THE NAMING OF THE SMALLS

(extract from The Pompeiian Horse)

MARCH

Six young men came into The Zoo’s courtyard completely naked. They had hair on all the right places, so Horse was sure they were of age, just looked young. Scando was a rat, but not a pervert. Besides, if he got caught with underage whores, he could lose his business. The “larges” were equally nude, and Ox and Tiger were already semi-hard. Horse shook his head.

Scando stood with two baskets in the middle of the space, one in each hand. “All right, my ‘smalls,’ pick a ribbon to see which of the ‘larges’ will be your tutor.” They guys moved forward and started to choose ribbons, all of different colors. Once they finished, Scando put that basket on the floor. “Until your tutors give you a name, we’ll call you by the color you’ve chosen and you need to wear them around your head. If I catch you without your ribbons you’ll be punished. Understand?”

The six “smalls” nodded in agreement and tied the ribbons over their foreheads. The darker of the two dark-skinned boys (he had gotten the pink ribbon) seemed to want to ask something, but one look from Scando appropriately discouraged him.

“Come on and get your boys, my brutes.” Scando pushed the remaining basket forward, a nasty grin on his face.

Lion elbowed his way to get a ribbon first. “Pink,” he said, arching an eyebrow and looking at his charge. “Kind of skinny but nice, plump lips. You’ll do fine.”

Pink smiled a bit too eagerly.

“He’s not for your pleasure but to train him.” Scando waggled a finger at Lion. “Don’t abuse this opportunity.”

Rhino was the next. “Brown!” He waved his ribbon. The other dark-skinned kid was his charge.

Tiger got green. Elephant got black. Ox got red. That left Horse with the blue ribbon. His charge was the only one with truly long hair, and he appeared to be the shiest of the lot. Each charge moved toward their tutors. Blue gave Horse a little smile, his eyes downcast.

“Hello. I’m Horse.”

“I know,” whispered Blue, his voice breaking.

“Now,” Scando called their attention, “we’re gonna do mouth skills first. Here, in the courtyard, all together because the weather is nice and sometimes a customer might want to have more than one of you with him. So, you need to be used to doing things in front of others.” He looked at each pair. “I don’t let customers share one ‘small,’ so no group will gang up on any of you individually.”

“Lucky them. Tiger doesn’t have that same fortune,” hissed Ox.

“Shut it. It’s not my fault those morons wanted to recreate the siege of Emerita Augusta,” growled Tiger under his breath.

Still,” Scando continued, “there could be group gatherings, so you need to be ready for that. Whores can’t be shy.” He gave a pointed look at Blue.

Blue swallowed audibly, his auburn hair sparkled red as he nodded. Horse wanted to punch Scando for singling the kid out on his first day. It wasn’t fair.

One of the house slaves distributed cushions; others brought six high backed chairs. The ‘larges’ sat, their charges kneeling at their feet.

“All of you had done things with men before or you wouldn’t be here otherwise. Harden those cocks and let’s see those mouths working.”

Blue, coincidently, happened to have blue eyes, although a lot lighter than the ribbon around his head. He looked at Horse from lowered lashes, his eyes shining as if he was about to cry. “I am so honored to be at your feet.”

“What? Why?” Horse leaned forward. “You don’t have to say things like that. I’m not a customer. I’m not even comfortable doing this, but, for the time being, it’s our lot in life.”

“It’s not flattery. You’re a hero of this city. What you did for that widow and her family after you were free is something the people of Pompeii could never forget.”

“Gods, kid, don’t say such things. There’s nothing heroic in what I did. It was just the right thing to do at the moment.”

“No other person would have forgone the freedom they’ve just earned to save a low family from slavery. What you did was so selfless, poets will sing your praises long after this city is forgotten.” Blue put his hand on Horse’s cock. “Apollo has granted me a wish. Let me show you the appreciation I feel in my heart for your sacrifice.”

Horse trembled as the hand caressed his cock. The previous words should have drowned all desire, but it was the touch of a man, yes young, but a man nonetheless. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to envelop him as the hand pumped his hardness. Soon a tongue left a wet trail over his shaft.

