Friday, November 30, 2012

M.A. Church: Nighttime Dreams

While I am enjoying a wintry visit to family, my good friend M.A. Church has agreed to blogsit and interview her characters, Brian and Daroshi, from her new book Nighttime Wishes. So please welcome her, and enjoy the guys!

Question: When did you realize you care for Daroshi and was happy you are his mate? Was it something Daroshi said, or did it just sneak up on you?

Bryan: I think it was when he took me back to earth to get some of my things. We didn’t have a lot of time with the jump coming up. He could’ve blown me off with the excuse of lack of time, but he didn’t. I guess that’s when it became clear he really wanted me to be happy, and would do his best to make me happy. Now, as far as being happy as his mate, that’s a little harder to answer.

Daroshi: *tentacles jerking on his back* What does that mean? You are not happy? Bryan, I want you to be happy!

Bryan: I’m not saying I’m unhappy, big guy. Calm down. All I’m saying is things are still too new between us. I have no idea what my life will be like once we get to your world, how I’ll be treated, what I’ll do every day. I’m still settling in, you know what I mean? Things are still… I’m adjusting.

Daroshi: You will be happy as my mate; I will make sure of it.

Bryan: *Grin* I’m sure you will. And I’ll be sure to help you along, too.

Question: Does you still bake? If so, what do the aliens think of it? *insert mental picture of alien eating a chocolate chip cookie*

Bryan: I’m gonna kill M very slowly! *Laugh* so much for my secret. So far, I haven’t had much of a chance to do any baking. I’m hoping once we get to their home world, Daroshi can make something like an oven for me. He should be able to do that, right? *eyes Daroshi* Hey, what can I say, I like to bake.

Daroshi: What is this bake? What is a chocolate chip cookie? What I saw that night at your house wasn’t very good looking, I have to say.

M: Oh good Lord, you haven’t reduplicated him a cookie? Bryan!

Bryan: Um, guys, if you remember I had someone trying to—

M: Hey, hey, hey! *Waves hands frantically* Don’t finish that sentence!

Bryan: Ooops. *Blush* Sorry about that. Don’t want to give away the end of the book.

Question: If there was one thing you could go back and get on earth what would it be?

Bryan: Right now, the first thing that comes to mind is my damn gun. Seriously, I need it. But other than that, I guess I’d like to have my new mattress. You know, the one I just bought and had to leave behind.

Daroshi: *Grumbles* I made you one.

Bryan: Still not as nice as the one I left behind.

Question: So, Bryan's mate is an ALIEN!!! Scales, tentacles, along with human features… I would like to know what he thinks is Daroshi's sexiest feature.

M: *Snicker* Bet I know the answer to that one.

Bryan: Shut you, you. *Clears throat* Okay, well. I’d have to say the tentacles. I’m not going into why I like them so much. I’ll just say they are… useful. Outside of that, I’d say his eyes. They’re really cool.

Question: I want to know what the first thought Bryan had when he first saw the aliens.

Bryan: Oh, that’s easy: “Oh shit, I’m fucked.” I mean, the first one I saw was Ziang, and it was night too. Scared the hell out of me, to be honest. This dude was huge, and mean-looking. Yeah, I freely admit it, I was scared shitless.

Daroshi: Oh come on, we aren’t that scary.

Bryan: Keep telling yourself that. I know M tried to make ya’ll intimidating, without being horrifying. Still, you guys are really big close up.

M: *Grin* And I do believe that’s something you liked, right, Bryan?

Bryan: Oh yeah, I very much like.  *Wink*

Daroshi: He likes that I can pick him up, in case anyone was curious. And he’s not a little guy, either.

Bryan and M: Daroshi!

Daroshi: What? “Looks around* What did I do now???

~Hope ya’ll enjoy speaking with Bryan and Daroshi. J

The first book is called Nighttime Wishes. The second book is Nighttime Dreams, and there is one more book in the series coming soon: Nighttime Promises.

Smashwords buy link:
ARe buy link:
Amazon buy link:

Bryan, a simple country sheriff, is ready to shoot someone and hide the body. One particular homophobic FBI agent is really pressing his buttons. Along with that he finds himself in the middle of an FBI investigation revolving around a recent UFO crash landing, is questioned about a missing friend targeted by the FBI, and makes first contact with the very alien the FBI is hunting.

Daroshi, a Ma’Rairan warrior, has fulfilled his obligation to his species, and is ready to mate. As second in command he monitored the rescue of his captain who crashed on Earth while collecting his mate, and witnessed the confrontation between a country sheriff name Bryan and his captain. Impressed by how courageously the brawny human male handled meeting a fully armed alien warrior, Daroshi asks permission to take Bryan as a mate.

Neither male is ready for the problems that come with Daroshi’s decision, nor the passion that explodes between them.

Ziang and Daroshi transported down into Bryan’s backyard. The night was pitch black, the moon hid behind layers of fluffy clouds. Branches in the trees danced soothingly to gentle breezes. An abundance of shrubs moved silently in the quietly swirling wind. Bryan’s small house was set away from the main road and deep in the woods, alone and isolated. Much like the owner.

