Gross Indecency: An Otherworld Novel will eventually be edited and put on sale, but for now, I figured as we worked on it, we would also release the chapters for free. :) Call it an experiment. One chapter a month will be put out here, Tumblr, and a couple of other outlets. However, if you support us on Patreon, you get to see the chapter a week or two before it become publicly available. So… support us! :D You get lots of fun bits and bobs in addition to fiction.
Right now, Gross Indecency is 128 pages (42,583 words) long, and that’s not even half of the planned novel. ;) It’s a kinky romp with exiled faeries, so anything goes.
Blurb: When Malachite, a battle-weary Sídhe prince of the Lunar Court, fell for Rime, a darkly seductive Solar Court satyr with a haunting gift for music, their love threw the Faerie Houses on both sides into an uproar. Forced to choose between love and obligation, Malachite turned his back on his family, preferring exile with Rime over his duty as a noble of the Aos Sí.
Now, banished from their homelands among the Fae Folk and forced to live among humans, Malachite and Rime must find a way to survive and succeed in the mortal realm with their fellow exiles. Hiding in plain sight, they put their otherworldly talents and charms to use in the most appropriate place possible: they start a small adult film company and begin producing porn. But work is only the beginning of this glimpse into their erotic and often kinky lives in modern day London.
London, England, 2015
Malachite stalked through the doorway, his face twisted with annoyance. “Tell me, once again, what the charge was… and why the hell I’m bothering to bail you out.”
Rime smirked as he rose from his cot and pressed himself against the cold metal bars of his holding cell. Turning his head slightly, he drew his tongue up one of the polished bars and then blew against the spot. The same ice crystals of his namesake sprang up from the metal to meet his breath, but then quickly dissipated in the heat of the room. “Gross indecency. Apparently, it’s illegal to give one of the Queen’s guards a smashingly erotic blowjob while he’s still on duty.”
Suppressing a shudder–because how many times had he been on the receiving end of Rime’s oral expertise?–Malachite continued to glare at Rime. “And you called me why?” He hadn’t seen his lover for almost two years due to an irreconcilable conflict of interest. Namely, that Rime couldn’t seem to remember whose bed he was supposed to be in. “Whirlwind no longer taking your calls?”
“No,” Rime said, and for a moment, he looked rather pathetic as he stared at Malachite. “I’ve been meaning to call you for weeks now. This was as good an excuse as any to call… to see you again.” He paused, and a smile slowly curved his lips. “Besides, you always said you loved to see me locked up. I could hardly resist.”
Malachite crossed his arms. “You couldn’t call me until you wound up in jail. Mmm. I can see how difficult it must have been for you to pick up the phone before now.”
“I’m sorry, Malachite,” Rime murmured as he leaned his head against the bars. “I was an ass.”
“Yes, you were,” Malachite said, a sharp edge to his voice, though the harshness didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I’ve missed you. The flat has been desperately lonely since you left.” Rime’s ice blue eyes drank in the beautiful features he’d longed for every moment since Malachite had disappeared down the crowded street where they’d fought and parted.
Malachite looked away, lips tight. “You’ve missed me so much you were arrested for blowing someone in public? Forgive me my scepticism.”
“I was desperate! I’m a creature of love and lust!” Rime tightened his hands around the bars. “You haven’t been here, and–”
“And I am supposed to believe in two years you haven’t fucked anyone? That this was just a desperate moment of overwhelming loneliness?” Malachite’s bitter laughter echoed in the room. “Give me more credit than that. I believe my brother called you the Whore of the Lunar Court for a reason.”
Rime cringed. Only Malachite could make him ashamed of his past, and the words struck him to his core. Releasing the bars, he dejectedly sat on his cot. “I didn’t. I didn’t fuck anyone outside of work. That’s all, whether you trust my word or not.” It had been as hard as hell, too. Satyrs were meant for sex, and he’d been denying his very nature. More than once he’d thanked the Old Gods that Briar had roped them all into porn. Without that outlet, he’d have tipped over into true madness and gone on some sort of violent rampage.
