#DaysofClass
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I’m gonna brag for a bit, but this is some of my favorite work: that first sentence I think is the cleverest I’ve ever written

This is an excerpt from my novel #DaysofClass

(It’s currently delisted on Books while I work on a new cover)

#addBlackGaySky #LGBTfiction #blerdSpot #blackArtist
Excerpt from the novel “Days of Class” by Christian Butler, reads as follows: Fellatio for Markus Daystrom was his native tongue. And indeed, his was a fluency most rare, a quality afforded only those possessed of the requisite knowledge which is carried by all men, but unlike most, Markus was unafraid. He had the wherewithal to welcome such knowledge, finding use in it, and in its exercise, fulfillment. With Markus, Ethan learned how it yielded an embrace most eloquent and unmatched, both in its intensity and tenderness, evincing within them both an unabashed eagerness without fear of consequence, of the inevitable . . . There’d been no preemption, even after a warning Ethan had barely managed to give. Markus would only remain fixed on the task ahead as like a veritable artisan: a deliberate and dutiful devotion to this, his most delicate work, his lips and his tongue the tools of his trade. Even as Ethan came upon approach of that precipice, all grasp of his senses lost to that numbing ecstasy as he felt himself unmade, never had he lost awareness of those soft and full lips, the feel of them as wrapped around him, an embrace as intimate as only Markus could affect—another man—cursed with such knowledge; feeling their enclosure made ever-tighter, an earnest endeavor freely given as his teammate took in more of him, so much more . . . as much and all there’d been—all that was left—to take . . . Until finally Ethan lost all pretense of control, the very concept abandoned, leaving him good and truly lost. His breath was all that was left of him. His chest rising. Then falling. A hollow, desperate sound. The rush of warm blood in his ears. His thrashing heart had overwhelmed whatever sounds he’d made, the moans he’d let escape him—taken from him. Just as Markus had taken everything else. No longer did any of it matter. “Fuck . . .”
November 18, 2024 at 8:16 PM