“Interesting set-up he has.” Daroshi looked around. “Bit cut off, though.”

“That’s good for us. The last thing we need is more attention, and that FBI agent showing up,” Ziang said. “I want this to go clean and fast.”

“True. Of course, if he did show up, we could give him to Haya.”

“I don’t like the human, but I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.” Ziang tapped the communications device on his wrist, loading in their landing coordinates. “Since Bryan is a law enforcement officer, set your weapon to low stun, just in case.”

“Ziang, I don’t want to stun him if it can be avoided.”

“Neither do I, but Shawn’s words keep replaying in my head. Most bullets won’t hurt us, but then, Bryan isn’t most humans. I’m sure he has other weapons in his house that could be dangerous.”

“But their weapons are so primitive.”

“That may be, but primitive can wound just as easily as advanced. Set your stunner to low, and use only if needed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll distract him, and you unarm him, if necessary. I know you don’t want me touching him.”

“No more than you’d want my hands on Shawn.”

“Understood. And no, I wouldn’t.”

“Should we activate our invisibility?”

“No, it’s dark enough. If we just appear, we may scare him even more.”

They crept around the house, moving carefully though the darkness. Both activated their face shields for night vision. They blended with the night, silent hunters that became one with the darkness and shadows; predators with a mission. The prey was inside, unaware of what was closing in on him. Ziang opened his wrist weapon and pinpointed Bryan in the house by his body heat. He motioned for Daroshi to follow him to the back of the house. They’d enter through the back door in the kitchen. As they passed the open window, Daroshi came to a stop when he heard Bryan’s comment about his hand and a big red dildo.

His body came alive and his tentacles jerked against his back. A low growl of desire slipped out. Ziang immediately sliced his hand through the air, calling for silence. Daroshi couldn’t help himself; the very image of Bryan working a dildo up his ass inflamed him and sent his desire for the human spinning out of control. Daroshi respected this human’s bravery and his dedication to an often thankless job, but now there was more. He could scent Bryan’s arousal. The scent was unlike anything he’d ever smelled, sharp and musky. From the depths of his soul the word mine exploded in his head. He wanted Bryan with a passion he hadn’t felt, ever, and he’d do whatever it took to ease him into his new life.

In his excitement, he made a rookie mistake. As he passed the window, he didn’t bend down low enough to conceal himself.
* * * *
Bryan sat at the table, waiting for the cookies to bake, when he heard a low growl, quickly smothered, outside the window. He’d heard something very similar, and not long ago. It wasn’t a sound he’d ever forget. Every hair on his body stood up, adrenaline spiked, and his heart kicked into high gear. A cold flush spread though his body. From the corner of his eye, he caught the blurry shape of something moving under the window. He glanced at the back door and his stomach cramped. It was unlocked. 
There was no way he could lock it before the intruder busted through. And if he was right, and what was out there was what he thought it was, a wood door wasn’t going to stop it. Plus, the window was open.

Calmly he stood and reached for the drawer by the stove. His off-duty weapon was stored there. He grabbed the taser, too. Why was the alien back and sneaking around his house? If it was the alien that Shawn left with, why not just show itself? He’d seen it before, so why act like this? He’d seen lights in the nighttime sky shortly after Shawn left with his alien, but he assumed they were monitoring the situation, to make sure all was okay before they left. It never crossed his mind they were watching him. 
Why would they be watching him? Another unsettling thought hit Bryan. Had something bad happened to Shawn? If that was Shawn’s alien, and he wasn’t sure it was, had it returned to let him know? But that was silly; he couldn’t communicate with it like Shawn could.

What the hell was going on?

The handle on the back door turned slowly. Bryan tried to slow his breathing; he was sucking air and that wasn’t good. The door eased opened, an inch at a time. He held his ground as the door opened and he found himself staring at a seven and half foot alien… again.

M.A. Church lives in the southern United States and spent many years in the elementary education sector. She is married to her high school sweetheart and they have two children. Her hobbies are gardening, walking, attending flea markets, watching professional football, racing, and spending time with her family on the lake.

But her most beloved hobby is reading. From an early age, she can remember hunting for books at the library. Later nonhuman and science fiction genres captured her attention and drew her into the worlds the authors had created. But always at the back of her mind was the thought that one day, when the kids were older and she had more time, she would write a book.

By sheer chance she stumbled across a gay male romance story on the web and was hooked. A new world opened up and she fell in love. Thus the journey started. When not writing or researching, she enjoys reading the latest erotic and mainstream romance novels.

Twitter @nomoretears00

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Wednesday Briefs: Useful Things #7

This week’s installment of “Useful Things” continues the story of Jesse/Rasvim and his alien captor, Majak. Hope you enjoy! Also, please stop by the other Wednesday Briefers and read their stories. A link at the bottom of this post will take you to them. 

