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This story is a rough and rugged yarn wrapped tight around a rustic, surprisingly romantic heart. Like a peaty Irish whisky (really this tale ought to be a bourbon or a rye, I just don’t know those as well), it’s a STRONG flavor, and one not everyone will enjoy. But for those who like reading men (trans and cis alike) willing to kill, die, and fuck absolutely filth-nasty for and with one another, it’s delicious, with many layered flavors to appreciate. Minor spoilers to talk about what I loved. 

First things first: I found the sex scorching hot. I’m a sucker for intox, dirty talk, and playing rough, so watching drug dealer Gage absolutely wreck our main man Aden and his cute cat stockings in the first chapter hooked me quick. The dynamic between these two instantly compelled me; what seems from the setup like it could be a cold, transactional relationship has immediate, underlying warmth and fondness that does nothing to abate the darkness and danger of their situation, or the roughness of their intimacy with one another. Later scenes escalate in various exciting ways, with gunplay, breathplay, piss, and various other kinks making individual and ensemble appearances. This includes eroticizing some highly morally questionable actions, which as a fan of eroticizing trauma in various forms, I was into. But even when the kinks in play didn’t line up with my usual tastes, I found myself compelled; each is written with the sensory specificity and emotional awareness of someone who has really sat with those kinks, and knows exactly what they dig about them physically and mentally.

The sex also does a lot of effective characterization work. Aden and Gage both express themselves more through actions than words, but that doesn’t mean their characters lack interiority; far from it. The narrative conveys a lot through small gestures and specific reactions, both in and out of bed. It’s clear that the story understands who these two are and what kinds of lives they’ve lived, whether they talk about those things or not. Our third major player, Travis, is much more willing to use his words, though he, too, plays plenty close to the vest. But his dynamics with both Aden and Gage are fun to read, bringing out different things in both men and adding a welcome expressiveness to the dynamic between the three of them.

Lastly, as a queer who grew up in the country, I found the sensory specifics of this story comforting and compelling. Our characters spend a lot of time in the woods, and it took me back to living on an unpaved road near a gravel pit where family would go to shoot for sport, surrounded by evergreens, and visiting houses that smelled certain ways I’ve never run into in the city. For all the action—and there’s plenty, especially sex but also violence—there’s a longing for and celebration of stillness in this story: a deep desire to simply be present with beloved company while surrounded by nature.

This story inhabits its specific space with clarity and confidence. Like I said, it’s a strong flavor; mind those content warnings. But for anyone who thinks this sounds interesting… take the drink. It’ll burn good, all the way down

I’m both exploring the radiant world of self-pub queer erotic SFF and chronically famished for polyamorous romance, ESPECIALLY that also includes kink. So when I saw Dani Finn's Cloti's Song featured a married polyamorous triad and a potential new partner, I slammed the buy button with my entire body. Minor spoilers ahead, mostly around high-level setting and character dynamics. 

This is my first Maer book, but the writing gave me enough to find my footing without being overwhelmed. I was delighted to figure out that the Maer are fluffy! Body hair and beards for all! In addition to sounding deeply cuddleable, these Maer are both sexy and kinky.

An early scene where main character Cloti engages with her fear and frustration at the forces occupying her city by channeling them into a ravishment fantasy (with her as the ravisher) made me sit bolt upright with intense (and horny) interest. Kink also permeates many of Cloti's interactions with her spouses Aefin and Ludo, and their love interest, non-Maer civil administrator Feddar. 

The spousal group interacts with a sense of intimate partners who know each others’ tastes and aren't shy about applying that knowledge. They also all approach Feddar at different paces and through different lenses influenced not just by personality but their respective recent experience with the occupying administration Feddar works within, which makes sense and adds good tension. 

I felt uncomfortably at home in the locked down city of the protagonists. The worldbuilding and its consideration of resource availability and scarcity both made sense and added clarifying tension to scenes and arcs. And as someone who clung to the vestiges of my mental health during pandemic lockdown through heavy indulgence in kinky sex and cannabis, I found the central triad's lockdown conduct DEEPLY relatable. 

Sacred use of intoxicants and the sacredness of sex are also favorite themes of mine, and I loved how the importance and radical power of those deeply affirming joys was presented in these characters (while acknowledging that when things suck, our sources of pleasure can become both strengths and vulnerabilities)

The book does try to tackle a very complex situation through the (admittedly broad and thoughtful) lens of its protagonist, and it times it felt like the ambition of the work went a bit past what it managed to capture. But I personally always prefer a story that swings for the fences, even if for me some elements of the plot and conclusion didn't fully land.

Regardless, lots to think about, which I ALSO enjoy in my queer erotic reading! Glad to have dipped my toes into the Dani Finn oeuvre!

Gorgeous, beautifully crafted, and scorching hot, this sapphic romance between a trans butch basilisk and feral femme Medusa will stay with me.

The lush prose and historical specificity reminded me of reading Mary Renault's Alexander the Great series; I felt deeply, sensually grounded in the ancient Greek setting. But magic runs deep through this story, elevating its themes of transness and monstrosity to mythic heights.

Light spoilers below so I can talk about the themes I dug most, though I'll aim to avoid too many specifics.

I'm a sucker for ordeals, and this book is full of them. Petra, the basilisk who we accompany on this journey, has endured many past ordeals out of necessity, but the ordeals we see her navigate in this story are chosen, each bringing her closer to her truest self. The ordeal of surgical transition; the ordeal of reaching Medusa (via a delicious and thoughtfully designed series of trials that literally strip Petra of nearly everything, preparing her for the possibility of renewal); and finally, the ordeal of intimacy, which she and Medusa share.

