NSFW: Erotica

Fane collapsed onto the bed in his and Ishan’s room.  They had returned to the warehouse when Bern had released him.  He had thrown himself through a shower, brushed his teeth, and pulled one of the more creative mechanics off the shop floor to lop off his locks.  He ran a hand through his short burr thoughtfully. He watched the dust motes float across the light paths between the blind slats. His chest was tight and heavy.  Ishan locked the door behind him and came to sit down next to his fiance.

“You okay, Fane?” Ishan asked.  When his boyfriend had finally emerged from Bern’s void, he had been particularly pensive and quiet.  The most he had said was he was heading back to his room. Ishan had followed him back, worried.

Fane lay down on the bed and curled around Ishan, hugging him. The redhead shrugged, grunting in the back of his throat noncommittally. 

“Dietrik left without telling me anything, and Bern wouldn’t talk. Is it really…is it really bad?” Ishan asked.

“Not bad, not good.  My PTSD might be a hell of a trip for it.  It just…is, I guess.” Fane’s thumb brushed along the edge of Ishan’s waistband rhythmically.

“Are you going to go through with the ceremony?” Ishan leaned into Fane’s reassuring warmth.  Fane pulled Ishan into his embrace tightly. He buried his head into Ishan’s thigh. “Maybe not?” Ishan offered.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if I should or not.  I mean, I’m some modern man. Who actually does this kind of thing anymore?  Well…two-thirds of the population is wiped out, so that’s not much of a question.  Still,” Fane trailed off, leaving his quandary to blanket them.

“Is it silly?” Ishan asked.

“Maybe.  I don’t know.  I get the concept.  It just feels ridiculous in this day and age to extensively modify my body for some ceremony.  Bodily autonomy and all that crap. No one does that anymore.” Fane sat up and turned to lean against the headboard.  He pulled Ishan in under his arm and rested his chin on top of his head, letting Ishan’s warmth thaw his clammy skin.

“You are nervous.” Ishan put his finger on Fane’s mood.

“Terrified,” Fane acquiesced.

“Branding?”

Fane nodded mutely as his heart shot into his throat.

“How much?”

“Full body from collarbone to wrist to ankle.”

“Good lord.  How many sessions?”

“One day.”

Ishan rolled over to look Fane in the eyes, startled.  “You have got to be joking. That’s how you go into shock and die.”

“Reason I’m terrified.  I want a different method.  This one…I’ve got enough scars.  I might be Red Hare Bai, but it’s not my culture.  I wasn’t raised in the traditions.” Fane leaned his head back against the headboard to study the lazy fan.

“It’s a matter of opening up your memories, reliving them, right?” Ishan turned to look up at Fane.  Fane nodded, counting ceiling tiles. “We’ve triggered some already.” Ishan brushed a finger along Fane’s twitching jawline.  

Fane glanced down at Ishan. A gentle smile waved at the edge of his eyes.  “I can’t thank you enough for it.”

Ishan rolled more fully to lay on top of Fane.  Fane shifted down to look up at Ishan. Ishan rose up to straddle him, leaned over and kissed him.  Soft warmth spread along Fane’s spine. His fingers caressed his prince’s sides to tuck into the crease of his hips.  He pulled the platinum blonde closer to him. Ishan’s breath hitched in his throat. A mischievous glint floated across his amber eyes. “Can we finish what you started back after you handed Heinrich his butt on a silver platter? Or is your mood thoroughly shot after this afternoon?” Ishan nipped at Fane’s jaw.   

Fane tunnelled his fingers under his fiance’s kurta to stroke creamy skin.  “For all that is holy, please. I’ve been strung out since we left the armoury.”

Ishan tugged his kurta off and tossed it to the far corner of the room.  “Sophia or the mutts come back; they can just sit on the other side and wait,” he muttered, kissing Fane’s neck.  He looked up quickly with a prickling question. “Fire?”

Fane’s eyes closed in a moment of defeat.  He shifted Ishan more closely to him. “To hell with the fire,” he growled, pulling Ishan’s face up to savor another deep kiss.

“Good answer.”

“You’ll have to get off if you want my clothes off.” Fane tugged at the knot of Ishan’s churidars.  