I like using the visual prompts and put this week’s in the story where it belongs. As for Rasvim and Majak, I decided it was time to shake up the POV…


Useful Things #7

Majak Suen-Shargal had petitioned the Var Sareem to appoint him as governor of Qatiyya. Several of the Var’s nobles of lower rank had sought the position. The planet, for all its tiny size, boasted life in abundance and life could be manipulated for riches in ways ores and minerals could not. Unfortunately, Qatiyya had been discovered by a privately funded consortium that had ruthlessly exploited the planet’s blood meat. The consortium had managed to keep the location of the source world secret for two decades, during which time every large species that could provide desirable red meat had been harvested, many to extinction. The most profitable species had been shipped to consortium farms and genetically manipulated to further profits and provide for extending the illegal enterprise.

Majak had reluctantly yielded his rich holding of the xul-gas planet Sulil in exchange for governorship of a planet nearly stripped of its useful fauna by opportunists and racked by prolonged conflict between consortium hold-outs and Aeth Imperial forces.

“I wager you now regret having sought appointment here.” The silver-backed Aeth speaking, Rab Sua-ti, had been Majak’s second for years. They walked the long gallery to the map room, where Majak would meet with a delegation of scientists tasked with restoring populations of native ruminants.

“The reasons I did so remain. I will regret it only if I fail.”

“Humans? Wild. Useless. Perhaps what was done to them was for the best.”

Majak saw no reason to return to that argument. Most of the Var Sareem’s Council felt that way. He did not. “I don’t believe we have truly made contact with them. Those salvaged from farms are genetically altered to be submissive and only marginally intelligent. They are generations removed from their origins and have no record or memory of what they are. The feral humans here are not the same creatures at all.”

“The feral humans here slay us at every opportunity.”

“Can you blame them?”

“No. But every attempt to make contact leaves us or them dead.”

“Not every attempt.”

“The human you secured from Osvith?” Rab’s nostrils flared with disagreement. “Captured young, handled, enslaved… he’s not truly one of them. Not anymore. I repeat my caution about that one. You cannot be certain Osvith did not condition him to be harmful in some way.”

Majak acknowledged the concern. “I am taking precautions. Rasvim is… interesting. He’s of true, unaltered human stock, one of few in our possession. The advantage of Rasvim is he knows our language.”

Rab sighed. “Meemsi, my human female, speaks Aeth. You taught Enir. Humans who speak Aeth make better companions and are certainly more useful for comfort.”

“I believe Rasvim will be useful for far more than comfort.”

They were at the map room. The delegation waited inside. Majak clapped Rab on the arm and they entered to meet the first of several obligations for that day.

* * * *

Night and Qattiya’s one pale moon illuminated the clouds by the time Majak returned to private quarters. As he had ordered, Rasvim knelt in the middle of the room. Majak took a moment to observe the young human.

Rasvim’s posture was perfect, his naked body graceful and relaxed. Osvith’s rigorous training showed. But even in the warehouse, Rasvim had shown signs of cataloguing everything around him. It was more than his unusual memory—a talent Majak planned to explore further—and hinted at an active mind. Like now. The human tried to keep his eyes submissively lowered but could not resist peeking at his surroundings. Osvith had lived crudely, like an animal. Rasvim had probably never seen a true Aeth bedchamber before. What did he make of the luxurious bed with its array of privacy screens? Or the images of alien landscapes that graced the chamber’s black glass walls?

What did he think?

He noted Rasvim’s gaze rested on an image of purple trees etched against a brilliant green sky.

“Nin, my home world.” Majak identified the image.

Startled, the human ducked his head, resuming a posture of perfect submission. Majak frowned. Breaking Rasvim’s fear-based responses would be his greatest challenge. Instilling trust and confidence would take patience—and time. He approached, asserting his mastery by laying his finger pads on the vulnerable back of Rasvim’s neck, detecting a controlled shudder beneath the warm silken skin.

Of all the species the Aeth had discovered and conquered, humans were the most useful. They were warm-blooded and, due to their size and musculature, could serve as blood meat—but they also were pleasingly built, comparable in size to Aeth, and strangely attractive. Both species walked upright and had similar faces. Aeth had short or no hair. Humans had very little and the hair on their heads was decorative and appealing. Aeth had four powerful limbs. Humans also had four limbs—though they were hoofless, differently jointed, built as much for climbing as running, suggesting an arboreal origin. And human skin was prized for its fine texture and almost luminous beauty.

Majak traced a slow path down the ridges of Rasvim’s spine and admired the human’s control.

“You performed perfectly at the reception,” he said. “Alaksu predicted you would lapse. I knew you would not.”

“Thank you, Master.” Rasvim’s voice betrayed no discernible emotion.

Majak ceased touching him, though he regretted abandoning that warm, lovely skin. He looked forward to the day he could indulge touching more—much more—of this human. He was not surprised that he had sexual interest in Rasvim. An Aeth male in his prime was expected to exercise sexual domination of other males, of his own species when needed and of comfort species for pleasure. He had studied humans extensively in preparation for eventually using one.

But he would do so respectfully. Ownership of a sapient being required no less.

Blood meat was prized. Sexual service helped channel primitives urges. But what other useful qualities might a human possess? And what would become of the Aeth if humans were more?


