In theory I am working on three different stories right now. Here are their first lines, please share your own :)
Xeras had the brining barrel between his knees, and positioned the bung over the hole on the top. (Lover of Ghosts)
“Denizens of Gambit show distinct founder effects both in terms of measurable genetic compliments and deep-seated behavioral tendencies,” the U.P. anthologist droned from the lecturn. (The Game)
Murl hung from the windowsill, with the fingertips of one hand. (untitled)
...and from the last story I submitted:
“If you want to keep your sister out of my bedchamber you will do this small thing for me,” Old Man Jeryl said. (Wolfkin)
Edited to add: that one now contracted to Samhain :) :) :)
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
What's in a name?
Names in romance novels are always the first indication of whether or not I'm even going to open the book. I always check the back cover to see what the heroes' names are (or heroines, as the case may be). If the names don't immediately speak to me, the book goes back on the shelf.
This is not to say, of course, that there AREN'T masculine, sexy men out there named Horace or Norman. I just prefer my romance novel heroes to have names that pack a punch and create an instant picture of sex in my mind: Logan. Tyler. Jake. I seem to gravitate toward certain linguistic patterns in male names, both when I'm writing and when I'm reading. I like names that begin with the letters C or T. I like names that end with the letter N (Ian, Jason, Evan).
So tell me. What's in a name for you?
This is not to say, of course, that there AREN'T masculine, sexy men out there named Horace or Norman. I just prefer my romance novel heroes to have names that pack a punch and create an instant picture of sex in my mind: Logan. Tyler. Jake. I seem to gravitate toward certain linguistic patterns in male names, both when I'm writing and when I'm reading. I like names that begin with the letters C or T. I like names that end with the letter N (Ian, Jason, Evan).
So tell me. What's in a name for you?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Meet Triarius...
Spiked is a body modification anthology coming out next Wednesday from Torquere Press. My novella, "Beneath the Mask", is one of four novellas that make up the antho.
Out of all the men I've written, Triarius is one of my all-time favorites. He's my beloved anti-hero: cruel, ruthless, and downright sex on legs, if you ask me. But...don't take MY word for it. Just ask Lance Shaw, the reporter who managed to get an interview with one of the most dangerous vampires in the world.
***
"Dio knows we exist, Mr. Shaw. The Romanorum knows. At this point, I would daresay the entire world knows. The fact remains, however, that they cannot find the worst of us. And by that, I mean those of us who actively kill humans."
Fuck. I was in over my head. What was I thinking? Here I was, in some nondescript ghost town in the middle of nowhere England, with a man -- a creature -- who could easily kill me. And no one would ever know. Curiosity, however, is a strong influence.
"I know the Brotherhood is underground -- both figuratively and literally, and no, I won't ask where. I am curious, though, as to why the Romanorum can't find you. Can't every vampire -- even a rogue -- trace his or her blood back to the sire?"
"Not all of us are rogues," he said. "It is true that I myself am, by Romanorum standards, but you forget that the oldest of us did not take the formulas required to make that distinction. It is by name alone that I am known for who I am, not by any taint to my aura or soul."
"So... there are those who are not rogues within the Brotherhood?"
"Yes. The Brotherhood is not based on killing humans. We are gods, Mr. Shaw. Descended from gods, created by them. Human are cattle, put upon this earth for us to use as we see fit."
"The Romanorum would have something to say about that," I said quietly.
"You are not writing. Is my tale that uninteresting?"
I blinked down at the paper. A large stain spread out from where the tip of my pen rested, but there were no words. What was I supposed to say, how was I going to write any of this into a news story? I stared at the blotch of ink and wondered why I'd even asked for this meeting.
"Perhaps you were curious, more for your own sake than that of your readers."
"You can read minds."
"I can."
I figured the best step would be to find out more about the man behind it all. "What else can you do?"
Triarius chuckled, still facing away from me. "Much. More than you could ever begin to explain to your readers, Mr. Shaw."
It occurred to me then that I had no idea what this man even looked like. He was here when I'd arrived, cloaked in shadows. "What do you look like?"
"Another question for your story?"
"No." For me...
Triarius turned and my heart nearly stopped. Light glinted off of something silver on the right side of his face. Like some real-life twist on the Phantom, Triarius had a silver mask -- or at least half of one -- covering the upper right side of his face. There was a hole for him to see out of, and the mask stopped just an inch or so above his mouth, and then tapered off to the side. The eye peering through the hole in the mask was milky white, almost glassy. His other was steel blue. His lips curled into a twisted smile that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"I was disfigured long before my turning. A bit of sparring gone wrong, you could say."
I could tell there was more to it, but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate. He stepped away from the window and closer to the table where I sat. The shadows seemed to move with him, somehow, wrapping around his body like a cloak. I knew some vampires were able to control the shadows. I'd even been witness to the Prince of London toying with them a time or two. These shadows were much different, though -- thicker, consuming. Like Triarius, they seemed to draw in the light, engulfing it until there was nothing left. I wanted to say this man was evil, but even that felt inadequate for what I saw in his eyes. There was power behind them, more than I think anyone ever realized, but there was something darker. I knew he was a rogue -- he'd said so himself. This went beyond being a rogue. It wasn't blood lust that fueled him. It was the worst kind of power imaginable: unspoken, quiet, calculating.
Out of all the men I've written, Triarius is one of my all-time favorites. He's my beloved anti-hero: cruel, ruthless, and downright sex on legs, if you ask me. But...don't take MY word for it. Just ask Lance Shaw, the reporter who managed to get an interview with one of the most dangerous vampires in the world.
***
"Dio knows we exist, Mr. Shaw. The Romanorum knows. At this point, I would daresay the entire world knows. The fact remains, however, that they cannot find the worst of us. And by that, I mean those of us who actively kill humans."
Fuck. I was in over my head. What was I thinking? Here I was, in some nondescript ghost town in the middle of nowhere England, with a man -- a creature -- who could easily kill me. And no one would ever know. Curiosity, however, is a strong influence.
"I know the Brotherhood is underground -- both figuratively and literally, and no, I won't ask where. I am curious, though, as to why the Romanorum can't find you. Can't every vampire -- even a rogue -- trace his or her blood back to the sire?"
"Not all of us are rogues," he said. "It is true that I myself am, by Romanorum standards, but you forget that the oldest of us did not take the formulas required to make that distinction. It is by name alone that I am known for who I am, not by any taint to my aura or soul."
"So... there are those who are not rogues within the Brotherhood?"
"Yes. The Brotherhood is not based on killing humans. We are gods, Mr. Shaw. Descended from gods, created by them. Human are cattle, put upon this earth for us to use as we see fit."
"The Romanorum would have something to say about that," I said quietly.
"You are not writing. Is my tale that uninteresting?"
I blinked down at the paper. A large stain spread out from where the tip of my pen rested, but there were no words. What was I supposed to say, how was I going to write any of this into a news story? I stared at the blotch of ink and wondered why I'd even asked for this meeting.
"Perhaps you were curious, more for your own sake than that of your readers."
"You can read minds."
"I can."
I figured the best step would be to find out more about the man behind it all. "What else can you do?"
Triarius chuckled, still facing away from me. "Much. More than you could ever begin to explain to your readers, Mr. Shaw."
