Wednesday, 31 October 2012


Happy Halloween everyone!!! I haven't written a special Halloween story but I think Pasha and the angel are terrified enough for the occasion.

The non photograph prompts are 

"Welcome to my home, I am..." or use: ghost, lightning, fear or use Halloween candy in some way or "It's alive!" or use any sort of vampire or werewolf or mummy or witch.

There was absolute silence. The bird watched while the angel…Uzzi’el stared at him. Pasha was afraid to move, to disturb the tableau.
“What rebellion?” Uzzi’el asked eventually.
The bird heaved an exaggerated sigh. “This is impossible,” it said fluffing its feathers.  “I told you it was a crazy plan. I told you something was bound to go wrong, but would you listen? Would you hell? Nothing will go wrong, Fierro, you said. You worry too much, Fierro, you said. It’s foolproof, it’s safe, it’s….”
“Fierro? Is that you?”
“Yes, of course it is.”
“I’m sorry,” Uzzi’el said, collapsing back on the bed, “I’m sorry about everything. I can’t tell you what I was thinking or why I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry. I can’t give you answers because I don’t know them anymore.”  He laid his head in Pasha’s lap and started to cry quietly. “It hurts, Pasha. It hurts to try to remember, and I’m so tired. All of this… It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like me and it scares me.”
“I know,” Pasha said, stroking his hair. “I can feel it.”
“What do you mean, you can feel it,” Fierro snapped.
“We have some kind of link,” Pasha explained. “We can feel what each other feels. If A…Uzzi’el hurts I hurt and if… well…it works in all sorts of ways.”
Fierro snapped his beak. “Oh great. Just great. As if we didn’t have enough problems.” He shook his feathers and Pasha noticed that tiny flames were shooting around underneath them.
“Are you a phoenix?” he asked suddenly, voicing the thought as it popped into his head.
“Of course I’m a phoenix,” Fierro said impatiently. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I just….”
The phoenix sat for a while, staring at Uzzi’el who’d stopped crying and seemed to have fallen asleep. “I don’t understand,” he said at last.
“Understand what?”
“How he can be like this. He’s the commander of an army. A small one but an army nonetheless and they are loyal to the point of death. I’ve known him a long time and I’ve never seen him uncertain of anything. When he makes a decision there’s no swerving him from it. I’ve never seen him weak and vulnerable like this and I don’t know what to do.” He sounded angry.
“He can’t help it,” Pasha snapped. “You heard what he said. He’s hurt and he can’t remember. What do you expect of him?”
“Not being able to remember doesn’t steal your backbone, human boy. He was strong and brave and now he’s a snivelling wreck. To have lost his memory, I understand. To have lost his courage I do not.”
“Then tough on you. He is as he is and I won’t have you hurting him any more than he already is. If you’re going to be so judgemental you can just piss off.” I can’t believe I’m talking to a bird, Pasha thought to himself.
“Maybe it would be best,” Fierro said after a few moments contemplation. “I will speak with Gabriel and see what he says. Tell Uzzi’el I will be back soon.” Without another word Fierro took off. “Open the window,” he demanded and Pasha slipped off the bed and complied. Lightening flashed in the dark sky, or was it lightening at all?
It seemed empty and quiet in the room without the phoenix and Pasha lay down on the bed, pulling Uzzi’el into his arms. What the fuck have I got myself into, he thought.
“I’m sorry,” Uzzi’el whispered, startling Pasha.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“No. I just…. I couldn’t handle it. He’s right.”
“Right about what?”
“I am a coward.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“All but.” He sighed deeply, snuggling closer to Pasha. “It’s like…like being in the dark and having things you can’t see touch, and not know what they are. I’m straining to see but it makes my head hurt and….”
“Then stop,” Pasha said gently. “Stop trying to remember and just work on what to do now. You don’t remember anything about the rebellion but the others do and they can tell you what’s going on, what you need to know. The firebird’s right. Losing your memory won’t have changed who you are. If you relax and stop jumping at shadows you can let your true personality out and pick up where you left off.”
“Do you really think I can? That I can be that brave? I don’t feel brave, Pasha. I’m so scared. I’m scared of everything.”
“Are you scared of me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then that’s a start. Besides, courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about being scared but pressing on regardless.”
“Is it?”
Pasha raised himself on one elbow. He gently stroked, Uzzi’el’s chest. “The Angel of Faith and Mercy, eh? Quite a title.”
“It doesn’t feel like me.”
Pasha frowned. “I have a book of angels. We should look you up.”
“No. No, please. Don’t. I don’t want to know.”
“Alright. Come here.” Pasha took Uzzi’el into his arms. He was cold and shivering and Pasha dragged the covers over them. He held the shaking angel tight, until the tremors ceased and he fell asleep. Pasha lay awake for much, much longer.
He was jolted awake again by a pounding on the front door. He lay stiff and frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. Uzzi’el, also awoken by the sound, tightened his arms around Pasha’s waist.
“Who is it?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“What should we do?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, there was a crash as the front door exploded open, followed by footsteps on the stairs. The two men held each other, white as ghosts, fear binding them.
The bedroom door flew open to reveal a man so tall he had to bow his head to enter. He was dressed head to toe in black, with black curly hair and eyes like black holes.
“Uzzi’el,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down Pasha’s spine.
“Gabriel,” Uzzi’el gasped.