Thank you for reading! Usually this spot has the links to all the other posts... but this week I am not around to add the links. So here is the link to a blog that will have all those links as well as a first-rate story of its own.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Happy Thanksgiving and Jiggly Stuff

It used to be my favorite part of Thanksgiving was cranberry sauce. And why not anymore, you might ask? Because I don't cook for myself. But I was reading Helen Pattskyn's blog and her recipe for cranberry sauce [TRY IT!] got me to thinking about Thanksgiving and that my feelings about writing are a lot like my feelings about making cranberry sauce.

You see, years ago when I was a really young cook, one of my great ambitions was to turn out a great Thanksgiving meal. I worked hard at it, too! Year after year, through my children’s baby and toddler years, I perfected making a juicy big turkey and all the fixings. For a Wisconsin girl this was a laudable achievement, the gold standard of success for a homemaker, and I kid you not that my family of strapping 6’+ brothers could put away 15 pounds of mashed potatoes and completely reduce a 24 pound turkey AND a ham to well-gnawed bones. A must-have was cranberry sauce made with fresh cranberries, and I ended up with a fine collection of delicious ways to prepare the dish.

By the time my three boys were grown, I was up to 20 pounds of mashed potatoes, a turkey, ham, AND turkey breast on the side. Stuffing, check. Glazed carrots, check. Stewed apples and buttery sweet yams, check. Braised celery almondine, fresh rolls, corn and ham fritters, and cranberry sauce—check. 

And then BANG! I moved to Philadelphia, married into a totally non-Midwest family, and entered culture shock.

First off, the turkey made the transition. Turns out, Steve the Strategist’s family had bad luck with turkeys. I could do that! After my success with the turkey, I sat back and tried to introduce my other recipes. Some recipes made it, though braised celery got nixed. So did the cranberry sauce with real cranberries. When I suggested it, my in-laws looked at me like I’d suggested haggis.

They wanted the jellied stuff from the can.

And I’m going… but… but… that stuff’s fake! The other kind is real!

They don’t want real. They absolutely love their jiggly cranjelly. They don’t even want to try it any other way.

Which kind of ties into my feelings about writing. Now I’ll say upfront I don’t know for certain how readers regard my stories. Maybe they think my writing is real cranberry sauce like Helen’s lovely recipe or what I want to make, or maybe they consider it jiggly canned food for the masses. Frankly, I’d rather not know. But when I’m writing, I like to think I’m making custom cranberry sauce. Fresh berries, fruit zest, spices, sugar… maybe a little booze… mixed in my grandmother’s turn of the last century mixing bowls, tasted and tweaked and bursting with rich colors and flavors. Making real food makes me feel good, and so does my writing. 


This morning I’ll stuff and cook a nice fat turkey, peel five pounds of potatoes and a couple of yams, whip up some fritters and glaze some carrots. Just as we’re serving dinner in the afternoon I will take a chilled can out of the fridge, open it, slide a glob of jellied vaguely reddish stuff onto a plate, slice it, and serve it with a smile. The meal is about the guests… not the cook. The cook dreams of fresh cranberry sauce, but the guests sure do love their jiggly stuff! God bless their happy little hearts.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Wednesday Briefs: Useful Things #6

Thanks for stopping by for this week’s Wednesday Brief, a 1000 word flash story—or episode, in my case—based on the weekly prompts. My story is m/m science fiction headed toward romance and, well, more. This week’s prompts included: fantasy, extinct, brilliance.


Useful Things #6

The Aeth reception hall had a ceiling of light and a floor of black glass. The Aeth gathered in numbers and brought their pets. Majak was the only Aeth with two.

Rasvim controlled a shudder at the gazes of so many Aeth. He had seen them too often as predators to completely believe the transformation into diplomats. As Alaksu put the finishing touches on his appearance, she had informed him the reception was for important Aeth who governed Earth under Majak’s overlordship. He understood more than she knew. Osvith had slain one holder and boasted of being de facto administrator of the holding that included Baltimore.

Ver Majak looked regal, his lean body clothed in form-fitting teal cloth that warmed his gray skin. A high collar showed off his chain of office. His piercing mauve-purple eyes were his only ornament other than the gauntlets of bluish metal that all Aeth wore as their personal weaponry. Enir knelt near Majak’s elegantly shod feet and Rasvim did the same near his head.

Rasvim had been instructed to pose in submission only to Majak unless otherwise ordered by his master, so he knelt with his buttocks on his calves and his body upright. The posture displayed him to the guests and he looked especially showy. A thong of thin fishnet silk barely covered his genitals and emphasized his bulge. He’d also been fitted with wing-like nipple shields from which thumb-nail sized rubies dangled like two drops of blood. He looked exotic, like a fantasy. By contrast, Enir’s colorful, form-fitting torso and limb sheaths gave him a playful look much more in tune with most of the other pets.

Nine holders occupied the ring of couches around a central table laden with food. Majak looked completely at ease speaking to the guest on his right, an Aeth with narrow sharp features and silver striations of hair on his head and shoulders. His name was Gabir and his holding was across the Lesser Ocean.

“Mystifying creatures, these humans,” said Gabir. His admiring gaze swept both slaves attending Majak. “The wild ones are very dangerous. My holding is riddled with pockets of them. But the tamed ones are exquisite.”

