Hot man angst, or why I love yaoi.

by Madelynne Ellis

Many moons ago, in a bar in Birmingham a certain werewolf loving Lustie twisted my arm and said: “You are going to write about yaoi, aren’t you Madelynne.” And seeing as my arm was being twisted, and quite painfully I might add, I agreed.

Well, you know what, I lied.

This post is going to teach you very little about yaoi. It is in fact a really cheap excuse to post lots of pictures (like this one) of yummy bishonen getting it on with one another, and maybe
I’ll make a few remarks in the background. I mean, you didn’t actually want me to give you a pronunciation lesson (that’s Yah-oh-ee BTW), or warble on about what exactly yaoi is or isn’t and how it differs from slash, gay fiction, or even slash masquerading as ersatz yowie. And I’m quite sure you don’t want to read all about its convoluted history from its underground doujinshi roots to its increasing presence in the west. If you do, check out here and… erm here. Meanwhile, I’m just going to hang around a bit and enjoy the view.



Ah, boy! Long flowing locks just does it for me every time, and I love the whole hair over the eyes thing. Actually, these men just have lovely eyes, and the sort of eyelashes that women can only achieve with that super-curly-extendy-turn-your-eyelashes-into-hairy-spiders mascara. Oh, and look at these butts, so tight and firm you just want to dig your fingers in and have a nice big grope.


I realise I might be giving you the wrong idea here. I mean it’s not all about the sex and man oogling. It’s the soap opera angst that gets me too. I mean how am I supposed to resist pages of heartbreakingly beautiful men engaging in complex, romantic and exceptionally torturous relationships…

…with the occasional bit of bondage thrown in too.


The answer is, I can’t.

I will point out that I’m actually very picky when it comes to my yaoi choices. For all their beauty, I like my men to look and act like adults, which can be a problem when there’s a whole slew of stuff set in high schools and colleges. The only exception I’ve made to this so far is by Korean manhwa artist Sooyeon Won, and let me tell you, Let Dai is exceptional. It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s cruel and completely brutal.

Sensitive Jaehee has to deal with his feelings for the dangerous, disturbingly attractive and sociopathic Dai, following his girlfriend’s brutal assault by Dai’s gang.



Perhaps not a good starting recommendation, but then most of my favourite titles lean heavily to the dark side.

Okay, try Yellow, Makoto Tateno, or Ai No Kusabi (yaoi anime based on a novel). The premise of Yellow is simple, two guys, one’s gay, one’s straight, and they both have some serious baggage to work through. It’s fun, it’s edgy, and some of the situations just had me squirming in delight. These guys are seriously cool, and yet it somehow manages to be romantic as well.


Ai No Kusabi is set in a futuristic world with a strict caste system and an almost exclusively male population. It’s considered something of a masterpiece, combining a complicated plot with scorching sex, angst, bdsm and truly poignant tragedy.


Other recommendations include: Fake by Matoh Sanami, Antique Bakery, Fumi Yoshinaga (complete with scratch and sniff covers), & Gorgeous Carat by You Higuri. Also, yaoi interactive novel Animamundi (read my review here).


Oh, and absolutely don’t forget my very own yaoi inspired erotica, Dark Designs, winner of Scarlet Magazine’s Best Male-Male Sex Scene Award in 2007.

I'll leave you with one final picture.

Madelynne Ellis

PS: Please share your recommendations and or comment on your favourite image.
PPS: Go check out my newly revamped website too.

The Vampire's Heart

by Kristina Lloyd
This week sees the UK release of Lust Bites, the first in a new line of novella volumes from Black Lace. Lust Bites might sound as if it’s a book revealing the sordid truth about members of this blog but it’s not. We’re holding out for lots more money on that one. Lust Bites is all about vampires: three sexy tales of love, lust and blood. Next year, the novella line continues with more volumes of paranormal erotica, many penned by members of Lust Bites. That's Lust Bites, the blog. Are you still with me?

My novella, The Vampire’s Heart, is, quite thrillingly, the first story in the first collection. Here’s a little bit about it.

The Vampire’s Heart

The action takes place in the Arctic. The permanent dark of winter is passing and the sun’s about to rise for the first time that year. You couldn’t escape the stories of this place. Sometimes, it was a mythical land where ancient explorers sailed through peppermint green seas, mistaking icebergs for giant swans and narwhals for aquatic unicorns. Over the centuries, reports had come back of ghostly mountains, mock suns and nights lit with curtains of coloured phosphorescence. Sometimes, it was a frozen desert, tempting men onto foolish, heroic quests. Their stories hung in the emptiness, tales of survival and loss; of horror and madness; of people on the borderline between life and death. And, of course, there were many untold stories too, stories with no one left to tell them.

Billy is a butch, modern vampire. His hair is clipped into a blond mohawk, and he’s broad chested and lighty-tanned, a punkish military figure in khakis, tight T-shirt and scuffed army boots. He’s hot, hard, mean and angry. Centuries ago, he accidentally killed the woman he loved and now she’s returned to earth, reborn as Esther. Fearing his lust could destroy her again, Billy has exiled himself to the Arctic with his two vampire lovers.

