top of page

Mock, Where Art Thou?

Hidey-ho! It's your friendly, neighbourhood Mock here. I seem to have dropped off the face of the Earth. But I haven't. I have been up to a lot. In my personal life, well, there are sad things. I will talk about that at some point but not today. Know that *I* am okay. The sad bit involves someone close to me.

The other stuff I've been up to are new stories. I keep talking and no posting happens. This is because this story is going on and on and on. That particular one, I will post on my Ao3 account. For those of you who know it, you'll get the notification. For those who don't, I'm afraid you must be screened! Ha! But I'm serious. DM me on IG and if I feel comfortable, I'll give you the deets! The screening process isn't that strict.

For story ONE, I have art from my Sparkly Sparkle. In this story, Dean will have to wear a Kilt. "Mock," you say. "You've done this before." Yes, I know but it works for this story and I'm obsessed with men in kilts. I'm going to reveal the art in the story but for your perusal, Men in Kilts! I think one of them looks like "Michael."

For Story TWO. I already released the excerpt below in my newsletter first. If you aren't signed up, go HERE and you can -- it's not too late! But I'm going to include a second piece here so that the people who already read the newsletter are not bored.

And, here's the thing. As you can see, we're a long way from Kanas. Meaning, "Mock, you were writing about sexy men, getting together with other sexy men and now they are children. Which means two of the men aren't in part of the story. WTF?" I know. Believe me I know. But Silas wanted to tell the whole story of when they were young and once you get to know Silas, you'll see we do what he says.

The other thing about the story, I am getting scenes from when they are older too. I'm not sure how I'm going to put it all together yet. I'm kinda hoping Silas will tell me. Cuz right now it's a bit of a logistical nightmare.

Piece one is "Young Darius" and piece two is "Adult Silas" so you can see what I mean. I'll do a blog with some "Young Silas" another day.

One more bit of news that JUST happened today. I wasn't expecting this to happen for at least another month or two. Also a story for another blog (because it's a seriously cool story). But for now know this: TRISTAN IS GETTING AN AUDIO BOOK! I am stoked and the man who will narrate is AMAZINGLY talented. His voice is so smooth and he captured Tristan so well.

And, sorry to be a "review begger" but they're the hardest thing to get and they help me get "seen" as a needle in a very large haystack. If you've read any of my books, would love a review if you can! Thank you to those who have already reviewed.

Alright. Excerpts and hot men in kilts and more! Everything unedited. Warning for intense kink (in the Silas part) but probably not anything you haven't seen in my stories before.



When he pulled up to the house in that old Monte Carlo, I knew he had changed. The engine was as loud as the pain on his face. His perfect haircut was gone, in its place a shaggy blond mien. Silas had a thin beard on his baby face. It had only been three years, but he looked like he’d aged twenty. “Get in the car, Darius. Now.”

Young Silas

He sat in the driver’s side, not bothering to get out, expecting his will to be done. Oliver was in the backseat. He was a quiet little boy, his hair nearly white. When I last saw him, he was only just learning to walk. Now he was a full-grown boy. Thin but healthy looking. His eyes were wide, checking me out but he had to look to Silas to make sure everything was okay.
Silas stared out the window. His eyes dead. He’d never say it—he’s never said it—but I knew then he needed me more than Simon did. Besides, Simon had Shane.
I turned to see the aggrieved expression on Simon. Tears streamed down his face sluicing through the dirt and grime that was always there, leaving tracks. Shane held him back by his wrist and Simon remained frozen, not struggling. They’d always had that kind of effect on each other—grounding each other, making the other stand still.
“I’m sorry, Simon. I gotta go.” I fucking hate goodbyes so I didn’t bother to run and hug him or say anything monumental. Besides, I knew it wasn’t really goodbye. “Let me sort this out and we’ll be back for you.”
I’d somehow convince Silas to get them out too and we’d come back to get them.
I didn’t bring anything with me. I left with the clothes on my back.