Malachite watched Rime, silent and considering. Rime had never lied to him, and he had no cause to doubt his word now. He walked up to the bars, wrapped his fingers around the cold metal, and sighed. “A guard, Rime? Out of everyone in London, you had to choose one of Her Majesty’s guards to break your dry spell?”
“You know how I enjoy certain thrills.” Rime shrugged with a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
“There are a lot of things I’ve thoughts of!” Malachite threw his hands up in the air. “Like… stuffing peanut butter up your nose! I’ve thought about it, but I’ve certainly never done it!”
“Why not?” Rime teased, instinctive challenge lighting up his face.
Malachite’s eyes narrowed. “Need I remind you of the eggnog experiment?”
“Gods, no!” Rime shuddered violently at the unpleasant memory.
Laughter erupted from Malachite’s throat, the sound musical and warm after so many months of unhappiness and silence. He bent at the waist, remembering vividly the mess that romp had been. “The stench!”
“The sensation!” Rime countered, bursting into a fit of laughter, his voice harmonizing perfectly with Malachite’s, as it always had.
Malachite leaned against the bars, gasping. “At least we discovered you do possess a gag reflex.” His laughter slowly died as he watched Rime, an occasional chuckle leaving his lips. “I missed you, too, you know,” he finally admitted.
Sweeping his long, pastel blue hair away from his face, Rime stood and crossed over to Malachite, placing his hands over his lover’s. “I often wondered.”
Heat washed up Malachite’s arms from where Rime’s flesh touched his own. He wondered how he’d lived without Rime’s presence for even a week. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the closeness, even through bars. “You know what you mean to me.” That was all Malachite felt he needed to say. He’d been with no one but himself since walking away from Rime. Rime had been a constant thought plaguing him, driving him to tears some nights. Exile from Annwn had been bad enough, but losing his lover, too, had made the burden almost unbearable.
Rime reached through the bars and tenderly cupped Malachite’s face. “Did you… take any others?”
Malachite’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into Rime’s palm. “None. I only thought of you. Only wanted you.”
“I lost count of the number of times I had to use my hand to ease the burn I felt for you.”
Malachite moaned at the confession, the fire in his stormy gaze fanned into a raging blaze as arousal pooled in his groin. “Don’t talk like that… not now…”
“It took both hands, actually,” Rime crooned, sliding his hand sensually down Malachite’s neck and chest. Lower. And lower still, until his fingertips brushed against the bulge in Malachite’s jeans.
Malachite’s breath caught as he pressed against that hand. “Rime…” The image was vivid in his head: Rime arched, fingers buried in his own ass while his other hand stroked his cock furiously. The melodic, perfect cry of completion leaving Rime’s lips as his seed spattered across his chest, his body slumping in the aftermath of a satisfying, intense climax. Malachite shook his head. “Not here!”
“Here,” Rime breathed through the bars, hand squeezing expertly. “Now. I have ached for you long enough.” Deft fingers quickly undid the button and zipper of Malachite’s jeans, and as Rime’s hand slid inside, he pulled Malachite into a frantic kiss between the bars.
Malachite whimpered as he opened his mouth wide, deepening their kiss instantly. This wasn’t how he’d pictured their reunion, but with Rime’s hand down his pants, he could barely think straight let alone argue. He reached between bars and tugged at the fastenings of Rime’s leather trousers. As he shoved his hand in, stroking Rime’s cock roughly, he pulled away from the kiss enough to speak. “Like this?” he panted, biting at Rime’s lower lip.
Rime shivered, a harsh groan tumbling over his lips. “I want you in me,” he panted, pumping Malachite’s cock, squeezing a little harder. “Please, Malachite…”
Malachite matched Rime stroke for stroke, nuzzling under his jaw. “We don’t have any–”
“I don’t care!” Rime cried out. “We’ve done rougher things. I need you,” he whispered, eyes shamelessly meeting Malachite’s. “I don’t want to wait.”
An argument brewed on Malachite’s lips, but he swallowed it back. Rime was desperate, and even though Malachite was still pissed as hell, he couldn’t find it in him to say no. Not when he wanted it just as much. “You’re such a slut for me,” he muttered. “Turn around, pull down your pants, and bend over,” he ordered as he yanked his hand from Rime’s trousers.