It occurred to me then that I had no idea what this man even looked like. He was here when I'd arrived, cloaked in shadows. "What do you look like?"
"Another question for your story?"
"No." For me...
Triarius turned and my heart nearly stopped. Light glinted off of something silver on the right side of his face. Like some real-life twist on the Phantom, Triarius had a silver mask -- or at least half of one -- covering the upper right side of his face. There was a hole for him to see out of, and the mask stopped just an inch or so above his mouth, and then tapered off to the side. The eye peering through the hole in the mask was milky white, almost glassy. His other was steel blue. His lips curled into a twisted smile that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"I was disfigured long before my turning. A bit of sparring gone wrong, you could say."
I could tell there was more to it, but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate. He stepped away from the window and closer to the table where I sat. The shadows seemed to move with him, somehow, wrapping around his body like a cloak. I knew some vampires were able to control the shadows. I'd even been witness to the Prince of London toying with them a time or two. These shadows were much different, though -- thicker, consuming. Like Triarius, they seemed to draw in the light, engulfing it until there was nothing left. I wanted to say this man was evil, but even that felt inadequate for what I saw in his eyes. There was power behind them, more than I think anyone ever realized, but there was something darker. I knew he was a rogue -- he'd said so himself. This went beyond being a rogue. It wasn't blood lust that fueled him. It was the worst kind of power imaginable: unspoken, quiet, calculating.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Starting the year off write
FYI, I misspelled that on purpose.
This time last year, I was hard at work on the story that would become The Powers of Love and go on to land me a publishing contract with Amber Quill Press. I know this because, being compulsively anal about things like this, I kept a log throughout all of 2007 that listed not only how many words I wrote per day, but also the writing "highlights" of the year ~ publications, acceptance, submissions, and the like.
For the record I wrote a whopping 322,588 words in 2007.
Sounds like a lot, doesn't it? And I have a lot to show for it, granted. But there were days when the word count was a big, fat zero, when I couldn't even motivate myself to turn on the computer, let alone type anything.
Still, it is an impressive figure. I wonder if I'll beat that this time next year? I've already written more these first two days than I did this same time last year. Funnily enough, my current WIP stars the same two characters from The Powers of Love, and this story is also slated for release by Amber Quill. What comes around goes around, they say.
Why not keep a log of how much you write each day? How many words do you think you can do in a span of 365 days? 366, really, since this is a leap year. Go ahead. Keep count. You might surprise yourself.
This time last year, I was hard at work on the story that would become The Powers of Love and go on to land me a publishing contract with Amber Quill Press. I know this because, being compulsively anal about things like this, I kept a log throughout all of 2007 that listed not only how many words I wrote per day, but also the writing "highlights" of the year ~ publications, acceptance, submissions, and the like.
For the record I wrote a whopping 322,588 words in 2007.
Sounds like a lot, doesn't it? And I have a lot to show for it, granted. But there were days when the word count was a big, fat zero, when I couldn't even motivate myself to turn on the computer, let alone type anything.
Still, it is an impressive figure. I wonder if I'll beat that this time next year? I've already written more these first two days than I did this same time last year. Funnily enough, my current WIP stars the same two characters from The Powers of Love, and this story is also slated for release by Amber Quill. What comes around goes around, they say.
Why not keep a log of how much you write each day? How many words do you think you can do in a span of 365 days? 366, really, since this is a leap year. Go ahead. Keep count. You might surprise yourself.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Happy 2008
I hope everyone had a happy and safe celebration last night!
My resolution for 2008 is to write more, and to write more effectively. I've never been one to really write outlines for books -- I tend to just let things flow. But I think it's a good idea to plan things out a bit more, always keeping in mind that inspiration will strike as I'm writing.
I'm also not one for having multiple works in progress -- I usually focus on only one story at a time. However, I always have different things swirling around in my head, so I'm resolving to take more notes and write snippets of other stories to come back to later.
Anyone else have writing-related resolutions?
My resolution for 2008 is to write more, and to write more effectively. I've never been one to really write outlines for books -- I tend to just let things flow. But I think it's a good idea to plan things out a bit more, always keeping in mind that inspiration will strike as I'm writing.
I'm also not one for having multiple works in progress -- I usually focus on only one story at a time. However, I always have different things swirling around in my head, so I'm resolving to take more notes and write snippets of other stories to come back to later.
Anyone else have writing-related resolutions?
Monday, December 31, 2007
Happy New Years Eve!
It's December 31st, the one night of the year when more people will party than any other. What are your plans for tonight? Are you going to map out resolutions for 2008, go out to celebrate and throw confetti at midnight? No matter what your plans, I'd just like to wish you all a safe and happy New Years.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Who wants an extra-spicy excerpt?
My next book, Untamed Heart, will be coming out February 26th from Samhain. Yay! I now have a beautimous cover courtesy of Anne Cain, and there's an excerpt up on the website!
http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/untamed-heart
And because I'm so excited about this book, even though it won't be out for almost two months, here's a bit of a more explicit excerpt *g* Enjoy!
-------------
Blurb:
When Leon Fisher finds his lover butchered in their bed, he does what any good assassin would do—he gets revenge. But killing the murderer doesn’t make the pain go away. Instead, it sends him on a vicious downward spiral into alcoholism and depression.
In a bid to force Leon to sober up and regain his edge, his mysterious employers—known only as “the organization”—send him to a private property in the wilds of Alaska. In the lush and remote Tongass National Forest, Leon encounters Grim, a strange but alluring young man who saves Leon’s life after a bear attack, then brings him to a cabin in the depths of the woods to recover.
Leon doesn’t expect to fall in love with this odd, subservient person, yet he can’t deny what he comes to feel for Grim. But Grim has a past he doesn’t talk about. A past just as dark and ugly as Leon’s. And both pasts are about to catch up with them.
Excerpt:
That evening, easing his aching body gingerly onto the bed, Leon decided he’d been severely underestimating Grim all this time. He’d watched Grim clean and gut fish, skin and dress rabbits, birds and deer, but he’d never appreciated what hard work it was. He’d assumed the whole thing was as easy as Grim made it look.
It wasn’t. Raw flesh, Leon quickly discovered, was tough, and the ligaments and tendons holding the joints together even tougher. Grim’s knives and cleavers were hefty and well-honed, so sharp that when Leon accidentally cut himself, he didn’t even feel it, but it had still taken him a considerable amount of effort to separate the deer’s legs from its body. He hadn’t dared to help Grim skin the carcass after that. His injured shoulder had begun to ache, and his arms felt weak. He was afraid that if he tried to skin the animal, the knife would slip and he would cut himself again. Or worse, cut Grim.
“Sorry I wasn’t more help,” Leon said as Grim came back inside, arms wet to the elbows, carrying the dinner dishes he’d been washing in the little stream behind the cabin. “I’ll get the hang of it eventually, I swear.”
Grim smiled as he stacked the clean dishes on the hutch. Shadows from the failing light outside made his dimple seem deeper than normal. “You did fine, Leon. Especially for your first time. It’ll get easier, don’t worry.” He grabbed a long match from the dwindling supply beside the woodbox, kindled it in the stove and lit the kerosene lantern. Carrying the lantern over to the bed, he placed it carefully on the floor and sat on the futon beside Leon. “Are you hurting? I can give you a massage, if you want.”