Simeon is an old school vamp. A pallid lanky creature with bony features and long black hair, he had that air of Transylvanian nobility that Billy really went for. The two men had been together centuries (though it was a bit on-off) and, having no reflections, were more familiar with each other’s faces than their own. ‘I don’t know where you end and I begin,’ Simeon used to say in the nineteenth century when they were tragically in love, as was the fashion.

Suzanne, Simeon’s cousin, is flighty, frivolous, beautiful and cruel. The three vampires live at Hope’s End, a high-tech dome hidden from view. To the untrained eye, Hope’s End, was nothing but a blip on the landscape, a hump of snow in a waste of ice. A Cold War relic modelled on igloo curves, it had fallen into the hands of the vampire community when one or two significant maps had been redrawn, and one or two significant people had been killed, easy things to achieve when there are vampires in high places. Mortals might be surprised by the number of monsters at the Pentagon.

They share their home with their pet cat, Renfield, a masturbating Arctic vampire pedigree and, since food is scarce, they survive primarily on a synthetic blood substitute, Blud. Billy, repulsed by his vampire-self and desperate to keep Esther safe from his hunger, hasn’t tasted human blood for over two decades. The urge to feed is still strong. Sometimes Simeon went to the coast and returned with tales of polar bears and all the blubber he had to bite through. But Billy knew he fed on the Inuit. He could see the flush in his cheeks and it made him so hot. When Simeon had tasted mortals, Billy wanted to fuck his brains out.

Esther works for a holiday company, White Sky Adventures, and is trekking in the Arctic with a team of five other mortals. The closer they get to Hope’s End, the more Billy’s lust intensifies. Simeon and Suzanne, jealous of Billy’s obsession for Esther, are eager to see the back of her. Weary of drinking Blud, they have no qualms about the prospect of dispatching the entire team. Billy must protect Esther from his lovers but it’s hellishly difficult when her physical presence threatens to destroy his willpower and turn him into the insatiable vampire he truly is.

A Sexy Snip of Hot Gay Vampire Loving:

Billy slammed Simeon’s body to the wall once more. His erection was thickening and he pressed it against Simeon’s butt.

‘It’s not even the same woman,’ accused Simeon. ‘It was centuries ago. Ever heard the phrase time to move on?’

‘It’s the same soul,’ breathed Billy.

‘And that gets you hard, does it?’

Billy grasped a handful of Simeon’s hair, pulling his head back so his throat arched. His Adam’s apple made a voluptuous jut in that long stubble-flecked neck, a sight that flooded Billy with memories. ‘Oh, if you were mortal.’

‘And what?’ challenged Simeon in a stretched, reedy voice. ‘You’d do what you did to her? Love me to death? Or what you did to me? Make me a vampire, possess me and make me yours?’

Billy tugged Simeon’s head back still further, his grip tightening on his hair.

‘You don’t give a person room to breathe,’ wheezed Simeon. ‘That’s not love, that’s suffocation.’

Billy jerked Simeon away from the wall, clasping arm and hair to frogmarch him across the room. He forced him over the pool table, pressing his head onto the turquoise baize. The white ball span away and bounced off the side cushion.

‘You’re jealous,’ murmured Billy. He tugged Simeon’s flies open, pushing down his clothes to bare his pale slender ass, wisps of dark hair fringing his crack. Simeon’s erection bounced free and Billy leaned over him, wrapping his fingers around that big sturdy shaft. He wanked him gently. ‘Jealous,’ mocked Billy, his lips behind Simeon’s ear.

Simeon lay still, breathing hard and saying nothing as Billy’s fist shunted along his cock, and Billy’s crotch dug into his buttocks. After a while, in a tender mannered voice, Simeon whispered, ‘Yes. I’m jealous. What of it?’

A surge of respect and lust nearly knocked Billy for six. Hurriedly, he unzipped and let his pants drop to his knees. ‘Get your top off,’ he said in a quiet command and Simeon obliged. He groaned as Billy rubbed saliva into the puckered bud of his asshole, and worked his fingers in to open him up. Billy pumped his fingers, gazing at the shifting sinew of Simeon’s back, at the wings of his shoulder blades and the way candleflame and shadow rippled over his ivory skin.

It was a perfect back. Billy withdrew and clasped his own cock, blood-hard in his fist. He loved Simeon like this: submissive after a row, horny, sluttish and spread. He spat onto his fingers, moistening himself before pushing at Simeon’s ring with his fat, flushed glans.

‘You fucker,’ said Billy tenderly. Slowly, he eased forward, meeting the circlet of muscle, forcing himself past its resistance as Simeon exulted and cursed, fingernails clawing the turquoise cloth. Both vampires groaned deeply as Billy slid his meat into the snug silky depths of his lover’s ass.

Billy held his breath, his hand against the small of Simeon’s back, relishing the hot squeeze around his swollen cock.

‘Oh, man,’ groaned Simeon. ‘You complete me.’

*Lust Bites is published on 8th November in the UK and on January 1st in the US, the very same day that my third novel, Split - aka Wuthering Heights with bondage - is released. If you want to win a copy of Lust Bites and Split, just add a comment to this post and you're in with a chance.

Slash Fanfiction - not as gory as it sounds

By Erastes

I came into writing erotica from slash fanfiction. If you don't know the term, don't worry. In 2003, neither did I.