“Pink! You don’t have to be so enthusiastic. You look like you’re enjoying yourself too much!” Scando yelled, breaking part of the spell and making Horse open his eyes.

What he found in front of him (the hollow cheeks, the adoring sky-blue eyes) was disturbing.

And this was just the beginning of the training.

****

Blue was the only Pompeii native of the six “smalls,” but as the days progressed he saw admiration in the eyes of four boys. Pink, on the other hand, scowled every time their eyes met.

“Tiger, what is the name you’re giving to your ‘small’?” asked Scando once the training had been completed.

“Squirrel,” Tiger said, winking at his charge, who made a funny gesture, pulling his hands to his mouth in the guise of his namesake as if gnawing on something.

The group laughed, even Scando. Squirrel could pass for Blue’s brother, although he had shorter hair and his muscles were all veiny and developed. The only thing marking him as a youngling was his boyish face.

“Rhino, yours?”

“Dormouse,” Rhino exclaimed, grabbed his “small” and lifted him by the armpits like someone showing a prize. The boy, formally known as Brown, took a bow with a flourish as he was settled back on the floor. What Horse had mistaken for naturally dark skin was the result of many months working at a farm from where he’d escaped with only a very deep tan as reward from the experience.

“Elephant?” asked Scando.

“Have you seen these fair eyes and black hair? Since he can’t be a panther, I name him Cat!” Elephant took the kid by the shoulders with his long arm and smashed him to his side, shaking him jovially.

Cat licked the back of his hand and swept it over his hair as any domesticated feline would and sexily said, “Meow.”

Laughter was riotous this time. Even the slaves, watching the quasi-ceremony, cackled.

“What name do you give Red, my Ox?”

“Well, after much deliberation, seeing his physical qualities and sneaky behavior. You know, that red hair and those big ears,” Ox made a dramatic pause, undisturbed by the groans of the other “larges”, “I’ve only seen an animal like that back in Africa—.”

“Gods! Give up already!” Tiger shouted. “There’re not red animals! Are you crazy?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.”

“This is not one of your stories,” Scando offered menacingly. “We don’t have all day either.”

“All right, All right. I name him Fox. It’s Fox.” Ox waved his hands in exasperation. “You know Fox rhymes with Ox.”

Scando arched an eyebrow. “I can change that name if I feel he’s gonna be attached to you.”

“Oh, please, master, I really like it,” Fox said calmly. “I’m not attached to Ox here,” he punched the big Numidian’s shoulder, “and I learned my lessons very well. I’ll be a good asset.”

“Fine,” Scando conceded. “You stay Fox, but you better behave. I’ve noticed you’re truly sneaky.”

“Thank you, master.” Fox’s smile was so big it brightened his entire face. The kid was clearly up to something.

Horse chuckled inwardly. Blue, who barely reached Horse’s shoulder, seemed to hear him, and their eyes met. He gave Horse one of those shy smiles.

“Lion what about you?”

“This one is good with his mouth and seems unable to keep it shut, so Parrot it is.”

“True,” said Ox. “Once those African birds have learned to speak you can’t make them shut it.”

Parrot only smirked as if he knew something the other people in the courtyard didn’t. Horse didn’t want to be biased just because the kid had been trained by Lion, his enemy, but there was something darkly odd about him.

All “smalls” seemed to know their names beforehand, but Horse had chosen to keep his decision from Blue until this moment. He wanted to surprise him.

“Well, Horse is your turn. What’s it gonna be?”

Horse looked around the courtyard, and then beaming, settled his eyes on his charge. “Lamb.”

Lamb stared at Horse frozen for several heartbeats. Suddenly, he sprang and wrapped his limbs around Horse, squeezing him and murmuring, “Thank you.”

Surprised by the action, Horse locked eyes with Scando, expecting a discouraging scowl (or worse). But even more unexpected than Lamb’s reaction was Scando’s almost approving grin.

