Fresh out of school, Dr. Crane takes on a new patient who both intrigues and unnerves him. Charming, manipulative, and amoral, Max has exactly the sort of mind Crane finds himself drawn to... in fiction.
As Max weaves himself into Crane's life, Crane realizes that while fiction might be safe, Max certainly is not.
When the professional line between them thins, who gets to define where one man ends and the other begins?
Sheltered and lonely, Jon's life changes drastically when a strange ship sails into the harbour of his small port town one day. Trapped between the possessive pirate captain and his murderous first mate, he must learn to adapt or he will lose himself completely. An epic tale of love, treachery and revelation, this first installment of the Baal's Heart series brings you into the lives of three men so bound together by jealousy and lies that they must sail to the very ends of the earth to find forgiveness.
Tags/CW: Historical AU fantasy, bisexual, erotic action/adventure, age gap, triad, ménage, abuse, murder, dubcon, LGBTQ+
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Sheltered and lonely, Jon's life changes drastically when a strange ship sails into the harbour of his small port town one day. Trapped between the possessive pirate captain and his murderous first mate, he must learn to adapt or he will lose himself completely. An epic tale of love, treachery and revelation, this first installment of the Baal's Heart trilogy brings you into the lives of three men so bound together by jealousy and lies that they must sail to the very ends of the earth to find forgiveness.
Tags/CW: Consent ambiguity, toxic relationship, abuse (including mention of child abuse), cheating, lies, substance abuse, amputation, blood, bi-awakening, unreliable narrator, crime, age gap, doctor/patient, dubcon/rape, murder, mindfuck, dark erotica, LGBTQ+
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Robert Montagnet and Dan Cooper are a nice gay couple who live in a nice waterfront condo in a nice, touristy part of Playa del Carmen, Mexico.
At least, that’s who they’re pretending to be.
After five months on the lam, Dr. Crane is strained to the point of breaking—he just wants it to be over. But, with his mental and physical health in decline, living where he doesn’t speak the language and relying on his partner for everything, he feels trapped.
Just the way Max likes it, of course.
When Crane is presented with an opportunity to clear his name once and for all, he’s compelled to take it… But, it means betraying the young man who thoroughly intoxicates him in ways he had never imagined possible.
Can Crane break his addiction or is he too far down the rabbit hole to escape?
Author’s Note: This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
The Harmony, is a Bomsferth class ship, one of the first heavy cruisers to be manufactured on Earth and one of the last to use the old hybrid ion drives. It’ll be a slow ride, but the Harmony is in great condition considering it’s nearly a century old. We’ve been aboard for two days and Apple and Pytre are finding it hard to relax—they’ve never been in space before. I remember my first trip in the black so I can sympathize. To make matters worse, Darjun’s crew hasn’t been the most welcoming. They’re not unfriendly exactly, just close-lipped and standoffish. Maybe it’s just because we’re new, who knows.
I hear my name crackle over the intercom in the hallway. I’m to report to the bridge. With a sigh, I stand and put on my boots. It’s the middle of the night, Chornoboh-time—it’s going to take me a while to acclimatize to the Harmony’s 24-hour clock.
I step through the doors onto the small bridge. Darjun is in the captain’s chair, slouched back with one foot up on the console in front of him. There are others on the bridge, manning stations, and I smile when I see Ekoria is one of them. She doesn’t smile back.
“There you are,” Darjun says, sitting up. I frown as he pulls his stiff dick out of his pants and gestures to me. “Come here and suck my cock.”
I’m speechless for a moment and glance over at Ekoria but she’s averted her gaze.
“Hello?” Darjun’s eyebrows are high as he stares at me expectantly.
“This isn’t what I signed up for,” I say, crossing my arms.
Darjun gives a short laugh and shrugs, wagging his dick back and forth, like that could entice me. “It’s just that I keep thinking about that nice blowjob you gave me… I’m not going to fuck you or anything, don’t worry. Just a bit of head from time to time. Ok?”
“No.”
With a frown, Darjun touches a button on the console in front of him. “Seth? Escort our new guests to the airlock.”
My heart stops and drops into my stomach and I take a step forward. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Giving you a little motivation,” he replies, waggling his dick again at me. His smile is wide and friendly, like we’re having a lovely chat.
Obviously, we’ve made a mistake coming aboard. No, I made a mistake. Shit. Nice guy? More like psychopath.
