Madeira Desouza has a new mm erotic sci fi serial story releasing on Kindle Vella - Baja Clavius: Dream Time for Moon Men. And there's a giveaway!
This serialized story continues the science fiction time travel adventures from "Baja Clavius: Moon Men Deep Inside" written and illustrated by Madeira Desouza.
What's it about? In the 23rd century a gritty, quasi-militaristic time travel agency located beneath the crater Clavius on the moon sends gay male agents on missions to the past on Earth.
The often immoral actions of the time travel agents are unrestricted by the agency which allows the agents free reign to alter timelines to prevent an impending self-destruction of human civilization coming in just a few years.
Madeira is giving away an Amazon gift card with this tour:
Having never traveled farther west than Wichita, an unexpected work opportunity to jet off to Las Vegas jolts into overdrive the imagination of a young man from Kansas. He is deep in sleep, carefully buckled in while reclining in his comfortable window seat in row number one within the crowded first-class section. The smooth, soothing rush of the cool, pressurized air inside the jet masks his awareness of his forward speed and his current altitude at roughly seven miles up in the sky.
As his jet touches down on the runway, he wonders in anticipation what may be awaiting him in the desert playground. The first few seconds as he walks from the aircraft that brought him to the Las Vegas airport, he is immersed in a literal sensory overload designed to force all arriving visitors to forget where they just came from. First, there is the unforgettable ringing of airport terminal slot machine chimes announcing unexpected winners who will start their stay in Vegas with a few extra hundred bucks in their pocket. Then, large overhead video screens in the baggage claim section shine down brilliantly colorful images that seem almost dreamlike.
However, what catches his attention is a video pitching a side-trip from Las Vegas to Amargosa Valley. He only recently learned of a ranch situated in that western edge of Nevada about a hundred miles from Las Vegas where his work assignment awaits. The young man spins around quickly as he stands next to baggage claim carousel number 22 because he cannot shake the eerie sensation of someone standing too close behind him. His surprised gaze comes into instant, direct alignment with the squinting blue eyes of guy about his same age. He immediately notices the blue-eyed guy has a handsome, chiseled face and he is dressed all in black in an apparent paramilitary-style uniform complete with thick black boots.
"Didn't mean to startle you. I'm Josh Lorne. From the ranch at Amargosa Valley," says the guy with blue eyes. "Supposed to pick up a writer flying in from Kansas."
The young man in blue jeans, cowboy boots and a tight, bright orange t-shirt replies, "Great. I was told someone would meet me when I got here. I'm Lex—Alexander Sarkis, from Wichita." Lex Sarkis watches the good-looking man clad all in black steps quickly away from the baggage claim area.
It is Thursday, the 11th day of October 2012, which will be remembered for rare, severe thunderstorms lingering over the entire Las Vegas Valley. Declan Andreas, a rugged-looking young man of Mexican and Greek ancestry also is arriving at the airport not far behind Lex Sarkis.
Someone who is known simply by his nickname of "the rancher" approaches Dec Andreas at the baggage claim area. He stands very tall in his large brown work boots. His head is graced with a large white cowboy hat that allows just enough of his curly light brown hair to fall downward toward, but not quite reaching, his thick, muscular neck. Dec Andreas concludes that the rancher's impressive upper body especially deserves to be uncovered and admired.
Dec Andreas is dressed as if he wants to pass as a tourist. But Dec Andreas is not here in Las Vegas to visit casinos or to spend money gambling. He is not here for winning or losing anything. He retrieves a small rolling suitcase inside the vast luggage claim area. Nobody will care that Dec Andreas is attired like a tourist. This is the arrival point at the Las Vegas airport where everyone starts off on equal footing looking like everyone else. Looks don't matter at the start. But then, the winning and the losing in Vegas changes all perceptions.
The rancher's new, white pickup truck heads north and east away from Las Vegas. The severe weather remains over the valley but in the opposite direction from where Route 95 is taking the rancher and his guest, Dec Andreas. Soon the rancher nudges Andreas so he will notice the battered and worn sign by the right side of the two-lane highway that reads, Amargosa Valley, Nevada.
Lex Sarkis is already at the ranch and has discovered he is in serious jeopardy. He is reclining on his back upon a large metal and plexiglass chair upon a grey metallic floor. He is bound to the chair at his wrists, elbows, and ankles by shiny black straps of an oddly translucent polymer. He stares at a tall, horizontal screen that occupies most the area directly in front of him in the darkened room where he is confined to the large reclining chair. On the screen he sees a man who looks authoritative. Lex Sarkis can only observe the man on the screen from his shoulders to the top of his head, but the man's familiar all-black paramilitary garment demands full attention.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sarkis," the man on the screen says while showing no emotion whatsoever.
"Where am I? Why have you restrained me?"
"Excellent opening questions," the man responds with a slight smile. "You are being held in protective custody at the ranch in Amargosa Valley. I sent someone to meet you at the airport and give you a ride here. Something went wrong."
"Went wrong? Why am I being held against my will?" Lex Sarkis asks with faked confidence as he struggles to free himself from the chair.
"Let me introduce myself. I am Edward Primero. I run the organization that owns the ranch. You are my guest, Mr. Sarkis."
