by Jude Mason
A topic that had me thinking. There's a variety of the forms of love. You love your parents, you love your dog or cat, you love apples or asparagus, you love the town you live in, your country--yet each is different--feels different, means something different to you. They're love though, or I believe they are.
As an author, I've written dozens, if not hundreds of stories about love and what it means to the people who inhabit my books. Readers and publishers expect, and rightfully so, a story to go along with any lust these characters might feel for each other. You know, how they met, where they went, what they look like and why they were attracted to each other. Each of them has a different background and are looking for different things out of life. Some simply want to get free of the rat race, find a small corner of the world and someone to share it with. They want to 'fall in love' with the right person. That right person will be someone who compliments their kinks, foibles and attitude. A dominant man would perhaps be looking for a submissive woman:
From Selene's Awakening (Coming soon to Total E-Bound):
Holding her by one arm, he helped her to stand in front of him, facing him. The robe she had on hung open, her curves inches away. It was as if, suddenly, the angry, frustrated, spoiled bitch had vanished. She’d come to terms with her desires and with him and wanted to explore. Would she stay with him? Would she care for him?
He looked up into her eyes and smiled. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured in that sultry, sexy, voice he was growing to love. He wanted to hear more of it, and much more often.
“Slide the robe off, please.” He reached down and wound his fingers around the erection jutting from his groin.
Selene shrugged and his robe slipped off her shoulders, falling to the floor around her feet.
“Kneel in front of me, please,” David said in a soft, yet stern voice.
For an instant she stood looking down at him, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. She didn’t drop to her knees, but said, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I want you. I…I.” She lowered her eyes. “I want you to control me.”
“I know, my sweet lady. I sensed it in you very soon after you awoke.”
Or, perhaps the decades old vampire seeking someone who would be more permanent than the fleeting morsels they fed on--someone who knew and understood the torment of being undead:
From Night Games (Coming soon to Total E-Bound):
“True.” Johan slipped his fingers around the swelling length of flesh and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can though. Save this for me.”
Chuckling, Petre placed his hand over top of Johan’s and moved it up and down the shaft of his cock. “It’s yours. Always yours.”
Johan looked deeply into his lover’s eyes, and felt the bond they shared deepen. Lifeless, they cared more for each other than either had ever done when they were human.
Johan winked and pulled his hand free. “I wonder if we shouldn’t get some clothes on before we wake her?”
Glancing down at himself then back up, Petre smiled. “Yeah, we don’t want to look more like rapists than rescuers.”
“No shit. For all she knows, she’s gone from one bunch of hoods to another. Follow me.” Johan turned and headed for the bedroom, and the closet full of clothes. Opening the doors wide, he took two robes from the hooks, one black velvet, the other dark blue silk, and held them up. “Which one?”
Petre took the silk robe and slipped it on. Johan slid into the other, belting it at the waist. Pushing his feet into a pair of slip-ons, he turned and headed back to where the woman lay stretched out on the sofa. On the way, he reached down and grabbed a throw from the foot of the bed.
Yet, I can't ignore the feeling that lust has it's place and I'm drawn to exploring it in a variety of ways. You can lust after your wife/husband, you can feel lust for the woman or man you see in the street. There's no pleasantry, just the animal want.
There's also the lust for power, or revenge. The darker side of lust is as strong and compelling as the softer, more accepted side. Think of all the hookers, both male and female, who lust after the wealth and standings of those who buy their services. The buyer may lust, but what of the bought? Think of those poor souls who have nothing else but their lust to live, or their lust for revenge.
From Roses Have Thorns:
The room grew dim around them, as if the light couldn't permeate the dark misery transpiring. Clifford raised his head and watched her rifle through the assortment of leather and shiny metal lined up on the table. One hand searched, while the other wandered down her body, following a trail of scars. When her hand reached the soft fur covering her sex, her legs spread as if of their own volition. Her finger found its mark. Her clitoris was warped and torn, but the nerve endings had somehow survived enough to give pleasure. A harsh rub and she rode the wave, but stopped before she crested.
Feeling the sweet nearness of her climax, she gazed lustily at her prey. A glance at what her other hand had found, and she smiled. "This one I think." She lifted her hand and showed him a leather contraption of straps and buckles.
He nodded, solemnly, and didn't say a word. She took hold of his testicles with her dew covered fingers and pulled them away from his groin. One strap wound around the neck of his sack, separating the two round balls from his body. Rose jerked the straps tight then fastened the buckle and petted the lewdly presented jewels. Another strap circled the base of his prick, and she took great pleasure in pulling that one particularly snug while buckling it. The last strip of leather didn't have a buckle, but did have a clip at its end.
"Fun begins now, Clifford," Rose purred as she pulled the last strap to the end of the table and clipped it to a metal ring welded in place.
When Clifford's groan started, it was barely audible, but by the time she'd fastened the scrotum strap, the sound had risen to rumbling growl. The skin stretched paper thin over his balls. The tiny blue veins contrasted sharply to the white skin. Rose ran a finger over them, her nail lightly scraping the tight flesh.
"Yes!" he hissed and pushed his body toward her hand, as if seeking her pain-filled touch.
They lust for each other, for different reasons, but the feeling is undeniable.
Human emotions are amazing. I guess as writers it's up to us to draw the picture clearly and show the readers the love and lust of those we write about.
I'd love to hear what you all think about our topic this week. Love and Lust, such strong emotions with such wide variations of meaning.