(The trees) were integral collaborators in the men’s tiny stabs at freedom. From trunk to trunk, the night’s escapees would bolt behind their girth. Sex-drunk and wary, the same men would return to the living columns, counting on them to get the workers back to their beds unseen.” (page 19)

 

On a dewy, sun-kissed Thursday morning, Day Three of The –Forsaken- Blogs has arrived! The world may now sigh in relief. *grins*

On a personal aside to my daily readers, I’d just like to note that today is a much better day than yesterday. All my meds are humming merrily along and my nails aren’t quite as dirty this morning as they were in the last blog. And yes, I’m still holding on at six thousand miles.

Now back to today’s blog…

Sex-drunk.

What a delicious coupling of words.

Hopefully, we’ve all felt that lazy buzz that sings through our bodies after a delicious coupling of our own. That precious, awkward time when our brains are stuck in a constant “Wow!” at our body’s spectacular efforts. Sweaty, breathless and goofy-faced, it is in these moments that some of our sappiest thoughts tumble out…

These are the moments romance authors drool over, especially writers in the m/m genre.

Keeping a man, well, manly is hard work when you’ve also got to show his soft, vulnerable underbelly. These sex-drunk moments are glorious moments where raw machismo and romantic heart can dance. When these rare, sparkling slices of time have been reached, it’s up to the author to just step back and let her men tango with their tongues and their oft-shielded hearts.

Personally, I get a rush out of writing these scenes. In a sense, it’s a delicious coupling of author and character. One leads and the other follows. If you’ve done it right, it’s almost a hands-off kind of experience, a moment where the writer can recklessly ride the waves she has wrought.

Word-drunk.

It may not be as good as a long, hard fucking but it sure as hell has an after-glow all its very own.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe

 


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