I grit my teeth and step towards him, dropping to my knees.
“That’s better. Now, do a good job and your friends will be nice and safe.” He slaps my lips with the head of his cock and I open my mouth. He leans forward and grabs my ear, twisting it, and I gasp around the meat in my mouth. “If you think of fucking with me, not only will your friends take a swim in the black, but I’ll have Seth make good use of them first… understand?”
Furious, I can only nod, my heart pounding loud in my ears as I start working on his cock. He sighs happily, sitting back to watch me, one hand gently stroking my hair.
I’m going to kill him. I’m not sure how or when, but as soon as Apple and Pytre are somewhere safe, I’m going to gut Darjun like a fish.
With a soft grunt, he floods my mouth with his cum and I swallow it, sitting back on my heels as I wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says, then he cocks his head, scratching his cheek. “But it wasn’t quite as good as last time. So, do better next time.” Darjun stares at me, his eyes wide, and I realize he’s waiting for me to say something.
“All right,” I mutter. “What about Apple and Pytre?”
“You know… I think they’ll stay in the airlock for a little while yet.”
I grind my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to reach out and throttle him with my bare hands. “Why?”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
I take a deep breath and try to smooth out my expression but I’m not sure it’s working.
“Ok, now do Ekoria.”
I can only blink stupidly up at him as Ekoria stammers, “Darjun, I don’t want—”
“Come here, honey. Don’t argue with me.” The tone is light and affectionate, but all I hear is the malevolence beneath it.
Ekoria steps up to me, her eyes downcast, and lifts her skirt. Again, she’s not wearing anything underneath and I wonder if Darjun is responsible. I look up from her small limp cock and meet her beautiful eyes. Her lips twitch and I see her chest heave as she takes a steadying breath. I mouth I’m sorry and lean in to touch my lips to her shaft. She smells wonderful, her perfume floral and softly sweet, and her heart-shaped thatch of pubic hair is silky against my nose as I take her into my mouth.
Just when I think she’s not going to get hard, I feel her begin to stiffen against my tongue, and she lets out a quiet gasp. I’ve completely forgotten we have an audience, so I flinch when Darjun chuckles.
“Do you like that, Ekoria?”
“Yes,” she whispers. Is she just saying it to make Darjun happy? I roll my tongue over the head of her cock, her precum salty and mild, and cup her small, hairless balls in my hand. Even this hard, she’s barely a mouthful.
I shift my hand from her testicles to one of the soft divots behind her dick and, using my pinkie, I prod delicately at the inguinal opening. It elicits another gasp and from the way her cock hardens further, I gather she enjoys this. I switch to my index finger and push a little harder, sliding my finger into the canal and she grabs the back of my head with moan, spurring me on.
Right then I realize I’m enjoying myself too, then feel immediately guilty about it—Pytre and Apple must be terrified and here I am getting a semi.
My anger is back and with it I get a little rougher. With my finger nestled inside her, massaging the sensitive nerve endings, I tighten my lips around her shaft and begin bobbing faster, my free hand squeezing her ass as I swirl my tongue over her cockhead with every pass. Ekoria moans louder and starts thrusting into my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair, then she lets out a small cry and shoots her load down the back of my throat. She immediately pulls away, taking a few shaky steps back as she fixes her skirt, her eyes once again averted.
“Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
I can’t tell if Darjun means me or Ekoria but then she murmurs “thank you” and it’s not clear who she’s addressing. Her cheeks are still flushed from climax but it’s the glimmer of tears in her eyes that are a punch to the gut. I feel sickened.
“So, you can give her head all you want,” Darjun says, smiling at his benevolence. “But you put your dick anywhere near that sweet ass of hers and I will cut it off. That hole is mine and mine alone. Got it?”
Darjun is going to die slowly.
I nod, my jaw clenched tight.
“You can go.”
It takes me a few seconds to get to my feet, my knees screaming in protest.
“What about my companions?”
“What about them?” Darjun grins wide and gives a little one-shouldered shrug.
I want to knock his teeth in, and it takes all my willpower to keep my hands to my sides. Without looking back, I storm off the bridge, and veer left towards the airlock, running the last few feet.
It’s empty.
No.
I feel like I’m going to be sick. Saliva pools in my mouth as I struggle to breathe around the planet-size hole in my chest. I retch, stumbling backwards into the passageway. All I can think about is the knife in my bag.