“Yes.” Majak’s long fingers stroked Enir, who kept his eyes lowered and smiled softly. “Our scientists have determined they are sapient, and more intelligent than we were originally told. We were shocked to discover they could learn our language.”

“Yes, yes. And the ruins here show far greater sophistication than we were led to believe. I’ve found evidence of art—and flying machines!”

“Satellite scan recently located a primitive nuclear reactor.” Though Rasvim kept his eyes lowered submissively, his ears pulled in Majak’s words. He would make sense of them later, but for now he listened. “Yet when human meat first appeared, it was marketed as being from a newly discovered herd species, sub-sentient.”

“And tasty!”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Ah. It’s easy to forget you do not eat meat.” Gabiri waved a ring-laden hand at the table. “You serve such prime cuts to your guests.”

“And none of it human. I believe our race’s obsession with eating blood meat is an unnecessary obstacle to our advancement. Rendering humans almost extinct on this planet is just one of the results.”

Rasvim shivered when Majak’s delicate hoof-pad touched his shoulder. He was being asked to perform. He glanced up to see Majak’s other hand extending a bit of food. A plump red berry coated with sugar. For him? Not knowing what else to do, he opened his mouth to accept the treat. Majak’s fingers pressed between his lips and laid the berry on his tongue. As Rasvim pressed the fruit against the top of his mouth, trapping it there, the tip of his tongue caressed Majak’s velvety hoof-tips. Majak did not remove them, but left them in place as Rasvim’s eyes locked with his.

Rasvim blinked. His cock thickened, pushing up against the mesh of thong encasing it. Conditioning made him stroke his tongue submissively across his master’s sensitive pads. Majak’s eyes warmed.

“Gorgeous,” said Gabir. He took a purple wafer from the table and fed it to his own pet. The adoring, silent creature taking it from him was much smaller than a human. It had red scales, flat little ears, and a snout with an upturned nose.

An Aeth wearing a garment of some exotic skin leaned toward Majak from the left. “Humans were a rare find. Blood meat is our heritage! So is sensuality and indulgence. How many intelligent species have we converted to our uses, be it for sport or pleasure? Are humans so different?”

Majak broke gaze with Rasvim and pulled back his fingers. Rasvim averted his eyes and pressed the berry against his palate until sweetness burst across his tongue. While maintaining submissive posture, he looked at the other Aeth and the human kneeling at his side. A female, her ebony skin polished to brilliance, looked back at him.

“It has been against our law to eat self-aware beings for centuries,” said Majak, settling back on his couch. His voice carried a note of censure. “Hiding this fact for forty years was criminal. And the fortunes made by slaughtering these creatures were obscene. By the time we discovered the truth, genetic designers had modified captive humans in ways that remove them from protection. They are widely sold.”

“We barely know what they were like before their exploitation,” the suited Aeth conceded.

“I aim to find out. One of my goals as Governor is to attempt to salvage the species here, on its home planet.”

“They do make lovely companions, though.” Gabir fed another wafer to his scaly pet. “No other species is so sensual, or better suited for the pleasure chamber.”

“I think they can be more.” Majak touched Rasvim, tracing his jaw.

“Then prove it, dear Majak,” said Gabir. “We have enslaved many species for pleasure and companionship—but none who are more.”


Please stop by the other Wednesday Briefers to see what fun flash stories they have posted.

Cia Nordwell
Lily Sawyer    m/m 
MC Houle      m/m
Victoria Adams      m/f
Elizabeth Morgan    m/f
Nephylim     m/m

Friday, November 16, 2012

End Game

I just sent a novel to my beta reader and I feel a bit dejected. It's always that way when I finish a book. I spend hours, days, weeks... months writing a story. At times I live and breathe the story 24/7. I go to sleep thinking about. I wake up thinking about it. I think about it while I shower and cook and drive. It's neither safe nor healthy, I'm sure, but that's the way I write. And then... BAM! I have an empty nest.

My family is always happy when I'm between books. I'm less distracted and can converse about things that actually require participation in the greater scheme of life, like hanging out with friends, discovering new stores, or making phone calls to find out if anyone has died or given birth during my period of total immersion. Steve the Strategist and I play video games, instead of him playing a video game while I scribble plot points on a legal pad, pretending I'm doing something besides writing. I also feed him better meals because, let's face it, it takes more time and thought to cook ossobuco or beef bourguignon than turkey burgers. 

After finishing a book, I have to clear it from my mind. That can take a few days. I put away my notes, filing them in a folder. I remove inspirational photos, toss scribbled post-its, give the desk a good polish for the brief time it will be clean. I scrub the kitchen floor because it almost always needs it. I get my teeth cleaned. I walk the dog and spend extra time at the gym. I go shopping.

Shopping is good, especially at this time of year. So wish me well, because writing is no longer stealing my time. It's time to spend, baby!

Pretty soon, my husband will be begging me to write another book. :D

photo credit: <a href="">okaysamurai</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Wednesday Briefs: Useful Things #5

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, 1000 words of free flash—or in my case, another episode of my serial m/m science fiction story, which is threatening to run away with me and turn into a novel. 

This week's prompts included a visual prompt that spoke to Rasvim's situation, even if that isn't immediately clear. It got me to thinking...