BECOME A STEAMPUNK NOVEL CHARACTER

Here is the novel’s synopsis

Heer Pyfus, Bosco Rogers, and Duncan Bracco will undo all preconceptions about what it is to rule the industrial mafia as mob families try to keep the peace, uniting through wedding contracts but not by love. Bosco must choose between Heer and Duncan, but things are not always black and white. Secret alliances will emerge and dreams will shatter.

An unsuspected enemy from the other end of the world comes to make their lives more difficult, and they shall fight, not only to survive but to let the organized crime honchos know that love is greater than vengeance.

***

To participate complete the following phrase “A wounded lion is like…”

The best answer will become sidekick, counselor, or BFF to one of the three main characters of #CLOCKWORKVENDETTA, based on your physical attributes and personal preferences. It’s up to you how kickass or intellectual you will be, and you could even use your own or a made up name; the important thing here is— you will be immortalized in a book! Not many people can say a book character was created after them! *All genders welcome!

You have until next Thursday, February 9th. The winner will be revealed Sunday, February 12th.

#becomeacharacter #contest #fiction #mmromance #threesome #triad #gay #menofgabbo #steampunk #bookstagrammers #ebooks #2017 #yearofthetriads #gabbodelaparra

OCTAGON

According to legend, the idea for this story came to me in May of 2012. Lots of ideas for stories come to me every day, and I usually write them down for later exploration. I completely forgot about these guys until a few days ago; something nudged me like “dude, there’s another triad story waiting to be told. This is their year, you can’t leave them out!”

So, here we go!

A near future story, these guys live in the mythical city of Aurora, Novel California (same fictional universe of IMMATERIAL and CENOTAPH), and they meet in a competition similar to  THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER, the reality show.

In OCTAGON, the name of the competition is FULL COMBAT ANNIHILATION or FUC-OAN (exactly as it sounded in your head, baby) as it is known colloquially. Razen and Pietro are the team coaches, and Illi is part of Pietro’s team. Razen and Pietro share a past, and (as sworn enemies) it makes them want to beat each other, not just in the competition but very physically.

It’s up to Illi to resolve that conflict in a different kind of physical way…

THE ALPHA’S GIFTS

Even though BRIDEGROOM FROM HEAVEN is the first threesome of 2017, the other day a fellow member of the MM Romance Group posted some pictures of very interesting intimate jewelry for men, and I knew I needed to give the boys of CLOCKWORK VENDETTA a sample of those naughty, naughty goods.

This tidbit might or might not end up in the actual book, but it is a seriously nice exercise about their dynamic.

THE ALPHA'S GIFTS

Bosco took off his morning jacket and folded it, leaving the expensive garment on one of the high-backed chairs scattered about the drawing room. He let Heer and Duncan appreciate how shirt and waistcoat clung to his torso as he silently paced before them.

They tried to act casually while sipping their drinks, the blond with an elbow resting on the mantle and the dark-haired heir leaning on the back of the rococo sofa.

“I have something for you two,” Bosco pronounced after the silence had become so prolonged the other two had started to fidget. “But it is in my chambers.”

Heer and Duncan looked at each other. All three were men of age, and Bosco would choose one of them as his fiancé and husband after the contracts had been drawn; still, it was beyond propriety to have both in his bedroom at the same time.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bosco gave each one a piercing look, “but we are lions and not some nelly gentlemen of the ton.” Then he added just to see the others squirm, “My house, my rules.”

The other two nodded. Their lack of conviction was plainly visible. Even if they were lion shifters, the rules of polite society had been instilled in them since birth; it wasn’t easy to deviate from what was ingrained within, especially when it had been done to keep the beast inside you in check.

Bosco knew this, but he wanted to mess with the other two a little. The prides’ heirs were taller and actually broader than him; nevertheless, he controlled the situation since he was forced to choose one of them. At the end, nothing said he could not have fun with both before he declared his choice. “Please follow me.” He moved away from them to retrieve and don his burgundy jacket. “Let it be noted that none of you offered me a drink,” he threw over his shoulder as he started to walk out of the lavishly decorated room. He didn’t look back or stop until he was facing the door to his sleeping quarters— seven flights of stairs later.

