The men you need.
Zac Baker, Keenan Doyle and Hunter Hilton. A collaboration made in the filthiest part of gay heaven. Spicy gay fiction to get the heart pumping. Settle in. Unzip. These boys want to tell you a story.
Perpuchkan
I kneel behind him, on the bed, my damp cloth slipping over his chest, and under his arms, as I wash him. And I see what he is, and he is beautiful.
The Prince of Pavon
He learns to climb the rigging, and is agile and fast, nerveless at the height of the mast, where he proves a capable lookout with a strong understanding of what he sees – steering us clear of rock and reef and storm. The men notice these things, and grow to respect him more than they ever imagined they would. They hadn’t, and I hadn’t, imagined the prince as a beautiful workhorse.
Colo
Look at him. Can you see? Is he not so very beautiful? See the chin. The jawline, hard and straight. I can only say it is the chin of a man, knowing you will know what I mean if you have ever held a man, or loved a man as I have.
Kesteval
He slides his white medical pants right down and steps out of them but he keeps his gown on for some reason. I think he might just have an eye for the erotic detail, I don’t know. It is blindingly white, and frames his chest perfectly.
Harrison
Let’s call this place a hidden gem. There are trails, so dog walkers at the least know it. The ground slopes away towards the city, but its far enough away that it’s not really on anyone’s radar. Midsummer and it is lush with new growth, and in its deepest places wild with brambles. Dark enough in mid-afternoon. It’ll be the black of hell at the after-midnight slot we imagine.
Turnip
You would not recognise me. The boy and the man have grown far apart. There is no possible line from there to here other than the specific and very narrow one I walked. I write at the age of fifty. This is the story of my time with the Princes. Qatan and Qalin. Chahin and Cheruh. I am worse than the kitchen boy, filthier than the coal scuttle, on the first day of the tale I will tell you.
The Prince of Nahr
Everything about you is hard. The warrior arms and thighs. The solid planes of your chest, the stark flat belly, all straight lines. A smile reaches your lips. Here there is a curve. Sensuous. I imagine the kiss of a prince, your mouth on mine insistent, your tongue a probe against mine: the first but not last stage of opening me to your will. And still my fingers gently slide, tickling, twisting up and around the shaft. Veins of silver in the moonlight. Ridges of gold for me to find, and touch, and worship.
Ryan
There’s an intimacy about the act of being tattooed that just can’t be avoided. Online, and for weeks by email, we’ve pored over versions of the design. It is rounded perfectly to the pec, and I’ve found myself sharing detailed measurements of the ‘nipple to clavicle’ kind. He’s taken me through the process of colour mixing, and he’s started to understand how precisely I expect my intentions to be met.
Oscar
He steps away from me now, his fine fat cock swinging to each hip as he stands, and he reaches for the shower, setting it running until we gaze in adoration at each other through curtains of steam. And he takes my hand, and he holds me tight, and we step inside onto tiling that would hold ten men, if we had such a team, but which now gives us all the space we might need, and for whatever we wish to enjoy.
Beruh
Beruh’s ass as he climbs the coconut palm is an amazing thing. The prince stands with me watching, and we watch from twenty and then thirty and then fifty feet below as the man bones up as he climbs, his flimsy robe loose and taken by the breeze, and he is a sight that is impressive even from such a distance.
The Capoeira Club
If there’s two of them, or maybe it’s three? If there’s three of them, and you didn’t catch all the faces yet, you just get a sense of muscle, and they start spitting at your hole and pulling you open on their fingertips…there’s a point, with your ass in the air like this, that you’d have to admit it’s…exposing.
Joe
Until the third evening I hadn’t really noticed him. But on the fourth I did, and by the end of an evening spent focused on his cock as it bounces in his shorts each time we pass each other, I’d not only noticed him but decided to have him.
Niels
Dressed for summer night in that bright shirt. The sunglasses that hide his gaze when they slip to where they shouldn’t, as they often do. Dressed for the sticky heat of summer night in those shorts. Tight shorts. Distressed denim shorts. Out in the streets at night in torn shorts, like that, boy? A boy could get in trouble in such short tight shorts as those, ripped as they are.
Tiello. And Tiyallo
Slide quietly into shadow. That must be my plan. Instead, and within a month, I will buy The Pearl Garden. I despair, utterly despair of this thread of impetuosity that runs within my nature.
Qatan
I will not tell you all their names, out of respect, as many were to die in the wars. I walk past their carved memorials, the ones that found themselves on the right side when at last the fighting ceased for long enough to make an hour for a decent burial. Even now I remember their faces. Their heraldic devices. The hang and the swing of their cocks as my tongue reaches out towards them, the wet tip curling to guide them into my mouth.
Narrator (Broken)
I will reshape you. Broken as you may be. Fractured as you seem, each of your thousand tiny splinters refusing to coalesce back into that thing we call a man. Let me hold you, and have your spirit return to you. Experience the gulp as it finds you – purest oxygen, purest life, flowing back into your lungs and your heart. I hold you against my chest as it fills you once more with what has been lost. Bring you back from death. Bring you back to humanity.
Gael
Sweat glistens off his body. Arms and chest. Forehead and face. But you know what I mean when I say he is hot, this man.
Auba
They stand at the river’s edge as I swing from the willow’s branches, somersaulting with a whoop and a splash to the water. And I am watched for a season long while I perfect this technique, and while the branches I dive from grow higher. The men of the temple see my progress as the splashes turn into dives, and as the dives gain the perfection of hard practice, until I leave no bubbles, no ripples, behind.
Shaw
Joe leans in to kiss me, and I can’t stop him, and I can’t stop myself. At first he’s a little tentative, lips bouncing lightly against lips. I lower the zip on his top further, and sliding my arm round his body I press him closer, and our tongues are soon working magic.
Bjer
His hands on my back? Slow. His fingers as they smooth my hair back from my eyes? Gentle. The strength, confidently applied, as he lifts me high until my legs straddle his head and my head knocks against the ceiling, so that he can take my cock between his lips? Everything gentle, everything calm, everything beautiful.
The stories you’ll love.
Spicy MM romance. Gay erotica. Call it what you will. The temperature is just the same.
Subscribe to our newsletter.
Sign up with your email address to receive news and updates.