QSFer Erin O’Quinn has a new MM historical fantasy book out:
What happens when an innocent, natural soul is thrown together with a highly attractive but morally corrupt young man?
STAG HEART tells the intertwined story of three men.
~A scholar-warrior seeking inner peace in an often brutal world.
~The bad boy son of a king who needs to learn to become a man.
~An innocent, a wilding whose soul stirs in rhythm with raw nature.
These three are forced by circumstance to live and learn and finally survive together on Ireland’s sacred Hill of Tara, where mischief and mayhem lie hidden by ancient stones.
An M/M historical romance fantasy-adventure set in The Iron Warrior novel universe.
Erin is giving away an eBook copy of the “prequel” to the novel: WARRIOR, COME AGAIN, the story of five men who need to return home—whether they want to or not. A gay historical romance action-adventure.
From Chapter 16, “The Wildness”
Please note that this novel tells the story of three men. The POV is shared among each of them. This excerpt, it’s pretty clear, is the POV of the wildling, Oisean.
Fadò.The long-ago time. And this time, this “now.” Oisean stood next to a man named Fergus who had fire in his hair, his eyes, his mouth…remembering…
He had left the others, seeking the place between sundown and darkness, where shy deer and hungry wolves and hunting owls stirred into life. This was his saorsa, his place of wildness, where he loved to sit and watch the stars capture the sky far above the tops of trees.
He breathed the night deep into his chest, and deeper still, until it seemed to sit in a place he had never gone before. In front of him, a small flame began to leap and skip, the same way he and his stag brethren danced before their fire.
Back and forward, low and high, the flame moved and sang while he sat quiet as a moonbeam.
You are one man. Yet you are more. You are the soul of your brother, the eyes of your sister, the breath of their child. And a stranger who is fire will come. Welcome him, let his fire enter you. And you will rise to the stars.
Let his fire enter you…
Oisean walked to the bed and lay as Fergus had bid him, on his stomach, his legs spread, waiting.
He felt his companion’s entire body lying on top of his back: the hot tongue in his ear, a hard bulge in the cleft of his butt, a flame shooting down his legs and even to the tips of his toes where his very blood seemed to jump and cry out for more.
“Oisean, I want to enter you.”
He tried to speak… “But how?”…and felt the man’s wet mouth travel down his backbone, to that space between his legs…to the deep hole.
The lapping of a deer in a hidden creek, the soft searching, the slaking of thirst…
He heard a shout of shock and pleasure, wondered if the cry was his own, spread his legs wider.
Fergus was drooling and spitting into him, too slow, too slow, and he wanted to tell him, “faster.” But he could only grasp the edge of the pallet and moan his pleasure into the surface of the bed while a tongue too hot too wet begged for more…
Fergus moved his hands around to his chest, pinched the nipples, now spoke again in his ear.
“I will go so slow you will hardly know it. Slow, hard, wet, slick…”
When the slow hardness slid inside, he shouted once—ahhh—and the voice in his ear told him more: “Do not fight it, let your arse muscles be still, open wider, wider.”
The voice was a song, a poem, a drifting in and out of a flame, a music scorching and burning him in a place he had never found before.
“I want you, I love you, ah gods Oisean I need to breathe you, fuck you…’
He found his own bodand helped it cry, just as Fergus’ cockwept too, the rush of the man’s sudden pleasure striking his core.
I grew up a truant and a tomboy, living like a mountain goat in the highlands of Nevada. I attended the University of Southern California, where the regents gave me a few degrees, then dared me to find a job that would pay to use those skills.
Both my wild upbringing and my writing background have prepared me to be a recorder of people living in the dark ages, and in the wildass mountains of my native state, because that’s literally how I grew up—using kerosene lanterns, a well pump, an outhouse, and a wood-burning stove.
I seem to favor sexy men in love, and in danger. For a good time, come here… Queer Romance Ink(links, reviews, etc.)
I live outside a small town in Central Texas with my husband, a retired USAF small arms instructor; and a few illiterate but highly critical cats.
Queer Romance Ink
Sea to Sky(epub or pdf links, excerpts)