in girlie things like nails, hair, Barbie, pink or planning my own wedding. Guy friends always called me one of the guys and more than once I was told that I was more guy than girl. However, no one ever told me that I was transgender. I got called a tomboy, got told it was a phase (that still hasn't ended apparently), or got called a slut.

That's right. Because apparently I only did those things to get boys interested in me.

Living in the South and always feeling like something was just off and wrong about myself, I didn't have a lot of options to try to explore what the issue was. I knew that I felt much more comfortable when I dressed like one of the guys, when I wasn't referred to by feminine pronouns and when people would call me V or Vic. I was butch. I was a beer drinking, sports watching, home renovating, cooking, vehicle enthusiast, strap-on wearing....something. Because I cringed when people called me female, Miss, Ms, she, or her. I'd smile and nod, but on the inside I died a little each time.

But I didn't hear about transgenders growing up. I heard about butch lesbians. Women who dressed and acted like men, even had male names, but who dated females. Hhhhmmm....well that was sort of me, but not really. I mean, I wasn't attracted to females. I was attracted to men...very attracted to men, but the men I was attracted to were usually bisexual men or gay men or straight men who liked to be fucked and liked to fuck me in the ass.

Which was totally fine because when I thought about having sex that's how it worked for me. So I wasn't a butch lesbian. I like women just fine, but I didn't want to date them and I didn't want to have sex with them.

My coming out and realization of my truth was slow coming. I had friends who called me Vic for years and it never dawned on me what they were trying to tell me.

When I finally came out, I expected my birth family to react badly, so I wasn't surprised by it. However, last November when the emails started coming through, the DMs on Twitter, the messages on FB and on Goodreads, when I started to get hate mail and experiencing transphobia from people whose profiles read like they were the biggest supporters of GLBTQ rights and as if they were advocates for the rainbow group/the alphabet soup, I was floored.

Wait...what?

Aren't they supposed to be on my side? I mean, I'm not just transgender. I'm gay too. But even if I was only transgender and identified as straight, they do remember that there's a T in GLBTQ right?

I didn't know how to respond at first, but I figured that they just needed to be educated. Because there's a difference between being uninformed and being phobic. So I answered the emails.

No, I don't consider myself to be a man. I AM a man. Biology messed up, not God. I was born to be a boy, born to be a man. It's what makes me a happy. It's what makes sense to me. Much like when conjoined twins are born with a mistake biologically, that's what happened to me.


I am a real man, I'm just a man with removable genitalia.


No, I'm not straight. I'm a man who is attracted to men. I'm gay.


I'm not some secret lesbian. If I were a lesbian, then I'd be a lesbian, without having to go through the effort of becoming a man. I'm a man.


Yes, it would be easier if I stayed a woman, because I am aware that if I did so it wouldn't be too long before I'd end up making a huge mistake and committing suicide because I'm not a woman, I'm a man and if I tried to go back to living a lie again, I'd give up. I can admit that weakness in myself.


I'm not lying to anyone. I tell people that I'm transgender and explain what that means. It's up to them to listen and understand.


How can you be an advocate for gay rights but not transgenders? How are we not in the same category? When Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. marched for equality he didn't march towards Washington and say "We march for blacks only, not for women and not for gays." He said that he marched for equality for all. Gays are discriminated against because of who they love, transgenders are discriminated against because of who they ARE...why do you think that means that transgenders aren't in the same category to be advocated?


Nobody chooses to make things more difficult for themselves. I didn't wake up one morning and decide to be transgender, black and gay for shits and giggles. Being in the South, being Caribbean, those things are a death warrant. I could have been, would have been killed for identifying the way that I do. Who would choose that? That's like saying that I chose to be black. I had no choice in the matter. Why would I choose to be a part of a culture that gets discriminated against daily? Why would I choose to have a skin color, to come from a heritage where certain people look at me and automatically think the worst of me? Think I'm a criminal or on welfare or that I'm ignorant, uneducated. That I'm loud and rude and have major attitude. Why would I choose to come from a heritage and a culture of slavery? Choose to be of a race of people who have to work twice as hard to be seen as equal? So if I couldn't and didn't choose to be black, why would I choose to be transgender and gay?


With those emails I thought that it would end, but it didn't. When I started to get emails telling me to "go away," and telling me that I "don't exist," well, it got a little more difficult to breathe. How was I supposed to hold my head up out in front of the transphobes and homophobes in society, out in the world, when I couldn't even retreat into the community for support and shelter, when I was being attacked on all sides?