Useful Things #5

Rasvim started at the sound, twisting so he could spring to his feet. Water flew as Enir yelped. Alaksu and two unfamiliar, silent creatures stood at poolside. Fixed by three sets of eyes, Rasvim froze.

“He is clean?” Alaksu continued to peer at him intently.

“Yes, ahgli,” said Enir.

Ahgli. It meant ‘keeper.’ Alaksu was the keeper of Ver Majak’s pets, or maybe his household. The word sounded very like an Old Human word for something repulsive. Rasvim fought a smile at the prospect of using the word often, even if the slight mispronunciation irritated her.

“And the jack ring deprogramming?”

“Successful. And Rasvim is fluent in the Aeth language, as Ver Majak said. You can instruct him.”

Alaksu grunted. She flicked her hand at one of the walls, which dissolved to reveal an alcove with a table. “This way,” she ordered. The two creatures with her followed.

Rasvim obeyed, though he turned to Enir. “You were testing the ring?” He couldn’t decide if he felt humiliated, disappointed, or angry. All three emotions warred within him… and he couldn’t afford even one. Emotions were weakness. Emotions led to mistakes. Mistakes got humans killed.

“I thought you would prefer my way to having Alaksu masturbate you.”

He swallowed and tightened his jaw, not quite sure he might not have preferred that. Having his body perform tricks for alien amusement was ordinary for him now. But he had thought… was he really na├»ve enough to believe a human slave to the Aeth would be any different?

“Rasvim… Jesse, stop.” Enir said, grabbing him by the wrist. The small human spoke softly. “I like you.” Large blue eyes lifted to his, pleading. “I can feel your anger. Don’t be angry. I get to play sometimes with humans who belong to other Aeth who come to visit, but you are the first human Ver Majak has brought into our household. I… thought you would like it. The others did.”

“I’m not angry,” he answered, “not really, I’m just—I can’t be touched like that.”

 “But why not?”

Because it confuses me.

“Enir! Keep your hands to yourself. Rasvim is not some new toy for you to play with. He belongs to Ver Majak.” Alaksu turned her wrinkled gray head toward Rasvim, nostrils flaring. “Stop smelling afraid, human. You are here for healing. I will not hurt you. I need you on this table. You speak Aeth? Understand?”

“Yes, Ugly,” he said in what he hoped was a sufficient demonstration. Enir went to a nearby bench while Rasvim obeyed.

He lay upon the table and found it warm. Alaksu’s hands were efficient, checking his skin and determining whatever knowledge of him she needed. She spoke crisply to her creatures, using a language other than Aeth. Pink alien bodies balanced on four squat legs from which a bony torso rose, topped by a flat head and sprouting four arms, each terminating in four twig-like fingers. Those fingers held grooming instruments: combs, blades, needles. Rasvim tensed. At Osvith’s, he’d been groomed by a single, scarred Aeth.

When Alaksu was satisfied as to what she wanted to be done with him, she snapped orders to the groomers. One went to work on Rasvim’s hair and head. The other began trimming around his groin and defoliating his knees. He was being made pretty.

Relief washed through him and he arranged his limbs or presented his body in whatever way they indicated. Aeth did not prettify their food. They prettified humans for display, or before using them sexually. Either suited. Majak would use him no worse than Osvith had. Humans who weren’t useful to the Aeth were dead meat. It was something humans said about people who made mistakes. ‘The minute he does that, he’s dead meat.’ Some mistakes rendered a person already dead in the future, because the mistakes were irrevocable.

The idiom wasn’t completely transferable, however. Osvith had preferred live meat.

When the grooming was done, Rasvim stood for Alaksu’s inspection. Every inch of his skin glowed from vigorous scrubbing followed by lotions. His groin hair had been shaved and trimmed to a neat shield with a spike of black hair pointing up to his navel. He had no hair at all left in his butt crack, and his sac and cock were completely hairless. When Alaksu—who looked pleased—had one of the creatures hold up a mirror so he could see himself, Rasvim noticed that his hair had been cut, feathered and fashioned through grooming into a glossy black crest complete with blood red tips. His eyebrows had been plucked to remove hair near his nose and create a sweep to the outside curve that emphasized his eyes. His lips had been tinted lightly also, to a natural rosy hue.

“You’re so beautiful!” Enir said. No one had asked his opinion, but he stood beside Alaksu with his jaw hanging open.

“Ver Majak is seldom incorrect about potential.” Alaksu looked down at Enir and her eyes softened as she ran gray fingers through Enir’s pale, feathered crest. She lifted her chin imperiously. “Rasvim, do you know how to kneel to the Aeth? Yes? Show me. How do you kneel to your master to await his bidding?”

He knelt as he had upon first meeting Ver Majak. Osvith had taught him well. There were seven postures of submission, and he performed each for Alaksu as she presented the situation. His master’s bidding. In attendance while seated. For punishment. To respect an Aeth not his master. To demonstrate submission. To appeal to an Aeth for mercy or consideration. For awaiting judgment.

When he was finished, his body stretched out on the floor and helpless in full abject awaiting judgment, Alaksu harrumphed again.

“You move gracefully. I believe you will do. Rise again.”

