I’m totally stealing this from my co-author’s blog, but I couldn’t resist sharing! S.L. Armstrong and I have a serial we’re working on for Storm Moon Press. I think I’ve mentioned it before, since it’s the one where we bring the debauched and wicked Dorian Gray into modern times and throw in a few Urban Fantasy notes for good measure. 😉 Immortal Symphony is the name of the series, and season one is called Overture. We’ve been working on the first episode (the first season will have six episodes, each episode around 20K words), and S.L. and I thought it might be time to share something from it! That includes the awesome cover art Nathie whipped up for us.
Dorian grinned as his fingers tangled in the long fringe of hair partially obscuring his latest conquest’s face. The university student’s face didn’t really matter, but his hair was interesting, something new with its bright streaks of red and blue and pale blond. The boy was practically channeling the Union Jack as he slid down Dorian’s body, making the leather seats of Dorian’s car creak. Dorian smiled to himself. Jack was as good a pet name as any. The vibrant colored strands brought out the paleness in Dorian’s skin, and he spared a vain thought for his own elegance before pulling Jack’s lips down over the bulge in his slacks. The tug of his hand was met with resistance, though, and the boy’s lust-darkened eyes met his.
“Professor…” Jack breathed. Dorian knew that tone all too well. It meant the boy was trying to keep himself in check. Religious values, perhaps, or maybe just a battle against the taboo of fucking around with a teacher—or, more accurately, guest lecturer. Either way, Dorian knew the plea beneath those words. Jack was begging to be overpowered, to be left without a choice. A mere gesture, and the boy could be his, but Dorian relished the conquest, the slow, erotic disintegration of those walls modern young men built around themselves.
“Shh,” Dorian soothed. “Just you and me now. You didn’t follow me from the lecture hall to compare notes. You didn’t step into this car to conduct the Inquisition.” Dorian let his fingers trail sensually over the boy’s features and along his unnaturally colored hairline. “You came to give me something. And you’re going to give it, Jack.”
A flicker of lust and doubt passed over Jack’s face. “My name isn’t—”
“But you don’t really care, do you?” Dorian interrupted, yanking at the boy’s hair just hard enough to make him gasp. He saw that inner wall crack and tumble down in Jack’s eyes, and when Jack shook his head and relaxed in his grip, he purred his triumph and satisfaction. “Good boy. Now, suck my cock. Show me what you can really do with that mouth of yours.”
Jack’s groan was followed by more creaking leather, and then moist heat was teasing Dorian through his slacks. Jack’s hands tugged at his belt and rubbed at the hard length of him, but another dominant jerk of his wrist caused all teasing to cease. A quick scramble later, his cock was enveloped by lips and hands.
Dorian let his head fall back against the plush leather, enjoying the texture of it while a slight breeze caught his hair through a crack in the windows. There was nothing like a blowjob after a long morning of guest lectures. Theology could be such a trying subject, and this boy was the perfect distraction. So easily enticed, so easily guided, Jack followed his cues, sucking harder when he moaned and arched his hips.