When Tim Met Sage – An Excerpt From Sage The Immortal

Here’s a quick snippet from my latest male male erotic romance, Sage the Immortal. Buy links at the end.

Sage was standing close to a group of pasty-faced Goths the first time I saw him. I could tell he wasn’t one of them. His face was alert, eyes flitting from one scene to another, drinking everything in with a wry smile. He looked about my age, although even on that first meeting I could tell he was older—I had no idea just how much older. Tasha had gone to buy some art supplies in the West End, so I was wandering alone, otherwise I would have been nudging her and surreptitiously nodding in his direction. He was beautiful. His skin was pale like that of the Goths, but it glowed as if he was standing under a spotlight, and his shoulder- length hair had a rich, glossy tone, not the dirty charcoal color created by a home-dye kit. He wore tight black jeans, a white dress shirt and a long dark coat—pretty standard attire for Camden Market in the 80s, but he wore them well, majestically, like a wealthy lord who’d decided to rough it for a day.

            I actually gasped when I realized he was looking at me. This was the point when I would normally panic, blush and hurry away, only to fantasize later about the sexual encounter that could have been, if I hadn’t behaved like such a coward. But I couldn’t look away. I don’t mean this in a romantic sense, although romance was definitely in the mix, I mean I literally couldn’t look away. And when he smiled and gestured for me to come over, I did.

            Two things struck me about him as I drew close, first his musky, smell. I can’t remember someone’s natural odor turning me on before, but the scent of Sage made my cock stir. Secondly, his lop-sided smile that creased just one cheek and revealed perfect white teeth. His soft, throaty voice also lived up to expectations, and lust churn in my stomach as he said “Hello”.

            We must have swapped names, because by the time he was steering me through the Camden crowds, his hand resting on the small of my back, I was calling him Sage and he was using my name in pretty much every sentence, as if he knew hearing it uttered in his lived-in voice made my heart, and something else swell. I still can’t remember how I went from a shy “hello” to heading to his home—I hadn’t done more than kiss a guy up until that point and that had been a boy at college whose breath smelt of cheese and onion flavored crisps.  I was a late starter when it came to sex. I wasn’t out the closet to anyone other than my sister and a few close female friends.  But here I was being led to a stranger’s home, I assumed for sex, although I don’t think this had been mentioned.

            Sage took me to a basement flat on a road off the main high street. It was squat-like but with a hint of decadence. The musky smell that clung to Sage swamped the space and I grew hard. He led me to a dark room, cluttered with old furniture, including a table and chairs that could have been bought from the market, and a large four-poster bed with curtains so ragged they looked like cobwebs. 

            “You can put your clothes over there,” he said, gesturing towards a faded green armchair, and removing his coat with several small shrugs. 

            “You’re assuming a lot,” I said with a nervous laugh.

            “So, you don’t want sex?” he asked, staring at me with his dark, inquisitive eyes.

            I laughed again and looked at the floor. Sage grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.         

            “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?” he said, lips brushing my forehead as he spoke.

            I was torn between melting into his arms and having a full-blown panic attack. 

Sage lifted my chin and kissed me on the lips; it wasn’t a gentle peck, it was forceful, his teeth biting down on my lower lip and tugging. I opened my mouth and his tongue invaded. Mine reacted, but it felt clumsy and fat compared to his. He pulled me towards the bed.

            “Wait!” I was suddenly the cowardly version of myself again. Not able to make this jump from shy virgin to the kind of man that had sex with a stranger.

            “What now?” he asked, and he took hold of my hand and placed in against his bare chest – he’d unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, revealing a slender, toned physique, as pale as his face. His skin was warm, which made me smile. I’d half expected to feel the cold skin of a vampire. He had that quality, and the flat was like something from a Gothic novel. Sage let out a short burst of laughter and dropped my hand. 

            “I’m much more ancient than that,” he said.

            “What?” I stared into those almost black eyes. 

            Sage grinned. “I’m not a vampire. I’m much more than a vampire. In some parts of the world people actually worship me.”

            “Yeah right,” I said. “So, you’re like a god, but you live in a squat in Camden.”

            “I enjoy a bit of squalor every now and again. I like little crawl spaces like this—holes to hide in, and take my conquests,” he kissed my cheek as he said this, and again pulled me towards the bed.

            “No,” I said, and backed away, although part of me was desperate to be naked with this beautiful, strange man. “I’m sorry, it’s too quick. Maybe we could meet tomorrow. Go for coffee or a drink?”

            Sage scowled and flapped his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

            “You look like a man but you are still a baby,” he said.

            I caught sight of myself in a full-length, speckled mirror on the other side of the bed. My short dark hair was clammy with sweat, probably a result of nerves, and my freckled face was burning red. I was also slouching—a habit I had developed when I reached six-foot and wanted to remain invisible. As Sage said, I looked like a man who was still a kid. Scared to make the leap into adulthood.

            “Go,” he said, and flapped his hand again. “I’ll find someone else to keep me company.”

            Despite knowing Sage for less than half an hour, this hurt. I didn’t want him to find someone else. I was actually jealous. But I was also scared and I felt hemmed in and pressured. Embarrassed by the tears that were brimming onto my cheeks, I turned and hurried from the flat.

            I ran through Camden Town, crying with frustration and also anger at the way Sage had dismissed me. Who did he think he was? Acting like he was royalty, when he was just some Camden Goth living in a dump.

            But even then, I knew this wasn’t true. Sage was different. Maybe not the demi-god he pretended to be, but something more than human. Those eyes, that smell and the way he’d captured me so easily. 

            When I reached my sister’s flat, I fell onto the sofa and sobbed. I felt ridiculous. I could have finally lost my virginity to a man who made me hard at first sight. But I’d run away like a frightened child, back to the safety of my sister’s home. I considered returning to the musty-smelling apartment, telling him I was ready, letting him pull me onto the bed and undress me. But I didn’t of course. As always, I sat and pined over what could have been. When Tasha came home, laden down with her new art supplies, I put on a brave face and suggested we get a Chinese take-away. Same old routine.

            I didn’t expect to see Sage again. 


Want to know if it all works out for Sage and Tim? Here’s where you can buy Sage The Immortal.

UK: https://amzn.to/2kozOmS

US: https://amzn.to/2kWtrrk


Published by Samuel King

Samuel King is London born and bred, and spent his twenties and thirties hanging out on the London gay scene, mixing with some true characters and even finding romance on a few occasions. Now more likely to be found eating in a nice restaurant on a Saturday night than clubbing, he also enjoys reading across many genres, and watching films—especially old horror films and romantic comedies. His erotic male/male tales are available direct from the Pride Publishing website and most online retailers.

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