Ishan snorted at him.  “I was gonna watch you struggle.”

Fane slipped his hand up Ishan’s torso and plunged him into his void. 

Ishan blinked into the dim lighting, having landed in one of the plush velvet chairs.  “I could say the same,” Fane returned Ishan’s teasing note, tugging his golden rope playfully around to bundle up Ishan.

“Intriguing, but I’m counting the last few times I’ve been in here as my foreplay.  I want satisfaction,” Ishan purred. Fane dropped them out of the void.

Ishan got up off him and shucked himself out of his pants and underwear to stand in his bare sun-kissed glory.  “I could drink you in,” Fane beckoned his prince back to him.

“Uh-uh.  Pants. Off.” Ishan pointed to Fane’s cargoes.

Fane stuck his tongue out at Ishan and got out of the bed.  He tugged his shirt and pants off and tossed them to land with Ishan’s clothing.  “Tell me you grabbed lube from the commissary,” Ishan muttered, realizing his sudden position.  Fane smiled and pointed to the foot of the bed where a green metal locker sat. “You lovely human, you,” Ishan breathed a sigh as he bent over to open the lid.  He startled as Fane blanketed his back, nibbling at his shoulders. Ishan teased, swinging his hips while he dug through the clothing and toiletries in the box to find a small travel-size bottle.  It was next to a box of condoms. Ishan held them up to Fane, an eyebrow rising.

“Didn’t know if you’d want me to wear one.” Fane tried to get his heart to stop acting like he was running a marathon.

“You had a checker run before coming to my house.” Ishan pulled a slick black envelope from the box.

Fane plucked the wrapper from Ishan’s fingers.  “Your parent’s palace. I’ve had a few fragmented memories of what I had done in the past float up here and there.  Until I settle with them, I’d rather respect you and your body, even if I know I’m clean.” Fane let go of Ishan to lean against the footboard of the bed.  He broke through the triangle edging of the package and extracted the light green rubber. It smelled of fake melon and plastic. He checked the top and bottom of it and went to put it on.  Ishan took it from his fingers, knelt down and rolled it onto the redhead’s length using his mouth. Fane strangled a sigh as his hands gripped down to knuckle white on the rail of the bed. That tight heat was his Shangri La.  “Do you enjoy giving blowjobs that much?” Fane gulped as pressure built up in his feet and the back of his head. He melted as Ishan bobbed up and down, providing an adequate answer. His skin prickled, and the temperature rose in the room substantially.

Ishan released Fane from his teasing.  “Careful, you don’t want the sprinklers activating,” Ishan cautioned against the flames at the tips of Fane’s fingers.  The rail of the bed was warping under Fane’s hands. Ishan tugged Fane down to the linoleum floor in the cramped room.

“I’m going to melt the floor.” Fane blanket over him, hard as hell and burning up from the inside out.  

“Might try not to leave scorch marks.” Ishan brushed a hand down Fane’s arm to watch the white and blue heat radiate along the path he traced.

“Different meaning to the word rugburn.”  Fane wanted to ring out every little vocalization and twitch he could from the blonde underneath him.  He watched a blush cross Ishan’s cheeks and had to check himself from igniting. He was having a hell of a time quieting the fire in his blood. 

“Do you want me to wear one?” Ishan couldn’t meet Fane’s eyes.

“Where do you want me?” Fane asked as he nibbled down Ishan’s chest, rubbing at the man’s length with his own.

“I want you in me,” Ishan breathed as his face washed pink.

“I want to watch you come then.” Fane grabbed up the bottle.

“That’s a no to the condom, then?” Ishan shifted, his own throbbing erection demanding attention.

“I’m good without.  You?” Fane peeled the safety seal off the bottle and screwed the lid back on.

“I’m all right then.  Tell me if you want me to put one on, ‘k?” Ishan pulled his hair out from under his shoulders.

Fane nodded.  “Have any preferences?”  He poured out a few dots of liquid onto the rubber.  He trailed a hand down Ishan’s abs to circle his erection, slowly pumping to strangle a moan from his lover.