Reaching up, Leon brushed the hair from Grim’s eyes. “You don’t have to do that. You must be tired too.”
“Not really. I’m used to it. You’re not.” Grim slid both hands beneath Leon’s sweater. His fingers were icy from the cold water of the stream, making Leon’s skin pebble. “So, would you like a massage? Or would you rather have something else?”
The familiar gleam in Grim’s eyes told Leon precisely what Grim meant by “something else”. In an instant, Leon’s fatigue was swept away by a wave of desire so intense it froze his breath.
Ignoring the way his sore muscles screamed at him, he locked his arms around Grim’s waist and rolled so that Grim lay underneath him. Grim squeaked in surprise. He stared up at Leon with wide, lust-dark eyes, panting through parted lips. His hands clutched Leon’s shoulders so hard it hurt.
“I want to fuck you,” Leon said, his voice low and rough.
Grim’s eyelids fluttered. His face flushed pink. “Okay. Will you let me up? So I can undress and…and everything?”
Leon shook his head. Every time they had sex, it was doggie-style. Grim hadn’t said no on the one occasion when Leon had requested a different position, but he’d been so clearly uncomfortable fucking face-to-face that Leon had changed his mind.
Not that he didn’t enjoy taking Grim from behind. He did. Very much. But he could no longer ignore his desire to watch Grim’s face while they fucked, to look into his eyes when he came.
“Not yet,” Leon whispered, drawing his fingers down Grim’s cheek in a soft caress. “Just lie here for a little while. Let me touch you. Okay?”
The apprehension Leon had expected filled Grim’s eyes, but it wasn’t strong enough to drown out the need pouring off him in palpable waves. He nodded.
It was all the permission Leon needed. Standing up, Leon undressed as fast as he could. Grim lay still, his gaze raking up and down Leon’s body. Naked, Leon knelt on the bed and started pulling off Grim’s clothes. Grim tried to help. When Leon batted his hands away, he kept himself busy stroking as much of Leon’s skin as he could reach.
Once he had Grim undressed, Leon nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. He reached over to the little bedside table Grim had built the previous month and grabbed the tub of cooking fat they’d started using when the lube ran out. The smell of it wasn’t pleasant, but Leon figured that was a small price to pay for the pure bliss of sinking his cock into Grim’s body.
Grim hadn’t needed much preparation after their first few times together. At this point, a couple firm strokes of Leon’s thumb was usually all it took for Grim’s hole to open up. Normally, Leon would plunge his prick into Grim’s ass the second the tight muscles relaxed enough. Tonight, he wanted to take his time. To touch and tease, caress Grim inside and out until all his inhibitions melted away and he gave himself up completely to Leon.
Fingers coated with grease, Leon scooted backward enough to bend forward and kiss the tip of Grim’s cock. Grim let out a surprised shout and tried to squirm away. Leon stopped him with a hand across his hips.
“Relax,” Leon murmured, pressing his cheek to the inside of Grim’s thigh. He pushed two fingers into Grim’s ass, drawing a ragged moan from Grim. “I want to suck your cock. Let me?”
He raised his head to look into Grim’s eyes. Grim stared back, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted Leon to do it. That much was clear on his face. Leon held his breath, hoping Grim would set aside his fear of making decisions in bed and tell Leon what he really wanted.
“Okay,” Grim whispered finally. His eyes were huge, his breath coming far too fast.
Leon wanted Grim to say it. Hearing the words “suck my cock” from Grim’s lips would be so fucking hot. But he kept the thought to himself. For some reason, this was a huge step for Grim, and Leon didn’t want to push his luck.
Moving slowly, Leon took the tip of Grim’s prick into his mouth and sealed his lips around it. He circled the silky-soft head with his tongue, dipping into the slit and under the edge of the foreskin. Grim moaned, legs spreading wider.
Humming, Leon took Grim deep into his throat. God, Grim tasted good, sharp and rich and earthy. Leon crooked his fingers to nail Grim’s gland, just so he could feel Grim’s body jerk and hear his soft whimpers.
“Oooooooh, God,” Grim breathed as Leon pulled his fingers out, pushed both thumbs in and spread him open. “Good. Oh. Leon.”
Grim’s thighs shifted. Sliding his mouth up Grim’s shaft to suck at the head, Leon glanced up, and nearly came right then. Grim’s hands were hooked behind his knees, lifting his legs up and spreading them obscenely wide. His head was twisted to the side, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. He looked decadent and beautiful, and Leon’s heart swelled with the knowledge that he was the one giving Grim such pleasure. It was a powerful feeling.
He worked Grim with lips, fingers and tongue until he heard the breathless “uh-uh-uh” sounds which usually preceded Grim’s orgasms, then abruptly drew back. Grim’s cock hit his belly with a damp smack as it popped free of Leon’s mouth. Pulling his fingers free of Grim’s hole, Leon rose to his knees between Grim’s splayed legs.
Grim stared at Leon with unfocused eyes. “Wh… What? I…n-need… I need…” His words trailed off into a frustrated whine. Letting go of his right leg, he grabbed his cock, dug his foot into the mattress and thrust up into his hand. A low moan issued from his lips.
Leon drew a shaky breath and let it out, trying to hold on to his control. He’d never seen Grim completely incoherent before, and the sight was almost enough to undo him.
He leaned forward over Grim’s body, planting his hands on either side of Grim’s rib cage to hold his weight. His cock brushed Grim’s, and they both groaned at the contact. “I can’t see your face down there,” Leon said, bending lower until he could feel Grim’s short, sharp breaths on his lips. “I want you to come with my cock in your ass, and I want to watch your face when it happens.”
http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/untamed-heart
And because I'm so excited about this book, even though it won't be out for almost two months, here's a bit of a more explicit excerpt *g* Enjoy!
-------------
Blurb:
When Leon Fisher finds his lover butchered in their bed, he does what any good assassin would do—he gets revenge. But killing the murderer doesn’t make the pain go away. Instead, it sends him on a vicious downward spiral into alcoholism and depression.
In a bid to force Leon to sober up and regain his edge, his mysterious employers—known only as “the organization”—send him to a private property in the wilds of Alaska. In the lush and remote Tongass National Forest, Leon encounters Grim, a strange but alluring young man who saves Leon’s life after a bear attack, then brings him to a cabin in the depths of the woods to recover.
Leon doesn’t expect to fall in love with this odd, subservient person, yet he can’t deny what he comes to feel for Grim. But Grim has a past he doesn’t talk about. A past just as dark and ugly as Leon’s. And both pasts are about to catch up with them.
Excerpt:
That evening, easing his aching body gingerly onto the bed, Leon decided he’d been severely underestimating Grim all this time. He’d watched Grim clean and gut fish, skin and dress rabbits, birds and deer, but he’d never appreciated what hard work it was. He’d assumed the whole thing was as easy as Grim made it look.
It wasn’t. Raw flesh, Leon quickly discovered, was tough, and the ligaments and tendons holding the joints together even tougher. Grim’s knives and cleavers were hefty and well-honed, so sharp that when Leon accidentally cut himself, he didn’t even feel it, but it had still taken him a considerable amount of effort to separate the deer’s legs from its body. He hadn’t dared to help Grim skin the carcass after that. His injured shoulder had begun to ache, and his arms felt weak. He was afraid that if he tried to skin the animal, the knife would slip and he would cut himself again. Or worse, cut Grim.