****

Cub thinks he’s in charge. I’ll show him who’s in charge.

Duncan stood beside Heer as Bosco turned on his heels and offered grandly, “Welcome to the entrance to my inner sanctum.” Composed and without a hair out of place (if one considered decent that chunk of white hair among his chestnut hair that always seemed to cover his right eye), he spread his arms to encompass the ample space. Several shades of blue marked the antechamber, from midnight to royal, enticing and masculine— just like the cub facing them.

Duncan decided he had been quiet for too long, and it was time for information. “What’s your plan, Bosco?”

The heir of the Spaniard clan gave him a quasi-paternal look. “All in due time, Duncan,” he winked, “impatience is not going to get you anywhere with me.”

“Is that a threat?” Duncan suppressed his urge to growl.

“I think it’s a clue, Duncan,” Heer said under his breath.

Bosco agreed with a silent nod, accompanied by an infuriating smirk. He moved toward an ornate chest of drawers and extracted two small boxes. He held one in each hand. “Your gifts.” He remained where he was.

“Are both the same?” Heer asked.

“No. I’m just going to let Fate decide who gets which.” Bosco winked at Heer.

Duncan seriously hated when Bosco openly flirted with Heer; it wasn’t fair.

Heer elbowed Duncan. “Get yours first.”

Duncan pulled his morning jacket down and straightened his shoulders. Ten steps, and he was in front of Bosco. His nostrils flared, Bosco’s aroma always disturbed him. The boxes were the size of Bosco’s palm; he didn’t have small hands, but Duncan shouldn’t think about that at the moment.

Those sky blue eyes felt heavy trained on Duncan. He didn’t mind the fact that the sensation was equal to Bosco meticulously divesting him of his clothes; it was the fact that Bosco was doing it fully aware of the presence of Heer in the room with them. Duncan snatched the left box. He tried to get the other one for Heer.

“Ah-ah,” Bosco shook his head slowly, “allow him to grab his own fate.”

“What fate? There’s one box left. That’s hardly a choice.” the growl escaped from Duncan this time.

“You know,” Bosco tilted his head now, “one thing is fiery and another prickly. I don’t like prickly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fed up was an understatement for Duncan’s state.

“Duncan,” Heer settled a hand on Duncan’s shoulder, “Bosco is not the enemy here.”

“Wise words, Heer.” Bosco offered the remaining box to him. “I want us all to be friends, and if not friends, at least friendly.” He focused those drilling eyes of his back on Duncan. “If you cannot play well with others, how to do expect to rule the prides?”

“So this is nothing but a game to you?” Duncan hissed as he pocketed the box in his dark green morning jacket.

“I seriously hope you’re able to twist other things as well as you do my words,” Bosco said, narrowing his eyes— his tone menacing and yet strangely inviting.

Heer gave Duncan a beseeching look. Duncan scowled but nodded. “I’ll play nice,” he muttered between his teeth.

“Excellent.” Bosco used the same deep, almost husky intonation. “Now, there are two doors,” he pointed left and right, “take your boxes and come back wearing nothing but your gifts. Let’s see who wears his better.”

“What?” Heer beat Duncan to the question. “What do you mean nothing but the gifts? What could be covered with whatever is in this tiny box?”

“You will find out as soon as you go to the rooms and open them.” The smirk returned to Bosco’s face.

Duncan wanted to strangle him. Bosco was playing them as if they were untrained cubs with baby fangs. Duncan was ready to end it all in a furious swat of steel claws.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Heer insisted— his agitation barely restrained.

“My house, my rules.” Bosco removed the chunk of white hair laid over his right eye. “You’re free to go if you don’t want to follow those rules.”

Uncharacteristically, Heer arched an eyebrow and (using a surprisingly condescending tone) said, “Oh, I know how to follow rules and play games, Bosco. I just hope you’re not a sore loser.” After a brisk nod, he about-faced and strode toward the left door.