Young Darius

Inside, the car was silent for miles. I’ve never been a person lost for words, but even I didn’t know what to say. Silas looked wrecked. He looked like he’d been through a meat grinder. He wiped away tears as we drove. It was the last time I ever saw him cry.
I didn’t look much better. I tried to keep myself clean at the Taylor’s house, but it was hard sometimes. They didn’t have much money for clothes, so it was rifling through a bin of hand-me-downs once a month. I was also scratched and bruised. Not from anything particularly awful. Every day stuff working around the farm, but he didn’t know that yet.
I turned to meet eyes with Oliver. “Hey kid. You remember, me?”
His eyes were round as quarters. He kept checking in with Silas, tugging on the strap of his car seat, rubbing his eyes, pointing his bare feet, and flexing. “Baba?” His eyes flicked back and forth between me and Silas. He looked ready to cry.
It broke Silas from whatever demons gripped him. His eyes got soft. My brother was still in there somewhere.
He reached back to grab Oliver’s little foot. “You hungry?”
Oliver shook his head.
“Pass me that bag, Darius,” Silas said in a tone I remembered. It was like Father’s. I passed him the bag. He pulled out a bottle even though Oliver was clearly past the stage of bottle drinking. “Drink this.”
“Noooo, Baba,” Oliver whined.
“Oliver.” Silas’s tone was deep and commanding. A man’s tone versus the boy I remembered. He was nineteen. He pushed the bottle toward him with one hand while the other remained on the steering wheel, his eyes faced front. “Drink your milk. I’ll get you something more filling soon.”
Oliver took the bottle and drank it.
The interaction had been interesting and indicative of the relationship that would grow between them. That had already grown between them. Silas says jump, Oliver says how high.
When we pulled up to the Motel, I was spent even though I’d been sitting in a car all day other than when we’d stopped for gas. I had to help Silas keep Oliver occupied—though he was quiet for the most part—and fed. We always made sure Oliver was fed. Neither Silas nor I ate much that day.
Oliver was wiped too, passed out. He didn’t stir when Silas pulled him out of the car seat, and he flopped as dead weight on Silas’s shoulder. I was unaware of the plan, following Silas to the registration desk. We got looks and there were too many reasons for the looks that day for me to guess why. We’re all ash-blond. We’re all striking. We look like porcelain dolls come to life.
We were also young and without a real parent. We had a four-year-old with us who wasn’t wearing shoes. Silas and I were dirty and scraggly. Silas pushed Father’s ID across the counter, with a fifty-dollar bill on top. He didn’t say a word. He commanded the confidence of a king and in that moment, I knew we’d be all right no matter what came our way.
That didn’t mean the scary shit wouldn’t be scary, but we would make it through.
The shifty man behind the counter was happy to accept the cash in exchange for not asking questions and gave us a room key.
The motel room was neat and tidy but nothing special. Two double beds, a small kitchen and a bathroom. I had nothing so I helped Silas bring in their stuff. He laid Oli on the bed and we sat at the small kitchen table. “What the fuck is going on, Sye?”
“It’s good to see you too, Darius.”
It had been three years but the car ride seemed to sew the distance time ripped apart. I had no idea what I’d missed. “I take it Father hasn’t missed me?”
He shook his head.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
“Father’s not himself,” Silas said. “We had to leave. I took Oliver and ran as soon as I found out where they’d placed you. I’m sorry it took so long.”
I always told Simon that Silas would come for me. I knew he would. Silas is a fucking, domineering prick sometimes but he’s never let me down. Not ever. “Is that all I’m fucking getting?” He’d left a lot out. Everything.
“Keep your voice down.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll tell you what happened but then I never want to speak of it again. It stays here in this room forever.”
I nodded, thinking that maybe I shouldn’t know whatever he was about to tell me, but I was compelled. Then he laid it on me. It was more horrible than I could imagine. It twisted my stomach, my skin itched, I had to run to the bathroom to puke and then run outside to punch something. “Because you look like her?” I said in a hushed tone.
He nodded. His jaw firm and ready to cut glass. He tapped his pointer finger on the table. To this day that’s the only tell you’ll get out of Silas that he’s fucking uneasy. He’s got better at hiding his emotions over the years. “He looks like her too,” he said referring to Oliver. “I didn’t know what he’d do to him and I didn’t want to stay to find out.”
I knew how hard it must have been for Silas, despite what happened. He idolized Father like I idolized him. Just because your idol does shitty-ass things, it doesn’t mean the worship goes away. Not all at once anyway.
From that point on, we were on our own. We had nothing except for Dad’s credit card which Silas hated using but he wasn’t about to let us starve for his pride. There was the ever-present stress that it would stop working, that Father would cancel it, but he must have kept paying it because it always came through.
It was two months into our runaway that we got the call. We were just getting settled, already becoming less reliant on Dad’s money. Silas and I got jobs, we switched off care of Oliver between us.
Dad hung himself. Our Uncle called Silas’s phone, the one Dad was still paying for. We went home to find out that Silas would become executor to everything when he turned twenty-one but the whole thing was fucked up. We wouldn’t have access to a penny until then. Our uncle offered for us to stay with him. Dad’s brother. Dad’s twin brother. Silas refused and I didn’t argue or question him. We would return to our shitty apartment and make it on our own, but it was much harder without Dad’s help.
That was when I convinced Silas to collect Simon and Shane. With more of us, we could make it. Silas didn’t like it at first but unless he wanted to relent to Uncle Pax’s obsessive calls that we live with him he had to swallow his pride. “I just, I can’t look at his face,” Silas said to me one day about our uncle.
I understood. He looked too much like Father. “How do you stand me?” I asked.
Of the three of us, I look most like Aleksander Randall. “You have her eyes. It’s all in the eyes.”
The five of us lived in the small, shitty apartment until we could afford a larger, shitty house. It worked. But by the time Silas turned twenty-one, we were all established enough Shane and Simon wanted their own place. They moved back with us though. Silas didn’t trust anyone else with Oliver and we needed childcare. He paid Simon to be his childcare when I couldn’t and Shane in between.
I thought I’d seen my brother do some pretty amazing things by that point, but he was only getting started. He went to business school at warp speed, and he managed to be a father figure to Oliver. He took the family money and grew it to ten times what it had been. We went from having nothing to everything.