“Thank you, Ugly,” he said, hiding a smile.

“Go with Enir. He will show you your room. Eat and sleep. Tomorrow you both will attend Ver Majak at a reception for the Holders.”

Please take a moment to stop by the other Wednesday Briefers and check out their wonderful stories.

Nephylim     m/m
Lily Sawyer      m/m 
Cia Nordwell     m/m

Monday, November 12, 2012

The Next Big Thing: Find Out What I'm Working on Next

M.A. Church is not just a wonderful writer, she is a friend who pokes, prods, and teases me into doing some of my best work. If she wasn’t having so much fun writing her own stories, she’s make one heck of a Muse. Her most recent nudge was to tag for The Next Big Thing, in which authors get to talk about their favorite thing: their work, and what their current Work in Progress is.

Whether a writer is published or not writing can be a bit of a grind at times. Events like this one put a little fun into it and help create a sense of community.

What is your working title of your book?

Thick as Thieves

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I participate in a weekly flash called the Wednesday Briefs, and for my very first brief the prompt was “unicorn, mandolin, and any plant”. That inspired the characters of Vorgell, a giant barbarian who’d smoked some strange plant and then put a unicorn horn to imaginative use, and his reluctant (at first) partner Madd, a mandolin-thieving male witch.

What genre does your book fall under?

Erotic gay male sword and sorcery.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Chris Hemsworth has the right look for Vorgell. For Madd, I have no clue.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Vorgell, a barbarian who took a unicorn horn up the ass and is now a sex-crazed adventurer, falls in love with a thieving young witch, Maddog, when he tries to help him defeat an evil Baron and a witch-killing wizard.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Submitted to a publisher.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Five months. Normally it wouldn’t take me this long, but for the first three months I was posting it as 1,000 word installments on my blog.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

It’s lofty, I know, but the Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling, just with more sex.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I love pulpy fantasy fiction. Thick as Thieves harks back to those kinds of stories, set in a world of magic filled with bold barbarians, sneaky thieves, and bad guys up to all sorts of no good. I grabbed the chance to unleash my wild and wacky fantasy side and let ‘er rip.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

The book is a romp. It’s a road story about two men thrown together by events, then team up in desperation because no one else wants anything to do with them. Vorgell’s a giant physically, and thanks to the unicorn horn, he’s full of extra-strength magic and wants to have sex constantly. Madd is smaller and fiery, and carries a chip on his shoulder that’s way bigger than he is. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing an evil baron’s love collar. Moving from lust to love is the real journey the partners undertake as they take on a world of secretive witches, nefarious wizards, and their own dark secrets. Oh, and there's a basilisk.

I've been so busy I didn't get around to lining up friends to be tagged, so I'll simply single out three writers I think everyone should get to know better. If you visit their blogs, you're sure to find out more about what they're doing.

Shira Anthony, author of the brilliant Blue Notes series, is working on a book about pirates and mermen that will be released next summer.

Courtney Milan writes gorgeous m/f historical romances. 

Michael Rupured, author of the upcoming novel Until Thanksgiving. 

Friday, November 9, 2012

Dangerous Beauty Cover Art

I don't have a release date yet, but here's the cover art for my upcoming Pride of Uttor novel, Dangerous Beauty. The book is a m/m romance and a sequel to Captive Heart.  Resplendence will be the publisher.

Dangerous Beauty tells the tale of Julissa's brother, Endre, and continues the story of the captured Sebboyan royal family.

Once the Kordeun family ruled Sebboy… now they are imperial captives of the Uttoran Emperor. Devout and studious, Endre Kordeun loves his family and will do anything to free them, even if that means pretending he is homosexual so he can pass messages to his father’s shady allies. With his golden good looks and a beautiful male courtesan posing as his lover, Endre finds Uttor’s decadent society more than willing to believe his ruse.

But when a passionate kiss from a dark, gorgeous man unlocks feelings Endre had been hiding even from himself, lies start to unravel. Arshad, prince of Tabar, is Endre’s match in every way… including a shared love for science and celestial mechanics. Going forward with his charade will be dangerous, and not only because he might be discovered. In that event, even his own father would kill him. How much is Endre willing to risk for love?

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Wednesday Briefs: Useful Things #4

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, a weekly flash series with a 1000 word limit. This week I ratchet up the story a bit. I'm still in that space where I want to see where it goes. Each of the other weeks, I used one of the visual prompts for inspiration, but this week I used the prompt “When was the last time you....?”

This story is m/m science fiction. It portrays a relationship of dubious consent between an alien and a human. Just sayin’...


Useful Things #4

Rasvim tried to grasp what Enir was telling him, but the young human’s hands made focus difficult. They skimmed his chest, fingers lightly brushing his nipples and awakening an unwanted frisson of response. He hated the way his body had been conditioned, that he became so easily aroused. At least he was standing in water up to his waist, though that could not completely conceal his erection.

“You’re perfect,” Enir said. His hands slipped lower until they rested on Rasvim’s hips. Rasvim wanted to give in to that touch, but kept his eyes open, fastened on Enir’s blue ones. Enir had shed his cap and his crest of pale gold hair shimmered with tips of aquamarine. “Majak will be pleased. You were a pleasure slave, weren’t you?”

