Received my author copy of "With this Ring I thee Bed" which is an erotic romance anthology published by Harlequin Spice. I was thrilled and surprised that they accepted my story, as it was gay romance, but they did and it’s firmly among the other stories of ménage and hetero marriage smut. I haven’t read them all but I’m sure there’s another gay story lurking away in there and hurrah for them and hurrah for Harlequin!
My story is simply called "I Will" and charts the love affair of two men who met when they were in infant school, gradually fell in love over the years – and have hardly been apart since. They are one of the first gay couples to marry in the UK and it’s pretty simple but hopefully will touch the heart (and maybe other places!)
and here’s a snippet:
You never really expect to marry your childhood sweetheart, because, God, what a cliché that is!
Of course, when we met, I couldn’t say I knew I was going to marry this man. Why? Because I was six and he was five (and three quarters.) We shared a desk, and I spilt milk over his painting. He hated me that first morning, but we made up again at lunchtime because I had chicken sandwiches and he had Spam and we shared a love of Mars Bars. I find it amazing sometimes that I can remember that so clearly and yet, if Mark were to ask me what I gave him last Christmas, I’d find it hard to recall.
And that’s how it started, crayons and milk and Spam. I’m grateful to the Spam company, despite the fact that neither of us like it much; we still buy it now and then, two silly old queens laughing over a secret joke no-one will ever share.
All through school we slotted into each other’s lives, Mark and Jim. Rarely apart, even our names were synonymous. “Have you invited Mark ‘n Jim?” “Where’s Mark ‘n Jim?” We sat together, did the same subjects, cheated abominably in exams. We both knew that neither of us would go to university without the other.
I don’t think there was even a time when I realized I was homosexual, because Mark was there, and I was there for Mark. We never dated, never talked of women—then one day he turned to kiss me and my lips were there, as if they’d always been waiting for his. As it should be. Perhaps that’s not entirely true, perhaps there was never a time when I doubted I was anything else? It doesn’t matter. It may have done to others, I know it did to some, but it never did to us.© Copyright 2011 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes