Earrings Every Day - #SpreadTheLight #LoveYourself #Joy

Abalone Shell Earrings from San Francisco

 

Like most of you, I’m mostly confined to my home right now. Fortunately I can continue to work at my job remotely, but days can go by without my seeing anyone except my dear husband and my cats.

Needless to say, I’m not spending much time on my appearance. I’ve never been one to put on make-up, anyway, but I do normally visit the hairdresser once a month to rejuvenate my image. Now I’m having to accept my increasingly prominent gray roots and split ends.

I’m wearing tee shirts to avoid the need for ironing, and that comfortable jeans skirt with the frayed seams and the holes in the pockets that’s too raggedy for going out in public. After all, I don’t have to impress anyone right now.

Still, despite the fact that I’m more or less isolated, I do take one daily action to lift my spirits. Every day, I put on a different pair of earrings.

My mom pierced my ears when I was fourteen, and I’ve been collecting earrings ever since. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have more than a hundred pairs, even though I purge them every few years to get rid of the mismatched ones. They’re my favorite type of souvenir when I travel, since they don’t take up a lot of space in the luggage. My friends and family know that earrings are a gift that will always please me. When I moved from the US to Asia, more than a decade ago, I jettisoned about 80% of my worldly goods – but all my earrings came with me.

So this Sunday, instead of posting a sexy excerpt, I’m sharing some photos of my earrings. I’m afraid the pictures taken with my phone don’t really do them justice. Many of them are works of art. 

 These dangly beauties belonged to my mom

Modern art - a gift from my sister-in-law

 Purchased in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul

Celtic knots - a daily favorite

 One of a kind hammered gold wire - from Rhodos, Greece

You can actually flip the pages!

Bastet replica earrings - from the Boston MFA

 

Without earrings, I feel naked – regardless of what else I have on. With earrings… well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Indeed, there are few sights more erotic than a woman wearing only earrings and nothing else.

It might sound silly, but for me, donning my earrings is a way of claiming the joy that lies in every day. Even difficult days like these.

Science Fiction Double Feature - #scifi #FirstLove #giveaway

Science fiction was one of my first loves. If you'd peeked into my room pretty much any afternoon when I was in school, you would have found me sprawled across the bed with my nose in a book, and it's quite likely it would have been sci fi. I couldn't have been more than seven or eight when I began exploring Eleanor Cameron's Mushroom Planet. Then I moved on to Heinlein's and Bradbury's visions of Mars (very different places!), and the world of Asimov's Foundation trilogy. I was in high school when I devoured Stranger in a Strange Land, fell head over heals for Valentine Michael Smith, and developed my enduring fascination with polyamory.

My husband introduced me to Philip K. Dick, Stanislaw Lem and Fritz Leiber. Then we became friends with a woman who taught English at a local university. She organized a scifi reading group. What a glorious year and a half that was! Every month we'd read a new book and discuss it, over delicious potluck dinners (with a strong emphasis on the desserts). I sampled a raft of new authors: Olivia Butler, Greg Bear, Sheri S. Tepper, Pat Cadigan, Harry Harrison, James Tiptree, David Brin... I was like a kid in a candy store!

I discovered that I much preferred “soft” science fiction – stories that start with some premise about society or history and then explore the consequences. For example, The Man in the High Castle, which is the first Dick book I read, turns on the notion that the United States and its allies lost World War II. The author then proceeds to build a world in which the Japanese and the Germans have divided up the American continent, and San Francisco is mostly Asian. (Gee, sounds like the present!) Another favorite is A Canticle for Lebowitz, by Walter M. Miller, Jr. In a post-apocalyptic future, devout communities of monks act as custodians for the mysterious knowledge and artifacts of vanished civilization. One of the most sacred of all texts is written in the hand of Saint Isaac Lebowitz and begins “gallon of milk/loaf of bread/...” Then there's Kate Wilhelm's The Year of the Cloud. I don't remember where I picked this novel up – it's obscure, far less well known than her masterpiece Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang – but I remember now, decades later, how it impressed me. The earth passes through a cloud of stellar dust. The dust has the effect of “thickening” water, turning it from liquid to a kind of sludge. Having posited this single fact, Wilhelm then proceeds to show how this turns society upside down, as humans (over ninety percent H₂O) die and usable water becomes increasingly scarce. I found the book chilling but totally plausible, once you had accepted the triggering event.