Now go check out the others.

Wednesday, 24 October 2012


Wednesday again and only two days to work before my week off. I have never needed one more. This week I've chosen a photo prompt again. I feel I've cheated because I've (kind of) used the same theme as last week but hey :) Fiero will approve.

View Phoenix (1).png in slide show

Pasha and the angel exchanged glances. “What the hell is it?” Pasha whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“It seems to know you.”
The angel nodded. “It scares me, Pasha. I don’t know why but it scares me.”
“Do you think it will hurt you?” All the while he was talking, Pasha stroked the angel’s hair and shoulder, trying to calm his shaking.
“I…don’t think so. I don’t think that’s why it’s scary. I think…. I just think….” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Uzzi’el. Open the bloody window. What in the name of mercy is wrong with you?”
“What’s that word he’s saying? Uzzi’el?”
The angel shuddered deeply. “I don’t know, but it feels…. It feels….” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t like hearing it, Pasha. It scares me. I don’t know what…” He swallowed hard “…or who Uzzi’el is but it’s trouble, I know. Everything about it is screaming ‘danger’ at me but I don’t know why.”
The bird began to hammer frantically. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you Uzzi’el but if you don’t open this window right now you’re going to bring the enforcers down on us all and you know what that means.”
“Do you know what that means?” Pasha asked.
The angel shook his head but he looked terrified. “I’m guessing it wouldn’t be good.”
Pasha nodded. With a fair amount of trepidation, he hurried across the room and opened the window. He was rewarded with a face full of feathers as the bird hurtled past him into the room. He carefully closed the window and drew the curtains as the bird circled the room rapidly, it’s feathers bristling.
Pasha climbed back onto the bed and huddled close to the angel, wrapped in his arms, as the bird zoomed around the room.
Eventually, the bird settled on the footboard and sat, twitching its head from side to side, twisting its neck to examine them from all angles, while making soft squawking sounds.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” it asked at last.
“What do you mean?” the angel croaked, scared and trembling.
“You didn’t turn up at the meeting point. Everyone’s going crazy and the enforcers are everywhere. What the hell have you been doing? And who is this boy? Why are you naked? What have you been doing?”
“It’s none of your business,” the angel said uncomfortably, tugging ineffectually at the duvet, trying to cover Pasha who was too enthralled with the bird to notice or care.
“Maybe not, but you are my business and I’ve been sent to get you safely to the meeting point…where, I have to point out, you should have been two days ago.”
“Should I?” the angel asked, a touch of curiosity in his voice as he leaned towards the bird anxiously.
“Don’t play games, Uzzi’el,” the bird snapped. “This isn’t one of your role plays; this is for real. Half the Council have fallen and the enforcers are going crazy. They’re rounding up anyone who’s had anything to do with you and wiping out humans in the process. You started this and you have to finish it.”
“Started what?” The angel’s arms tightened around Pasha, holding him against him like some kind of giant teddy bear. Pasha could feel his body shaking, every muscle tensed as if ready to run at the slightest provocation. This alone made Pasha more frightened than he’d ever been in his life. Here at last, he sensed, were the answers they’d both been craving…well that he’d been craving. He wasn’t so sure the angel had ever really wanted to remember and now he wasn’t so sure he did either.
The bird hopped up and down, anger making sparks fly from its feathers. “”Stop playing games Uzzi’el.”
“What’s Uzzi’el?”
“What? Not what—who—you.”
“Yes, you,” the bird snapped. “It’s your name, as if you didn’t know.”
“My…my name? But…. But, I…. I don’t….” He looked at Pasha with wide eyes.
“Who are you?” Pasha asked the bird, “and how do you know Angel?”
“Angel? What? Who? What in the name of mercy is going on here?”
“I….” Slowly, the angel uncurled from around Pasha and crawled towards the bird, who remained still, staring at him. “I…. feel I should know you, but I don’t. You… you make me feel….afraid.”
“Afraid? Too right you should be afraid, holed up in this place with enforcers all around you and no one able to get near. What on earth possessed you to come here?”
“I….don’t know.”
The bird cocked its head and clacked its beak. “What happened to you?” it asked eventually, its voice considerably softer than it had been, the anger tempered with what seemed to be genuine concern. “You don’t look right.”
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t. Your eyes look…wrong. You and I have been friends for a long time, Uzzi’el. Why don’t you know who I am?”
The angel shook his head. “I don’t know. There was….” He turned quickly to look at Pasha. “There was an accident. I…fell. I don’t remember.”
“Don’t remember what?”
“Anything. I don’t remember anything. The first thing I remember is lying on the ground in the rain. And then I was here. I…I was hurt and confused. I couldn’t make my wings go and I didn’t know what I was or where I was. Men came looking for me and they scared me but I don’t know who they were either. I’ve tried and tried to think, to remember, but there’s nothing there.”
“Ah fuck,” the bird said.
“Do you know me? Do you know who I am?” The angel, Uzzi’el moved closer, anxiously examining the strange bird, eager for answers but afraid, too.
“Oh yeah, yeah I know you. I know who you are. You’re Uzzi’el, Angel of Faith and Mercy, Gabri’el’s lieutenant and leader of the rebellion here on earth.”