Duncan also nodded briskly and followed suit. Heer’s reaction had left him speechless. He also thought he heard Bosco chuckle as he closed the right door behind him.

****

Bloody claws and dripping fangs. The fuck is this?

Heer had only seen dancers in gentlemen’s clubs wearing this kind of jewelry. If he wasn’t mistaken, the diminutive beads were made of tiger’s eye, and the delicate chain keeping all in place appeared to be gold. Was Bosco seriously expecting them to parade for him in nothing but this bunch of beads?!

Duncan would undoubtedly be roaring curses in several languages in the other room. And yet they didn’t have a choice if they wanted to keep the peace between the three prides of New Englalonde. Bosco needed to choose one of them, and, until that happened, they would endure all the games the current regent’s son could contrive.

The room wasn’t spacious, probably a valet’s quarter, but suspiciously on the monastic side. Heer sat on the narrow bed and started to discard his boots when he noticed the clockwork automaton standing beside the closed door. It wasn’t bareboned like most house automatons; this had a handsomely crafted face and seemed to have defined muscles under its simple clothes. Perhaps this was the valet, but why have a bed here then?

Leaving the bed, Heer approached the copper creation. He found the winding crown on the automaton’s neck. He turned it at least ten times, and the “valet” opened his eyes, searching for whoever had activated it.

“How may I assist you?” The voice was metallic but clear and surprisingly manly.

Heer had a human valet. In his residence, automatons were for other household duties. This might prove interesting, and temporarily distracting for whatever nonsense Bosco had in store for them. “I need to get undress,” he stated simply.

The automaton gave two steps and proceeded to help Heer out of his gray morning coat. And, so, one by one, Heer discarded the layers of propriety uniting him to the realm of common humans with the help of the mechanical valet. Once naked, he took the small box from the bed; the insulting contents mockingly glaring at him.

Heer studied the now still automaton for a moment, before asking, “Can you help me with this?” He dangled the string of beads, which for the unsuspecting eye might look like a rosary, but had a completely opposite purpose.

Well, “contemplation” will definitely be involved.

“I apologize, sir. I am not acquainted with that contraption.”

“Apology accepted.” Heer almost chuckled. This could be a good thing. The automaton’s lack of knowledge about this particular item might imply that Bosco hadn't given such gifts to other “guests.”

Heer’s long hair spilled over his shoulders as he bent, trying to figure out how to position the several connected strings to accomplish the desired outcome. Luckily for him, the “contraption” as the automaton had aptly called it wasn’t completely foreign to Heer. He knew a segment ought to be between his ass-cheeks, another around his hips, and, somehow, a group of beads would showcase the base of his cock almost like a bizarre bracelet emerging from under his balls sac.

Another seemingly unnecessary thing within the small room was a full-length mirror. Heer stood before it and admitted the unexpected gift was titillating. Certainly, nothing was left to the imagination, but the adornment purposely enhanced the family jewels.

His balls contracted, and his cock started to harden as Heer thought of Duncan wearing something similar.

Bosco knew his game. They were males, and arousal was second nature to them. That son of an astrolabe must be snickering while playing with his cock, waiting for them to come out in nothing but his “gifts.”

“Sir?”

The automaton’s voice startled Heer. He had almost forgotten the clockwork valet was in the room. “Yes?”

“Do you need help with anything else?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Very well, sir. I’m at your command if you need me.”

Heer studied his reflection in the mirror. The semi-precious stones adorning his crotch were exquisite and impishly inappropriate. He debated between presenting himself at full mast since Bosco obviously wanted a show and putting his clothes back on to leave the manor, starting a senseless war in his wake.

Duty won, but the promise of a naked Duncan and even the more questionable tease of a naked Bosco weighed heavily on that outcome.

And the two beads poking my back door are obviously having their saying too.

****
The gifts were indeed different, but Bosco had put them in identical boxes. It would also be a surprise for him which heir got what. He wasn’t a selfish man; he was also wearing something for them.

For a moment, Bosco wondered about the reception the other two would give to his gift, then the right door opened. Duncan emerged in all his pale and muscularly delicious naked glory.