So when I began publishing, why didn't I write science fiction instead of erotica? Partly because I didn't dare! I doubted my ability to create a compelling yet believable alternative world. And I'd read so much science fiction by then, I felt as though all my ideas would be derivative.

Still, I've been tempted – and once or twice, I've given in. Now, after more than a dozen years as an author, I've published just two science fiction erotic romances: a M/F/M ménage novella called Bodiesof Light and my M/M novel Quarantine. As you might guess, both fall into the “soft sci fi” category, even though Bodies of Light is set on a starship hurtling toward a far galaxy.

Bodies of Light is about the non-corporeal nature of desire. Since my primary genre is erotica/erotic romance, it's natural that the sci fi themes that interest me relate to sexuality.

Physicist Dr. Christine Monroe has devoted her lonely life to research on hyper-space travel. Guilt about her continued failure leads her to sign on to the Archimedes, a sub-light-speed mission aimed at establishing a colony in the Sirius B system. When she wakes from suspended animation, she discovers that the ship is wildly off course and the rest of the crew are dead due to equipment failure. At first she thinks the two handsome strangers who show up on the ship are figments of her imagination - erotic hallucinations created by isolation and stress. However, Alyn and Zed are solid, real, and ready to sacrifice their lives for the strong woman they've found stranded in deep space. As her ship begins to disintegrate, Christine must choose between the planet she was sent to save and the two alien beings she's come to cherish.

Quarantine focuses on politics and prejudice. It takes place in a dystopian near future, when all known homosexuals (identified by a genetic marker) have been imprisoned in remote quarantine camps, ostensibly to protect the general population from the plague the gays carry. After seven years of confinement, inmate Dylan Moore will do anything for freedom, including seducing Rafe Cowell, an ex-gang member sentenced to a bleak stint as a camp guard. 

 

Rafe is H-negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, however, he finds he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

The novel follows the two men as they become fugitives, fighting murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and their own mutual distrust. Hiding in the Plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more than their own safety at stake – that the lives of millions more people depend on their success in resisting the shadowy Guardians who control and manipulate what's left of American society.

I'm afraid that neither book will win a Hugo (although Bodies of Light received a Best Book award from Whipped Cream reviews). Nevertheless, I'm incredibly proud that I've finally added my own visions to the science fiction canon.

I’ve accepted that no scifi I write is going to be Philip K. Dick (though he might well have felt at home in Rafe's and Dylan's world) – but it's my attempt to honor my life long love. 

I'm giving away a copy of Bodies of Light to one person who comments on this blog post. Tell me about your favorite sci-fi title - or just say hi! Don't forget to include your email address.

Seven Sci-fi Books that Changed Me -- #ScienceFiction #SaturdaySeven #LASR

From my earliest years as a reader —which began when I was four—science fiction has been one of my enduring loves. The first sci-fi books I remember were The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet by Eleanor Cameron and The City Under the Back Steps by Evelyn Sibley Lampman. I doubt I was more than seven at the time, just introduced to the wonders of the library.

Of course, I grew up during the dawning space age. I was in fourth grade when Alan Shepard circled the globe in his tin can. Men landed on the moon the year I graduated high school. Indeed, I wanted to be an astronaut, until I learned that there was no way they’d take someone with my serious myopia and flat feet. (The fact that I was female never seemed to me to be an obstacle.)