“Sorry I wasn’t more help,” Leon said as Grim came back inside, arms wet to the elbows, carrying the dinner dishes he’d been washing in the little stream behind the cabin. “I’ll get the hang of it eventually, I swear.”
Grim smiled as he stacked the clean dishes on the hutch. Shadows from the failing light outside made his dimple seem deeper than normal. “You did fine, Leon. Especially for your first time. It’ll get easier, don’t worry.” He grabbed a long match from the dwindling supply beside the woodbox, kindled it in the stove and lit the kerosene lantern. Carrying the lantern over to the bed, he placed it carefully on the floor and sat on the futon beside Leon. “Are you hurting? I can give you a massage, if you want.”
Reaching up, Leon brushed the hair from Grim’s eyes. “You don’t have to do that. You must be tired too.”
“Not really. I’m used to it. You’re not.” Grim slid both hands beneath Leon’s sweater. His fingers were icy from the cold water of the stream, making Leon’s skin pebble. “So, would you like a massage? Or would you rather have something else?”
The familiar gleam in Grim’s eyes told Leon precisely what Grim meant by “something else”. In an instant, Leon’s fatigue was swept away by a wave of desire so intense it froze his breath.
Ignoring the way his sore muscles screamed at him, he locked his arms around Grim’s waist and rolled so that Grim lay underneath him. Grim squeaked in surprise. He stared up at Leon with wide, lust-dark eyes, panting through parted lips. His hands clutched Leon’s shoulders so hard it hurt.
“I want to fuck you,” Leon said, his voice low and rough.
Grim’s eyelids fluttered. His face flushed pink. “Okay. Will you let me up? So I can undress and…and everything?”
Leon shook his head. Every time they had sex, it was doggie-style. Grim hadn’t said no on the one occasion when Leon had requested a different position, but he’d been so clearly uncomfortable fucking face-to-face that Leon had changed his mind.
Not that he didn’t enjoy taking Grim from behind. He did. Very much. But he could no longer ignore his desire to watch Grim’s face while they fucked, to look into his eyes when he came.
“Not yet,” Leon whispered, drawing his fingers down Grim’s cheek in a soft caress. “Just lie here for a little while. Let me touch you. Okay?”
The apprehension Leon had expected filled Grim’s eyes, but it wasn’t strong enough to drown out the need pouring off him in palpable waves. He nodded.
It was all the permission Leon needed. Standing up, Leon undressed as fast as he could. Grim lay still, his gaze raking up and down Leon’s body. Naked, Leon knelt on the bed and started pulling off Grim’s clothes. Grim tried to help. When Leon batted his hands away, he kept himself busy stroking as much of Leon’s skin as he could reach.
Once he had Grim undressed, Leon nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. He reached over to the little bedside table Grim had built the previous month and grabbed the tub of cooking fat they’d started using when the lube ran out. The smell of it wasn’t pleasant, but Leon figured that was a small price to pay for the pure bliss of sinking his cock into Grim’s body.
Grim hadn’t needed much preparation after their first few times together. At this point, a couple firm strokes of Leon’s thumb was usually all it took for Grim’s hole to open up. Normally, Leon would plunge his prick into Grim’s ass the second the tight muscles relaxed enough. Tonight, he wanted to take his time. To touch and tease, caress Grim inside and out until all his inhibitions melted away and he gave himself up completely to Leon.
Fingers coated with grease, Leon scooted backward enough to bend forward and kiss the tip of Grim’s cock. Grim let out a surprised shout and tried to squirm away. Leon stopped him with a hand across his hips.
“Relax,” Leon murmured, pressing his cheek to the inside of Grim’s thigh. He pushed two fingers into Grim’s ass, drawing a ragged moan from Grim. “I want to suck your cock. Let me?”
He raised his head to look into Grim’s eyes. Grim stared back, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted Leon to do it. That much was clear on his face. Leon held his breath, hoping Grim would set aside his fear of making decisions in bed and tell Leon what he really wanted.
“Okay,” Grim whispered finally. His eyes were huge, his breath coming far too fast.
Leon wanted Grim to say it. Hearing the words “suck my cock” from Grim’s lips would be so fucking hot. But he kept the thought to himself. For some reason, this was a huge step for Grim, and Leon didn’t want to push his luck.
Moving slowly, Leon took the tip of Grim’s prick into his mouth and sealed his lips around it. He circled the silky-soft head with his tongue, dipping into the slit and under the edge of the foreskin. Grim moaned, legs spreading wider.
Humming, Leon took Grim deep into his throat. God, Grim tasted good, sharp and rich and earthy. Leon crooked his fingers to nail Grim’s gland, just so he could feel Grim’s body jerk and hear his soft whimpers.
“Oooooooh, God,” Grim breathed as Leon pulled his fingers out, pushed both thumbs in and spread him open. “Good. Oh. Leon.”
Grim’s thighs shifted. Sliding his mouth up Grim’s shaft to suck at the head, Leon glanced up, and nearly came right then. Grim’s hands were hooked behind his knees, lifting his legs up and spreading them obscenely wide. His head was twisted to the side, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. He looked decadent and beautiful, and Leon’s heart swelled with the knowledge that he was the one giving Grim such pleasure. It was a powerful feeling.
He worked Grim with lips, fingers and tongue until he heard the breathless “uh-uh-uh” sounds which usually preceded Grim’s orgasms, then abruptly drew back. Grim’s cock hit his belly with a damp smack as it popped free of Leon’s mouth. Pulling his fingers free of Grim’s hole, Leon rose to his knees between Grim’s splayed legs.
Grim stared at Leon with unfocused eyes. “Wh… What? I…n-need… I need…” His words trailed off into a frustrated whine. Letting go of his right leg, he grabbed his cock, dug his foot into the mattress and thrust up into his hand. A low moan issued from his lips.
Leon drew a shaky breath and let it out, trying to hold on to his control. He’d never seen Grim completely incoherent before, and the sight was almost enough to undo him.
He leaned forward over Grim’s body, planting his hands on either side of Grim’s rib cage to hold his weight. His cock brushed Grim’s, and they both groaned at the contact. “I can’t see your face down there,” Leon said, bending lower until he could feel Grim’s short, sharp breaths on his lips. “I want you to come with my cock in your ass, and I want to watch your face when it happens.”
Friday, December 28, 2007
Honey, do these pants make me look....gay? o_O
Over the past year, I've been told--not once, but three times by different people--that models I've used on covers "look gay". Hmm. I'm not really sure how they arrived to that conclusion, because, frankly, I find it hard to determine a man or a woman's sexuality based only on appearance. I guess I'm kinda slow. Everyone must've known from the start that this guy was gay:
Me? I need a big sign to help judge on appearances alone:
I would've liked to ask the people who made the comments why they felt the models looked gay, but my worry is that the question would've come off as confrontational--something I don't wish to be. The fact is, I'm genuinely curious what gives off the impression of gayness.