So, he got the malachite balls shocker.

And that wasn’t the only thing he wore. Bigger than a blimp, Duncan’s scowl could have intimidated any other lion, even alphas, but not Bosco. Not just because he had the upper hand here but because his power was greater than the power of the two heirs combined. Something Bosco usually kept to himself; lions were stupid and instinctually challenged anyone worthy of a brutal fight.

And speaking of worthy things, the shocker was doing its job. Duncan’s semi-hard cock looked big and tasty, and the oval malachite between shaft and balls looked splendid. Clenching secret muscles, Duncan made the object of Bosco’s attention bounce in place. Bosco’s eyes moved upward to Duncan’s face. The scowl remained, but the heir of the West Pride huffed, “Like what you see?”

Bosco grabbed his crotch and squeezed his own considerable manhood still hidden beneath his trousers. “What do you think?”

Before Duncan could retort, the left door opened. Heer and his cock came out tall and hard, the tiger’s eye beads gleaming in the afternoon sun pouring through the French windows. While Duncan’s body was pale with solar tresses, almost genial even with his usual brusque manner, Heer's in contrast,  was dark and enticing. Heer’s bronzed skin and raven waves were exotic, and (if Bosco allowed his imagination to fly) seriously close to sinister. Still, the heir of the East Pride sported a usually conciliatory demeanor— that until mere moments ago when exiting to change and he threw a challenge in Bosco’s face.

This promised to be exciting beyond Bosco’s expectations because he didn’t miss the flying sparks as Duncan and Heer exchanged glances.

Bosco undid his boots and went to his feet, starting to remove his garments. Neither men moved to help him, nor Bosco expected them to. They knew he would ask for help if he needed it, and he was messing with them enough already to make them act as valets too. They didn’t disguise their appreciation as each piece of clothing found the floor.

When his drawers were the only thing barely covering him or his full erection, Bosco crooked both index fingers, silently calling both men to him.

Duncan did his eye-narrowing-scowling combo but stepped forward first. As soon as he was within striking distance, Bosco grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for a furious kiss. Duncan resisted for two heartbeats before responding with equal force. Amid their battle, Bosco sensed Heer and pulled him closer with is free hand, then encircling his waist and smashing their three bodies together.

Bosco moved from Duncan’s mouth to Heer’s and back again. He felt fingers on his hips, pulling his small clothes down, and as his cock bobbed free, both heirs got on their knees.

“I’ve never seen a cock-ring there before.” Surprise and wonder melted easily in Heer’s throaty voice.

“Ought to be very pleasing for the receiver…” There was also amazement in Duncan’s tone even if he'd tried to disguise it with a hit of sarcasm.

“It is also a gift for both of you if you want it,” Bosco offered, stroking their manes and slowing pushing them toward the gold ring encircling his cock-head instead of the base of his balls.

Neither men answered, just closed their eyes and nuzzled their newly discovered gold toy. They worked in splendid synchronicity, licking and kissing along the solid shaft, and, yet, they seemed to avoid actual contact between them.

Bosco had hinted his desire to fuck them, and they had remained silent. Perhaps, he had been too bold, expecting them to accept such intimacy in their first sexual encounter. One thing was the knowledge of his control, and another to abuse that power. Both heirs had kept their eyes closed, and Bosco grabbed their jaws to make them stop and look upward. He pulled them to their feet as soon as he had their attention. 

It was his turn to descend, and he did, bestowing kisses in both chests and abdomens, deeply inhaling fragrant bushes, licking and pumping granite shafts.

Surprisingly, Heer was more vocal and active than Duncan, groaning loudly and threading his fingers through Bosco’s hair. Nevertheless, Duncan’s hips showed his enthusiasm as Bosco kneaded hairy balls, adorned with the thin silver shocker crisscrossing them, and slowly rubbed the string of five beads (hanging from the shocker) over Duncan’s hole. Heer’s hole was not forgotten as Bosco used the beads between those hard ass-cheeks to apply pressure on the secret entrance.