So what's the point? Why am I transgender? Why do I identify as gay when I could tell people that I'm female and be straight?

Because it's my truth.

Because I am not a mistake.

Because I was born this way.

Because there's absolutely nothing wrong with being transgender.

So on day two of the Hop Against Homophobia I want all of you to think about that question. What's the point? Why are we blogging? Why are we taking a stand against homophobia and transphobia? Why should you take a stand? Why should we make sure that we support each other, everyone in the community: Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, if we ever hope to be able to truly see change out in the world?

"A house divided cannot stand."

We can't be divided. We have to support all sides of this rainbow/alphabet house if we want it to stand. We have to water all sides of the tree if we want it to grow and truly flourish.

We have to support everyone if we want to show the world that we're deserving of support.

That's the point. I'm a black, transgender, gay man, because I was born a black gay man even if biology put me in the wrong body.



That's the point. I'm attracted to men. I want to have sex with men, I want men to have sex with me. Gay sex (and I could be really graphic here and describe all the things that I want to do to and with said gay men...but I won't).

That's the point. Because not living my truth is living a lie and I don't want to live a lie. I lived a lie for years.

That's the point. That's why I'm taking a stand. That's why I'm hopping. And that's why I hope you'll join with me and the other authors, reviewers, publishers, and people who are hopping against homophobia and transphobia and take that stand with us.

Because it's time for homophobia and transphobia to end. Now.

-Vicktor


*Don't forget. If you leave a comment on either of my blogs or on my website (and I'm not just talking about your email) along with your name and email address, you're entered into the contest. At 8pm PST (which is 12am May 21st EST) on the 20th three people will be chosen from those who commented and left their email (see? This is why you must leave your email) to win. The third place winner will get one of my books, either one from my backlist or any new release that comes out before GRL. The second place winner will get two of my books. And the first place winner will get three of my books as well as a $20 gift card to All Romance ebooks. And don't forget to check out the other hoppers and leave comments there as well. There are a lot of goodies out there and it's all for a good cause. Happy Hopping and commenting!*

"Can you walk with me to class? I'm sure they won't jump me if we all walk together."
"Maybe they'll let us eat in the classroom..."
"Do we have enough money to get him a bus ticket out of town?"
"Just ignore them. They're stupid rednecks."
"I'm scared to walk home by myself."
"My family performed an exorcism on me to try and cast out the demons of transgenderism and homosexuality."
"It isn't safe for me any more."
"If I stay they'll set me up to have a fatal 'accident' and never mention my truth."
"I've been told every day for years that I'm going to hell, I'm starting to believe it."
"Why am I such a mistake?"
"Why won't my parents love me?"
"Why do they hate us so much?"
"I'm just tired of living."
"The pain is too much."
"I just want it all to stop."

Each one of these statements have been said by either me, my friend Angel, or my friend Justin. Statements made by us either in high school or between Angel and myself or Cherie and myself or me with my friend Richard.

Today is the International Day Against Homophobia & Transphobia and I struggled to decide what to write about long before I found out about the Hop Against Homophobia blog hop (http://hopagainsthomophobia.blogspot.com/). Once I signed up to be one of the many people to write a blog post for the hop I had to figure out what gift to give away and then how to go about it, all of this in addition to figuring out what I was going to write about.

Should I post up an excerpt from one of my books dealing with homophobia or transphobia? Should I talk about the homophobia/transphobia that I've experienced just recently? Should I detail the ways that I struggle to get through every day because of being who I am and living my truth? Should I talk about the way that my own biological family and old friends reacted when I came out?

Then it came to me with sudden clarity. Not just what to write but the prizes/giveaways as well. Everyone who comments and leaves their email address will be entered into the drawing. I will choose three winners. The third place winner will get one book of mine that has been released or will be released this year before GRL (October 18th). The second place winner will get two books of mine and the first place winner will get three books of mine along with a $20 gift card from All Romance Ebooks. You have to leave a comment and your email address (even if I already have it). Yes, I know, I'm uber generous, but there's a reason for that.