Lex Sarkis continues his unsuccessful attempts to wriggle free from the chair that tightly holds him. His torso muscles stand out vividly through his tight, bright orange t-shirt. "You sure have a strange way of treating your guests." He stops talking and struggling to focus his attention on a thin metallic device connected to a slender, coiled white tube slide up in the air from the right side of the chair. A long, silver needle pokes out from the thin metallic device. When the long, silver needle stops mere millimeters away from plunging into his crotch through his blue jeans.
Madeira Desouza is a gay male author. He focuses upon telling stories about mature, masculine men who are sexually attracted to other mature, masculine men. He steers clear of several deeply embedded traits of American gay culture that can be found in film and in print–eccentric or flamboyant behaviors, alkyl nitrites, dance music, trendy clothing, trendy hair, gay men who think age 30 is old, and so forth.
Desouza’s creative works belong within the bara genre. This little word is shortened from barazuko. Translated from Japanese, it means rose-tribe, which was a code phrase for gay men. Originated in Japan decades ago as gay men created works for other gay men, this genre has not yet been widely embraced internationally. Perhaps this is because bara depicts same-sex feelings and sexual attraction to masculine, muscular men who sometimes behave in aggressive, violent, or exploitative ways towards one another.
As both a storyteller and digital artist Desouza explores conflicting and opposing compulsions that all men have. On one side there are impulses men have towards sustaining life, engaging in love, and being attracted to others. In the opposing direction are impulses men have towards being aggressive, engaging in violence, and, causing pain and death. For centuries, artists and storytellers around the world have found inspiration in these two opposing human compulsions that no man is able to resist or impede merely by his conscious will alone.
Author Website: https://bajaclavius.com/
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/madeira.desouza
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/desouzaofvegas/
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/machodesouza
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/desouzaofvegas/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4667238.Madeira_Desouza
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Madeira-Desouza/e/B008HL3B3C
My teaser this week is from Electric Candle.
It was getting late. Blair was tired of sitting, and he needed to see Forge. The ache he felt being away from the man for too long was going from a little niggling reminder to something far more annoying. He shut everything down, put the journals in a plastic tub Lucas had bought to store them in, and went up the stairs.
He heard Simon and Ben talking with Boggs in the living room, so he moved quietly to the main staircase and made his way up to the landing off Forge’s floor.
The door opened before Blair could knock. “That’s not creepy.”
Forge smiled and shrugged. “I heard you coming up the steps.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Forge said. He motioned Blair inside and gently shut the door. “Shoot.”
“A few things, actually. I wanted to ask about a few…before, I need to know about before….”
Blair decided the direct approach was the best course of action. “Before you were a vampire.”
Forge opened his mouth, but Blair moved fast. He hooked one arm around Forge’s neck and pressed his body against Forge, his lips to Forge’s lips. Taking advantage of the fact Forge was trying to talk, Blair shoved his tongue into Forge’s mouth, wound his other arm around Forge’s waist, and ground his pelvis against him.
Blair could feel how surprised Forge was at first, but certainly pleasantly so, and he responded to Blair’s kiss almost immediately. Forge’s hands moved up, coming to rest on Blair’s face before he fisted Blair’s hair.
Blair saw a woman and a little baby. He knew the baby was a girl and not Forge’s. He, or rather Forge, kissed the woman’s cheek, squeezed her hand, and spoke a kind good-bye. She wore a wedding band. Forge had married her, but Blair felt no lust from him for her, merely affection.
Blair watched the scene from Forge’s eyes as he left the small house, joined other men carrying muskets, and walked with them into some unknown event.
No, Blair reminded himself, the event was known; the destiny that would arise from that event was not. Blair broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and took a step back. “Who… you were married?”
“Yes,” Forge said and nodded. “A long, long time ago.”
Electric Candle is available from Amazon in eBook and paperback.
It can also be read in Kindle Unlimited.
Hello! My snippet this week is from Shifting Chaos, book 4 of The Sleepless City! It's also on sale this week for $2.99. Buy links are below.
Forge looked up and smiled when Blair, freshly showered and dressed for work, sat at the kitchen table opposite him.
“We need some ground rules,” Blair said and reached over to snatch one of the sausage links from Forge’s plate.
“Um, I like your new aftershave and you smell nice?” Forge said. From the other side of the table, Lucas snorted. He looked between them before raising the paper he was reading to cover his face.
“When you come to visit me at work, since I’m officially one of the faculty and it’s been a very long time since you were in college, there is a certain….”
Lucas shifted in his chair and snickered.
“You said be nice to the students.” Forge spread his hands wide and grinned. “I was nice. According to the Vampire Code, I—”
Declan walked into the kitchen, beelining for the coffee pot.
Blair turned and grabbed his arm. “There is no Vampire Code. Declan, is there a Vampire Code?”
Declan’s gaze shifted to Lucas, who shrugged. “Uh, not that I’m—no, I don’t….”
“See?” Blair waved in Declan’s direction. “He says there isn’t, and he’s like a billion years old, so he should know.”
Declan looked down at himself then at Lucas. “Do I look that old?”
Lucas was unable to answer, probably because he was too busy giggling.
“Do I look all right? Does my tie say liaison?” Ben burst into the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards. “Tea. Must have tea.”
Declan reached over and took one of the tea tins from its place on the counter. He set it softly in front of Ben. “Maybe caffeine isn’t the wisest choice.”
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