I had just attended the latest Harry Potter film and, having read all the books to date as well, was suffering from a bit of a crush on Severus Snape. I was idly surfing around looking for information on him, and for Alan Rickman, when I hit a site called The Severus Snape Fuh-Q-Fest. I clicked on it before I'd even worked out what Fuh-Q-Fest might mean.

It was an archive of stories about Severus Snape. How peculiar, I thought, Why would anyone write about SS when he was already being written about? So I clicked on one of the stories…. I sat there with my jaw on the desk. Severus Snape was having a torrid affair with Lucius Malfoy. That was something I didn't expect. I clicked on another story. Severus was having sex with Remus Lupin in this one, with Harry Potter in another and so on…

I had no idea what I'd just discovered. I thought it was a website for perverts. (Although as I read on I gleefully counted myself among them)

What I'd discovered was slash. It took me a while to find out what it was called, the history behind it, the terminology, the idea of fandom. Most of all, I had no idea that an enormous number of people--invisible people, out there in the ether--were reading slash, writing it and loving it.

The term "Slash" refers to the / that you put between the two characters you are "slashing" e.g. Lucius/Severus, Kirk/Spock, Papa Smurf/Hefty Smurf (yes, really).

Depending on your point of view--and people will argue, or "wank," in slash fandom, over the slightest thing, including slash's definition--slash is the pairing of two characters, usually males (f/f pairings generally being put in the subcategory of femslash), who are not a couple in the book(s), film(s), TV show(s), series, etc.

So, according to purists, fanfiction about Kirk and Spock as a couple can be termed slash, but fanfiction about Brian and Justin from Queer as Folk should not be.

However, your mileage may vary. Mine certainly does. I tend to avoid the wankier side of Slashdom and call things whatever I bloody well like.

Being inspired to write a story is called "getting a plot bunny" or "being bunnied":

Plot Bunny = An idea for a story (usually used to refer to fanfic) that gnaws at the brain until written.

"I was up until 3 am last night, writing. I was just attacked by this Harry/Draco bunny that wouldn't leave me alone."

If there is a lacuna in the plot of a book or a film, or there's any doubt, however small, as to what the characters do when they aren't on the page, then it's a classic opportunity for the slash writer to add the missing scenes.

For example: In Harry Potter - Lucius Malfoy is canonically good friends with Severus Snape. Although they are never once seen together in the books, JK Rowling has referred more than a couple of times to their close friendship. Severus is called "Lucius' Lapdog" at one point – and that was the term that bunnied me to write about them, and the pairing is pretty big, having dozens of newsletters, writers groups and discussion forums dedicated to them alone.

The biggest fandom is still the Potter franchise, but if you name any TV show, book or franchise, from The Borrowers to Buffy to Spongebob, you can bet that someone is writing porn about it.

As I have explained in previous postings I wrote a couple of fanfic stories and from there immediately started to write original fiction.

Some people, like me, have gravitated to original fiction via fandom, I am pleased to say. Lee Rowan, Jules Jones, Renee Manley, RW Day, T J Pennington (just to name very few names) have all broken away and are publishing their own ideas.

It saddens me that more writers haven't made the break--although I have to say, there's a lot of dreadful fic out there too, so I'm glad that many of THOSE particular writers haven't!

Some people are happy to stay in fanfiction forever. I know writers who have been writing it for over 30 years – before the net they would get their fanfiction fix by snail mail, writing stories and posting them around to each other and they are happy to stay in and that's good too. Whatever makes them happy, it's a harmless, enjoyable and *cough* stimulating hobby.

I am thrilled to now be writing and selling my original fiction, but I will never deny my fanfiction roots. It's the best "nursery slope" a fledgling author can have, in my opinion. There's a never ending supply of readers, people are happy at a moment's notice to read, critique, feedback on your stories. I learned more about writing in 3 years of fanfiction than I ever did in the real world. I thought I could write in 2003, but I soon learned I was hardly capable of making lines on paper. I'll always be grateful to Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black as I wouldn't be where I am today without them.

Further Reading:
McTabby Summary Executions.
These are author's own summaries of their own fics. And they are very very bad. Don't be drinking anything when reading.
Wikipedia's Slash FanFiction Entry
In Defence of Slash
What is Slash? An article with many good links within it

Why do women like my cock-filled gay porn?

Guest Blogger: James Lear
Fag Hag: Kristina Lloyd


Filthy. Funny. Gay. Three words to make many women prick up their ears. (I said *ears*! Quit with the anagrams.) James Lear ranks highly on all these fronts (I said *ranks*) so we're thrilled to have him on Lust Bites. James's Back Passage (Cleis Press) is a brilliantly funny riot of shagging and sleuthing, and I have never read a book with so much come in it. Ahem. I mean, I can highly recommend it. It's topped the Lesbian and Gay Bestseller charts on both Amazon UK and Amazon US, and is also - woo hoo! - a finalist in the Lambda Literary Awards. The results will be announced tomorrow at a super swish ceremony in New York so we've got our fingers and legs crossed on Lust Bites (okay, just our fingers) and we're all rooting for James's Back Passage.

James is here today to tell us more about his Back Passage, his latest release, Hot Valley, and to mull over a question that's been puzzling him: Why do women like my hot, cock-filled gay porn?