My freshman year I met Angel, Justin and Ryan along with Lisa, Carrie, Corrie, Tabitha, Matthew and Shawn. We were all a close group of friends, all of is were different, unique. Before all of us hit our 30s we'd all come out. Either as gay, transgender, lesbian, bisexual, polyamorous, gender fluid, asexual, dom, sub, pansexual or....*gasp* as the only straight person in a group full of GLBTQ people (sorry Ryan). Even more than that we'd all experienced homophobia or transphobia to a certain degree and while hearing someone call me "fag" in the middle of the VA lobby was distressing and being disowned was devastating...even though Angel, Justin and I spent many a day fighting and protecting each other within the hallways of our high school, there was one thing that we had, that many of the other rainbow kids and other rainbow adults didn't have. Each other. Support.

You see, that's the thing about homophobes and transphobes, they don't realize that while they are discriminating against us, telling us that who we love and how we live is morally wrong according to them; that while they are using an improperly translated version of ancient religious text that they don't even follow properly and to the full letter of that text, that we still have support. We have parents that don't disown their kids, parents who adopt kids who have been disowned. We have straights who stand with us. We have people who understand and realize that homophobia and transphobia is wrong. That just like hating and discriminating against someone because of their race, age, religion or educational/social status is wrong, so is discriminating against them because of who they love. Because religion is a choice. Ultimately so is education and social status, but race, age and yes sexuality is not a choice. Neither is being transgender.

So I'm actively taking a stand against homophobia/transphobia today. Not just for myself, but for my friends who were bullied right alongside me. For the teens who lost their lives through suicide because of bullies and homophobia/transphobia. For the members of the GLBTQ community and our supporters. I am saying that enough is enough! It's time for it to end all of it. I don't want to hear another story about a teen losing their life because of someone else's misguided, fanatic, religious beliefs.

It does get better. I know that it's hard to believe sometimes, I know that if anyone had told me when I was in high school, depressed, fighting against my truth, trying to drink and get high to get through the pain that it would get better, that I would be better one day, I wouldn't have believed them. However, I wish that I could go back and tell 17 year old me that it does get better and that one day I'd be a best-selling author of gay erotic romance. That I'd be going to author conventions, that I'd have a real family who supported me. That I'd be transitioning to become the man that I was born to be, that people would accept me and that I'd be smiling and happy in spite of everything else. I can't tell 17 year old me to ignore the homophobes and to keep his head up, but I can tell others, I can tell you.

This is my stand against homophobia and transphobia. What's yours?

Don't forget to go and check out the other blog posts for the Hop Against Homophobia blog hop (http://hopagainsthomophobia.blogspot.com/ or http://www.facebook.com/HAHMay17 or http://www.facebook.com/events/314662868611180/314834891927311/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity)

At the end of this month the Tate Pack will release its first anthology: Love, Liquor, Chocolate and Loyalty. I'm very excited about it! So I'm going to share the cover of the anthology and also give you a NSFW teaser from one of the four books in the anthology.

Enjoy!