Over the years, I’ve read lots of sci-fi, though to be honest, much of it has been forgettable. However, here are seven science fiction titles whose memories I cherish, books that opened new vistas for me or changed my view of the world.

The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury

I’ve loved Bradbury ever since I first encountered his work. This book presents a poetic, nuanced vision of true strangeness. On a planet where man is the alien, there is much to be learned about ourselves. Beautiful, scary and intense, this book taught me that we humans weren’t the center of the universe.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I read this when I was just past puberty, overwhelmed with hormones like all teens. I have to admit that what made the most lasting impression on me in this book was the sex. No, there are no explicit sex scenes in this novel. However, Valentine Michael Smith, the human brought up by Martians who is the “stranger” of the title, establishes a polyamorous tribe in which sex (“water-sharing”) is both ecstasy and sacrament, a connection of mind as well as body. I know my own views and experience of sexuality (often expressed in the stories I write) borrows a lot from the philosophy of this book.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick

 
Hard as it might be to believe of a sci-fi afficionado, I’d never heard of Philip K. Dick until my husband introduced me to this book. (A love of science fiction is just one of many things my DH and I have in common.) I was totally floored by its audacity, its detail, the darkness of its themes and the brilliance of its exposition.

Dick paints a vivid picture of an alternative present in which the United States and its allies lost World War II. Starting from that single premise, he imagines a world in which the Nazis and the Japanese have divided the continent, then spins out the consequences.

How did this book change me? (Aside from making me a huge Philip K. Dick fan, that is!) It crystallized my awareness of what I like most about science fiction—the way one powerful idea, one modification of reality, can change everything. That’s the sort of sci-fi I usually like most, not the space operas with tons of technological marvels, or the interstellar epics with dozens of planets and civilizations. I’m interested in the social implications of technology, more than the technology itself.

Holy Fire by Bruce Sterling

This book came out in 1997, and I probably read it soon after. It’s interesting what I do and don’t remember about the novel. The heroine, Mia, is an ancient woman, over a hundred, who undergoes physical rejuvenation. What I recall most vividly is the disconnect she feels between her gerontocrat mind and her youthful body. We like to fantasize about eternal youth, but Sterling does a fantastic job portraying the complexities that would likely arise if this technology were to become available.

As I am now well on the way to being an old crone myself, I sometimes fantasize about what it would be like to have my lithe, sexy young body back. When my thoughts tend in that direction, I recall this cautionary tale.

Anathem by Neal Stephenson

I said I don’t usually prefer science fiction books that construct elaborate new worlds, with their own cultures, languages and so on. Anathem is an exception, partly because it really is a book about ideas—competing ideas about the nature of the universe, time, man, and the earth, battling for supremacy.

Stephenson has a brilliant imagination but sometimes too little discipline. I’ve tossed his books halfway through because he didn’t know when to stop going off on tangents. In this massive novel, though, he keeps himself in check, building an exquisitely detailed universe in which science, and power, are centered in monasteries scattered over the earth. As was the case in the Middle Ages, these monasteries preserve the past, but also are limited by it.

I can’t count how many times, reading this book, that I stopped, amazed, at some incredible (and often slyly humorous) notion or description. You can read Anathem as an adventure, but I think it’s a far deeper effort by intent. 
 

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi

This novel, published in 2009, is hands-down one of the best science fiction books I’ve read—ever. Since it won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, I guess other people agree with me.

The book is set in Bangkok, in a not-so-distant future when the planet is crushed under the heel of the agro-conglomerates who control all the genetically modified food stuffs. Petroleum reserves have long since been exhausted. People use gene-edited beasts of burden and kinetic energy storage to accomplish their work. Thailand has preserved some original, non-modified seed stocks, though, and Company Man Anderson is determined to get control of this precious, subversive genetic material.

This book deeply impressed me, on a whole range of levels. The portrayal of Thai society and culture is so accurate (based on my past experience living there) that I can hardly believe the author isn’t Thai himself. The many characters are distinctive, rich, sympathetic yet highly flawed. Meanwhile, the conflicts and the environmental scenarios are all too believable.