 Now take time to check out the rest of this week's flashers.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

Lust And Ice. Now Available.

Check out this awesome new work by the very talented M A Church. It will be well worth your time to check it out. I'm going to get it for sure.

Razor's Edge Press A Changeling Press LLC Imprint

The perfect mate for a cold-hearted human with no redeeming qualities? A prince of hell, who else?

My latest release, Lust and Ice, is a Dark Desires novella and out now from Razor's Edge Press, a Changeling Press LLC Imprint. Yes, this is one of my dark stories. :) And yes, lol, there's a HEA—of a sort. When dealing with a Prince of Hell things can get twisted. So, there's HEA... then there's this kind of HEA.
Two more novella's spin off this book and the Bad Boys Club. In Lust and Ice you'll meet Kain's friends—Hugh, Jordan, and Allen—and they're as bad as Kain. Jordan and Allen's book will be next in the series.

They call him Ice. Kain's a spoiled rich man's son with money to burn. An endless parade of men through his bedroom has left him empty and wanting. When he and his friends meet at their usual nightclub and place bets on who'll score for the evening, Kain eyes a sexy stranger. Electricity jumps between them, and Ice decides the handsome man will be in his bed screaming out his pleasure before the night is through.
Dark and deadly desires are Asmodeus' calling cards. Those that fall to his wicked ways are doomed to an eternity of unfulfilled lust in the second level of hell. This is no man to be played with... because this is no man. He's the Prince of Lust, one of the seven princes of hell. And he's been granted the right to take a mate by his master, Lucifer. He's searched through the ages for the one that will satisfy his sinful needs, but none have made the cut.
Until now.
The Bad Boys club has picked the wrong targets this time -- hell's come to claim its own.

Asmodeus toyed with his straw as he glanced over the crowd on the dance floor. There were a few that caught his eye, but nothing that got his blood pumping. His appearance not only fit in at Night Moves, but called certain types to him, preferably men. For the last hundred years he had taken to seducing the males of the human race.
“Mmm, there’s something about taking a strong man and bending him to my will, having him first beg not to be fucked…” He ran a hand down his chest, drawing several pairs of eyes, and shivered. “Then later beg to be fucked.”
Frowning, he glanced over the dance floor again; he damn sure wasn’t going to get lucky sitting on his ass up here. He smoothed his hair behind his ear and a brilliant, sizable ruby stub flashed, as did the ruby in his signet ring on his left hand. He looked down at the tribal tattoo that started on his right wrist and extended up his arm. Thanks to the shirt, no one could see the tattoo snake over his shoulder and unto his neck. It also meandered down from his shoulder and covered the right side of his chest, then continued to his groin.
His dick was thick, but not overly long, and covered in small knots. There the tattoo crossed over his body and continued down his left ankle. Those that saw the tattoo in its full glory were already doomed, although they didn’t know it. Once his prey submitted to him, the end was never far behind. The fear in their eyes and the frightened begging that came from the lips of his prey as he drained them always excited him, made his orgasm much more intense.
The problem was that once he finished feeding the pleasure was gone, and loneliness bombarded him.
Now the mindless pleasure, the thrill of the hunt and his prey’s fear were no longer enough. He wanted -- Satan help him -- he wanted a mate. Someone who would belong to him ‘til the end of time. He’d made his wishes known to his lord and was granted the right to take a human, if he found one that fit his needs. So far no such human had been found, and he had looked -- extensively.
A perfectly shaped eyebrow raised above wickedly sinful eyes. Several men and women had played the game and fallen for his dark looks -- they regretted it eternally.
He was no man to be played with… because he was no man.
Shifting in his chair, his eyes landed on a group of humans across the openness of the second floor. A new mortal joined them, another male. There was a restlessness that shimmered around him that snagged Asmodeus’s attention. This one appealed to him, very much so. Even with the noise of the crowds and the thumping bass of the music, he could hear them. The longer he listened to the one named Kain, the more his dick swelled.

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.

Where to find me:
Twitter @nomoretears00

Friday, 19 October 2012

Upstaged - Opening Act

Series Name:  Upstaged
Book Name:  Opening Act
Genre: Young Adult
Authors:  S.L.Danielson and Nephylim


Blurb: Erik is lead singer with The Von, an up and coming grunge band. He’s a big, brash American with the world at his feet and is so far in the closet he’s in Narnia. Then along comes snarky Brit, Asher and turns his world on its head. Well and truly upstaged, can Erik overcome his fear and is Asher just too damaged to be saved?


