Jack Addison vs. Foxy Lies
“Everyone deserves a chance. It’s not his fault his mother was a murdering beast.”
After one night of passion, Jack and Roux travel to Siberia to hunt down a mysterious monster that has crawled out of a deep mine shaft and keeps attacking the workers. With Roux regretful about giving in to temptation, the atmosphere between the two venators remains tense, but private matters need to stay in the background when the unknown being proves more deceptive than expected.
Something dangerous lurks in the blizzard, but how can they protect themselves when they don’t trust each other? When new truths about Roux are revealed, will Jack be able to man up and become who Roux needs him to be?
Themes: pride, shapeshifter, demons, Siberia, winter setting, love, trust, self-discovery, tolerance, fame, monster hunting, interspecies relations, love, deception, kitsune
Genre: M/M romantic erotica, horror-comedy
Erotic content: Scorching hot, explicit scenes
WARNING: This story contains morally ambiguous characters and scenes of sex that might be considered taboo.
“Is that a yeti?” Roux whispered, and only then Jack’s brain snapped out of his infatuation coma.
A giant in furs stood by the small bar at the platform. Too big to fit through the narrow doors, he accepted a steaming mug through the window. Black, leathery fingers looked like gloves, but when the creature faced Jack and rose to his entire height, one glance at its face was enough to conclude it was not human.
“I-I think so,” Jack whispered, wondering if being stared at would annoy the giant, but he couldn’t look away, nonetheless.
“A specimen for your memoir?” Roux asked with a smirk.
It was the first time Roux had mentioned the topic since the Transylvania fiasco, and it made Jack’s heart skip a beat to hear that Roux was able to find humor in it. Even if Jack was the butt of the joke.
Jack cleared his throat, noticing the glimmer of beads at the trim of the yeti’s clothes, and when the creature walked past them, the slenderness of its body was noticeable under the fur. “I think it might be a woman,” he said and rubbed his hands together, because they were freezing despite the gloves.
Roux pulled on the hood of his thick jacket. The emblem on the back proudly announced to the world that he was an accomplished venator, yet all Jack could think about was Roux’s bare feet freezing in weather he wasn’t accustomed to. He’d gladly rub them warm.
“Not your type then.(…)”
Coming soon.