Lakshan pleads with his eyes. He can’t plead with anything else. His arms are tied behind his back. I’ve got a pretty red, silk scarf tied in his mouth. He’s naked on my office couch. And his cock is out. His cock being out is a big deal. I don’t let it out often. Even when I do, that doesn’t always mean good news for him. It often only means torture.
He loves it though.
“Oh baby, I know. I know it’s going to be hard. But Daddy wants to use your cock. After all, it’s mine to use whenever I’d like, however I’d like, isn’t it?”
He nods and attempts a “yes, Daddy” around the gag.
We don’t put our relationship in a box. I’m Daddy, I’m Sir, I’m Master. I’m whatever he needs me to be. And he exists to please me however I’d like. He’s good at following my lead. Wherever I take us on any given day, he follows with complete surrender.
The beautiful thing about Lakshan is, he’s not scared about what I’ll do to him if he fails. It’s hard to punish Lakshan with something tactile. He loves being spanked. He loves being humiliated. He loves being beaten the most. The more intense the better with Lakshan. He loves serving me in any way I wish.
The only thing he’s truly scared of is failing me.
At the same time, he’s got to do it. He’s got to try to give me what I want. He loves to be challenged.
The look of terror in his eyes fuels me. It makes my cock harder than it already is. I place a hand to each of his shoulders and sink down onto his cock, sliding easily with lots of lube to grease the way. “Uuuugggghhh,” he groans, eyes still pleading for me to go easy on him.
I card my hand through the longer hair on top and smile at him deviously. If he thinks I’m not going to make this torture just because his cock hasn’t seen daylight in two weeks, he wouldn’t know me very well. But he does. Which is probably why he’s so tense. “C’mon, baby. Relax. I have every faith in you.”
I’m kneeling over him, my legs spread wide, my large, bubble butt squeezing his dick. I move tugging up, sliding up his cock and then I make the decent slow and succulent. He releases a muffled cry that doesn’t reach beyond the gag. His muscles tense again, he’s already restraining. He’s told me before how much