Obviously, I'm beating a dead cultural horse here, but stereotypes bug the crap out of me. And I also know the people who made the comments about how the models "look gay" don't mean to be insulting. I guess...I guess I just find it sad. And I'm confused as hell because I seriously don't see any of the gayness they did. I'll toss exhibit A out to whoever would like to take a stab at my conundrum. This model was one of the ones labeled "gay", months and months ago, and it still bothers me because I can't figure it out:
Maybe I'm over-sensitive when it comes to labels...but I really can't understand how such an intangible part of someone's identity as his or her sexuality can be so obvious to others based only one photo. I just dunno.
Me? I need a big sign to help judge on appearances alone:
I would've liked to ask the people who made the comments why they felt the models looked gay, but my worry is that the question would've come off as confrontational--something I don't wish to be. The fact is, I'm genuinely curious what gives off the impression of gayness.
Obviously, I'm beating a dead cultural horse here, but stereotypes bug the crap out of me. And I also know the people who made the comments about how the models "look gay" don't mean to be insulting. I guess...I guess I just find it sad. And I'm confused as hell because I seriously don't see any of the gayness they did. I'll toss exhibit A out to whoever would like to take a stab at my conundrum. This model was one of the ones labeled "gay", months and months ago, and it still bothers me because I can't figure it out:
Maybe I'm over-sensitive when it comes to labels...but I really can't understand how such an intangible part of someone's identity as his or her sexuality can be so obvious to others based only one photo. I just dunno.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
More Original Fiction
See, y'all are benefiting from my inability to think these days. Blame the holiday's for my largess. Anyway, a flash short originally published in Forbidden Fruit. But it's timely since New Years is nearly upon us.
Midnight
By
James Buchanan
By
James Buchanan
Tony stared out over the moonlit snow. The cold rail cut through layers of clothing. He’d dressed to impress, not to be warm. “This was such a rip.” He bitched, to everyone and no one at once.
“No shit!” The only other occupant of the balcony took a drag of his cigarette. Red embers threw high boned cheeks into base relief. “One hundred indices of compatibility my ass.”
“I know, forked out five-hundred for this weekend,” Tony snorted, “and I ain’t found the fucking chick listed on my compatibility match-up.”
“You’re telling me?” Dark eyes dropped half mast as the tall man growled out the rest. “One-twenty for the freaking profile. I hit the perfect match.” His voice echoed with a deep rich tenor. A singing voice, Tony mused. He’d put down singing as a hobby himself. “All of twenty-five get togethers and the one my soul mate will be at is New Years in the Mountains and the fucking bitch doesn’t show.”
Tony raised his glass to the evening. Couples had already paired off behind them. Look for your identifying ID. Number codes spoke to everything: We don’t even need names the advertisement promised. On the other side of the French doors a room held it’s breath: expectant, hesitant, and thrilled. Fuck ‘em all. “Here’s to being dumped by another fucked up excuse for on-line dating.”
His ersatz companion laughed. “Salude!” The dark haired, dark eyed, man tipped his glass toward Tony. “What’s the rule about midnight and New Years? You’re destined to spend the rest of the year repeating it?”
“God,” Tony ran his thick fingers through his dirty blond hair. Green eyes mirrored in a glass of amber liquid, he mused. “Don’t say that. I’m going to spend the rest of my year being dumped.” The other’s tumbler still waited expectant and Tony tapped it with his own. “What you drinking?”
“Glenfiddich.” The man laughed and knocked back a belt. “It’s the only scotch fit to drink.”
Tony laughed. “Damn straight!” Not many people understood that. For a time he stared out at the mountain. So strong and beautiful, capped with a crown of snow and backed by billowing clouds which held the moonlight to the ground. Why couldn’t he meet a girl who understood things like that? “All I wanted was a chance.” He sighed and swirled the last of the scotch in his glass. “Someone who liked old cars.”
“Me too.” The other man’s voice echoed wistful against the backdrop of revelry. “Someone who liked hiking in the Yukon as well as breakfast in bed.”
“Thick pancakes and then hiking in the glaciers.” Tony snorted, imagining heavy quilts and campfire coffee while preparing for a salmon fry off the deck of a cruise ship. The perfect mix of hedonistic luxury and outdoorsman-ship.
Dark eyes nodded. Damn, if he wasn’t a guy it would have been about perfect. Athletic, trim, black hair, large brown, almost almond eyes, and a slight olive cast to his skin all of it spoke to maybe Armenian decent. The man stood nearly eye to eye with Tony. All the girls he’d ever dated were shorter and that always bugged the pale, northern Italian descendant. A girl he could kiss without bending down… Tony had put that in his profile. At nearly six foot, it was a tall order. Now if this guy just liked Cuban cooking he would have been perfect, except for the lack of tits.
“I,” the man’s voice sounded so wistful and lonely, “was going to rent a snowmobile tomorrow. Go up into the peaks where things are quiet.”
Antonio sighed. “I reserved one yesterday… hope you know.” He held out his hand. “By the way, my name is Antonio.”
Shivering, the other man responded, “Nicholas.”
“Oh, that’s creepy.” Tony almost snorted his scotch.
“What?”
“The gal I’ve been corresponding with is Nikki.”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, well me and Toni have had some great sex chats.”
Everything froze. Finally, Tony swallowed. “Sex with showers?”
“Naked Ping-pong?”
“You,” Tony could barely breathe, “like having your ass licked?”
Nick looked into his empty glass. Chants of Ten, Nine, Eight echoed. Finally scared and large brown eyes slid up to stare deep into green. “128A54225ARRG?” When Tony’s face went slack, Nick swallowed and stepped in. “You’re Toni95? Oh Fuck!”
Almost a year of hopes and dreams and desires swirled around Antonio. All of it led to one person, one person he’d joked with. One person who always knew what to say. One person who teased and taunted, but always came through… Nikki22. “Shut up!” Antonio whispered as three sounded. “Kiss me now!”
“Why?” Nick’s face was only inches from his own. Warmth and longing seeped off his skin.
“Midnight!” Tony panted. “Fate!”
Two hitching breaths and Nick’s lip trembled. Then, to the sounding of Auld Lang Syne Nick’s mouth met his. Warm, demanding but giving and self assured… all the things Tony had asked for flowed from the kiss. Screams of horns blared. Noisemakers popped. People screamed with the turning of the ages. Tony didn’t give a shit. New Years drown sweet in the pounding of another man’s pulse.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Congrats!
Thanks to both Cathy and Mindy for entering the Lustful Thoughts contest! Since there were only two entries, they both win. Please email me at l_bacchi@yahoo.com so that I can send you a PDF of Lustful Thoughts.
I hope everyone had a great holiday, and I wish you all the best in 2008!
I hope everyone had a great holiday, and I wish you all the best in 2008!
Monday, December 24, 2007
O'Joyful Night
Merry Christmas everyone!!!
As my present to everyone, I've got a little Christmas story I wrote a while back that I thought I'd post. I hope everyone stays safe and have a great Christmas holiday.
Warning - This work of fiction contains graphic scenes between two men (duh) and is for those 18 years and older.
PS...please forgive any errors. This was not edited.
O'Joyful Night
by Marty Rayne
Matt smiled as he watched Brad, sitting on the floor in front of the bare tree, untangling the ball of lights that sat in his lap. His face was in a scowl; intense concentration lit his face as he fought with the tangled wires.
“That is the most pathetic tree I’ve ever seen.” Rene said as she crossed the room and sat next to Matt.
