QSFer Thursday Euclid has a new sci fi MM romance book out:
Retired military officer Malcolm Torvik runs a rehabilitation facility for malfunctioning pleasure cyborgs. When WLF-6759—Wolf—arrives at Reboot Camp, the former battle cyborg presents problems Malcolm’s never faced before. Most pleasure cyborgs are sensation junkies, constantly high on the chemicals sex releases into their bloodstream, but Wolf’s faulty refit means it’s spent a decade suffering through unwanted encounters—and sometimes fighting back despite the consequences.
At first Wolf’s rebellion frustrates Malcolm even as Wolf’s undeniable physical perfection draws him. Then Wolf’s unexpected vulnerability and need open a whole new dynamic between them, and Malcolm finds himself feeling far too much for something that isn’t even human. Or is it? Could Homo sapiens technica be just as human as Malcolm is? And if it is, what’s Malcolm supposed to do about it? Malcolm’s been alone for so long…. Is it possible he’s found love with a cyborg? How far will he go to ensure Wolf’s freedom? Malcolm knows what he must do—for both of them—but it might cost him much more than his comfortable life.
Thursday is giving away an eBook copy of his horror/paranormal tale Immortal Sins with this post – just comment below with your email and name for a chance to win.
Even after days in its presence, Malcolm hadn’t acclimated to the cyborg’s beauty. He’d rehabilitated countless pleasure cyborgs, but they were never his type. He was a military man, and he preferred military men. He liked them massive, bold, with a rock-hard erection and a peachy ass. WLF-6759 was everything he desired, the ultimate combination of his kinks, but it wasn’t a man.
It was mostly machine, and Malcolm could have it, at any time, in any way, and slake all his long-untended lusts on it. God, he wanted to. The way it looked on the table, drowsy with lust, its perfect body flexing and working…. The way its cock had felt in his hand….
But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Maintaining discipline with the cyborgs meant he had to model discipline for them. If he kept getting distracted, he was going to have to send the cyborg to someone else to finish its retraining.
Why did that idea bother him so much?
After giving the cyborg a day to recover from its ordeal, he’d put it to work doing menial tasks around the house. Whenever it refused a task, balked, or halted in its duties, Malcolm punished it. A quick shock delivered via its collar, direct input to its central nervous system, and the cyborg did as it was told.
Malcolm spent endless hours watching it as it knelt on all fours and scrubbed his floors, stooped over his furniture reconditioning the materials, or stretched to wash his windows. Its body was hypnotic, well built in a way humans rarely were, and it was even stronger than it looked, easily strong enough to lift Malcolm over its head and throw him.
Were it still military-outfitted, it would be unstoppable. That thought made Malcolm shiver. What would it be like to be taken by a man like that? The raw power….
The longer he thought about it, the more he understood why Sheridan was spending so much money on his killer cyborg. What else could compare with it? Sheridan obviously shared Malcolm’s preferences—difficult to sate when only a fraction of the male populace fit the bill and fewer still liked men—but, unlike him, didn’t see human as a prerequisite for sex.
In Malcolm’s position, he often inferred such things about total strangers—all of them powerful and wealthy citizens—but he’d never had something in common with a client before. It rubbed him wrong. He liked to think of himself as above this sort of base lust. Malcolm’s desire was for men who’d earned it with their valor, their hard work. It was rooted in something more worthy than the desire for a hard body against his own.
It had to be. He was a Torvik, as tough as they came. He ruled his emotions, not the other way around. He had principles.
As Malcolm watched, WLF-6759 caulked the seals around Malcolm’s home, moving methodically from one to the next without slowing. It had been working for more than eighteen hours without a pause since its last punishment.
It had given him a betrayed look when he shocked it and then returned to its silent tasks. It hadn’t even glanced at him since.
Usually Malcolm enjoyed keeping the cyborgs in his care on task, but something about this one got to him. What had that look been about? It had stripped away his sense of pride and control, left him frustrated and confused.
Why did he let this one get to him that way?
The Thursday Euclid is a strange and elusive creature dwelling in the Texas Gulf Coast region. Frequently mistaken for Bigfoot, Chupacabra, or the monster of the week, he is, in fact, a 30-something black sheep with a penchant for K-pop, geekery, and hot and sour soup. When he’s not playing Dragon Age or SWTOR, he’s probably watching B-movies or talking to his best friend and frequent collaborator Clancy Nacht.