The deck seems to pitch and roll beneath my feet as I race towards the passenger cabins, nearly blind with tears of rage and horror, and stop in my tracks when I open the door.
“Asher?” Pytre blinks sleepily up at me, wincing at the harsh light pouring into the darkened room from the corridor. “What’s wrong?” Apple is sprawled out next to him, snoring with his mouth wide open, an unfortunate side effect of his mutilation by Turk’s hand.
The laugh that comes out sounds crazed, and I just fall when my legs give out, landing hard on the metal deck and hurting my palms and already bruised knees.
Pytre leaps out of bed to clutch at me, his grey eyes wide and face bloodless. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
I laugh again, wiping at my face with both hands and then wrap my arms around him, sobbing even harder now than when I thought they were both dead.
“You’re scaring me,” Pytre says, pushing at me, then he stops and frowns, moving his face closer to mine. I think he wants a kiss but when I lean in, I realize he’s sniffing me. “What do you smell like?”
I pull back confused. “What?”
“You smell like incense. Something sweet like that.” He sniffs at me again. “Perfume?”
For only a second I consider lying because I feel… guilty? I think about the tears in Ekoria’s eyes and I feel even worse about the momentary pleasure I’d felt with her. If circumstances were different, if it hadn’t been forced on the two of us, would I lie to Pytre and Apple then? The answer should be no, but then why am I so uncomfortable right now? It’s not like the three of us were exclusive. We’d never made any sort of promise not to stray. And what happened on the bridge… why should I feel guilty? The silence is stretching on.
Would she even come with us if I asked her to?
“What is it?” Pytre asks, hands on my shoulders.
I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “I’m going to kill Darjun.”
Author’s Note: This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
In the center of the room, a man is hanging upside-down, suspended from his ankles from a metal frame, his legs held apart. A woman in high heels is helping another man feed a big chain into the first guy’s ass. I wince, watching the thick greased links slip into his body one at a time. The thing’s gotta weigh twenty pounds at least. I can’t imagine what that does to your intestines. The man’s face is covered in a black mask and his body is shiny from sweat. No way to tell if he’s enjoying this or not. The last foot of chain disappears into him, his belly visibly distending, and I think I hear a moan. His thighs start twitching, from pain or pleasure or both, and I shake my head, cracking open another bottle of beer. The shit people get off on, I swear.
I take another look at the woman in heels. She’s young and pretty with big antigravity tits, but her most interesting trait is the long tail, like a cat’s, grafted to her backside. It sways as she walks, the end swishing from side to side as she smiles and gestures to the chain-filled-man like he’s some sort of prize we’ve all won. There's a metallic glint near the tip of her tail where the fake fur has worn away from brushing against the ground.
The performers get a smattering of applause as she bows, and I snort, shaking my head again. At that moment, the woman makes eye contact—I sigh, thinking about her shabby tail, so give her an apologetic smile and dutifully press my thumb to the closest of the small screens mounted on the bar, transferring her a few credits. After all, I’m loaded now, aren’t I? Might as well spend it while I got it… it’s not like we have three mouths to feed anymore.
Fucking hell. I down the bottle of beer and push the cracked button for another. A second later, a hole opens up in the bar and another aluminum bottle emerges. I grimace as I twist off the cap. Drinking beer from the bottle is always going to feel a little perverse after seeing what Apple gets up to. Oh goddamnit. How do I keep my idiot brain from revisiting him every chance it gets?
The trio on the stage are cleaning up. I missed the part
where they pulled the chain out of the fella, but I can’t help but notice there’s
a little pink in the spatter of lube on the shiny chrome platform. Maybe it’s
better I didn’t see.
The bar has a few so-called “relief stations” to keep the
patrons from getting overexcited from the non-stop porn show—in a place like
this, a fist fight could easily turn into a bloody massacre—and I’m sorely tempted
to use one. I’m tense and irritable and I think the beer’s actually making it
worse. Maybe a little “relief” is just what the doctor ordered—since I’m not
working anymore, it’s been days since I’ve had any.
The closest relief station to me is a naked young woman strapped facedown to a padded bench, ass hanging off the end, free for the taking. After a few seconds of my dick hemming and hawing about using the girl, I decide against it... she’s fast asleep.