Brad looked up at her. “What do you expect? It’s Christmas Eve. There wasn’t much left.”
“Well, if you would have gotten it a week ago like I told you to do, then you could have found a nicer one.”
“I think it will be fine Rene.” Matt interrupted them before an argument started. He was the moderator of this trio, always finding ways to keep the peace between them all.
Rene huffed before standing. “Well, you have less than an hour to get to the pageant stage. I need a lot of things moved and you two said that you would help.”
“Don’t worry Rene. We will be there.” Matt said calmly, but he could see that Brad’s scowl grew deeper.
When the door closed behind Rene, Brad turned to Matt. “I don’t see why she has to drag us into all of this Christmas stuff. She knows how much of a Scrooge I am.”
Matt got up from the couch and kneeled in front of Brad. “She just wants to spread the joy of Christmas to as many people as she can.”
“Okay, I get that, but every year I am forced to play subservient to the Christmas Nazi whether I want to or not.”
“Brad,” Matt sighed. He didn’t want to get into this again. Not this year. He looked down at the knot of wires “Why don’t you just use your powers to untangle that mess?”
Brad frowned at Matt. “I’d end up blowing every light there is, then we’d have no lights at all.” He shook his head. “You know my concentration isn’t as focused as you and Rene’s.”
Matt reached over, closed his eyes, and waved his hand over the bundle. The wires untangled. Brad huffed as he looked down at the lights that lay on his lap.
“I hate it when you do that.”
“It just takes attention,” Matt encouraged. Brad had always had trouble with keeping his emotions in check. On the outside, everyone saw a tough, scowling orphan from the wrong side of the tracks, but Matt knew what was inside of Brad. He had a swirl of emotions that built and stayed trapped inside, only coming out in bursts of explosions when he tried using his gifts.
Matt leaned over and lightly kissed Brad’s lips. Brad opened willingly for Matt and allowed the kiss to deepen. Their tongues tangled together, like the strands of lights, their energies melding together. Matt’ hands went to Brad’s head, keeping him close until he was near breathless. He pulled away and looked at the Brad’s desire filled face. Gone was the glower that was there just a moment before. Matt smiled, always liking when Brad didn’t carry a grimace.
“Take off my shirt, Brad.” Matt’s voice sounded husky and deeper than usual as his own want built.
Brad reached out for Matt’s buttons, but Matt took hold of his hands. “No. Use your powers.”
“Matt…” Brad started.
He shook his head and interrupted Brad’s protests. “With your Goddess given abilities or you get no more.”
Brad sighed knowing that what Matt wanted, Matt got. He turned his attention to the small buttons that were lined up on Matt’s burgundy shirt. He blocked out all sound and sight and concentrated on the top button. Slowly, it began to move, shifting its way out of the buttonhole.
Brad was feeling good about himself, as the button was almost free of the hole. That was, until he felt Matt grab the front of his jeans. This caused Brad to jump, his cock, hardening even more and his concentration fell. In that instant, all of Matt’s buttons flew across the room, as his shirt was jerked open by some unseen force.
“Fuck,” Brad cursed, seeing how he’d destroyed Matt’s shirt.
Matt didn’t seem to mind as he pulled Brad in for a kiss. It was filled with such a passionate desire that Brad leaned into Matt and groaned, his body feeling the heat of his lust for Matt. His hands went to the bared chest; his fingers lightly caressed the silky skin. Brad could feel the goose bumps that popped up and smiled inwardly. His powers may be hard to control, but he knew that he could make Matt putty in his hands within moments. Brad let a hand graze one of Matt’s stiff nipples causing him to gasp in Brad’s mouth.
The phone in Matt’s phone rang pulling them out of their fervor of lust. Matt reluctantly pulled away and answered the phone.
“Hello.”
“Get your asses moving.” Rene’s voice came loudly through the earpiece. She knew that they would probably get sidetracked.
“We’re going,” Matt said, slightly annoyed then hung up the phone. He looked to Brad.
“Rene, huh?”
Matt nodded, but pulled Brad in for a quick kiss. “I have a deal for you. Let’s just say that it’s inspiration.”
Brad looked at Matt wearily.
Matt got up, pulling the torn shirt from his body. He walked into Brad’s bedroom, returning only a moment later pulling one of Brad’s t-shirts over his head. He looked to Brad who had stood and waited for Matt to finish.
“When you can control your powers, I’ll reward you. That way, you can practice and we can still have fun.”
“I don’t know Matt.” Brad scratched at his eyebrow. He did that when he was nervous. Matt just smiled at his friend and lover as he headed out the door, Brad following.
Rene worked Brad and Matt like slaves. She had them moving props, parts of the stage and what ever else she could think of until it was set to her perfection. They stood in front of the stage looking on. Rene sighed. Matt and Brad tensed, feeling tired, but ready to go and change something for her.
“Perfect,” Rene sighed.
Brad took a step then stopped. “What?” He looked at Rene.
“I said it’s perfect. Thanks guys.” She turned and beamed a thankful smile at them. She gave each a big hug and kiss on the lips. “You guys are the greatest.”
“You’re welcome.” Matt gave her a rare smile..
“I’ve got to go and meet with Mr. Cramer about the music so I’ll see you guys later.” Rene waved to the two guys as she rushed off in the direction of the parking lot where some adults were gathering before their practice.
“Well, I’m pooped. Let’s go back to my place. I’m in need of a shower.” Brad said walking toward the truck.
Matt shook his head and smiled. He took Brad’s hand and pulled him toward the stage. “I think you need some more practice first.” Matt led him around the stage to the little house that was off to the side. That was where some of the decorations were stored and decorated as a candy house for the Christmas theme around the park. They entered it with Matt closing the door behind them. Using a quick spell, he made sure that they would not be disturbed.
Matt went to Brad and kissed him. His lips were soft and barely brushed over Brad’s. It was a teasing kiss, one that held much promise Brad knew. Matt pulled Brad’s shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. Next, he unbuttoned Brad’s pants and let them fall to his ankles. With a wave of his hand Brad’s boxers were gone.
“Hey! Those were my favorite,” Brad pouted.
“I’ll buy you another pair.” Matt took hold of Brad’s cock. He slowly pumped it, making it stiff. Brad groaned, still feeling the frustration of not being able to finish their earlier session.
Matt let go of him and pulled a bright red ribbon from his jean pocket. Brad raised a brow to the object, but Matt ignored him. He bent and wrapped the silky material around Brad’s erect length. He tied it into a nice bow before standing up. Brad looked down at his newly decorated body part.
“Ummm, Matt? What’s up with that?”
“It’s your next lesson. I want you to untie it.”
Brad looked at Matt confused and reached with his hands to untie the ribbon. Matt caught them and held them in his.
“No. Use your powers.”
“Mathew. Uh, do you realize what you are asking? That is precious cargo down there and you want my explosive abilities near it? Are you fucking nuts?”
Matt pressed his body against Brad’s nude one. “I’m dying to fuck you, Brad.” His voice filled with yearning. “You untie the ribbon with your powers, I’ll reward you by fucking you until you scream my name.”
Brad’s breath caught at Matt’s words. His wrapped cock twitched at his tone. Yes, he wanted Matt to fuck him. He wanted to feel Matt’s cock in him, pumping in and out. When he released his breath, it picked a rapid pace.