I picked up a copy of this book at a used book sale. Since then I’ve bought it for at least half a dozen people as a gift, and recommended it to many more. Astonishing.

Quarantine by Lisabet Sarai

Wait a minute! Am I really about to include my own novel in this list?

Well, I’m talking about books that changed me. Despite my love of sci-fi, or maybe because of it, I haven’t dared write very much in this genre. Quarantine is to date my only full-length science fiction title. Writing Quarantine, a MM sci-fi romance, was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. The process gave me new respect for writers of sci-fi.

The book takes place in a dystopic near future. After a sexually transmitted plague kills millions and devastates society, a shadowy group steps in to restore order. The self-styled Guardians of American Greatness incarcerate all males who carry the “homogene” in remote internment camps, supposedly to protect the population from a recurrence of the plague. One of my protagonists, Dylan, has been a camp prisoner for seven years; the other, Rafe, is one of the few humans who supplement the robot guards that maintain camp security.

Rafe is H-negative. He’s not gay. Yet he falls in love with the brilliant, desperate young detainee. Together they escape to the riot-scarred city of SanFran, where they find both allies and enemies.

Throughout the process of writing this book, I worried that my world wasn’t sufficiently imaginative to hold readers’ interest. I agonized over details, struggled with back-story, lost my self-confidence. I stopped working on the book for more than six months, convinced it was worthless.

Now, though, I think it’s one of the best things I’ve written, with a lot more substance than most romance (including my own). The process taught me that sometimes, creation involves the pain of self-doubt.

Still, I’m not eager to tackle writing another science fiction novel anytime soon! I’ll just enjoy books written by others.

Anyone have any suggestions? What science fiction books have made the most impression on you? Leave me a comment to let me know, and I will enter you into a drawing for a free copy of Quarantine. (Don’t forget to include your email!)

Smut Sunday: Raw sex from Quarantine (#mm #glbtq #ChechenRainbow)

For Smut Sunday, I have a very raw excerpt from my MM erotic romance Quarantine. This book is set in a concentration camp for confining gay men. Dylan is a prisoner; Rafe, a guard.

If this excerpt moves you, consider bidding in the charity auction to save threatened gay men in Chechnya. I’m offering two autographed print copies of this provocative book.

Meanwhile, when you’re finished with this post, head back to Smut Sunday Central for more sexy, smutty fun!

“I know you watch me,” Dylan answered, all the brashness gone from his manner. “Well, I watch you, too.”

“How…?” Rafe slid his fingers into Dylan’s reddish thatch and raised the inmate’s eyes to his own.

“Easy. I programmed a guard to change the video routing. To feed the stream from here to the screen of my controller.”

So there were spy eyes in the control room, after all. “No…”

“Yes. You know that hard-on of mine that you enjoy watching so much? That’s for you, man. When I jack off at night, I’m thinking of you.”

Rafe’s mind reeled. He snatched his hand from Dylan’s hair as though he’d been scalded.

“Unlock the cuffs, man. Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I want you.”

“Shut up, faggot!” The key burned a hole in his palm. His rigid dick strained against his zipper. He was tottering on the edge of a precipice, tempted to jump. Tempted to give in, to release the rash young man who’d delivered himself into Rafe’s hands.

But that would be suicide. The penalties for breaking quarantine were more severe than for murder.

He could take what he wanted, though. As long as Dylan was still cuffed, no one would really care. Rafe was H-negative—not queer, just horny from the months cooped up here with nothing but eP, no normal release. Oh, God, but he was horny!

The pressure from his boner made it difficult to undo his fly. When he finally managed to work the zipper down, his cock burst from its prison, bobbing like a fat black sausage in front of Dylan’s hungry eyes. Moisture welled up from the slit. Dylan licked his full lips as though dying for a taste.