When I started writing gay erotic fiction, I assumed that the readers would be almost exclusively male, and that they’d be reading it for one reason only. Much to my surprise and delight, I’ve discovered that a very significant percentage of my readership is female, and that they’re far more forthright in their enjoyment of the books than men. The majority of the reviews on Amazon, both in the UK and the US, are written by women, and I’ve had no end of really great, positive feedback from female readers both in person and online.

Thinking about it, I suppose I should have known. I remember girl friends back in the day telling me that they enjoyed reading about sex, and that a good dirty story got them far more excited than looking at pictures of knobs. But I’d assumed that they would need some point of identification – that there would have to be a woman in there so that they could imagine it was “about me”. Nothing of the sort, as it turns out: my readers tell me that they enjoy reading about men in sexual situations for all sorts of reasons, that they enjoy the wider range of roles available in same-sex coupling (as opposed to the formulaic approach of so much hetero stuff) and that they can get into sex scenes whatever the genders.

And there’s another surprise: these readers are by no means all straight women. Many of them are lesbians, and they’re right in there with the rest of them getting off on descriptions of two men fucking.

So what exactly is drawing in this female readership – and why are they so much more articulate in their appreciation of erotic writing than men? I think men take a more functional approach to porn, both written and photographed: they choose what specifically turns them on, they consume it and they get off. That’s what I assumed when writing the four erotic novels I’ve done to date. The basic deal is that there are two good wanks per chapter (one for older readers), and, in the “down time”, enough plot and humour and good writing to keep you entertained.

Obviously the nuts and bolts aspect of the writing also works for women, who, I am reliably informed, “enjoy” erotic writing in exactly the same way as men. But it seems that female readers have less rigid ideas of what will work for them; they’re open to a wider range of stimuli. Some get off on the depiction of men as vulnerable, passive sex objects; others like the depiction of strong, rough, masculine figues (there are plenty of both). Some like the romance aspects, and the happy endings; others go for the historical or genre trappings. The Back Passage, my biggest seller and the first for US publisher Cleis, is a 1920s country house murder mystery – basically, it’s Agatha Christie and Gosford Park with yards of cock – and that, more than any other, has got female readers’ juices flowing.

But this isn’t just a question of sexually-open women enjoying male/male erotica as part of a smorgasbord of literary stimulation. There are several female readers, and indeed writers, who are choosing to specialise in m/m material. One reader told me how she actively seeks out m/m erotica, and scares male shoppers by hanging around the gay section in bookshops. Several female romance writers have found their way to m/m fiction and explore it with a completely new sensibility.

We’re used to the cliché of gay men finding points of identification in movies with strong female leads; I wonder if this move towards m/m erotica signals a similar quest among women who are dissatisfied with the traditional roles they’re given in m/f books and films and are looking for material that takes them on a wider imaginative journey. I well remember watching a Jeff Stryker gay porn movie with a butch lesbian friend of mine many years ago, and her stomping around going “I wish I had a dick as big as Jeff’s so I could fuck anyone I fancied!”. I’m certainly not suggesting that this is some form of literary penis envy, but I do think that gay porn has a liberating effect on women’s imaginations.

Gay male readers also enjoy the books, thank God, but are far less likely to engage in discussion of them than women. As for officially straight men – and I know that they’re out there reading these books, checking out gay websites, cruising the gay/bi chatrooms and the saunas – they probably wank themselves silly and then chuck the book in the bin. I would love to know what they think, but I resign myself to the fact that I will probably never find out. One female reader tells me that she likes to get all steamed up with a good bit of m/m erotica and then leap on her husband to try out lots of new ideas. Do us a favour and get him to read a bit too, and report back.


Perhaps the new one, Hot Valley – an American Civil War epic – will grab the men as well, as it’s got lots of fighting and shooting, as well as some extremely dirty bits involving officers and foot soldiers, life in army camps and prisons and a huge variety of uniforms for the characters to take off.

I started writing erotica at a time when I was stalled in my “legit” writing career (I write novels under my “real” name, Rupert Smith) and needed an outlet. Now I find myself in a situation where the porn is outselling the literary fiction. It’s also had a healthy effect on my other writing, getting me in touch with the very basic functions of fiction: to excite, entertain and delight, not to be clever-clever. James Lear has liberated Rupert Smith, and it’s a happy symbiosis.

---

Please note: the man in the suit is Rupert Smith. James, I'm told, is kept under lock and key at a home for elderly nymphomaniacs. One of these guys will be along later today. I don't know which. I am worried.

Check out Rupert's website for more on the proper books and visit James to explore the improper stuff.

FREE FILTH! Up for grabs: The Back Passage and Hot Valley. Add a comment and this double dose of depravity could be yours!

Blue Boys and a Public Service Announcement

Inspired by Madelynne's super sexy post from Dark Designs, it occurred to me that I'd got a hot boy on boy scene in my latest release, the reprinted GOTHIC BLUE... So after a quick skim through it, I found this intense encounter between the mysterious and powerful Count André Von Kastel, and Jonathan, the rather confused boyfriend of the heroine, Belinda. While Belinda is out in the garden, up to heaven knows what with Japanese beauty Michiko, Jonathan finds himself alone with the seductive Count... and at his mercy.

Now read on...

‘The idea of Belinda with another woman is new to you, is it not?’ the Count continued, ‘And puzzling... You wonder why you do not feel more jealous.’

