There is a common phenomenon that occurs to authors that I thought I was immune from — the characters behaving in ways that you didn't even think possible. By this I mean that I have read a handful of teasers of mine and realized, I didn't remember writing the passage. Not a single word, not a single page of some chapters. It was almost as it the characters pushed me out of my mind to write their own stories.
Yes, I know many authors say this happens. However, as someone who needs everything to be just so, I had always assumed that while the characters could control my flow, they couldn't ever have me write something I was unaware of. I bet you're thinking, "oh she's probably only just had it happen for the first time." Ironically, it's been happening since the very first story I ever completed, Torn Between Two Worlds. If you read through any of books, there should be a word utterly absent from them, pussy. I personally cannot STAND that word. It is just unclassy to me, no judgment to anyone who loves it, just a personal thing. So when I was doing re-edits, my jaw dropped so fast it made my head spin when I saw this passage from Stryder.
A second finger joined the first, and her hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping the thick erection in time with his strokes. She cried out when his fingers slipped free of her body seconds before she was about to shatter. She opened her eyes to look at him and went to grab his head when she felt the scruff of his unshaved face brush against her inner thigh. His tongue rasped across the sensitive flesh of her clit, and her thighs squeezed together. His erection slipped from her hands as she was lost in sensation.
Mewls of need and desire escaped from her throat as he alternated between long licks across her pussy and deep thrusts of his tongue inside her. Her hands were fisting in his hair, tugging him closer, pushing his tongue farther inside.
"Stryder!" His name a desperate cry on her lips, and she felt him laugh, the vibration causing her hips to buck and impale deeper on his wicked tongue.
She was almost to the point of thrashing about as he licked her, putting more and more pressure behind each stroke of his tongue. Ciara bit down on her lower lip as her orgasm shot through her and she tasted blood as she tried to stop her shout from being heard by all awake. He continued to lap at her until she was shaking. When he retreated from between her thighs, he grinned wickedly at her.
"Oh no, you don't get to do that to me, to torture me and make me come like that without some of your own, Guardian." Sliding off the counter to sink to her knees, she heard a chair scrape across the floor as he pushed it back and sat down, the smirk still on his face.
The issue didn't stop with Stryder, though it wasn't occurring every book. Worlds on Fire passed uneventfully. Julian and Serena were exactly who I wanted them to be, exactly who they wanted to be. Then came Lucius, in Nightmare in Steam. There cannot possibly be a better example of a character taking over. Lucius was always meant to be cowardly. As a hero, he had to be sexy to an extent, but I'd never intended for him to behave in any manner that he did, but he was determined to be the best (and hottest) male ever for his Eliza. Five books later, he's still forcefully shoving himself into the Alliance of Silver & Steam stories, often making himself the undeniable hero, stealing the spotlight from the actual hero. Curious what I mean? Read this steamy slice, when Lucius first told me "there is no way in hell I'll be anything but the fucking best in bed."
As she stared out the window, she saw his hand raise and land slightly above hers on the solid glass window. She must have touched it to confirm it was truly there. His low growl in her ear as he nipped the bottom of it sent wetness between her legs. She squirmed, pushing her backside against his cock and shuddering when he reached between them and held himself. She could feel him stroking his shaft, feel as his hand stroked up the thick length and bumped the small of her back.
“Come now, Eliza.”
His free hand wrapped around her waist and turned her to him. Her startled gasp changed to a sigh of pleasure as he turned her and ran a finger along her clit. Her hips bucked, even as her hand fell off the window as she turned to him. The motion caused his finger to slip inside her folds. His growl was more like a purr as he stroked along her inner core.
“Damn, Eliza, you’re wet enough to bring me to my knees to taste you and see if you taste of chocolate to match your smell.”
Her head fell back as he used his knee to push her legs farther apart. She trembled under his touch, shook with need and longing to complete what she wanted. Sex. It was a dream, no one would ever know, and she wasn’t a virgin anyway. She wanted it all with Lucius, and she wanted it in this dream. The heat, the desire, the pulsing of her sex when she came screaming his name.
Small whimpers escaped from her as he rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance in small circles that had her seeing a multitude of colors instead of him. Reaching down, she ran her finger slowly down his cock before wrapping her hand around him. She could hardly close it around his thick cock, and the thought sent a wave of liquid between her legs. He grunted and pushed her until her arse pressed against the cold window.
His hips bucked against her, and he dragged his teeth along her neck before he swirled his tongue over the same spot. Her cry was a tangle of pleasure and need while his fingers stroked her. The head of his prick nudged her entrance, and she spread her legs wider, sliding down a little as she got lower to the ground.
He hesitated as she pushed against him, taking him deeper. His groan echoed in her ears, and he took control back again as he buried himself balls deep inside her. His hand traced a path down her chin and pulled her eyes to his. She rolled her hips, urging him forward, knowing that if he stopped, she would shatter with or without him.
Book after book, I've noticed small instances where the characters pushed me out of the way and not only told their story but did so in ways I didn't think I could have been the author of. Some things were far too profound for me to believe I wrote, others were emotions I've never felt, yet wrote so spot on I can't figure out how I did it. Which lead me to the final realization that the characters were not only telling their stories, but they were doing so in such a way that I was channeling things I should not have been able to, making the stories perfect in a way I could never imagine.
What the Steam Brings tackles not only a genre I wasn't overly sure I could do, but a topic that needed to be handled delicately. I wrote the story in a little over 3 hours and had no idea until I began to record the audio, that I had written one of the most tragically beautiful pairings ever. It was a romance that transcended time, and one that made me rethink the next steps for the series because Tristan became so much more than I'd ever intended, there is simply no way Isabella can continue being the female romantic lead as the series continues, as I'd originally intended.
“Mi amore,” Tristan said as his mouth closed over hers.
Passion flooded through her, as white-hot and strong as it had been the final time they’d touched in that manner. Her body was slowly turning to fire, remembering the play of his fingers over her bare skin, and the way his prick felt as it drove in and out of her body.
“You have not given anything to the mages for this? No payment, no servitude?” He searched her eyes pleadingly.
She shook her head, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. “Much is different in this life now. The mages won the battle. Their services are charged to those that can afford them, but they were not without kindness. Those of us widowed in the battle were granted much, including a dalliance with our lost love. Even if it could only last but a short time.”
“If all we have is precious moments, I do not want to squander them speaking of silly changes. I will spend them in your arms, in your body, reminding you of all the love you still have, even if I am not by your side to give it.”
His mouth moved over hers once more as he pushed the fallen strands of hair from in front of her face. He greedily deepened the kiss as his hands wound around her back. His touch was as it had always been. The same as if they had not been separated for so long and he weren’t simply a spirit.
From Rise of Silver - where Layel grew to be a character I have never imagined despite having had him in 4 other books - to my most recently finished piece, Something Borrowed, it happens time and time again. And so I've learned that not everything is in my control. I think it's better that way - that the characters can take over so completely I'm in awe of scenes when I read them back. It's somewhat frightening to be at the mercy of them in so many ways, but I absolutely think it makes for better reading. So until next week's blog, I'll let my newest set of characters take the wheel and tell their story.
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