Hello and thanks for hosting The
Sons of Gomorrah :) For me, this series is a dark tapestry consisting of
many tiny threads, perhaps not too obvious at first glance. I’ve been weaving
it without having a clear idea what might come of it, but with certainty that
it’s something I need to do.
In the beginning, there was a lonely
young man who wished to join a famous school of magic, for his life to become
an endless fairytale, and a much older magician who tried to talk him out of
it. Not much plot, as you see. The idea of shady things going on in such an
establishment was haunting me for years, gaining more details now and then but
not turning into a book, until another character joined in, an incubus who
appeared during an exorcism gone slightly wrong. He was the force that made
very vague concepts finally (and rapidly) start taking shape, arranging
disengaged threads into an eerie, baroque picture.
In its design, you might notice the
influence of Gothic novels I’ve been studying for quite a while, as well as the
weird and elegant works of fin-de-siècle and early 20th century horror authors like
Arthur Machen and Charles Williams, though I have a drastically different
understanding of some of their themes. You might even find traces of Sherlock
fanfiction there (I couldn’t help dropping a few quotes because I’ve been
writing Sherlock fanfics for too long!). And I think this story wouldn’t
be what it is if I haven’t been working with a much sinister kind of books, as
a journalist: the Soviet era documents on purges and political trials, which
are now published. As much as my series is about magic and demons, it’s about
individuals in a big system, and the ways they corrupt it-and are corrupted in return, often
without even realizing it or choosing not to notice what’s going on around
them. But it’s also about finding peace and family in the most unexpected ways.
"."
Tristan
Todorov, formerly one of the best scholars at the legendary and
sinister Scholomance school of magic, was cast out and now travels alone
through Eastern Europe offering discreet services as an unlicensed
magician. In a luxurious hotel in Prague where he’s been invited to
investigate a suspicious series of suicides, he’s about to meet someone
who will make him remember the darkest secret of his past.
Will
a night of lust soothe Tristan—or will it stir up something evil and
dangerous, something he’s tried so desperately to forget?
Jarek slid off the bed, the coverlet still loosely draped over his shoulders and trailing behind him like a king’s cloak. In the gap between the folds, Tristan could see everything he wanted to. Jarek was a better version of him, unscarred, untainted. His erection, rising from a thatch of pubes, mirrored Tristan’s. What would it feel like, touching it? It must be like reaching out for a reflection—and finding warm flesh instead of cold glass…
“Don’t move,” Jarek told him softly. “Keep your hands to your sides.”
And Tristan obeyed.
“Interesting,” Jarek mused, trailing a finger along his collarbone.
Tristan sucked in a deep shuddering breath, but stayed still. It felt odd, letting this happen. Jarek slipped his hand lower, casually brushed it across Tristan’s perked nipple on the way, and then traced a path down his chest and over the muscles of his abdomen. Tristan’s abs went taut at the feather light touch, and Jarek laughed quietly.
“Sensitive.” Jarek stated the obvious. He let the coverlet slip from his shoulders—an effortlessly seductive gesture, probably well-practiced, like Tristan’s trick with snapping his fingers. A slow, crooked smile made the expression on Jarek’s face all the more lascivious, which was most certainly the intention. “I think I know what you need.”
Tristan looked down pointedly and then up, with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, that’s kind of apparent.”
He still felt nervous, but not as much as when he’d thought of being pitied or rejected.
Jarek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is it? Hmm. We’ll definitely come to that, but why rush things? I’m here to take care of your wishes, even the ones you’re not sure you have. Why not try something new, something unusual?” He leaned in, very close, and Tristan felt Jarek’s warm breath on his lips when he whispered, “Just let me take control for a while, and you’ll see how good I can make you feel.”
The next moment, Jarek backed off, to Tristan’s disappointment, but maintained eye contact, and Tristan felt unable to look away, as if mesmerized. The tips of Jarek’s fingers now rested lightly on his hipbones, almost where Tristan wanted them most but not moving closer.
“Say yes,” Jarek coaxed him in a low voice. “Say you give in to me tonight. It’s easy, giving in.”
“Yes,” Tristan breathed out, not sure what he’s agreeing to and not caring in the least.
Soul Infection at Evernight
And on Amazon
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Tristan,
a freelance magician, falls for an incubus, a Gomorrah pleasure demon,
who works as an escort in a luxurious hotel in Prague. To free him from a
contract that binds him, Tristan needs to solve a problem for a very
influential man, Ambrosius Schwarzenstein, who is currently looking for a
personal assistant with a knowledge of occult practices.
As Tristan plunges into an investigation of a mysterious death, he might find more than he wants to and face his worst fears. Will he set his lover free or bring trouble to them both?
As Tristan plunges into an investigation of a mysterious death, he might find more than he wants to and face his worst fears. Will he set his lover free or bring trouble to them both?