Ishan baulked at the question and shifted, wanting relief.  He swallowed and touched tongue to lips. “Go easy for a little.  It’s…” he couldn’t meet Fane’s eyes. “It’s been a few years. But,” he finally swivelled his gaze back.  Fane felt the hit of that molten honey on his brain and he almost caved at the intensity. “I do like the rough type.  That driving need sort of frenzy, hair pulling, biting type stuff,” he admitted while Fane dripped lube on his dick and lower.

“Anything you’re not partial to?” Fane massaged his thumb along the soft spot behind Ishan’s balls and further.

Ishan bit back a sigh as he relaxed under Fane’s ministrations. “Humiliation play, slapping, spanking, that kind of thing,” he admitted.

“Sub/Dom or at least BDSM from what I saw in that wardrobe of yours?” Fane took one of Ishan’s hands to nibble along the fingertips in contemplation.

“Ok, I might have a bit of a praise kink crossed with bondage play; I promise I’m not-“

“Weird? If you weren’t, we wouldn’t get along so well, now would we?” Fane buried himself deeper to make a point.

Ishan groaned in reply.

“What version of praise are you into? I’m a little rusty on ‘good man, I like that’.”

“I’m not exactly used to someone actually asking that?” Ishan braced against Fane’s biceps as he took him higher.

Fane folded over Ishan’s form to nibble along his collarbone. “Beithe, my muse, my love, just gonna say it, but that’s something your partners seriously should have cleared with you. It’s not sub/dom if it’s not consensual.”

Ishan flushed a bright red at that and nodded mutely.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like, and I’ll see what I can do about that kink of yours. We both get something out of this, yeah?”  Fane eased against a nodding Ishan as he folded over to kiss him.  He nibbled soft lips and sharp jawline. He tunnelled a hand in Ishan’s hair, wrapping it around his fist to pull on.  With fluttering breaths, they took time to ease and accept what each other had to give. “You all right?” Fane asked when he had finally buried himself in full.

“Yes,” Ishan groaned and moved against his length.  

The tightness was enough to ring him out.  The movement built up pressure fast. Ishan’s skin sang beneath his fingertips.  He swore he felt what Ishan experienced. He had to know, to experiment, to see. He gripped onto Ishan’s hips and brought him against his length fully, his nails biting into flesh. The texture flashed across his sense in the course of a heartbeat. It drove through his core and set his lungs to spasm. “Can you feel me?” he murmured.

“How could I not?” Ishan groaned.

“Can you feel what I’m feeling, like in my void?” Fane wanted to make sure Ishan’s response was clear.

Ishan paused to think as he settled a hand on Fane’s kneading digits.  His cock bobbed as an impression flashed through his system. He glanced up at Fane’s questioning face.  “How can you do that?” he asked. Fane shrugged and shook his head. “Don’t stop.” Ishan demanded, his voice cracking.  

Fane obliged a few strokes until Ishan was moaning for breath.  “Move for me, Muse. Give me your rhythm.” Fane leaned back on his hands.  Ishan shivered at the pressure as his trembling feet tried to find purchase on the slick linoleum.  He drew himself along Fane’s length as his lover watched. “Just like that.” Fane whispered under his breath, pleased with himself at the goosebumps running up Ishan’s arms.

They melted into each other.  They lost track of where one stopped and the other began.  Fane pulled Ishan’s legs up over his shoulders, stretching him as he leaned in to kiss him.  He quickened the pace to bring out every feathered sigh and moan he could elicit. Heat and electricity snapped across his nerve endings.  His heart was crashing through his chest, and all he could feel was the burning warmth that drove through his core, or was it Ishan’s?

“Fane!” Ishan mewed, his legs tightening against Fane’s throat.  His fingers kneaded and caressed his boyfriend’s thighs, demanding, pleading.

“Not yet.  I want to watch you more.” Fane nibbled along one of Ishan’s legs.  Ishan sucked in a breath. Smiling at that tell, Fane surged forward to hear his cry catch in his throat again.  Fane circled his length and slowly drove his partner mad.

“I-I…can’t.” Ishan was turning inside out, wanting release. 

Fane bit down harder on the soft skin inside Ishan’s leg. “Then do it.” The spiralling heat that washed through his system from Ishan had him up in flames.  He drove deeper and kissed Ishan fiercely as he reached for his glorious ending.