It was time for Bosco to truly sample the goods, and he took Duncan first in his mouth. Thick and warm, cock-head and shaft filled him until the closed his throat around his prize and licked the oval malachite with the tip of his tongue, allowing some spit to run down hefty balls. His skill was rewarded with a panted, “take my fucking nine lives!”

The expression made Bosco open his eyes, which he had closed enraptured as he was in width and aroma. He didn’t look at Duncan but at Heer, and what he saw instigated his next action. He freed the massive manhood in his mouth and pulled Heer down.

Once they were side by side, Bosco guided Duncan's dripping cock-head toward Heer’s full lips. He saw the hesitation, the slight recoil, but he knew why, so his voice came out firm and certain, “Never fear what's already yours.”

A THREESOME FOR EVERY SEASON

The final lineup for the year of the threesomes is here!
Triple hotness all year with a different flavor for each season

SPRING 

BRIDEGROOM FROM HEAVEN

During the seventeenth century, two men struggle to forget their past, and start a new life in the Indies. Alejandro is haunted by the memories of a distressful childhood in the hands of a merciless father. Now, that man had called him to return to the place he escaped five years before. A grown man this time, he will not allow his father to have his way with him again. Armando is escaping from the hands of the Spanish Inquisition after being falsely accused of heresy. A stroke of luck put him in the Royal Court, and from there, on a galleon to the Indies, appointed as a new judge for the Real Audiencia of Guatemala. 

Both men, despite their different backgrounds and in life experiences, fall in love with each other, and with the captain of the galleon, Mauricio. A love triangle forged in the high seas and strong enough to conquer all the enemies awaiting them in the Kingdom of Guatemala.

#historical

SUMMER 

CLOCKWORK VENDETTA

Heer Pyfus, Bosco Rogers, and Duncan Bracco will undo all preconceptions about what it is to rule the industrial mafia as mob families try to keep the peace, uniting through wedding contracts but not by love. Bosco must choose between Heer and Duncan, but things are not always black and white. Secret alliances will emerge and dreams will shatter. An unsuspected enemy from the other end of the world comes to make their lives more difficult, and they shall fight, not only to survive but to let the organized crime honchos know that love is bigger than vengeance.

#steampunk #steamfun 

FALL 

SEDULOUS

Bennar Muselet escapes prosecution by the end of Another Dawn on Planet X.  It’s up to his son, Admiral Ben Muselet and his brother’s erstwhile shadows, Tyke and Sun, to find the deceitful former Consul of the Cygnus Federation and bring him back to justice. The attraction among the three men is explosive from the get-go, but there’s more to it than meet the eye. Tyke and Sun are life-mates but their bound is three lateral, thus they hope Ben is their key to be complete. From planet to planet, hunting down his father, a secret will keep Ben from falling in love with Tyke and Sun. Nevertheless, destiny has more tricks than a Valorian whore, so beware.

#scifi

WINTER 

ARZANALE

A new power-hungry secret society is trying to resurrect another ancient evil. Snyder, Hugo, and Kovak fought against Juggernaut in Septima Luna. Now, as they try to work out the dynamics of their relationship, they discover their lives are at stake because this unspeakable menace is related to all three men’s ancestors and the obscure reasons why they became modern day warriors. Mercenary tourism has never been so much fun; just remember to bring lots of water and big-ass weapons! 

#contemporary #paranormal

CATS, CLOSETS & CELEBRATIONS

My Russian Blue, Bella, had an issue this Xmas morning...

Bella: "What you mean there are no presents?"

Gabbo: "There are no presents because we don't have a xmas tree. You kept destroying it, remember?"

Bella: "What does that have to do with anything? You could have put them in the closet like every other parent!"

Gabbo: "Closets are not for presents or people."

Bella: "Don't go there..."

Gabbo: "Okay. There are no presents because we don't celebrate xmas."

Bella: "So? Think of them as early birthday presents. After all, my birthday is next month."

Gabbo: "Then you can wait until next month like a good girl."

