I love bears. Not the four-legged kind – well, they're fascinating unless they're nosing around in the food stash at your camp site – but I mean big, masculine men who shun the idea of waxing away all their silky fur. Rather than having to shave, buff, and polish away their connections to the animal kingdom, they're not afraid to let their fur show and even to put on some winter weight. I prefer men who look like they wouldn't shy away from a hearty dinner and some chocolate cake. Just think of all the fun you can have with chocolate cake….
Bears aren't afraid of their natural state, and they defy society's push for us all to look younger, smoother, and thinner. I believe women should be comfortable in their own bodies without having to starve themselves or spend hours making themselves up before going out in public. Men, be they gay or straight, should be afforded that freedom as well.
I find the contrast of textures, the implied wildness or animalness of bears appealing both sexually and as a writer. Many of my stories include shape-shifters, and one of the things I like about these stories is the chance to explore our animal nature. My shifters show some of their animal characteristics in their human form whether it's an alpha wolf's desire to dominate, or a deer's tendency to stomp his foot as a signal of approaching danger.
My shifters are visceral creatures, unafraid of smelling, touching, and tasting the things – or people - they enjoy. They're comfortable in their bodies, unhampered by modesty or societal standards. They like things rough whether at work or play, and they don't mind getting dirty. When I imagine a man who would have an alternate animal form, I picture a bear, even if I'm casting him as a werewolf or a panther.
When I came across this picture while looking at some of those Tumblr sites (you know the ones, don't deny it). I decided immediately that he was a bear shifter, and I wanted to write his story. A week or so later, I was pondering what to write for my next Protect and Serve story which would feature Police Lieutenant Seth Morrison. As I pictured Seth in my mind, I realized he was a bear. Suddenly, I knew what to do. The bear and the bear shifter. I would pair Seth with the man in the picture. And thus, Paws on Me, was born. I had several weeks of fur-covered fun as I got to know my characters. Here's how Seth describes Brandon when he sees him at a crime scene:
I step away from Brandon and turn to face him. He grins down at me, that same cocky-as-fuck little smile he’d given me earlier, making me even more aware of how close we are and how big he is. At 6’2”, I’m hardly small, but he’s got several inches on me. And while I’ve got a rather thick pelt, the fur visible above the vee of his t-shirt is astounding.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing about these two men who weren't at all afraid of their animal needs. And now for a sexy excerpt…..
Protect and Serve: Paws on Me by Silvia Violet
Lieutenant Seth Morrison loves being a cop, but with budget cuts and crime both on the rise, he’s stopped making time for anything but his job.
On the outside, Brandon Lord is an easy-going, flirtatious club owner. On the inside he’s a man trying to overcome a difficult past.
When a murder investigation brings the two men together, passion roars to life. They’re both willing to break the rules to be together. Because as mismatched as they might seem, each man is exactly what the other needs.
“How’s your leg?” I mean to distract myself but as soon as I ask, I wish I hadn’t. I remember the feel of his thigh under my hand, hard muscles, soft flesh, coarse hair. So many textures to think about. Such a deep abiding need to lick and bite. Fuck. I can’t let him stay here.
“Better. By tomorrow I probably won’t feel much.”
“Good. I need to talk to you about the case. Maybe we should move to the living room.”
He looks so disappointed I almost change my mind, but I can’t let the longing in his eyes distract me. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed. The bandage catches on the sheet and rips loose, tearing away part of the scab and plenty of hair. “Shit!” he yells. Blood wells up and trickles down his leg.
Later, I can’t decide why I ran across the room. It wasn’t like he was going to bleed to death. Did my subconscious push me to make a move that would get us in bed together? Surely I understood where touching him again would lead. We reached for the bandage at the same time. My hand lay on his as we used pressure to stop the bleeding.
“That was dumb. I should have been more careful. I…” His words trail off. I look up. Our faces are inches apart. My heart pounds. I know how supremely stupid I would be to kiss him, but I can’t help it. His lips beg me to take a taste. I close the distance between us and swipe my tongue across his lips, savoring his woodsy flavor. “I need this,” I mumble against his lips.
“God, yes. So bad.” He opens his mouth, and we devour each other. I forget who I am, where I am. I forget that his leg is bleeding, and I’m supposed to be holding the bandage on. I sink to my knees between his legs and cup his face with my other hand, pulling him down so I can explore every inch of his mouth. I slide my tongue along his, growing more desperate for him every second. My hand tightens on his thigh, and he flinches, forcing me back to reality. I let go of him and sit back, breath coming in pants. “Fuck, this is so wrong.”
Brandon shakes his head and cups me under the chin, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever done anything this right.”
The intensity in his eyes scares me. I start to pull away. What am I doing? Wrecking everything I’ve worked for? I can’t fuck a man who’s involved in my case.
Brandon squeezes my arms, immobilizing me. “Stop thinking. Stop analyzing everything with that fucking cop’s brain. Just feel.”
I’m not used to being with anyone stronger than me. But I like the way he’s holding me, refusing to let me go. Having a man like him -- young, hot, cool, seductive -- wanting me goes to my head. He makes me forget all the rules, makes me let down barriers I’ve held in place my whole life. I can’t stop.
I kiss him again. My mouth is brutal in its assault. He could easily take control, but he opens to me, letting me have him my way. He tastes rich and smoky like a campfire, like fall. I suddenly want to do more than kiss and fuck him. I want to take him to my favorite restaurant, introduce him to the best coffee in the city, take him boating on the river. I want a fucking relationship.
The thought nearly frightens me into backing away, but he tastes and feels too damn good. I run my hands over his chest, enjoying the feel of his fur. I release his mouth and nibble his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. I sink my teeth into one of his muscular pecs. He growls and pushes his hands into my hair, pressing my face against his chest. “More.”
I bite him again, harder this time, sucking at his flesh, wanting to mark him. He digs his fingers into my scalp, groaning and rubbing his body against mine. I circle his wrists with my hands as I lick at the bruise I made. He lets me pin his hands to the mattress and keep them there. I slide lower and rub my face against the thick hair covering the center of his chest, loving the feel of it brushing my face and catching in my beard. I take a deep breath of his musk.
Then I drop to my knees. “Don’t move.” I release his hands. I’m eager to feel Brandon’s cock in my mouth. I want to know what sounds he’ll make as I suck him and whether he’ll let me remain in charge.
Buy Paws on Me at
Changeling Press: http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1705