The order was followed without hesitation. Rime was good at following orders. He’d have made a good warrior in the Lunar Court if he hadn’t been so hellbent on disobedience. Rime followed orders, but only when it suited him. That was a habit not even Malachite had been able to rid him of.
Rime peeled the leather down, and then stepped out of one leg. With a slight shudder and needy moan, he turned and bent at his waist, the cold bars of the cell pressed against his pale, lightly flushed skin. It was quite a sight, and Malachite growled, his hands itching to leave Rime bruised, sore, and covered in his come.
Malachite knelt down and spread Rime wide, stabbing his tongue into Rime’s hole without any warning. He spent as much time as he could bear slicking Rime with his mouth, but he wanted Rime, and Rime wanted him, and that want couldn’t be reasoned with. Someone could walk in at any moment and call and end to this hasty reunion. Malachite stood, spat into his hand, and stroked himself, eyes on the tight opening, remembering how perfect it felt to be buried to the root in Rime’s body. “You… should have called me… sooner,” he snarled as he pushed into Rime, not pausing until he was completely surrounded. A ragged, lyrical cry floated up from Rime, and Malachite’s hands tightened on Rime’s hips. “Bloody hell, Rime,” Malachite whispered, his sight darkening for a brief moment as Rime mercilessly squeezed around his cock.
A dizzying wave of pleasure and pain washed through Rime, and he cursed harshly beneath his breath as lights streaked across his vision. “Fuck!”
“I’m working on it,” Malachite panted. He’d wanted their first time in so long to have been slow. He’d wanted to take his time reaming Rime properly, but circumstances and need forced his hand. He set an intense pace, swift and hard, holding onto the bars in order to increase his leverage. The friction was delightful, and Malachite closed his eyes, focusing on the tightness, the drag, and the simple emotional reconnection that flared between them.
With each powerful thrust, Rime lurched forward with a cry, his hair pooling on the floor. His grip on the bars kept him from falling over, and he pushed back as best he could. The pain was bright and searing, but his heart soared as he was quickly, forcefully pushed to the edge of his passion. He’d yearned for Malachite’s touch; Malachite’s presence brought him back to life, like a withering plant given the water and sunlight it needed to flourish. His voice rang off the stone walls of the cell, beautiful music of pleasure, pain, and desire that went far beyond the physical. It took only moments for his body to tighten with impending release. Rime cried out as he held himself back from the brink, unwilling to give in without Malachite’s word. It was a game they’d often played, and he fell into it with unconscious abandon.
Malachite’s hands gripped the bars until his knuckles were white. His rhythm faltered as he moaned long and low, the heat coiling tightly within him. Each sound he made wound around Rime’s, creating a duet none could match. They were the greatest musicians of their kind, and even in frantic passion, their compositions were breathtaking. Malachite felt the tell-tale tingling in his gut, and he forced his eyes open so he could watch Rime’s body. Long ago, he had decided there was no sight more stunning than Rime as he climaxed. Malachite hated that he couldn’t see Rime’s face or yank his hair or mark the flesh at his throat with teeth and lips. He wanted to possess Rime, remind him to whom he belonged with pleasured pain, but the venue allowed for little more than the wanton, ruthless plundering of the graceful body before him.
“Rime,” he whispered, the motion of his hips erratic. He knew when Rime balanced on the edge of orgasm; how many times had Malachite brought him to that precipice and left him there as a form of delicious torture? Rime’s body told him everything: from the breathless cries that passed his lips to the uncontrollable clutching of the muscles around Malachite’s shaft. “Rime,” Malachite repeated, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “Come with me… now!”
The words set off an intense chain reaction in Rime, a response that had long ago been conditioned through excruciating repetition. His body shuddered violently as he finally reached his peak with a lyrical, sustained scream. His neck arched back sharply as white shocks of pleasure and pain flickered through him. His seed fell to the floor in thick ribbons, and he struggled to keep his hold on the bars as Malachite continued to pound into him.