‘I... I’m not sure what I...’ Jonathan faltered, swirling his glass then lifting it to his lips, trying desperately to analyse his feelings. About Belinda. About Michiko. About all the strange revelations... About the man with whom he was sitting and drinking. The man who suddenly seemed far closer than he had a moment ago. So close that their thighs were almost touching. So close that he could see the toned shape of the musculature beneath André’s tight, faded denims... and the size of the firm bulge at his crotch.

With brandy in his mouth, Jonathan spluttered furiously and felt himself choke and start to cough, his face turning a bright, blushing red. Eyes watering, chest heaving, he felt his brandy glass removed deftly from his hand, and the impact of a solid, well-placed thump against his back. He coughed again, gratefully this time, and suddenly found he could breathe deeply and evenly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, wiping his bleary eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much to drink.’

‘Perhaps you have not yet had enough?’ countered André, and Jonathan felt the hand that had struck him stroke his back.

The caress was so light and innocuous it was almost illusory, but coming after the realisation of a moment ago, it made Jonathan start to shake and blush again.

‘Here, but drink slowly this time.’ André held out the refilled brandy glass, ‘Sip by sip.’

When Jonathan took hold of the fat, rounded glass, he was alarmed to feel André’s hand curve around his, lifting the drink to his mouth. The Count’s skin was extraordinarily cool, yet its very coldness was exotic and exciting, and sent a thrill through Jonathan’s shocked body.

I can’t be feeling this! thought Jonathan helplessly, feeling it anyway. He’s two hundred years old... I don’t know him... Dear God in heaven, he’s a man! He’s a man!

‘Sip,’ André urged again, his free hand returning to Jonathan’s burning back.

Jonathan sipped. Far faster than was wise, but he was desperate for some kind of anaesthesia. He was experiencing something he had never felt before. Never in his wildest dreams or darkest nightmares expected to feel, and the worst part was that it was ravishingly delicious. The brandy seemed to be having no effect on him whatsoever, but as he was allowed to take a breath, André’s cologne made his head whirl. It was the smell of roses, and a sharp visceral musk.

‘Think of Belinda and Michiko,’ whispered the Count in his ear, ‘Imagine them together.’ That long cool hand was still on his back, moving a little, rubbing him through the cotton of his shirt, ‘How does that make you feel?’

‘I don’t know!’ cried Jonathan, horrified by the strange sound of his own voice. Its shrillness... Its girlishness...

‘Does the idea of same-sex love repel you?’ André’s voice was deep now, very masculine and cajoling. ‘Surely not...’ The final two words were not a question, but an observation - and not one about Belinda and Michiko.

I’m being seduced, thought Jonathan. Just as Belinda was, here on this couch. And for all her single mindedness and all her steadfast resistance of any kind of exploitation, she succumbed to this man within moments of meeting him.

‘Jonathan?’ prompted André gently, his hand still now, and so chilling through Jonathan’s lightweight shirt.

‘I don’t know,’ repeated Jonathan, feeling all broken apart, but somehow strangely resigned. He looked up, staring into the middle distance, intensely aware of the alluring figure beside him, yet knowing it was he, himself, who had the choice.

‘Look! Get it over with, if you’re going to,’ he said suddenly, unable to cope with the growing tension any more. If André made a move, and it was thoroughly repellent, well, at least he would know. He would know, and he could leap up and flee the room as fast as his feet would carry him. And if it wasn’t? He couldn’t know until the moment.

‘It is your choice,’ said André quietly, as if he had viewed the brief debate in Jonathan’s mind. Maybe he had?

Jonathan turned his face, and found his lips just inches from his companion’s. He could smell the brandied sweetness of André’s breath and almost drown in the aquamarine pools of his eyes.

He’s so beautiful, thought Jonathan. He attracts me. I want him. But my body doesn’t quite know how I want him... He shuddered, filled with thoughts and fears of buggery. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, his voice extraordinarily small.

‘Do not worry,’ said André, reaching up and undoing the thong that tied his striated locks back, ‘I know everything we need to know.’

Jonathan bit his lip to restrain a gasp, a sigh. André’s hair was soft, thick, and shiny despite its peculiar coloration. Jonathan felt a strong urge to bury his hands in it.

‘Go ahead, do it,’ urged André.

His breathing shallow, his heart racing, Jonathan put up his hands and slid them up through André’s silky tresses until he was cradling the other man’s head. He watched André’s lips part, almost in ecstasy, revealing the soft rosy interior of his mouth. Without thinking, Jonathan lunged forward and kissed him.

It’s just like kissing a woman, he thought, feeling André’s strong, slender arms come around him. The sensations were the same: velvety lips under his, parting provocatively and admitting his tongue. He was so used to kissing like a man - probing strongly and taking the initiative - that he continued to do so, while André seemed perfectly happy to let him, relaxing back on to the settee and drawing him down.

‘Mmmm...’ murmured the Count as they broke apart for a moment, and he reached up to touch Jonathan’s chin. ‘Not so bad, is it?’ He smiled, and then took Jonathan’s hand, from where it still held his head, turning his face so he could moistly kiss its palm.