Bella leaves, muttering to herself. Most certainly on her way to destroy something, just to be a total biotch.

#Bella #kitty #cat #holidays#pagan #parents #gifts #instapets #instacute #instahumor 

#daddysgirl #gabbodelaparra

A DREAM OF TWO MAYAS

(This is a blog, mostly, about hot guys doing hot things, but sometimes I need to take a step back and reflect on things not HOT-related)

I usually have conscious dreams. Not going to give you a long and boring explanation, but in those, you know you’re dreaming and sometimes manipulate the situations to your convenience.

Last night, after a very long and complex dream, I saw two Mayas almost at the end of it. Maya Angelou was known for her wit and depth. Maya Rudolph (of SNL fame) is a comedian. The first Maya is dead, the other alive. Before seeing them, I was in this corridor plastered with pictures, as if someone had put up the ones that come with calendars and used them to cover the walls. Maya Angelou was in one of those pictures as if it was a postcard from Machu Picchu.

A moment later, I see two women coming through double doors (like the ones in hospitals), and here comes Maya R guiding Maya A by her arm and saying, “Say Hello, granny. Say Hello to everyone, granny.” 

Lucid as I was, I knew Maya A was dead in real life but not in my dream. Still, by the way she looked at the people and her demeanor something told me she had dementia (aka Alzheimer), and Maya R was trying to keep her cheerful and nice to others.

Nevertheless, Maya A was silent. She stoically walked past the other people around, but when the two passed by me, she said, “Good Night” with a nod and in a clear, crisp voice that didn’t have anything to do with Maya R’s cute attempts at communication. 

Some other things happened in my dream after that.

I woke up mostly centered in the episode with the two Mayas. 

I realized that, in my dream, Maya A, who had been a great mind in life, couldn’t be anything else than what she truly was. Amid a situation where you lose your memories and identity, she was holding desperately onto that last shred of her true self, avoiding acting like a mindless puppet.

I don’t think Maya R was trying to be cruel. I think she was just doing what she thought was right to help her patient (to me she was an orderly, or nurse or a hospital volunteer), and I’m pretty sure a grandmother could go all cutesy for her grandchildren, but in very specific situations and not as a way of continuous behavior. 

(I don’t know, I’m not a grandmother…)

There are a lot of things to be analyzed from my dream: the calendar pictures, Maya at Machu Picchu, the hospital doors, why a comedian, etc. 

The moral I receive of this encounter is simple, though. We need to be truthful and honest with ourselves no matter what, when, or where. Sometimes we accommodate to the intentions or actions of those around us, those “guiding” us, in detriment of our own personality. There are norms and conventions to live around others, and those are fine; we need them to not drown in chaos. Still, we have enough leeway to be who we really are (once we know who we REALLY are— ‘cause some people don’t). 

Nowadays we live in a world of false fame and herd behavior. Our society’s role models are perhaps models but not the best roles to imitate. Our children aspire to be “instantly” famous, forgetting true accomplishments come from hard work and consistency. 

Nobody is perfect, and yet that’s all we want to look like: the hundred selfies before the ONE that appears the best to be posted. These idyllic lives where we travel and dine and have beautiful, well-behaved families and pets are a surreal version of life that doesn’t have anything to do with what happens in our day to day realities. But that’s the face we most give to the “social” world to be accepted and cherished. To be embraced by people who live so far away from us that without technology we would never have been on their radars. 

I’m not saying that sharing your good moments is bad. You have the right to travel, dine, and be pretty. I certainly do. My concern here is how many of those moments are real, and not fabricated images to keep our “social” status. True, I’m not going to start posting pictures of me when I just woke up, looking crazy and with bad breath (yeah, you can see bad breath in pictures), but I’m going to try to enjoy the moments I have for myself. To live in the moment with those around me, instead of waste time thinking how I’m going to look for those who weren’t there.

Yes. We want to share our happy moments with others, especially when we are away from our families and close friends, and Social Media is a way to keep those parts of ourselves updated; let’s just not overdo it.

Here, I could add a “Namaste,” but I know better than that.