“That’s what you have been wanting isn’t it Brad? For me to slide my thick cock deep into your body.”
Brad could not speak so he just nodded. “Good.” Matt smiled. “Now show me what you can do.”
Brad closed his eyes and took several deep breaths trying to control the hunger that surged through his body. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked down at his bound cock. He blanked out his mind, not thinking about what might happen if he could not keep his focus. He knew that Matt was right there, ready to heal him if he was to goof. Brad felt his power build in his gut as warmth spread to his limbs. Using intense concentration, Brad passed his hand over his hard length and watched amazed as the ribbon untied and fell to the floor. He looked up to Matt who greeted him with a large smile.
“See. I knew that you could do it. Now, for your reward.”
Matt raised his hand toward Brad. Brad felt a force turn him around and press his to the wall of the small building. He was held there by an invisible hand, unable to move from the coolness that seeped in. He turned his head and found that Matt had removed his shirt and was in the process of taking off his pants. He approached Brad and pressed his warmth against Brad’s back.
“You are stronger than you think. You just need the right motivation,” Matt whispered seductively into his ear.
Matt shifted until his own dick was nestled between Brad’s cheeks. He reached down and pulled them apart before pushing into Brad. Brad groaned at the sudden invasion of his body.
“You are always so tight.” Matt moaned at the hot tightness surrounding him.
“Matt,” Brad whimpered needing more, but he was still pinned to the wall, unable to move his hips back.
Matt’s hand went to Brad’s hair and grabbed a handful in his fingers. He jerked Brad’s head back and kissed him roughly. Matt loved the feel of Brad’s body against his. Anytime they were near each, he had to pull in his control as his mind screamed to take him, no matter where they were. He released his lover and loosened the hold, allowing Brad to push his hips back into him.
“Yes,” Matt hissed, thrusting in and out of Brad.
Brad could do nothing more than move his hips with Matt’s rhythm and moan as pleasure filled him, rushing through every vein of his body until it ended at his hard cock pressed against the wall. With each of Matt’s thrusts, it pushed Brad’s body up and down the wall, letting the cool surface do the stroking that Brad desperately wanted to do.
Matt’s pumping quickened and he knew that his lover was close to coming. “Fuck, yeah.” Brad growled, heat building in his balls. Matt pumped harder still.
“Ohhhhh….yesssss…aaaahhhhh….”
“Say it.” Matt panted, their sweat covered bodies rubbing against each other.
“Uuuuughgghhh…shhhitt…” Brad groaned. Finally he could take it no longer. “Yes! Fuck, Matt!!! Matt…..Yes!!!” Brad screamed as the warmth became a burning sensation as his cum squirted from his dick onto the wall.
“Brad,” Matt growled in his ear as he let his orgasm release.
They both fell to the floor, Matt’s hold on Brad gone. They lay there for several moments, breathing heavy, before they realize that voices outside the little building could be heard. It was singing. The adults had begun their practice and were just yards away. They were singing Let It Snow.
Brad chuckled. “That was really great.”
Matt nodded in agreement. “I’m hungry. Let’s go back to your place and finish the tree.”
The two got dressed and slid out of the building without anyone noticing them. They went back to Brad’s apartment where Brad took a shower while Matt cooked spaghetti for their dinner.
“Mmmm…smells good.” Brad said when he exited the bathroom with just a towel on. He sat at the bar across from Matt.
“It will be done in a few minutes.” Matt gave Brad a small smile.
Brad brought a small box from his lap and laid it on the countertop. “I was going to wait until tomorrow to give this to you but I decided to do it now, while we were alone.”
Matt looked surprised at Brad, then down at the gold box. It had a red ribbon on it, tied neatly on top. Matt smiled.
“Brad, you didn’t have to do this. I know how tight your money is.”
“I know, but I wanted to. You’ve been there for me through my life. You’ve always stood by me no matter what kind of an ass I was being. You are truly my soul mate, Matt. Now, with all the mushiness out of the way, open the damn thing.”
Matt watched as the ribbon slowly untied and fall away from the box. He chuckled as he picked up the box. He lifted the lid and found a gold ID bracelet lying on some cotton inside. Matt gently lifted it from the box and found that his name was engraved on it.
“Brad.” He was awed. He knew that this must have set him back financially.
“Turn it over.”
Matt flipped the bracelet and found that the back was engraved also. “To my life, my soul, my love.” Matt looked up at Brad, tears in his eyes.
“This is our fist Christmas officially together. I didn’t want it to go without something to remember it by.” .
“Thank you Brad.” Matt’s voice hitched, trying to hold back the tears. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Brad said as he leaned over and captured Matt’s lips.
Copyrighted 2007 - All rights belong to Marty Rayne
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Happy Holidays!
So, it's holiday time. If you celebrate Hanukkah, like I do, then your time for rushing around and getting just the perfect gift has passed. I still need to find a few things, however, since we spend Christmas Day with friends who celebrate it. Braving the mall today seems quite daunting.
I was thinking about the holiday-themed stories that are inevitably written at this time of year and I was wondering about them. I will read them, but tend not to purchase them (as a whole, but sometimes an individual story will catch my eye, such as Keira Andrews' Eight Nights) because it's often hard for me to go back during the year and re-read a holiday story during the summertime. That's purely a personal thing; I know there are hundreds of excellent Christmas/Kwanzaa/Yule/New Year stories published around this time and that thousands of readers get enjoyment from them. But is there anyone else who has trouble re-reading even a really good Christmas story in the spring? No? Okay, just me. :)
In any case, I still see slash potential at the holidays, even in music. Here's a little song I love to listen to at this time of year, because I can totally see these cowboys working the range together on Christmas Day and then going home to cuddle up by the fire. Give it a listen.
Jars of Clay -- Christmas for Cowboys
I was thinking about the holiday-themed stories that are inevitably written at this time of year and I was wondering about them. I will read them, but tend not to purchase them (as a whole, but sometimes an individual story will catch my eye, such as Keira Andrews' Eight Nights) because it's often hard for me to go back during the year and re-read a holiday story during the summertime. That's purely a personal thing; I know there are hundreds of excellent Christmas/Kwanzaa/Yule/New Year stories published around this time and that thousands of readers get enjoyment from them. But is there anyone else who has trouble re-reading even a really good Christmas story in the spring? No? Okay, just me. :)
In any case, I still see slash potential at the holidays, even in music. Here's a little song I love to listen to at this time of year, because I can totally see these cowboys working the range together on Christmas Day and then going home to cuddle up by the fire. Give it a listen.
Jars of Clay -- Christmas for Cowboys
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Drawing a Line in the Sheets
One of my late night guilty pleasures is watching Sex and the City on TBS. What does this have to do with slash, you might say? Well, in one of the early episodes Samantha is invited by her friends, a gay couple we know only as David & David, to have sex with her. She's having second thoughts, then thinks, "what the hell?" They start kissing, one on either side of her. We can tell Samantha is having a good time. David & David however, are another story. Before any more clothing is removed, they both rear up, tell Samantha, they can't do it, and rush out of the room.
I think some authors are that way too. What sounds good in theory takes a little getting used to. I'm currently collaborating with a friend. We've written together for ages, though mostly in worlds of our, or our other friend's, own making. I had her critique my novella For Love and Country. And when she did so, she said that m/m wasn't "her thing." That's cool. It's mine. I like it. And I appreciated her input, especially since she wasn't enamored of the genre.