I’m still staring when a tall skinny guy in lemon-yellow coveralls walks right up to her, squirts a bit of lube into his palm from the convenient dispenser, and sticks his dick in her ass like he hasn’t a care in the world. I can’t help but watch for a bit, surprised that she doesn’t wake up as he really starts ploughing away at her, then it occurs to me that they probably pay her more to take it unconscious.
Lip curled, I turn away, my finger tapping the worn whiskey
button twice. Fuck beer. It’s too slow for what I need right now.
The next act is already up on stage by the time I’ve tossed
back the first glass, the whiskey cheap and stinging in my throat, and I sit
back in my seat to watch, only mildly interested in the proceedings.
“There you are.”
I turn to Pytre, frowning. “What are you doing here?” The
words come out a touch slurred and I realize I might actually be a little drunk
already.
“Looking for you.” He rubs the bright copper fuzz on his
head, his attention turning to the stage. A crease appears between his brows.
“Hey, you uh, shouldn’t be in a place like this,” I say, but fuck me if I'm not happy to see him.
“What are they… doing?” he asks in a strangled voice, his
eyes wide.
I turn back to the stage. “Well… right now she’s… uh”—there’s a clear bag hanging on a hook over the performers, filled with a milky liquid—“getting an enema. Then, I’m guessing those two guys are going to stick everything on that table up her ass.”
“Who in the loving Rime would enjoy this?” Pytre says,
looking away from the display, his cheeks visibly flushed even in the dark of
the bar.
I laugh. “Klismaphiles and sadomasochists? I don’t know.”
“Are you enjoying
this?”
When I first met the ex-Rimer, I’d tried to shock him over and over to no avail, but now that I see him so obviously flustered, I sort of feel bad for laughing. I take a sip of whiskey, and shrug before answering.
“Honestly, I can take it or leave it.” I think back to the necro blood fuckers I saw, months ago it feels like—now, that bar makes this one look like church. “But no. Not really. Just came for a drink.”
Pytre just stares at me for a few moments before saying, “Don’t
worry, Asher. He’ll come.”
“Right. Sorry,” I mumble, breaking away from the bitterness
in his eyes to stare into my empty glass. I think faith is bullshit, but I
can’t help but feel sorry for him. “I hope you’re right.”
The woman on stage lets out a squeal and I look up to see Pytre watching the show, his mouth slack. Is that me, or do I see a hint of… interest in his expression? I grin. Maybe there’s hope for us yet. Not that fucking him is really a priority anymore. I think—and I might be wrong—but, I think I just want him around.
Fucking him would
be nice too…
I frown, adjusting my semi with my free hand. My libido’s working overtime, what with my newfound freedom from whoring and no Apple around to help me out with my needs—dammit. I close my eyes, holding my dick through my pants, my brain playing a crisp projection of Apple riding my cock that last night. If he does come back… was that just a goodbye-fuck? A one-time offer? I grit my teeth and take a deep breath through my nose, turning away from Pytre and the stage.
There are two young attendants at the relief station now, untying the sleeping woman. One of the boys presses a device to her shoulder and her lids slowly lift. She yawns, rubbing her face sleepily as she sits up and stretches languidly. The taller boy drapes a pale-blue silken robe over her shoulders and she ties it at the waist with a loose bow. Smiling at the boy, she says a few words, some friendly banter, and he laughs. The other boy places a wine glass in her hand and she pats his cheek, a loving little gesture that is so completely at odds with the surroundings that it hits me with a weird pang. I clear my throat, blinking fast because my vision is swimming. I haven’t slept well in days and it’s starting to affect me.
As the young woman walks away, a tall boy with curly blond
hair is led to the padded bench by more attendants and, because my eyes are
still blurry, for one or two long seconds I think it’s Apple. But no. This boy’s
not half as pretty as my Apple.
My Apple. Shit.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I growl and grab Pytre by the collar of his jacket. The ex-Rimer lets out a surprised squawk as I start dragging him out of the bar—he grabs my wrist with both hands as he skips clumsily sideways to keep up with me.
“Hey, let go,” he says, tripping over his feet, but I just pull him through the doorway and then shove him into the narrow alley next to the bar.
I’ve got him up against the yellow bricks in a heartbeat, my mouth crushed against his so hard that his teeth press painfully into my lips, but when I try to thrust my tongue into his mouth, he surprises me with a solid knee to the groin.