‘No... no, it isn’t,’ stammered Jonathan, disconcerted as André surged up against him, kissed him again, and at the same time began unfastening his shirt buttons. Before he knew it, the garment was open to the waist, and the loose tails pulled out, then André was shimmying along beneath him and sucking at his nipple. He felt the Count’s teeth close wickedly and he groaned.

Jonathan had always had sensitive nipples and loved to have them played with and nibbled. For a moment, he thought of Belinda, and how beautifully she did this for him, but the next instant he was dragged back to reality, his body excited by the extra layer of piquancy that having a man’s mouth on him created.

Gothic Blue is available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

And you can find more frisky extracts [although not m/m] here and here.

nb. Mansnogs courtesy of The Velocity of Vincent

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now... a SEX IN PUBLIC service announcement!



Just to remind American readers that...

WICKED WORDS: SEX... IN PUBLIC is now available!

To celebrate the US publication of this selection of exhibitionist frolics we're giving away a copy of SIP... and I'm topping that off with a copy of GOTHIC BLUE too! To be eligible for this splendiferous two-book mini-prize, just leave a comment about this post... whether about SIP *or* GOTHIC BLUE... and in a couple of week's time, we'll randomly draw one name from the list of commenters and announce the winner here so they can contact us for their prize.

For more fascinating facts about SEX... IN PUBLIC check out this archived post, and to buy the book, either whiz over to Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com

I thank you for your kind attention... :)

WendyPortia aka Portia Da Costa
Dowager Duchess and Mad Old Woman of Black Lace
Visit my Weblog :: Visit my Website :: Read Saucy Extracts

DARK DESIGNS: The movie... I mean the book...the book.

Sorry bit of wishful thinking slipped in there. Happy Friday everyone! In a moment I'll give you the rest of that Dark Designs extract I promised yesterday, but first I'd like to introduce you to my current obsession - Camui Gackt, who while not the inspiration for Takeshi, certainly comes pretty darn close to how I imagine him, but with silver-blue hair & a big dragon tattoo, of course.

And if he doesn't do it for you, maybe the chance to win a nice big bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk will. It even comes bundled with a spanking new, signed copy of Dark Designs to peruse at your leisure (or maybe flog on eBay.) Just drop me a comment either here, or on my blog. I'll announce the winner on Easter Monday.

Enjoy the read!

'You've got to be fucking kidding!' Silk yelled.

'Stop it, stop it.' An icy shiver ran up Remy's spine. She could see Takeshi's tattoo emblazoned like a warning across his back. She wished she knew more about him. He hadn't drawn blood, but he was pressing hard enough to force Silk over the viridescent bowl at his back. Takeshi tossed the sword aside and moved in, pressing two fingers to the impression he'd made in Silk's chest.

Unblinking, they waged a silent mind duel, while Silk fought for balance and Alix bobbed around the fountain's edge, still seeking out the best angles. 'Slowly,' she prompted, when Takeshi slid his palm down Silk's chest towards the half-opened zip of his fly. She leant in for a close-up of Silk's face. His expression was a combination of fury and bruised longing. Raw, but heart-meltingly beautiful. He snatched at Takeshi's hand.

Takeshi dipped his head instead, and poked his tongue rudely into Silk's navel, invoking an anguished cry.

Remy's insides clenched tight. She wanted to be able to see Takeshi's expression as well as Silk's, but she hardly dared move, let alone circle around for a clearer view. Faint 'oh!' noises were escaping her throat. Takeshi's tongue snaked along the golden line of hair across Silk's abdomen, and pressed a kiss to where, if he'd been erect and unconfined by clothing, his cock tip would surely lie.

Was Silk erect? He seemed to have lost all composure, unable or unwilling to escape. She could see him in her mind's eye, long and thick, creamy like the rest of his skin, apart from at the tip, which burned an exuberant plum red. If he'd still been zipped up, she'd have known how Takeshi's intimate kisses were affecting him. The trousers were cut tight across the hips, which meant they showed any bulges.

She saw the flick of Takeshi's tongue. Silk clenched his fists, so that his lacquered talons dug into his flesh.

She knew that sensation during sex. Takeshi had made her feel like that only last night. There were things that were so sensitive, so raw, so earth-shatteringly good, that all you could do was bite yourself, scratch yourself, stuff the pillow in your mouth in order to temper the sensations to a manageable level. Otherwise, orgasm came rushing up way too fast and the moment of explosion felt like crashing through a brick wall at forty.

Silk seemed immobilised by the whole experience, shocked into submission by the turn of events - or maybe at his own sudden arousal?

Alix kept taking pictures, gleefully snapping like a paparazzo on a window ledge.

Takeshi moved down and placed a kiss on Silk's inner thigh. Remy could picture Takeshi's next move, how he'd open the remainder of the zip and release Silk's cock, then slide his magic lips up and down the lily-white stem. It was so damn sexy she was rubbing herself against the fountain's edge. She'd never imagined Silk would turn out to be such a passive little uke. With her, he always seemed so dominant, so in control.

'Enough of this bollocks!' Silk rose abruptly to a sitting position, and his hand closed over the sword hilt. 'Get off me or I'll cut yer fucking nuts off! Got enough yet?' He directed the question at Alix.

'One more.' Alix snapped an extreme close-up of his face. If it came out in focus, it would show his green eyes to perfection, but Remy suspected she'd done it merely to wind him up a bit further.