"Dude! What the fuck's wrong with you? You're interrupting our song!" He pointed behind him to the band members, all of whom had angry faces. Daisy pursed her lips and shook her head at her brother. Erik was clearly not happy. "You gonna answer me or what, man?" 

Asher blew another bubble and popped it loudly. The big American jerk was going red in the face. Good. He shrugged then, glancing over Erik's shoulder at Daisy's face, he sighed. "Maybe if the band was better I wouldn't be so bored."  He blew another, bigger, bubble which popped with a satisfying bang. If he tried hard maybe he could make him turn purple. Nah, who wanted to work that hard? He couldn't be bothered. Taking the gum out of his mouth, he stuck it on the garage wall.   

A blond brow went up as Erik crossed his arms tightly against his chest and harrumphed. "You sayin' something about my band? The one your own sister’s in?" He shook his head and inched closer to him. "Maybe, if you can't appreciate our music, you should get your ass outta here, Dasher. Or is it Ghostboy?"  Erik laughed at his own wit but was disappointed when it didn't seem to shake this guy one iota. 

"Just because my sister wants to hang around with a bunch of losers, doesn't mean they’re any good, only that she has really bad taste." 

Erik felt his temper rising; his blood nearly at boiling point. "Who the hell are you callin' a loser, you... you... emo! You gothic, whiny weirdo... freak!" 

Asher looked around, slowly, and then their eyes locked again. "I didn't hear anyone whine. But I did hear something squeak.  Was it you, little mouse?  If I'd closed my eyes I could have imagined I heard a creaky old gate up there on the stage, swinging in the breeze." 

* * *

Rage now coursed through Erik's veins; his Viking heritage coming to bear. He balled his fists and snorted, like a bull ready to spear the matador. Daisy tried to intervene. "Asher! Stop it right now or you'll be sorry!"  

""Not as sorry as this sorry looking excuse for a singer. More like a fifty year old karaoke singer after a packet of Woodbines." 

"That's it, you asshole! You're goin' down!" Erik yelled as he threw his full weight behind a huge, pale fist that packed the wallop of a freight train. He lunged forward to deliver the blow, when a hand stopped him. He paused, shocked and amazed; was it.... wtf? Who could stop his fist? Asher had. Somehow this waif had managed to stop him at full throttle... not an easy feat. 

His lips were open, his eyes wide as he took in his fist in Asher's small hand. Words escaped him as he was lost in the scintillating beauty of the teen's violet eyes. They were beautiful, haunting and seemed to hide a deep pain that no one could get near.  

Erik paused, his breath taken hostage by the moment. His eyes blinked, and he was shocked to find another sensation had taken center stage. He was being kissed! By Asher! He wanted to pull away at first, especially since they had an audience; yet he didn't. He wanted to stay. The lips were so soft, and despite the coldness of the ring, it didn't stop him. His demeanor softened and his fist uncurled in Asher's hand. Other parts of his anatomy made notice too; though he'd not dare say a word in front of this group.  

All too soon, the kiss ended, and Asher pulled away with a loud smacking sound. Erik stood in silence, his mind in a whirlwind, then he backed away slowly.  His lips opened and closed as he fought for words but, before he could utter any of them Asher's cool hand patted him on the side of the face in an almost patronizing manner and, with a cheeky wink he turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder to his sister. 

"I'm off, Dayz. Can't stand the boredom. Give me a ring when you're ready to be picked up. Try not to die of excitement." 



Nephylim was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Nephylim has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Nephylim became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.
It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Nephylim lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son and her two cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. The part of her that needs to earn money is a lawyer, but the deepest, and most important part of her is a storyteller and artist, and always will be.

Nephylim can be found at

S.L. Danielson

S.L. Danielson began writing at the tender age of seven. She knew it was her calling from the moment she put pen to paper. In her teens she began writing alternative works and the genre stuck. She also wove more elaborate tales and finally, in her college years, began spin her new love of male romance into longer novels.

She is clasically trained in business and accounting and is currently a graduate student. Her other hobbies include cycling, gaming and spending time with her husband and two cherished cats.

Contact S.L. At

or follow her blog at

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

Something Comes

Happy Wednesday peeps. This week I chose a picture as my prompt. I have NO idea what the picture is meant to be but for me, this time, it's a bird.