I fall like a stone, my hands cupping my screaming testicles, and I feel like the beer and whiskey might make a comeback… but the nausea passes after a few shaky breaths and I lay there, blinking up at Pytre.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I get it. You’re angry. You’re hurt—”
“My balls hurt, yeah.” I wince, but the pain is good. It’s cleared my head, for one… stamped out the ugly thing that had risen up in me just now, the thing that only knows how to break and destroy. The thing that sabotages anything good in my life because it knows I don't deserve it.
“That’s not what I meant,” Pytre says, reaching out a hand. I let him help me up and, ashamed, I watch him try to straighten the collar of his jacket.
“Sorry,” I say again.
Pytre stares at me in silence for a moment, his teeth
worrying his bottom lip. His are the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen and
right now they’re full of judgment and… something else. He takes an audible breath
and steps towards me. My back hits the wall and I grunt in surprise as he
reaches up to touch my face. Confused, I let him pull my head down towards his.
“What are you—”
Pytre shakes his head, shushing me before touching his lips to mine. It’s a gentle kiss, nothing at all like the crap I’d just attempted, but so much more. I’m afraid to move lest the kiss ends, and it feels like my heart wants to burst out of my ribcage. I let out a groan, my hands circling Pytre’s waist on their own—it’s odd, his body is so familiar to me even though we’ve barely touched before. It takes me a sec to realize that the noise I hear is coming from me, a pathetic sounding whimper—I swear to god, if this turns out to be another goodbye, I won’t survive.
Drawing back, Pytre looks up at me, his eyes wide and cheeks mottled pink. “Let’s go back to the room.”
“Are you sure?” I don’t think my feet are touching the
ground anymore.
Brow furrowed, Pytre cocks his head at me—maybe I’ve misunderstood his intention—then his eyes get real big again. “Oh.” Pytre’s whole face goes dark red. “Oh, I didn’t mean we’d… uh, I just meant… we should get back. It’s late.”
“Yeah, me too. That’s what I meant too. Let’s go back to the
room,” I say, my voice a bit hoarse. “That’s a good idea.”
Pytre turns and leads the way out of the alleyway, and I
follow along silently like a dog on a leash. What the hell just happened?
We climb the mesh-metal steps to our floor, and as he’s
keying in the code to our room, I cough into my fist, side-eyeing Pytre. I want
to ask… but what the hell do I say?
Obviously sensing my confusion, Pytre lets out a little sigh
before he pushes the door open. It’s dark in the room and the air is stale and
hot. “I don’t know what I want, all right?” He looks over at me. “But it’s not
you forcing yourself on me.”
“Ok,” I reply, chastened. “I got it."
There’s a rustle from somewhere in the room and I’m immediately
on the defensive, pushing Pytre behind me to keep him safe. I hear a snuffling
noise and for one weird second, I think an animal’s broken into our room, but
then the lights come on overhead. It’s Apple.
I’m on my knees in front of him, hands clutching his
shoulders so I can hold him still while I stare in shock at the ruin of his
face.
Pytre gasps as he falls to his knees beside me. “Rime help
me.”
Both of Apple’s eyes are swollen shut, blood leaking from the corner of his left one, and there’s an egg-sized lump over that temple. His nose is broken, that much is obvious, and he’s stuffed some tissues into his nostrils to staunch the bleeding. The hardest to look at is Apple’s mouth. His bottom lip is swollen and purple, and the right side of his mouth has been ripped open, creating a ghastly, jagged grin.
Apple shudders, reaching for me blind, and lets out a wail that
tears at my heart. Some of his fingers are clearly broken but that doesn’t stop
him from clutching at me in desperation. I wrap him in my arms, trying to be careful,
but the fury in my guts makes it hard not to crush him against me. After only a
few moments, I relinquish my hold on him, pushing him roughly into Pytre embrace
before getting to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Pytre says, stroking Apple’s back. He
doesn’t even really know Apple but tears run freely down his cheeks for the wounded
boy. Pytre’s a good man.
“I think you know.” I clench my jaw, wishing I hadn’t had
that second whiskey. “If I don’t come back, you take Apple and you leave.
Understand?”
Hazel eyes wide, Pytre hesitates for a moment. Then he nods.
Without another word, I leave them—I’m going to need a gun if I’m going to kill that fucker Turk.