Malachite had waited years to hear that sound again, and it was that very sound that shoved him into the mind-numbing realm of climax. Malachite wanted to have his arms around Rime, have his fingers dig into the pale, eager flesh of his lover’s hips–he wanted to see Rime marked by his hands! The image of Rime’s skin bearing his bruises made his climax that much more intense, and his shout was harsh, short-lived. He took solace in the fact that his seed now filled Rime, and that Rime would smell of him for days to come. With a weak moan, he rested heavily against the bars, remaining within Rime as he breathed harshly and regained his senses.
The feeling of possession that came with the simple wet heat spreading within him filled a void Rime knew only Malachite could fill. “Malachite…” The name was a panted prayer, a quiet plea for the intimacy they often shared after their more intense fucks. He reached up, his legs trembling as they were made to support his weight, and his fingers slowly met Malachite’s on the bars. The slight shift in position caused a spark of pain to radiate from his ass, and he whimpered, his hand tightening unsteadily around Malachite’s.
Malachite did not deny Rime what closeness they could achieve in a jail cell. He wanted it, too. He laced his fingers with Rime’s and used his other hand to slowly pull his cock from Rime’s body. He immediately missed that contact, being held so intimately, and he crouched down momentarily to press his lips to their entwined fingers. Rime would ache for days, and it left Malachite with a deep sense of satisfaction. “Face me,” he said roughly.
Rime straightened with a whimper and a wince. He reveled in the burn that came with every movement as he stood and turned. A small smile curved his lips as he felt Malachite’s seed immediately begin to trickle from his abused hole, streaking down his thighs.
Leaning in, Malachite gently kissed those smiling lips, the touch tender and slow. He rubbed at Rime’s knuckles with his thumb, murmuring, “Your ass is mine, Rime. If you want me to stay, then, dammit, respect that. I don’t care if you take on all of Manchester United in one night, but when I say to check with me before doing it, I fucking mean it!”
Rime nodded, guilt a dark shadow across his face. “I’m yours. Only yours. I won’t disrespect you like that again. I promise.” Reaching through the bars, he cupped Malachite’s face, his sky blue eyes filled with yearning. “I love you. Please, Malachite, come home.” Rime found apologizing much easier than he expected, and he wondered why it had taken him this long to do it.
Malachite stared at Rime for a long time, his internal debate easily read in his eyes. But, Rime had apologized, and being apart from him made Malachite’s heartache each and every hour of the day. He’d missed Rime. Acutely. It had been like giving up his music all over again. With a slow nod, he said, “I will.” He brushed his lips against Rime’s again. “I love you, too. By the stars, Rime, I’ve missed your voice whispering those words to me.”
Relief washed through Rime. “I love you, Malachite, more than anything,” he whispered, leaning down a bit to tenderly kissed Malachite. A rush of come made its way down his legs as he shifted, and Rime smirked. “How long did you wait?”
Only Rime could bring a flush to Malachite’s cheeks. “Three weeks of pure hell trying to prove to myself that the mere thought of you didn’t turn me on.”
Rime looked down for a moment, and his smirk softened into an almost shy smile. “I only lasted two hours,” he murmured, “but I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was angry… and then I was inconsolable. And the times I actually touched another, I felt all the more miserable without you.”
Malachite reached out with his mind, finding Rime’s once more after having barred him from his own. No one will ever be what I am to you. No one will ever satisfy you but me, Rime, and it is time you realised that.
The connection was intimate and nearly brought Rime to tears as it was re-established. His mindvoice was like the quiet crackling of crystals forming on stone as it wisped through Malachite’s mind. I realised that a millennium ago, when I held you in my arms, singing in the hopes that your soul would heed my call instead of surrendering to Death’s.
Yours is the only call I hear. Malachite squeezed Rime’s hand as he smiled at him, a shout from a guard telling them visitation was over. Malachite parted from Rime, tucking himself back into his jeans. As he zipped them closed, he gave Rime a wicked smile. “I’ll see you next week during visitation. Try to keep yourself busy until then.”