Opening his eyes, Fane enjoyed Ishan’s pleased expression of fulfilment.  His eyes had gone a dusky caramel, and a light flush brushed his cheeks. “Better?” Fane nipped at Ishan’s earlobe as he set Ishan’s shaking legs down and pulled out.

“Mmm,” Ishan nodded, exhaustion and contentedness swamping his system.

“Good.” Fane trailed a finger along Ishan’s thigh before getting up.  He pulled the condom off and wrapped it in tissue, disposing of it in the bin.  He handed the box of tissue to Ishan and helped him clean up.

“Left a bit of an impression,” Ishan teased as they both stared at the shiny spots of melted linoleum where Fane’s hands and legs had been.  

Fane snorted.  “Glad you’re fireproof to me. Sorry if that wasn’t quite what you were looking-”  He pricked at a tapping out in the hall.

A banging at the door had them both scrambling for their clothes.  “Fane Anson!” Sophia screamed through the door.

“Didn’t take her long,” Fane cursed.

“It was freaking worth it.” Ishan pulled Fane to him and buried his head into his shoulder to bite down on his skin playfully.  “I love you, and yes, just a couple words like that worked wonders for me, and I’ll try to figure out how to explain what else works for me later, ‘k?”

Fane squeezed him back.  “I could watch the poetry that is your body for the rest of my life and not get tired of it.  I love you too.” Ishan strangled a note at that admission. His face flushed to his ears. “Didn’t know you’d be dating a romantic sap, did you?” Fane teased when he got his shirt on.

“It’s definitely new for me,” Ishan admitted, tying his drawstring.

“Bad?” Fane cocked an eyebrow.

“Chill, Casanova.  Give me my refractory period before you get me hard again.” Ishan stuck his tongue out at Fane.  Fane leaned in and kissed him, testing his tongue with his own. Ishan melted against him. He groaned in feigned annoyance.  Fane smiled against his boyfriend’s lips. “Worth it.”

---

Why did I quit social media back in Oct 2022 and ditch out after trying once more in the last couple months? I had 8400 followers on Twitter and I just dropped all that work down the drain. Why? Who would do something like that? It’s crazy talk. That’s how I was advertising everything.

I wasn’t getting the dopamine I wanted. I was getting some. Any likes, any comments were better than an empty void, but the dopamine I wanted was someone to say something positive about my stories. Thing is…most folks…don’t…want to read romance, let alone gay romance by a trans writer.

And I kinda have to come to accept this.

And I don’t.

I had four people read Fyskar. One said they hated it. And three said it was interesting and made them think. I’ve only had one person read all four of the Legend of the Bai, and maybe six read The Fire in My Blood – again, five positives, one negative. For having such a big following, I couldn’t take the fact that those around me who I was reading their stories and doing reviews with smaller followings were getting so many more reads than I was. I was jealous, and after developing what I thought was a mutual exchange friendship with a fairly large author community…I felt rejected when none of them wanted to read my stuff. The best I got from them was one person speaking up and going “You know you write literature, right? And that’s not really why most adults read anymore. Especially not during the pandemic when they want to read happy stuff.”

Being neurodivergent, this hit pretty hard with the rejection sensitivity bit, because to me, my interpretation of that was “uh, yeah, you write funny and gay and we don’t really wanna read sex scenes because that’s not my jam” – and no, I get it, not everyone wants to read gay sex…I just…I kinda wanted people to give at least some of the story a chance, at least tell me they loved a scene because of…I don’t know…because?

Anyways, I’ve given up on reaching out and trying to be in a community for now. It just hurts because it reminds me that everyone including me want to advertise our writing, and some lucky ducks get to have their stuff read, but not me…because I don’t write right.

I’m sorry for sucking at this, and not being what everyone wants, or even just what a couple people want. I wish I could do better…right…something that people liked….but these are the stories and the conversations and characters and settings that live in me and represent my truths. I’m sorry I can’t figure out how to be normal. I’m sorry.

Why did I put this down here?

Because I needed to put this feeling into words so I could walk away, and I knew no one would ever read past the copyright button.