Pasha whimpered as the angel began to move inside him, sliding slowly in and out. Although the surreal energy had died, his body was still singing with it and didn’t quite feel it belonged to him. Every time the angel thrust into him it sent burning fire through his guts and rippling convulsions through the muscles in his stomach. He moaned and raised his hips to meet the angel, wrapping his legs around the angel’s slender waist.
“Rise with me Pasha, beautiful Pasha,” the angel moaned into his ear. His hands clutched at him and stroked his back as they clung together. With a gasp, Pasha realised they had risen from the bed and were hovering over it. The canopy of snowy white feathers arching over them made it seem they were in another world altogether.
“Oh God,” Pasha moaned, “what’s happening to me?”
“Nothing more than happens to any man, Pasha,” the angel gasped, his entire body trembling as his thrusts lost their rhythm and became unfocussed and jerky. The angel’s breath in his ear was getting ragged, matching Pasha’s own  and the angelic moans that slipped from him spurred Pasha on to even more frenzied movement.
The angel began to kiss Pasha’s neck, licking the sweat from his skin. Pasha sobbed and grabbed his head, grinding their faces together and desperately thrusting his tongue into his mouth, trying to regain some control. The angel lost focus even more and moaned into his mouth, tightening his arms around him.
Both of them trembled and twisted, thrusting against each other, lost in the sensations building in their bodies.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Pasha moaned, losing the ability to kiss as an intense orgasm began to build in his belly. “I…I’m….”
“And….and I,” the angel gasped. “Come for me Pasha and I will come for you.”
Pasha whimpered and his body began to shake. He realised he was making noises but they weren’t conscious. The angel grunted and thrust deeply and it was the sound as much as the action that sent Pasha spinning over the edge.
He screamed when he came. He had never done that before but the sensations were so intense they were straddling a tenuous border between pleasure and pain. The angel was silent but Pasha felt something hard and cold bounce off his shoulder and realised the angel was weeping. Pasha felt he ought to console him, or at least ask what was wrong but the orgasm still held him in its grip.
The angel slowly lowered them back onto the bed and lay quiet, with Pasha in his arms. His wings covered them with a trembling, twitching blanket. Soft moans still slipped from his lips and his eyes were closed.
“Are you alright?” Pasha managed to ask at last.
The angel opened his eyes and Pasha gasped at the rainbow of colours that swirled behind his closed lids. “Oh yes,” he murmured with a sigh. Closing his eyes again, the angel pulled him close and nuzzled in to his neck.
Pasha shifted as something small and hard dug into his back. Something suddenly occurred to him, widening his eyes. He moved his hips experimentally and it didn’t feel as if there was anything  hard inside him. “Um…,” he said. The angel opened his eyes and the rainbow colours faded to blue. “Your um…. Your tears are made of crystal.”
“They become crystalline, yes,” the angel agreed.
“Do um…? Does everything that comes out of you…? You know?”
For a moment the angel frowned, puzzled, then he smiled. “No, Pasha, not everything. In some ways we are the same.”
Pasha relaxed, with a sigh. “That’s good.”
The angel smiled and kissed him, but suddenly tensed, his body going rigid and his eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something is coming.”
“What?” Pasha tried to sit up but the angel held him tight. “What’s coming?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m scared.” The angel buried his face in Pasha’s hair and wrapped his wings more tightly around them.
“We can’t hide, Angel,” Pasha said and tried to push the wings off him.
“No. I’m scared.”
“We have to face our fears. If it’s dangerous, it can’t find us like this. We’re helpless.”
“I’m afraid,” the angel repeated and Pasha pulled away, taking the angel’s face between his hands and forcing him to look at him.
“I know you’re afraid. I am too. But we can’t just hide under your wings and hope whatever it is won’t find us. I’m crapping myself here but we have to face it. We can’t fight like this.”
“Maybe we won’t need to  but we have to be ready just in case. I won’t let them take you without a fight.”
The angel searched his eyes, then nodded. Suddenly, the wings had gone and they were shivering and naked.
Pasha leaped out of bed and ran to the window. Before he had the chance to look out, something threw itself against the glass. He skittered backwards so fast he fell over and sat on the floor and looked up at a window filled with golden feathers. In the middle of the feathers was a beak that tapped against the glass.
“What is it?”
“I…I don’t know,” the angel said, crouching next to Pasha.
“Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should we let it in?”
“No. I…I don’t know. It…. It feels familiar but I can’t remember if it’s in a good way or a bad way.”
The creature at the window abruptly stopped tapping and pulled back a little. They could see it was some kind of bird but none Pasha had ever seen before. It was a ball of yellow and orange trailing feathers with a small body and long neck. Its head was crested by a tuft of red and its beady eye was golden yellow.
“What the hell are you waiting for, Uzzi’el?” A reedy voice penetrated the glass. “Micha’el’s enforcers are about and I’m drawing attention.”

Now take a look at the rest of the flashers this week

Friday, 12 October 2012

Ditched by Lucy Felthouse. Release Date 9th November

Check out this cool book to be released early next month. Lucy is an established writer and cool promoter. As well as checking out the book check out the services she provides. It's well worth your while and what do you have to lose? Writer Marketing

View Ditched.jpg in slide show

Ditched by Lucy Felthouse

Private Damien Stone is living in a nightmare. He’s out on exercise on Salisbury Plain with Lance Corporal Michael Scott—who also happens to be a huge pain in the arse. He’s a teacher’s pet who seems to delight in bossing Stone around. But that’s not the real reason Stone appears to dislike him so much. It’s because Stone—who’s bisexual—is seriously attracted to his superior, but he can’t do anything about it, because Scott is straight. Or is he?