Medusa has survived by removing herself from the world and guarding herself from those who cannot bear her existence; Petra has survived by physically and emotionally armoring and reshaping herself to fit into that same, hostile world. The way these two characters clash and connect is raw and deeply queer. It's also violent, in a way I found deeply life affirming and hot as hell. I adore kink as a tool to engage with, transform, and even heal trauma and the kinky sex in this story does this expertly. It feels deeply rooted in these serpentine women and the lives they've lived. Eroticizing our own traumas as a way of claiming them is also one of my Favorite Things, and I wanted to cheer every time our leads transformed a tragedy from their pasts into intensely specific, erotic and powerful sex. The dirty talk is top tier, the scenes are creative and varied, and it builds into a bond I found believable and beautiful.

I've read and enjoyed a few of Rien's works before, and this one really bowled me over. I've gotta get into more of their catalogue!

When I was looking for queer web serials, St. John Starling’s What Manner of Man kept coming up—for good reason, turns out. This lush, gothic, gay epistolary romance is a treat for vampire lovers and fans of sexy blasphemy. It’s also a passionate meditation on organized religion and stifling stricture, and a journey of a man of faith finding its limits and pushing beyond to find who he wants to be and what truly matters to him. I did not go on the much-beloved Dracula Daily adventure, which WMoM was inspired by, but this work stands firmly on its own. Minor spoilers to talk about things that compelled and moved me.

From page one, our protagonist, Father Ardelian, absolutely radiates ‘closeted gay monsterfucker’ energy. He oscillates between a total lack of self-awareness, a clear resistance to actually gaining self awareness because of what it would mean for his faith, and moments of deep insight and thoughtfulness. And it’s a joy to watch; in turns funny (yes, Father, it’s totally regular for a priest to really want to fuck I mean “meet” a demon!), tragic, and profound.

Fellow lead Alistair Vane arrives in the wake of a blood-red sunset, heralded by oncoming darkness, surrounded by ‘an aura of almost palpable evil’, and... well. Guess what his deal is. I guarantee you’ll figure it out before Ardelian (who immediately finds him ‘magnificent’). But watching our Father fail to realize why or even that Vane is obviously horny for his blood, neck, and entire self is a great deal of fun. The pacing is deliberate, but effective, especially combined with the gorgeous prose. Having spent time on the west coast of Ireland, I recognized and felt grounded on the island of Swallow’s Rest and in the strange, historical surroundings of Withern Hall. The island and manor are practically characters in their own right, as is the unique community there (with two very memorable lesbians and lots of other queer eccentrics among them). Ardelian’s engagement with that landscape and community kept me hooked even when he wasn’t having, recovering from, or gathering new material for his regular (hot!!!) erotic nightmares.

Through all this winds a sharp and thoughtful narrative around faith and religion. My mother grew up Catholic, and though she broke away from the church before I was born, I’ve spent years realizing how deeply that faith still haunts her. Watching how Ardelian used scripturally-infused self loathing as a bludgeon against any part of himself that didn’t fit the role he felt obligated to play filled me anew with compassion not just for him but my mother and others who’ve lived that experience. It was exhilarating watching Ardelian move through and beyond his crisis of faith, and without spoiling anything, I expect Ardelian’s final “letter” to stay in my mind for years to come.

I found WMoM a beautifully written, tragically humorous, blasphemously erotic, and deeply affecting work. I’m very much looking forward to St. John Starling’s next (Frankenstein related!) project.

Magica Riot is a love letter to magical girls of all kinds (especially trans/queer ones <3), different forms of queerness, the magical girl genre as a whole, indie bands, and Portland, Oregon, a city I’m more than a little fond of myself. Minor spoilers to chat about some favorite elements!

There’s both familiarity and freshness here for fans of Magical Girl Things™, which makes for a comforting yet engaging read. The magical girl transformations include gender affirming magic and outfits with an alternative twist. The most frequent baddies have big horror movie monster energy, with lovingly gross descriptions of their own transformations. The conflicts have musical overtones, since the girls aren’t just squadmates but bandmates who wield their powers through their instruments, and there’s an interest in things like the difference between often-lumped together concepts like beat and rhythm. Each of the Magica Riot girls brings a different type of feminine power and queerness (there’s even a polyamorous pan/bisexual in there which I really appreciated <3), and they are unified in their celebration of and care for each other.

The wicked magical girls (yes thank goodness we love a wicked magical girl) have, of course, hidden depths and inner conflicts as well as ominous devotion to their mysterious evil mistress. The romance is sweet and gay and notably untortured, with a lovely scene in the Portland rose garden where main character Claire gets to see her own beauty and femininity reflected through the camera of the girl she adores. And instead of the genre’s frequent obsession with keeping secrets, this story likes to get things out of the closet and into the open, which I found especially refreshing in the romance. Several times I braced myself for genre-typical angst at a crossed wire or missed text or date or whatever and then it just DIDN’T HAPPEN because that’s not what this story is doing and also these women actually default to talking to each other when in doubt, even and especially when it’s awkward, and it was SO NICE.

The prose and pacing is brisk, keeping the scenes and set pieces coming. But some of my favorite moments were when the story took a moment to linger on delightful, specific oddities: a local juice cart and its endearingly in-character owner; a beloved band van with a storied history and a sturdy frame; a [gender-intentionally-left-blank] Dark Souls-obsessed IT gremlin (ilu hikariii <3) I enjoyed the sense of place; this story is set in Portland, and while you don’t need to have been there to enjoy it, there’s little treats if you have (it’s been too long since I’ve been to “Howell’s”) and clearly lots more for the actual PDX locals.

I had a fun time with the girls in Portland, and I look forward to seeing what’s next for them!