“You’re leaving me here?” Rime cried out, his eyes wide. “You can’t leave me here! I’ll be eaten alive!” When Malachite’s smile broadened a bit, Rime interrupted the words he knew were on his lover’s lips. “Rape is not one of my kinks, Malachite!”
Malachite opened the door that led out into the main office of the small precinct. “Try basket weaving,” he said with a laugh. “I hear it’s a very soothing activity.”
“Basket weaving?!” Rime’s curses rang clearly through the holding cell as he called after Malachite’s retreating back.
A dark smile curved Malachite’s lips as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re so good with your hands, darling.” He slipped out the door, his laughter echoing beautifully behind him.
The next chapter will be available on Patreon June 8th, so if you want to read that as soon as it’s available, come support us! :D You can support us for as little as $1 a chapter while also getting free, exclusive access to scene logs, Q&As, art reveals, and so much more.
There’s No Escape: Chapter Two has been posted to our Patreon account!
Thorne has always kept to himself, his passions private. Even when Mael becomes his lover, Thorne hides behind his carefully crafted mask, and when Mael finally pries beneath it, he changes their lives forever.
Patrons of ours over at Patreon get some fun perks aside from just getting to read the stories as we write them. Here are just the first four tiers:
Pledge $1.00 or more per Chapter
A chance to vote in a poll for what log scene S.L. and K. will do next for live session in Google Drive. Plus, weekly invitation to watch a Google Drive of S.L. and K. writing a log scene. These could be erotic in nature or completely innocent. We will let you know when we send out the invitation.
Pledge $5.00 or more per Chapter
Receive eBook bundle (PDF/MOBI/ePub/Lit) of any titles we complete and release while you are our patron, plus any previous reward levels.
Pledge $10.00 or more per Chapter
A custom 100-200 word drabble based on either an original concept or within our realm of fanfiction preferences each month you’re our patron, plus any previous reward levels.
Pledge $20.00 or more per Chapter
Receive a print book (shipped free in the US) of any title we release while you are our patron, plus any previous reward levels.
There are also several logs of fiction K. and I have written that all patrons can access, so come and support us and our fiction!
A happy topic! :D
Polyamory. This is a lifestyle choice, IMO, and one that can be destructive or fulfilling. While the husband-thing and I have had an open marriage since… mmm… I’d say 2000, the initial years were horrific. A lot of fighting, of misunderstandings, and of cheating. And yes, even in an open relationship, cheating can and does happen. It took us quite a number of years to move beyond those first terrible experiences.
The husband-thing has had more relationships post-marriage than I have. And I don’t mind the male relationships and the casual sex, but I will admit, when things start to get serious with a female for him, trouble brews. I find it difficult to trust other women to respect my boundaries, and the husband-thing has been selfish several times in the past that have left their scars. I think it it would take a hell of a woman for me to truth them 100% not to fuck with things and to respect my boundaries. But, the husband-thing has chosen casual-only relationships since the last dating/relationship stuff blew up in his face (and disrupted our household).
I am bisexual, and when I seek secondary relationships, 99% of the time, it’s with a woman. I haven’t had a long-term relationship with another woman in a long time, but I’m okay with that.
I do have my boi. Kris. Who is my co-author, my partner, my best friend, my medical advocate, and my cerebral lover. :D We have a physically asexual relationship, but we do ‘have sex’ with one another by proxy through our characters. Kris is genderqueer/trans*, and I don’t think of her in female terms except in pronouns. She’s a boy in my head, and I think of her that way. I call her my boi. We talk about her cock. We enjoy an active sex life via the writing. We’re quite happy, and I love the relationship. I love how it’s unusual, but it works so very well for us. I love her, and she loves me. She lives with me. We have pets together. We’re an old married couple. December will mark nine years together, and I’m so glad I’ve managed to do enough right that she sticks around despite all my medical bullshit.
I’m so lucky, and I’m no longer shy about my relationships. When we go to doctors and we’re asked, we try to explain to the best of our ability. People can accept it or not, it makes no impact on the truth of our arrangement.
So, yeah. I’m in a V-triad with the husband-thing and my boi!