“This can’t be fucking right!” said Lance Corporal Michael Scott, checking his map for the umpteenth time.

“I can assure you, Scott, that it fucking is,” responded his colleague, Private Damien Stone. He nudged the other man, pointed to a place on his own map, then raised his arm and indicated a rise in the ground in the near distance.

“See, that’s that long barrow, so we are in the right place.”

Looking at the barrow—one of the many on Salisbury Plain—then down at the map, and finally at his compass, Scott had to agree.

“So where the fuck are they, then?”

Stone had no answer for that one. He looked up into the lightening sky, which in the distance was being slowly tinged with pink, but saw no sign of their pick-up helicopter. Straining to hear even the faintest sound of rotor blades, Stone remained silent. Hearing nothing, he shrugged.

“Dunno. Perhaps we got the time wrong, or something?”

“I hope not, otherwise they’ve gone without us!”

“Nah. We’re early, if anything. The sun’s only just coming up.”

Sighing, Scott stuffed his map and compass into a pocket, and said, “Well, I guess we’d better find somewhere to shelter. I don’t like the look of that.”

The that he was talking about was an ominous-looking black cloud being buffeted in their direction by the wind, which was picking up rapidly.

“With you on that one.”

On an unspoken command, the two of them immediately split up and started to look around for somewhere they could keep out of the wind and imminent rain. It wasn’t long before Scott shouted out, and Stone immediately turned and headed in the direction of his colleague’s voice.

When Stone arrived, Scott had already removed his backpack and dropped it into the ditch he’d found and was striding down the slope to join it. Luckily, there’d been no rain over the past few days so the ground was dry. If the coming rainstorm ended up being heavy, it was entirely possible they’d get wet arses, but for now at least they’d be reasonably comfortable.

Following his colleague’s example, Stone shrugged off his pack. Turning, he saw that Scott was standing with his arms out, ready to catch it. Tossing it, he gave a curt nod of thanks before heading down into the ditch.

Once there, he saw that some scrub covered a couple of sizeable rocks, meaning that they would at least be able to sit down. It would have to rain pretty damn hard for the water level in the ditch to get as high as the top of the rocks, so they’d be all right until the chopper arrived.

He hoped.


Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at Lucy Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: Newsletter

Thursday, 11 October 2012

Hump in the Night - Halloween Promotion

I have always had a fascination with the paranormal, from angels to ghosts to faeries and when I was asked to do an anthology dealing with these themes I jumped at the chance. That and I have never tried writing actual erotica. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
My style of writing is to always go for something different. My stories take unexpected twists or deal with out-of-the-ordinary characters. While stories of 5,000 words didn’t give me as much freedom as I’m used to, to develop the quirks, I managed to find plenty.
There was never any prospect of sparkling vampires here but I wanted something different and so came up with a story where the ‘victim’ turned the tables on his attacker and gave the vampire something to sink his teeth into. The angel takes a break from the final battle of good and evil to be with his demon lover. The werewolf is an angsty teenager and the faery is an ancient spirit unearthed in a tomb excavation. Out of them all only the ghost is as you might have imagined him to be.
Writing short stories full of sex was…interesting and yes, I did get fed up with it by the end. However, I have to point out that it isn’t all the stories are about. I can’t write stories without substance and I believe these have it, as well as humour, excitement and romance. Not your usual erotica or your usual paranormal.
An interesting experiment turned into what I consider to be some of the best short stories I have ever written.
Five stories of the paranormal, designed to thrill and tease the senses and to challenge all you’ve ever been told about the creatures that go Hump in the Night.

Aster is a vampire looking for someone. When he finds Kia his plan is to fuck him and drain him, but Kia has other ideas. Recognising Aster as the man he’s been waiting for, he turns the tide and seduces him, shocking him with secrets from the past. Together, they enter into an encounter that blows their minds and changes their lives forever.
Lucien is a werewolf. He’s always known he’s different. Definitely not an Alpha like his father. More akin to the bitches than the muscular Beta’s or lithe hunters he finds himself drawn to. When the enigmatic lone wolf arrives, with his pure white hair and ice blue eyes, Lucien is lost at first glance. After a burning hot dream he finally submits to the dominant male destined to be his mate for life.
Dema and Meri’el are an unlikely coupling. In the final war against good and evil they find themselves on opposing sides. Dema the demon and Meri’el the son of the King of Angels. Drugging each other with their bodies they unleash the primal fury of their true natures and rock the foundations of the earth and the heavens.
Grey doesn’t believe in curses. When he uncovers a cavern deep under the mountain feared by the villagers as a faery tomb, he scoffs at the superstition, until he meets a stranger who lures him into the wood. A steamy encounter in a forest glade has him wondering if being cursed is such a bad thing after all.
Shay is mourning the death of his soul mate, tormented by the fact he’d never told him how much he loved him. A knife in the back in a dark alley steals his chance to finally prove his commitment, until ghostly whisper in the same alley leads to a night of passion and the second chance both men crave, to finally find peace.



Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Are You Ready

And here we are at another Wednesday. Make the most of this liesurely pace because there is going to be a frenzy of hopping and promoting coming soon which will leave less time for our lovely little flashes to be in the limelight.

This week my chosen prompt was... between you and me....

“Don’t you remember anything about where you came from?”
The Angel frowned and shook his head. They’d been lying quietly, drugged  by the energies they’d raised and the experiences they’d had. He smiled and tentatively touched Pasha’s face. “I want to remember. I want to know who I am and where I came from but…. There’s part of me that doesn’t want to know.”
“You don’t? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be anywhere else than here. I don’t want anything to come between you and me and I’m afraid when I remember I will have to leave you.”
“Leave me? Why would you leave me?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think of any reason why I would except….” The angel frowned again and stared deeply into Pasha’s eyes. “When I think about anything that was before, I feel scared. And when I think of you… When I think about it touching you I feel even more scared.”
“Think of what touching me? I don’t understand.”
“The past. My past. Whatever I was running from or cast out by or…. No one chooses to fall out of the sky….do they?”
“No,” Pasha said, “Do you think it has anything to do with those two men who came looking for you?”
The angel shuddered and Pasha saw a blinding white flame kindle briefly behind the brilliant blue of his eyes. He blinked and it had gone. “I fear them, Pasha. I don’t know why and that makes me even more afraid. I fear I am what they say I am, that when I remember I will hurt you.”
“After what we just shared, you still think you might hurt me?”
“I can. I love you, Pasha and anything that threatens you scares me, even more that it might be me. Perhaps I would not raise my hand against you but my actions might bring danger to you nevertheless.”
“Do you think we’re at risk from those men?”
“If they become sure of my presence here, then yes, I believe so.” He shuddered again. “I don’t know how I know, but they will do anything to get to me—anything.”
Now it was Pasha’s turn to shudder. “Then we have to make sure they don’t find you. You must stay hidden here until you remember who you are and what happened to you.”
“Yes, but if my memories show I am a risk to you, I will run from here. I will not bring danger to you or your family.”
 Pasha shook his head. “Whatever happens now, we face together. You have to know it’s too late to try to protect me in that way. If you are hurt; I am hurt, whether you’re here or a million miles away.”
“Yes,” the angel said, sadly. “That is true.”
“Don’t sound so sad,” Pasha said, brushing the angel’s face gently with his fingers. “We’re together now. You’re not alone. And neither am I.”
The angel smiled and his eyes lit up with a different kind of light. Every emotion he felt was so clear Pasha didn’t need the connection to tell him.
They found themselves drawn closer until their bodies were pressed close together. The angel winced when Pasha buried his fingers in his hair and Pasha, contrite, attempted to pull back. The angel wouldn’t let him and, indeed the pain seemed to spur him on to cling to Pasha and press their lips together.
“Make me feel alive, my Pasha,” the angel whispered. “I have been dead and cold for too long. Make me feel alive.”
“Dead and cold? What do…?”
His words were cut off when the angel kissed him deeply. With a groan he responded and this time, the hands that caressed his body were very real and very present.
Taking their time to slowly explore each other’s bodies, Pasha and the angel lay together and raised the energy between them until it was almost a palpable entity, sharing their passion.
“I… I can’t…. I’ve never…. I don’t know what to do,” Pasha gasped. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Do?” The angel raised himself on one arm and looked at him curiously. Pasha was breathless with desire for the beautiful creature that loomed over him. With his lips swollen from their kissing and his eyes glazed and slightly unfocussed from their passion, the angel was painfully lovely and Pasha was overwhelmed.
“I…I feel there’s…more. We have to do…more. My body is on fire and it’s craving…something. I know…. I kind of know where things go from here but I’m scared. I don’t know what….”
“Ssh,” the angel said, bending his head and kissing Pasha gently. “It’s alright. I know what to do.”
Pasha opened his mouth to ask what but before he could speak a word his body was seized by such an intense feeling of desire he couldn’t hold a thought long enough to vocalise it. The sensations tearing through his body were so intense they scared him but somewhere in the middle of the maelstrom a voice spoke to him and the angel’s love poured through him like cooling salve over a wound.
“Surrender to me. Open for me.”
Pasha sensed more than heard the words, lost in a fever of desire that made him helpless. Instantly he complied, trusting the angel implicitly.
This time it was very different. Pasha’s body sang with energy and was ultra sensitive to every touch of the angel’s hands. He felt vaguely that he ought to be ‘doing’ something but he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t do anything more than whimper as the angels questing hands and lips turned him into quivering jelly.
He was barely aware when the angel entered him. All he knew was that there was yet another layer to the pulsing energy coursing through him. He bit his lip not to scream and the angel held him close until his body acclimatised to the new sensations.
“Are you ready?” the angel whispered.
“Oh yes. Oh God, yes.”