“Ah, yes…” the prisoner sighed, leaning forward and reaching out his tongue.

Rafe didn’t answer. He grabbed the back of Dylan’s head and plunged his dick into that wide-open mouth.

Heat. Wetness. The firm pressure of a muscular tongue, kneading his pulsing flesh. The tight seal of those ripe lips locked around his rod. Rafe struggled for control. The sensations that flooded him threatened to set him off before he even got started. He pulled back, popping out of Dylan’s mouth. The other man moaned in disappointment. Rafe drilled back in, hard and fast.

Dylan gagged and Rafe let up for an instant. Dylan tried his tricks again, swirling his tongue along the shaft, nipping at the head, sucking like a vacuum cleaner gone mad. Pleasure swirled through Rafe, tightening its grip, bringing his cum to a premature boil. Dylan’s mouth was a garden of delights, but Rafe didn’t want that. He didn’t want the inmate to give him anything. He wanted to take.

He slammed his cock down Dylan’s throat, feeling the bulb graze the palate. The man on his knees choked on the invading bulk. This time Rafe didn’t relent. He jerked his hips, driving his cock even deeper.

He felt Dylan surrender, giving up all pretence of will or control. The muscles spasming around his rod relaxed. The jaw went slack. Again and again, Rafe buried his dick in that brazen, laughing mouth, bruised and drooling now under Rafe’s assault.

In. Out. In. Rafe stepped closer to the kneeling inmate so that he could thrust deeper. His climax was on a slow burn now, building with each stroke. He could fuck this raw, sweet mouth forever.

Something brushed against his leg, a solid lump that sent a new thrill up his spine. Dylan’s cock was hard—hard because Rafe was using him like the fag pussy he was. Rafe had the cruel notion that he might stop, push the inmate away and deny him any pleasure. He saw himself, using his fist to bring himself over the edge, showering Dylan’s face with jism but leaving Dylan without relief.

He was too far gone to stop, though. The hot pleasure dancing in his flesh made him generous. Let the twink come, he thought. As if in answer, Dylan rubbed his crotch against Rafe’s knee awkward because of his bonds and the inescapable cock plundering his mouth.

The friction increased Rafe’s excitement. He seized Dylan’s head with both hands. His back arched. His balls tightened. Then everything exploded, sharp pleasure slicing through him like shrapnel. His cum flooded the other man’s mouth. The sensation of Dylan swallowing detonated new waves of delight.

Dylan’s cock pulsed. Rafe pulled away at the last instant, not wanting evidence of their games to stain his trousers. Dylan moaned as convulsions shook his body. Gradually he stopped shuddering. He sank back onto his heels, Rafe’s semen dribbling from the corners of his half-smiling mouth. 

Bid for a signed copy here! 

 

Authors and Readers -- help gay men in Chechnya! ( #charity #lgbtq #chechenrainbow )

 

You might not have heard about this. When you do, you’ll likely be as sick and angry as I am.

Apparently, over the last month, authorities in Chechnya have been rounding up gay men (and even those suspected of being gay) and confining them to detention camps. The New York Times reports at least 100 arrests and three deaths.

This sounds like a scene from my dystopian gay romance Quarantine. But that’s supposed to be speculative fiction...

A group of authors is mobilizing to help raise money to help the victims, as well as to expand awareness of this emergency situation. You can find out more here:

https://dalecameronlowry.com/lgbt-chechnya/writers-and-publishers-for-lgbt-chechnya/

Some of us are donating money from our book sales to organizations helping the victims of this purge. Some are offering items for auction. I’m auctioning off two paperback copies of Quarantine. Seems grimly appropriate. The auction will be held between May 5^th and May 12^th. See the link above for details.