Takeshi looked over his shoulder and caught her eye. He winked - a signal he'd used before to alert her to coming excitement. But surely the show was already over. Her body tensed in anticipation. Takeshi nuzzled against Silk's thigh, then bit down.

'Fuck! Fuck!' Silk was on his feet. He stumbled away from the fountain, and rubbed at the bite. 'I'm done.' He scooped up the coachman's coat and was out of the Orangery before she recovered enough wits to call after him.

Instead, balance recovered, she turned to Takeshi, who grinned darkly at her. 'Done? We've barely started,' he mouthed.

Madelynne xxx

www.madelynne-ellis.com

www.madelynne-ellis.blogspot.com

DARK DESIGNS: The Sneak Preview

by Madelynne Ellis

'Shhh! Quick, is anybody looking?'

'No - right then, lets get set up!'

So, it's the last Friday of the month tomorrow, which means it's time for our Monthly Sexy Snippet, when I'm expected to take to the floor with my 'award-winning' (how did that happen), tribute to yaoi manga and Gothic decadence. But, you know, I thought what's wrong with celebrating Thursday too? Maybe we could kick back and get in the mood a bit.


Ahem! Book Blurb

'Silk inclined his head a fraction and let the very corners of his lips curl upward, letting most of his response come from his eyes. Remy swallowed hard. It was like getting a come-on from a panther - aggressively, knicker-wettingly sexual.'

As the designer for an opulent gothic wedding, Remy Davies is under pressure. There's the over-stressed bride, a trinity of vampire-obsessed bridesmaids, a wayward groom, and then there's the best man... Silk looks as if he was drawn by a manga artist; beautiful, exotic, and with a predatory sexuality. She has to have him, in her bed and between the pages of her new catalogue. Remy is about to launch herself into the alternative fashion world, and Silk is going to sell it for her whether he knows it or not. But Silk is nobody's toy, and for all his androgyny, he's determinedly heterosexual. Pity, since Remy's biggest fantasy is to see him making out with her sometime-boyfriend, Japanese biker Takeshi.

Teaser:

Remy rubbed her brow and tried to focus on costumes. Alix was becoming mutinous, partially due to hunger, and partially because she was sick of making her two rivals look good. Takeshi was cavalier play-acting and Silk - well now! Dare she ask him to strip for the camera?

'Quit bloody obsessing, Remy,' Alix barked. 'Sort them out. I've been at this five fucking hours, you've got two minutes before I pack up and go in.'

It took less than thirty seconds to dress Silk. He looked like a manga character anyway. She just added the coachman's coat to the formal three-piece tail-suit he was wearing, and asked him to braid his hair. She wanted him to tease it out as his clothes came off, until it swirled around him, dusting his bare calves. Takeshi took a bit longer, a fact Alix conveniently overlooked, despite a loudly rumbling stomach. They swapped the knee breeches for leather jeans, lost the shirt and added his own leather jacket with the picture of the girl, then a long duster coat. Somehow the contrast between the two men worked, although they began shooting most of the poses separately.

They'd been at it about twenty minutes. Silk was stripped down to shirt and trousers, and Takeshi to just his leathers. Remy had them posed like lovers, with Takeshi's hand upon Silk's shoulder and their heads tilted towards one another. But the tension between them seemed to be running at an all time high. Between shots, Silk seemed to be making it clear he was there under duress. Remy wondered if she was expected to feel obligated to him after this.

'Closer, and look into each other's eyes,' Remy demanded. Despite the pressure, she was enjoying herself immensely. 'It needs more intimacy.'

Takeshi leaned forward and brushed his lips against Silk's.

Well, that was intimate!

Silk's lips parted in surprise. Takeshi snaked an arm around his waist and moulded their bodies together from hip to thigh. Silk retaliated by shoving Takeshi off his feet, followed by a wordless snarl of fury.

Remy's carefully constructed fantasy fell apart, although Alix gleefully continued snapping expressions. 'Yey, fight!' she cheered.

Takeshi snatched up the great sword and forced Silk back against the rim of the fountain. The tip of the metal beast pressed between the open edges of Silk's shirt making cold contact with the skin...

**********

Don't forget to check back tomorrow for the rest of the extract, when I'll also be giving away a signed copy of DARK DESIGNS packaged in honour of Silk's chocolate addiction with a 400g bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.

If you can't wait that long, you could always zip over to my website, where you can read the naughty and somewhat sordid tale of Remy and Takeshi's first encounter.

Madelynne xxx

http://madelynne-ellis.com/

PS. I have no idea why the book cover features a man in drag sporting a clown wig, since I have no memory of including such a character.

Male/male Historical Erotic Romance

Here at Lust Bites we are always pleased to hear from people who are doing new and different things with the genre. A lot of erotic romance topics can feel done to death. Fresh new thrills are always top of our list of treats. So we couldn't wait to get Erastes - author of male/male historical erotic romance Standish - on the blog and find out all about her small but perfectly formed genre - where you get not one but two gorgeous men striding out in their breeches and, quite often, striding out out of their breeches too.

Erastes: Well, hello everyone, it's nice to be here. I've been lurking for a while, reading the syndicated posts via LiveJournal and I've been enjoying the posts and the discussions that you generate here.