And yet, we're now writing a story that starts off as m/m/f, but will probably end up being m/f/m because one man is bisexual, but in a relationship with the heroine, and the other man more of a closeted bi-sexual, whose first sexual experience in a long time is with the hero. And it kind of isn't by his choice. I mean, he does what he has to do, but he'd much rather be buried inside the heroine than the hero. In the story, it surprises them both how much they like it.
So where is that fine line... you can have a m/m sex scene (we have the heroine watching), but is it straight m/m because a woman is present? I proposed the idea of making her the creamy white filling in a hero-1/hero-2 sandwich so they're making love AROUND her. I've also proposed having her on the bottom with her current lover and then the new guy making love to the current lover. But then, with the addition of a bit of estrogen, it moves beyond being a truly m/m scene.
And to be honest, I'm really curious to see what she comes up with for that scene. Because I don't think I'm going to let her get off as easily as "Mary, you write this sex scene." LOL!!! (Yeah, I'm evil. It's fun!)
Readers have differing preferences between how many, or of what gender, they want in their sex scenes.I've had readers tell me that they won't read any m/m (And I kind of hope they change their mind because I have a lot of m/m coming out this next year. My muse is in a slashy mood, I guess.). I respect their choice, and I find it fascinating. So many books. So many letters and slashes...
It's all about where, and how, you draw the line in the sheets.
I think some authors are that way too. What sounds good in theory takes a little getting used to. I'm currently collaborating with a friend. We've written together for ages, though mostly in worlds of our, or our other friend's, own making. I had her critique my novella For Love and Country. And when she did so, she said that m/m wasn't "her thing." That's cool. It's mine. I like it. And I appreciated her input, especially since she wasn't enamored of the genre.
And yet, we're now writing a story that starts off as m/m/f, but will probably end up being m/f/m because one man is bisexual, but in a relationship with the heroine, and the other man more of a closeted bi-sexual, whose first sexual experience in a long time is with the hero. And it kind of isn't by his choice. I mean, he does what he has to do, but he'd much rather be buried inside the heroine than the hero. In the story, it surprises them both how much they like it.
So where is that fine line... you can have a m/m sex scene (we have the heroine watching), but is it straight m/m because a woman is present? I proposed the idea of making her the creamy white filling in a hero-1/hero-2 sandwich so they're making love AROUND her. I've also proposed having her on the bottom with her current lover and then the new guy making love to the current lover. But then, with the addition of a bit of estrogen, it moves beyond being a truly m/m scene.
And to be honest, I'm really curious to see what she comes up with for that scene. Because I don't think I'm going to let her get off as easily as "Mary, you write this sex scene." LOL!!! (Yeah, I'm evil. It's fun!)
Readers have differing preferences between how many, or of what gender, they want in their sex scenes.I've had readers tell me that they won't read any m/m (And I kind of hope they change their mind because I have a lot of m/m coming out this next year. My muse is in a slashy mood, I guess.). I respect their choice, and I find it fascinating. So many books. So many letters and slashes...
It's all about where, and how, you draw the line in the sheets.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Have a Merry & a Happy!
Here's a bit of Christmassy cheer with a pretty man whose been an inspiration to Anne and me. Enjoy ^_^
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Cowboys, country boys, best friends, and happy endings
Wow. This year has gone by quickly. It still feels like April or May to me, and December's almost over. O.o
I've got the perfect ending to it, too. I've got two things coming out before the end of this month--both from Torquere Press.
First up, Saturday morning sees the release of my Nice holiday Sip, "Don't Let Go". It's a short story of two best friends who finally realize there's much more than just friendship simmering beneath the surface.
Then I have Hearth & Home 3: Beginnings, coming out Dec. 29th. This is the final installment to my Hearth & Home Chaser series, starring Robbie Sexton and Seth Ellis, my beloved tattoo artist and his Texan cowboy. They deserve their happy ending, and they get it. :)
And now, for your reading pleasure, here's a little taste of "Don't Let Go"...
***
Heat washed over Dustin when the warmth of Jason’s breath met his skin. Dustin froze in mid-stir, the metal from the spatula warming as he held it over the cooking hamburger. Something soft brushed his neck and Dustin quickly realized it was Jason’s mouth, those fine lips moving over his flesh.
“Jason.”
“Hmm?”
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Jason plucked the spatula from Dustin’s hand and cupped Dustin’s face, turning his head to meet a calm, confident blue gaze. “Something I should’ve done instead of letting you go out with that son of a bitch,” he said, seconds before his mouth covered Dustin’s in a deep, thorough kiss.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck... This was so not happening, not... Oh, dear God, he tastes so fucking good.
Not sure where the hell to put his hands, Dustin just stood there, arms limp at his sides as his best friend plundered his mouth with a determined, questing tongue. Holy Mother of God, he was so hard, it hurt.
“You can touch, you know,” Jason muttered.
“Huh?” Dustin blinked, then moaned as Jason’s mouth moved down over his neck. Wha...?
“Touch. Me.” Jason nipped Dustin’s throat, setting off a lightning spark straight to his crotch.
“Jason.” Dustin finally managed to get his brain working again and caught Jason’s head in his hands. “What are we doing? I don’t want to fuck up our friendship, man.” No matter how bad I fucking want you.
I've got the perfect ending to it, too. I've got two things coming out before the end of this month--both from Torquere Press.
First up, Saturday morning sees the release of my Nice holiday Sip, "Don't Let Go". It's a short story of two best friends who finally realize there's much more than just friendship simmering beneath the surface.
Then I have Hearth & Home 3: Beginnings, coming out Dec. 29th. This is the final installment to my Hearth & Home Chaser series, starring Robbie Sexton and Seth Ellis, my beloved tattoo artist and his Texan cowboy. They deserve their happy ending, and they get it. :)
And now, for your reading pleasure, here's a little taste of "Don't Let Go"...
***
Heat washed over Dustin when the warmth of Jason’s breath met his skin. Dustin froze in mid-stir, the metal from the spatula warming as he held it over the cooking hamburger. Something soft brushed his neck and Dustin quickly realized it was Jason’s mouth, those fine lips moving over his flesh.
“Jason.”
“Hmm?”
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Jason plucked the spatula from Dustin’s hand and cupped Dustin’s face, turning his head to meet a calm, confident blue gaze. “Something I should’ve done instead of letting you go out with that son of a bitch,” he said, seconds before his mouth covered Dustin’s in a deep, thorough kiss.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck... This was so not happening, not... Oh, dear God, he tastes so fucking good.
Not sure where the hell to put his hands, Dustin just stood there, arms limp at his sides as his best friend plundered his mouth with a determined, questing tongue. Holy Mother of God, he was so hard, it hurt.
“You can touch, you know,” Jason muttered.
“Huh?” Dustin blinked, then moaned as Jason’s mouth moved down over his neck. Wha...?
“Touch. Me.” Jason nipped Dustin’s throat, setting off a lightning spark straight to his crotch.
“Jason.” Dustin finally managed to get his brain working again and caught Jason’s head in his hands. “What are we doing? I don’t want to fuck up our friendship, man.” No matter how bad I fucking want you.
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