He nodded. Enir unsettled him. He had not spoken with another human for nearly a year. Osvith had eaten the last child with whom he exchanged words. He was incapable of forgetting the girl. She’d had golden hair and blue eyes like Enir’s.

“Relax,” said Enir. “No one here will hurt you.” He picked something round and soft out of the water and began to run it, dripping and warm, over Rasvim’s limbs. “Majak treats humans well. He believes we can be used gently and intelligently, in ways that benefit the Aeth beyond the satisfying of base needs.”

The water felt good. Warm. Relaxing. Rasvim sighed and followed Enir’s directions, lowering himself into it up to his chin. He stayed silent as Enir chattered, simultaneously washing his hair and looking through the sodden roots for lice. He would find none. Osvith had doused him frequently.

“You were feral, weren’t you?”

“For a while.”

“What do you remember?”

Everything. But he shook his head. He had broken already under Osvith’s torture and told what he knew. He was glad he hadn’t learned of other human hiding places to betray. “Nothing useful,” he said.

“Did you have a human name?”

No one had ever asked him that. The few humans he had met had been too young to have names of their own. “Jesse,” he said. Tears welled and he had to choke out the word. He still heard his name rolling on his father’s voice, in his mother’s soft tones. Heard her scream it, the last sound she made before being brought down by a poacher’s bolt.

Enir stroked the back of his head until he was calm again. It didn’t take long. He seldom visited his memories and had learned how to barricade most of them.
“What’s yours?” he asked quietly, surprised that he wasn’t just opting for distraction. He wanted to know. When he turned to look, Enir averted his eyes.

“I don’t have one. Food… doesn’t get named. Majak named me.”

The way Osvith had named him. 

“You don’t speak human at all, do you?” he realized. They were speaking in Aeth.

“No. I used herd speak until the rescuers found me and Ver Majak picked me out to be his. Every Aeth of his command took one of the children. It was the best they could do for us. The adults were taken someplace safe but I heard they were incapable of learning much. There, I think you’re clean now. Alaksu will be pleased by your condition.” Enir flashed him a smile that recalled his Aeth name. Brightness. It suited him.

The boy was beautiful, pale and smooth-skinned all over, his face not elegantly pebbled or torso striated according to breed. With his opalescent crest, he looked something like a bird, exotic and rare, more suited to a cage than freedom. Rasvim welcomed his touch, the way Enir traced his larger muscles and longer bones. Adult humans must be unknown to him, too.

“Your master took good care of you,” Enir said. “You have hardly any scars.”

“I think he planned to give me as a gift.”

Don’t, he wanted to say when Enir’s mouth pressed against his breastbone and lightly licked at the wetness beading his skin. His erection, which had settled during the bath, returned to aching stiffness. Osvith had not used him in days and a ring in his urethra prevented him from ejaculating except with his master’s permission.

“Stop,” he said, pushing Enir away.  “If it gets too hard, it hurts.”

“I know. I have one.”

“But… you…”

“I’m neutered, not sexless. And I get hard, too, just like you.” Enir moved to the side of the pool and lounged on the shallow steps, where he took his soft cock into his hand and began to stroke. As Rasvim watched, the small cock stiffened and became respectably hard. “You’re amazing to look at.”

Shaking his head, Rasvim walked over and knelt over him. “So are you.”

“I’m not supposed to kiss you. Or play with your ass. But I can help you with this”—Enir wrapped his fingers around Rasvim’s cock. He stiffened and put his hand on Enir’s shoulder, but the young human had started stroking him in a way that left him gasping—“and teach you how to relax and let someone give you pleasure. When was the last time you received pleasure instead of just gave it?”

“They’ll find us!”  Rasvim moaned, but he thrust with his hips, pushing his cock into Enir’s hand.

“We’re alone. And I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Nor did Rasvim want those hands anywhere but on him. Touching him. Driving him wild. Enir’s mouth and tongue sucked at his neck, his collarbone, before finding and latching onto a nipple. Oh, fuck! He couldn’t stop it! To his surprise, cum spurted from his cock in a thick stream interrupted by Enir’s greedy hand, which scooped it all and slathered it up and down his suddenly too sensitive shaft as he slowly softened. As they both lounged in the shallow water, he stared at the young human in wonder and watched Enir lick his palm clean.

“You taste good, too!”

A harrumph interrupted any further talk.


Please check out the other Wednesday Briefers linked below. Each of their stories is a free, tasty treat. :)

Cia Nordwell    m/m
Nephylim    m/m
Victoria Adams      m/f   flash virgin!!!!!
Elizabeth Morgan    m/f    flash virgin!!!!!

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Howloween Blog Hop Winners

The poodle thumps her tail while I click the random generator thrice, and the winners are: Julie, Shadow, and Urb! I will be emailing the winners so they can get back to me about which book they want.

This Halloween hop was a blast. I visited many new blogs and made new friends, not to mention had lots of fun. I also found lot of good new books to read, which is good... I got lots of reading done while waiting out Hurricane Sandy.

Thanks to everyone who stopped by and commented!