Pressed together from head to toe, they kissed leisurely as if they had all the time in the world. Tristan felt a bit sore between his legs after a few rounds of vigorous coupling, but it was a pleasant burn, a reminder of their bodies united in so many enjoyable ways, and his cock certainly seemed to vote for a sequel. The sheets were a wrinkled mess beneath them, and Tristan could feel the ready heat of Jarek’s erection against his own, a torturous sensation because he needed more friction, more, more, and right now.
“Shh, there’s no hurry,” Jarek whispered as he aligned his cock against Tristan’s, his hand wrapping tightly around them both. “Don’t rush it. Don’t come until I say you may.”
Jarek’s hips rocked lazily against him, and Tristan tried his best not to squirm in uncontrollable ecstasy, or maybe agony, or both. Jarek made his pace purposefully, cruelly slow. Tristan grasped at his back, fingernails digging deeper and deeper, all muscles drawn taut with need. He lost any awareness of how much time had passed, but he couldn’t hold on much longer, he couldn’t, he couldn’t…
“Not yet,” Jarek warned him with a wicked grin, squeezing the base of Tristan’s cock to prevent the approaching orgasm. “I want to savor this. Savor you, while I can. Your face … it’s so open now, so unguarded. I like it.”
The House of Fear at Evernight
And on Amazon
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"...
For
Tristan Todorov, formerly a freelance magician and now a consultant on
occult matters, living with an incubus turns out to be rather
challenging. Not only because there’s little information on incubi,
Gomorrah pleasure demons. Jarek, the one he has a contract with, has a
fiery personality and a dark past, and sometimes he’s a mystery Tristan
can’t decipher.
When Tristan ends up in possession of an illegal artifact with peculiar powers, he hopes it might help him and Jarek to finally understand each other. Will it be a blessing indeed—or a curse that might put them both in danger?
When Tristan ends up in possession of an illegal artifact with peculiar powers, he hopes it might help him and Jarek to finally understand each other. Will it be a blessing indeed—or a curse that might put them both in danger?
In the shower, Tristan discovered there was a bruise where Jarek had been gripping his hip, in addition to the hickeys. He poked at it experimentally. It was strangely enticing, to be marked like that. He wouldn’t mind if Jarek joined him, like he often did, and explored his skin under the hot spray in search for more marks of the same origin, but Jarek stayed away this time and Tristan couldn’t muster enough cheekiness to call him.
During breakfast, they always bumped into each other in the tiny kitchen, and Tristan liked it. Particularly when Jarek wore nothing but boxers, like now, and sometimes even less. Today, however, Jarek kept his distance, and it was a tad worrying, but again, Tristan withheld from commenting on it.
It wasn’t until Tristan started washing the dishes when Jarek finally slipped closer. Very close. He caged Tristan in against the counter, one arm on each side of his body, not quite pinning him but also not giving him anywhere to go. He licked a swath of skin below Tristan’s ear, which was a nice way to start a conversation.
“I wasn’t too rough, was I? Tonight.”
Maybe it was easier for him to talk when Tristan wasn’t looking.
It was the same for Tristan. If it made Jarek forget his nightmare, he didn’t mind a little rough, and he had no problem with saying that, face to face. But he had something else to admit, and it was better doing it like this.
“Uh. I liked it, actually.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Jarek whispered into his nape. His hands hiked up Tristan’s t-shirt, slid underneath it, but not demanding this time, just tenderly wandering up and down Tristan’s flanks. “I … you see, it wasn’t … I wouldn’t normally…”
Jarek seemed to be uncharacteristically out of words.
Tristan turned, facing him now, but still pinned to the counter by Jarek’s whole body.
“It’s really fine. I know you would have stopped if I said I didn’t like it.”
Jarek avoided his gaze.
“I’m usually more … calculating. In the sense, how would it feel for you if I do this, how you’re going to respond if I do that. I’m not supposed to be…”
“…enjoying yourself?”
“More like losing control. Don’t get me wrong, I get off on this kind of scheming. I guess it’s natural for incubi, watching for reactions, striving to get it right. It’s part of the fun, doing a detective’s work while shagging. Or a psychologist’s. So I’m enjoying myself perfectly well. But tonight … it was a bit egotistic, wouldn’t you say?”
Tristan leaned in to nip at Jarek’s lower lip, rubbed his nose against Jarek’s. “Hey, it’s called spontaneous sex.”
Jarek sighed like he hadn’t been entirely convinced, but answered with a slow open-mouthed kiss to Tristan’s chin, licking down his neck after that to lave at the spots where he’d left suck marks last night.
“Sorry about those,” he murmured. He sounded genuinely apologetic.
Tristan let out a small laugh, embarrassed to confess they fascinated him. “That could be a way to tell us two from each other, I guess.”
“You could mark me, too, if you want,” Jarek suggested, but there was unusual hesitancy in his voice.
Angel's Eye at Evernight
And on Amazon
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Don't forget that the Sons of Gomorrah sprouted a delicious spin-off:
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