A Very Tate St. Pat's NSFW Teaser



            "Oh gods Ross, fuck me harder, please!” Alex pleaded, his hands clutching the sheets beneath him as Ross thrust slowly into his ass.            “Are you sure?” Ross asked, his thrusts gaining in speed and power before Alex had a chance to respond.            Alex moaned and trembled as he felt his mate pounding into his ass harder and faster than ever before. He felt so full. He didn’t know how it felt as if Ross had grown bigger than the last time they’d fucked, but the man had most definitely grown in both length and girth. Alex’s skin tingled and tightened across the bones of his arms and chest. He pressed his ass back, impaling Ross’s cock more firmly inside of him. He groaned as he felt the muscles of his sphincter squeeze and hold onto Ross’s hard length as if trying to keep him inside of Alex forever. Not that he would mind in the slightest. So much of their lives had become fraught with danger and intrigue. It seemed as if, with every new day their days became filled with more and more drama.            If he wasn’t so sure that he existed, he would have sworn that he was a main character in some cheesy ass gay romance novel. It didn’t matter though, those things never got it right. If he was in a novel, right about now, the bad guys would come bursting through the door, ready to kidnap both him and Ross while they tried to get their freak on in their hotel room.            Alex’s mind stuttered to a grinding halt as Ross began to pound his cock into his ass at a more furious rate. Holy fracking hell, Batman! It was like his mate was literally trying to fuck his throat through his ass.            Not that he minded that either. Ever since Ross had dominated him a month before, their sex life had escalated from spine tingling amazing to soul exploding fantastic. Alex threw back his head, his eyes squeezing close tightly as his orgasm rushed over him like a runaway freight train and let out a keening wail of pleasure so loud that he was sure to be hoarse.            “Fuck yeah baby. Let me know how much you like it,” Ross grunted as Alex’s body continued to tremble. Alex threw his hand out and pressed it against the headboard as Ross’s thrusts grew faster and harder, his rhythm unsteady as he chased his own orgasm.            Hearing Ross’s loud growl as the cowboy filled his ass with his spunk, Alex’s body shivered in sated bliss. He knew that their having sex in a hotel while still searching for Maurice, Michael and the kids was selfish and made no sense, but their need for one another in that moment was purely gratitude. Alex was grateful that Ross wasn’t missing and Ross was grateful that Alex was by his side. Alex knew that they both felt somewhat guilty for feeling the way that they did, but again, they knew that it made no sense.            Sighing as Ross collapsed onto his back, Alex slid down the bed until his head rested on his pillow. His cum covered pillow. Holy shit, he’d cum all over the goddamned bed. He heard Ross’s chuckle and elbowed his mate in the ribs. Really, it was all Ross’s fault anyway. Did he have to be a fucking god? Literally?            “Are things a little wet underneath you there mate?” Ross asked, amusement lacing his words.            Alex rolled his eyes when Ross snorted and then groaned when the bigger man gently eased his now softened cock from Alex’s ass. Damn, he hated it when Ross had to leave his body. He wished that they could spend the rest of their lives with Ross’s cock firmly entrenched in his ass. It would make things a little more difficult to get done, but life would certainly be a lot more fun and interesting.

Legal Tender by Andrew  Grey
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"Am I broken?"

Words spoken by the main character Timmy that so pierced the heart of this reader that I finished the rest of the book, holding my Kindle in a firm, almost desperate grip, hoping against hope that Joiner would help him and show this beautiful young man that he wasn't broken or unlovable at all.

"Grampy was the only one to say he loved me."

This book details the struggle that Timmy and Joiner endure together as they deal not only with a controversial legacy left behind by Timmy's grandfather when he passed away, but also with the after effects of the traumatic experience that Timmy suffers from as a youth. Joiner is a junior associate at a law firm that Timmy goes to with a rare gold coin in order to prove the validity of his ownership and possession. Timmy is very much the fragile spirit, a formerly broken butterfly attempting to fly again. Joiner is the man who steps up to help him learn to live, learn to fly, learn to love again.

With the reappearance of Gerald, Dieter, Mark, Tyler, Brian, Nicolai and many other Andrew Grey favorites, this book is simultaneously heart-breaking, uplifting, emotionally gripping, soul wrenching, funny, entertaining, and, in true Andrew Grey fashion, extremely smexy.

I found myself encouraging and rooting for Timmy with every step forward he took in his healing process. I similarly found myself wincing with every horrible return of a piece of his rough childhood. Joiner's strength and courage, his determination to stick with Timmy through it all, filled the pages with light and dispelled the darkness that tried to strangle the sweetness of Timmy's spirit.

Mr. Grey's writing was gripping, pulling me into the pages of the book until I felt like I was right there with Timmy at work, sitting in the next cubicle talking about how one should never tell Heidi anything unless they wanted everyone to know. I felt as if I were helping Joiner with his research for Timmy's case. Best of all, the passion and the white-hot desire that the two men felt for each other was so well written that I felt as if I were right there in the bed with them, getting sweaty and sticky and experiencing every orgasm alongside them (and definitely needing a cigarette afterwards).

The setting of the book was so well described that I could see Grampy's house, see the dust motes floating through the air in the attic, feel the raindrops falling on my skin as Joiner and Timmy took a walk in the rain, and see the clenching jaw of the US District Attorney as he presented his case in front of the judge in opposition to Joiner's claim.

The tension that threaded its way seamlessly throughout the pages of this book, was beautifully balanced by the love and genuine affection that made up the foundation for Timmy and Joiner's love story.

And yes, The Epilogue Whore was beyond satisfied by the way this book ended, because the end, much like the rest of the book was an execution of near flawless prose and loving storytelling.

I recommend this book (obviously) for those who love to read about love, strength, overcoming tragedy, healing, family and finding true happiness through finding oneself.


View all my reviews