If you’re an author, I hope you’ll consider adding your voice and your work to this effort. If you’re a reader, please participate in the auction. We’re expecting some great prizes to come on the block. Of course you can always donate directly to the Russian LGBT Network, the main organization helping to get gay men in Chechnya to safety. For details, see Dale’s blog: https://dalecameronlowry.com/help-save-lives-lgbt-chechens/

Whatever you do, don’t be silent. Don’t let this injustice and inhumanity stand.

Thank you.

When love is forbidden, the whole world's a prison.

Dylan Moor will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay plague spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the Homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centres like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp's security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility's defences.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-Negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell—and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe find he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan's plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they're both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more that their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention – Best science fiction novel – 2012!

The fact was, no one really knew who the Guardians were. At the height of the Plague, thousands had been dying daily. The streets stank from the smoke of burning bodies and torched buildings. Crazed mobs had roamed the cities, looking for the ‘carriers’ they blamed for the death of their loved ones. The fact that gays had been dying twice as fast as straights hadn’t stopped them.

Then the Robbies had marched in, a small army, with Tasers and tear gas. At first, some people had screamed about an alien invasion. Within hours, the messages began coming from ‘the Guardians of American Greatness’, urging people to be calm, promising to contain the scourge of the perverts. Gradually, the chaos had subsided.

Dylan vividly remembered being dragged to the testing centre by a pair of robots. They’d smashed in the door of the Castro District apartment he’d shared with his lover. Miguel’s body had been sprawled on their bed, his coffee-coloured skin riddled with the oozing sores that were the Plague’s mark. Dylan had been crouched on the floor, crying and rocking back and forth, while explosions shook the building and sirens wailed.

He hadn’t put up any fight. What would have been the use? Miguel was dead. The world was in flames. He’d been seventeen.

But he was ready to fight now. He’d do whatever was necessary to get out of this hell. Dylan reached into the basin of the chemical toilet, feeling around the inside rim. The slimy plastoceramic surface made his skin crawl. Ammonia fumes burned his nostrils. He grinned as his fingers found the item he sought. Detaching the object from the hook he’d installed, he brought out an oblong about the size of a cig pack.

He unwrapped the protective plastic and switched on the controller. The organic LCD screen glowed pale blue. He’d lifted it from a discarded microwave oven. His fingers danced over the keyboard, composing his message. The interface was crude but adequate for his needs.

Closing his eyes, he brought up an image of the brawny black guard who was his target. What would work best? He didn’t know much about Rafe—he hadn’t been able to hack the guy’s dossier. He could read boredom and frustration in the man’s strong, regular features. He knew from their first encounter that Rafe had a temper. Yet Dylan also sensed a streak of decency. Most of the human guards at Malheur were supposed to be convicts. Let the dregs take care of the pariahs seemed to be the Guardians’ philosophy. Rafe hadn’t struck him as the criminal type, though, despite his rough looks.

Clearly Rafe was attracted to men, or at least to Dylan. But he probably didn’t consider himself queer. Best not to be too explicit in the message, then. It would be better to allow Rafe to deceive himself about his motives.

Dylan completed his task, scheduled the message, and pressed ‘Send’. If all went well, the invitation would be delivered to Rafe on his private channel tomorrow afternoon. Dylan returned the controller to its hiding place, washed his hands, and returned to his bunk. It was a bit after three a.m. Rafe would be working his shift in the control room.

Dylan pulled down his trousers. His cock was already hard from thinking about Rafe. He stroked its length, lingering at the tip. Time for the night’s show.

Sunday Snog 238: Quarantine (#mm #scifi #giveaway )

Hosting Kenn Dahll yesterday made me long for a bit more M/M loving, so I dived into my backlist and came up with an edgy kiss excerpt for today’s Sunday Snog, from my M/M scifi erotic romance Quarantine. 

Give it a read, then leave me a comment telling me why you think M/M erotic romance is so popular. I’ll randomly select one person to receive a copy of any of my M/M books — your choice!

When you’re done with my snog, do head back to Victoria’s place for more sexy Sunday kisses.

