driftfleet

Who: Isabela and lovers of smutty filth
Broadcast: Yes!
Action: SS Huntress
When: Now.

[Isabela is holding an extremely classy looking novel with a woman tenderly kissing a shirtless, kilted man on the cover.]

My dear friend Fenris has been kind enough to lend this to me, so since it's been a while since anyone read extracts from one of his books here I thought I'd share part of it with all of you.

[Just let her flick to a part that's actually somewhat interesting...]

She felt Donal's thighs flexing against her own as he guided the horse on a path through the woods, and the scent of the man, even though she was currently a woman and not a wulver, made her salivate. Her whole body seemed to want to melt against his on the saddle, as if the motion of the horse could drive them together and make them one.

He didn't have to tell her to hang on- but she did. She hung onto him as if he were her second skin, as if she could crawl inside him. She clung to him, trembling, not understanding her own feelings at this closeness, at the way they moved together on the saddle.

Kirsten thought she felt him chuckle at the way her fingers locked feverishly around his waist, at the way she clutched him between her legs, and wondered if he knew she was bare and exposed beneath her plaid.

Because Donal MacFalon seemed determined to give her the ride of her life...

[She flicks it shut, though keeps her page marked with a finger]

I haven't even got to the good parts yet, but honestly if that's just riding the horse I can't wait until it gets to the part where she rides him.

I'm not sure if the fact I can't stop picturing Donal as Sebastian makes this book better or worse.

[Spoiler, it almost makes her wish he was here just so she can tell him the hero of a smutty book reminds her of him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If he is amiable to it, though I know the Bishop is host to our actual library.

_{[ There's a twist of his mouth on his end. ]}

I suppose having ridden it and with it I can't find a way to make it sound erotic at all. To close to home, one might say.

Is it? He never told me. [Or maybe he did and she just ignored it.]

You mean you don't find the idea of a beautiful woman pressed up against your back with no smalls on arousing? I must say, that's terribly disappointing.

That is where I have always been told to go if I wish a book.

Unfortunately, milady, my tastes run opposite to the gentleman in the novel you recited from. And generally one has to concentrate on staying on the horse to be aware of whether anyone has small clothes or no. But I suppose in the right circumstances it might be enjoyable.

Now that is unfortunate, though it does explain why you can't appreciate this.

[But that's okay. It's not the only one of Fenris' books she has on loan. Hold on while she finds out another. The novel she produces shows the torso of a muscled, tattooed man with the title taking up most of the cover in red.]

How does Bare-Knuckle Love sound to you?

_{[ He coughed at the sudden appearance of the book and the following
title, a slight pink appearing in his cheeks. ]}

Well, I cannot argue that the subject is quite pleasing to look at.

[Success. She looks very pleased with herself as she opens it up.]

Would you like me to read some to you?

Edited 2015-08-24 21:14 (UTC)

_{[ there is a brief moment of internal debate and then he laughs and
shrugs with a tilt of his head. ]}

Yes, please do. You have a lovely story telling voice, so I am sure you shall bring it to life.

My dear, I'd be happy to.

[More than happy to really. Smut would probably be her life passion if sailing and duelling didn't exist.]

Fight or die. It was what his father taught him. But only the winners counted in his father’s eyes, and Jason wouldn’t be winning tonight. Tonight was all about money. Something his father loved almost as much as power.

Blood pulsed in Jason’s ears as he drank coppery-tasting water from a bottle. The crowd around him roared battle cries of bloodthirsty cannibals, but their voices were only background noise in the cramped space of a downtown basement. Jason breathed in deep, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched his opponent across the cage. Though he wasn’t sure whether “opponent” was the right word in a situation where the match had been rigged.

Titan was what they called him, the nickname very fitting to someone so huge and ugly, but in a real fight, the guy wouldn’t be that much of a challenge. Mass and strength alone weren’t enough, and if Jason were trying to win, Titan would have been sweating blood like a pig in an abattoir by this point. But life demanded money for rent, food, and the occasional beer, and it wasn’t like an underground fight could affect Jason’s future job prospects. If he

had any in the first place. All he wanted right now was to settle back in his hometown of Southport, Washington, which happened to be the county’s center for illegal activity thanks to its harbor and lenient police force. The local motorcycle club, the Rabid Mongrels, organized the fight, and it seemed they had a very good relationship with the police to pull off such stunts.

As Titan approached him, there was some satisfaction to be had from breaking a law his father had enforced. Jason was on his own, and he would do as he pleased, even if the voice at the back of his mind was waiting to scream at him for not playing by a real man’s rules. Titan’s scent crawled toward Jason inch by inch, and the man’s acne-scarred face tensed up, but when Jason glanced over Titan’s shoulder, ready to take the last few punches, his mind went completely blank.

The pale shape of a familiar face emerging from the dark background was like a beacon shining through the fuzz of the fight, through the pain in Jason’s bloodied knuckles, from a time much darker than now. Hyde stared at him from across the cramped room, his longish blond hair in disarray, brows low over his eyes, luscious mouth sucking in cigarette smoke. He was even more handsome than he used to be in high school; the past ten years had added definition to his features.

The punch to Jason’s face completely threw him off-balance and made his jaw crackle. It was as if someone pushed Play on an MP3 player that had stopped. The world was loud and vicious again. Sure, Jason was back in his hometown, but the last thing he expected was to see the guy who made him realize his sexuality all too clearly. Not that he’d ever done anything about it, but he was not about to lose in front of Hyde.
“Fuck the money,” he muttered to himself through the mouthguard and pirouetted back to Titan. He struck the side of the guy’s jaw, the punch sending a tremble all the way down his elbow. The crowd roared all around him, tuning in with the stampede of blood pumping through Jason’s brain. Titan tried to hook him, but Jason stepped away, only to deliver a punishing blow to the side of Titan’s jaw and send him on the mesh.

Fenris has good taste. I only took it for the cover, but I'm already tempted not to return this one.

_{[ He listens to her recite, and while she has a lovely speaking voice,
he couldn't say that this particular passage had him all hot and bothered.
Violence had never been a way for him to feel alive, and he had some rather
terrible memories of sparring sessions when he was younger - including a
broken arm.}

But it was merely the opening, and he assumed that the fight would somehow lead into a romance, odd as that seemed to him. ]

I cannot say that I would be very attracted to a man who just punched me, but I think everyone has their particular likes, yes? At least the descriptions are quite thorough.

002

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