Now go check out the rest of the flashers. You won't regret it.

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

Open for Me

And yet another Wednesday rolls around and another Flash appears as if by magic :) This time there really is some magic courtesy of the Angel. Maybe next time it will be Pasha's turn to make it. This week the prompt I chose was I'm glad I'm done with that. (cheated a bit. Was supposed to be I'm glad I'm done with it)

Lukas and Anna’s spare room was huge, at least compared to Pasha’s flat in the city. The bed it contained was king sized and brand new. Pasha carefully laid the angel on it, after Anna had stripped back the covers and spread a towel over the pillows. Twitching the covers back in place over the supine angel Anna took her leave.
Pasha barely noticed her go. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the angel. Their fingers found each other’s as did their eyes and they remained still and silent, as the clock ticked on the wall and the wind battered the window with a smattering of rain that heralded the start of another storm.
It was the angel who broke the spell. “Pasha,” he whispered.
Pasha blinked, as if awakening from a trance and smiled. “You’re supposed to be taking a nap,” he said, making no move to unwind their fingers.
“I’m not tired.”
A slow smile crept over the angel’s face. “I’m sleepy, Pasha, but not tired. There’s a difference.”
“Yes, there is,” Pasha said, his smile mirroring the angel’s as he lay down on the bed and stared into the beautiful blue eyes that twinkled in the angel’s pale face. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“It hurts me that I…” He stopped when the angel’s fingers touched his lips.
“Then forget. I don’t want you to feel guilty for hurting me. It wasn’t your fault. Something is happening to us and…” The angel’s eyes wandered away then wandered back. “I feel that I should know what it is.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I feel that I am…that I should stop it.”
“Why?” Pasha asked, alarmed. “Do you think it’s bad?”
“I don’t know. That’s the point. I should know but I don’t. My heart is saying it’s not a bad thing but my head is saying… well, I don’t really know what my head is saying because everything is so confused, but I’m thinking we should try to stop before....”
“Before what?”
“I don’t know,” the angel moaned. “I don’t know what I think, I don’t know what I am, I don’t know what I want. No, that’s not true. I do know what I want.” Taking Pasha somewhat by surprise, the angel leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss, like the first one the angel had surprised him with, or a heated one like the second kiss in the kitchen. This was a kiss that was sure of itself, certain of its reception and worth, unhesitant but also undemanding. It was a firm, sweet, giving kiss and Pasha found himself overwhelmed by it. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and he could hardly breathe. His heart swelled up in his chest and he felt… He felt…
“Open for me,” the angel whispered and Pasha thought he meant his lips. However, when he let his lips fall apart, the angel’s tongue did not slip past them. In fact, it was not in evidence at all, only his firm, soft lips massaging Pasha’s and his breath, filling him with sweetness.
Something was happening to him. The deep emotions that had been stirring inside were in turmoil, as if being stirred by a giant wooden spoon in a cauldron. He felt suffocated. His chest burned and his heart was beating too fast. Panic gripped him but he heard the angel’s voice murmuring somewhere close to his ear. “Open for me.”
And somehow he did. Almost immediately the tumult inside calmed and he felt as if he was floating on the air, encased in something soft…cotton wool…feathers.
He realised he’d closed his eyes and opened them. The angel was smiling down at him, his golden hair floating around his head as if lifted by the wind and his blue eyes shone. Not only were his arms around Pasha but huge snowy white wings, soft as down, encased him in a cocoon of warmth and absolute comfort. Pasha had never felt so safe, so comfortable, so… loved.
“What happened?” he whispered.
“I remembered,” the angel said with an enormous smile.
“Remembered what?”
“How to do it.”
“Do what?”
He lowered his wing and allowed Pasha to peep over it at their surroundings. “Oh my God. Where are we?”
“Everywhere and nowhere. This is where we join. Our hearts. Our souls. The inside part. The place deep, deep inside where there’s no separation between what can and can’t be, what was is or will be, what’s you and what’s me. This is the very center, where all things are possible.”
“The center of what?” Pasha whispered, afraid to raise his voice. The deep quiet felt like the holy silence you get in churches and cathedrals and Pasha felt that any loud sound would be almost sacrilegious.
“Of us. This is where we join, where the connection comes from. I can’t explain it. I just know it’s a safe place, somewhere only we can go. Wherever our bodies are, we are also here, together, our hearts beating as one. That is why you felt my hands on you when I was not beside you, why I felt your anger even when you weren’t speaking it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, fully, but I know that the very fact we are here means we are meant for each other, you and I. I am yours and you are mine. It’s woven into the very fabric of who we are.” The angel frowned. “Do you think that is why I am here? Why I came to this place? To find you?”
Pasha was overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know. I….” It was impossible, surely, that an angel would fall from heaven just for him.
“Are you sure I came from heaven?”
“Where else?”
“I don’t know but I feel…I feel it wasn’t a good place. I’m glad to be done with it. Shouldn’t heaven be different to that?”

Now go and check out the other flashers

Tali m/f