I'd always wanted to write but although having started a couple of projects which founded after a few chapters, I didn't succeed and I finally gave up, thinking that I had no plotting abilities. This all changed in July 2003, when I discovered fanfiction - entirely by accident. I had no idea that "fandoms" existed up to that point. I read a couple of fan fics, thought "I can do this" and wrote a 66k word Harry Potter novella dealing with what Lucius Malfoy got up to in the book Order of the Phoenix when he wasn't actually on the page. Although it was fun, I finished it and thought. "Mmmm. That was a spectacular waste of effort, I can't sell it!" I decided to convert it into original fiction, the idea being I'd change the names and places, remove or warp some of the magic and wouldn't have to do too much.

However, as other authors will know, things rarely work the way you set out for them to do. The book wouldn't listen, the characters evolved into different beings entirely (to my considerable joy) and it utterly refused to have anything to do with Potterdom or magic. It turned into a homoerotic regency romance and Standish was born.

It is now my aim to attempt to help drag historical homosexual romance into the mainstream and to make the publishers and review sites take it seriously as a genre.

I'm re-writing and editing my second novel Transgressions which is based around the English Civil War and is nearly ready to start getting sent out to publishers, and I'm about half way through Junction X which isn't strictly what the Historical Novel Society would deem "historical" as it's set in 1960's English Suburbia, but has been as much of a challenge, research-wise as any of the others.

Why gay romance?

I actually worried about myself the first time I read a gay story and was turned on by it. Believe me, I've had the least sheltered life you can imagine, but I'd never considered that homoerotica could be hot. But it was. Then I thought …"Hang on, what's most straight men's favourite fantasy? Two women!" So that being the case, it made perfect sense that I found two beautiful men in bed together alluring.

I should of course point out here, that I'm not a man, in spite of the name and the web-bio – I chose the name Erastes because at the beginning I didn't think that men would want to read gay erotica written by a woman and now I'm stuck with "him". I had no idea that most people writing and reading gay erotica (particularly in fandom) are women, and I'm pleased to say that both gay and straight men and gay and straight women enjoy my stuff, so I must be doing something right!

Why historical fiction then?

There are a lot of people writing contemporary but not that many writing historical gay fiction. Granted the word "gay" didn't come into that use until last century but homosexuality wasn't invented last century (or indeed "invented" at all). The interest in writing homosexual historical fiction for me is to attempt to portray it as realistically as possible. I don't want to write (or to read about) men in earlier centuries with modern attitudes. I want them to be aware of the danger of what they are doing, of the attitudes of the government, the church, even their neighbours.

This makes gay fiction difficult to resolve into a HEA – in my opinion. Two men from the 17 th Century in England would find it as difficult and as dangerous to set up house together as lovers as Jack and Ennis (Brokeback Mountain) would have done in 60's America. However there are ways to infer that they will be happy without having an anachronistic gay wedding. Lee Rowan manages it perfectly in her Ransom – set in Nelson's Navy, and Emily Veinglory does it well, too, in The Highwayman.

Personally, in the two novels I have finished, I've allowed the reader to decide what happens after the curtain falls. Can a rake and an innocent be happy and will Rafe ever be faithful? Can a Puritan and a King's man find a common path in Cromwell's England? What happens next? I hope that the reader cares enough to worry about my characters after the last page – that's the nicest compliment of all.

So – any questions? Don't be shy!

(We are also giving away a copy of Standish to one lucky commenter. So even if you don't have a specific question, just pop in and say 'hi' and 'gimme'
MM x)

It's pronounced 'Mmm'

Let's talk about two guys kissing – and more (more guys, more than kissing, add a girl to the mix, oh yeah).

Whether it's a guy/guy scene or an m/f/m ménage - I'm happy if I get to see/read about two guys touching each other. And the best news for me is the more I look around me the more I see that it isn’t just me. This lovely stuff is starting to pop up everywhere.

Great books for lovers of this sort of smut are Peep Show by Mathilde Madden (ahem) my first BL book which I wrote about a women who spies on gay men because that was my own hobby at the time a hot idea, A Gentleman's Wager and Dark Designs both by Madelynne Ellis and, of course, the grandmummy of m/f/m Menage by Emma Holly.

And finally, because it seems wrong to talk and talk and talk about guy/guy fun without giving you some – here is a little snip from Peep Show. From the scene where our voyeuristic heroine stumbles on something to watch in the men's changing rooms at a fashionable gentleman's outfitters. This is probably the scene most people seem to mention to me from that book.

Two blond men: entwined in blissful pursuit and blissfully unaware of me. One is half standing/half leaning, propped against the warm, honey-beige painted wall with open mouth and open fly. The other is pressed up hard against him, with a hand snaking into his partner’s trousers, as he crushes their mouths together – fast and hot and slow and cool. Their long denim covered thighs are pressed together, the more dominant man bearing down on his submitting counterpart, forcing him harder and harder against the wall behind them, and parting his compliant legs with one hard limb. It’s a very, very pretty kiss, and I watch it for a long while, as their mouths melt and slide around on each other like strawberry ice cream on a blistering hot day.

So hands up who likes m/m and m/f/m. That's it both hands where I can see 'em. Recc me some books (not just BL and Cheek), tell me what you really want to read - hey, maybe someone will get inspired and slip that dream-scene into an upcoming book!

Tilly aka Mathilde Madden