When love is forbidden, the whole world’s a prison.

Dylan Moore will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay plague spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The Guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centres like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp's security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility's defences.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell – and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe finds he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan's plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they're both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the Plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more than their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

Watch the trailer!

Dylan took a step or two towards the white-suited guard, holding the candle high. Rafe rose from the bench, scowling, sweat gleaming on his proud forehead and prominent nose. The powerful gloved hands clenched and unclenched, a clear signal of the man’s uncertainty. Good.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You want another stint in the hole?” he growled. Dylan moved closer and, by God, the guard backed away.

“You look like you’re feeling hot, Rafe. Why don’t you take off the monkey suit? You know I’m not contagious.” Dylan kept his voice low and even, as though he were trying to reassure a frightened animal. “Make yourself more comfortable. Don’t worry, nobody knows we’re here together. I blinded the spy eyes. And there’s no electricity anyway.” He stepped forward again. This time Rafe held his ground.

“Keep away from me, faggot!” Despite Rafe’s glare, this sounded more like a plea than a command. Dylan set the candle down on the rail separating the generators from the aisle. He closed the few feet of distance between them.

“Let me help you,” Dylan murmured, pulling the zip on the suit down to Rafe’s waist.

“Get your filthy hands off me!” Rafe yelled. But he didn’t move as Dylan opened the suit all the way down to his crotch. Dylan resisted the temptation to reach inside and stroke the erection he knew he’d find there. Instead, he pushed the garment off Rafe’s shoulders. The slithery fabric crumpled around Rafe’s knees.

“Relax,” said Dylan. “Sit down.” He seated himself on the bench, the polished wood cool against his bare buttocks. Like an automaton, Rafe did the same. The black man kicked off the biohazard gear. For a moment they simply stared at each other.

Dylan felt his nipples tighten and his cock lift under the guard’s scrutiny. It really was lucky the guy was so attractive. It made everything easier.

He could read the emotions shuttling across Rafe’s face. Hell, the guy was an open book. The anger was mostly gone. Now fear, guilt and lust battled it out on those noble features. Dylan sat quietly, holding Rafe’s eyes, his cock growing harder with every passing second. Rafe’s nostrils flared. He breathed through his mouth, panting as though he was running a marathon. His gaze flicked down to the rod of flesh rearing up from Dylan’s groin.

“What do you want?” he asked finally, his voice almost a whisper.

“You know what I want. You.”

He leant forward, brushing his lips across Rafe’s. The other man started. Dylan seized the guard’s shoulders and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Rafe did not resist. In fact, he opened his mouth to allow Dylan’s questing tongue inside.

Exultation flared in Dylan’s heart. Still devouring the guard’s mouth, he slid his hands down Rafe’s massive biceps and then over his solid chest, pulling at the Velcro that kept the shirt closed. The guard’s skin was smooth, warm, and moist with sweat. Dylan’s fingers skimmed over the patch of tight frizz between Rafe’s breasts, then fastened on one fat nipple. Rafe gasped, grabbed Dylan’s head, and deepened the kiss.

This was almost too easy. Dylan cupped the huge bulk of Rafe’s erection, trapped inside the tight trousers. “I want to see you naked,” he said, close to Rafe’s ear. “Please, baby…”

Rafe abruptly broke the embrace. Damn. Had he moved too fast for the homophobic guard? Rafe turned his broad back to Dylan and shucked off his shirt. Dylan licked his lips at the sight of the muscles shifting in that sleek, chocolate brown expanse. Rafe kicked off his boots then yanked his pants down to his ankles. Finally he peeled off the gloves and tossed them onto the concrete floor.

When he faced Dylan again, his eyes were glowing coals. His cock rose like a pillar of basalt between his powerful thighs. His abdomen rippled as he sucked in breath. He was magnificent, like some ancient god. Dylan wanted to worship him.

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