Write a Love Scene From Your Book and Let Others Give Rate! (Please read first post)


#21

This is quite sensual. I like how you define the love interest here in this scene as well. There are some typos, though, and the steam factor was low due to word choice like “centerpiece.” 5/10

From A Thousand Natural Shocks

The sound of his jeans unzipping cut through the air. Reaching to the left of us, he yanked open a drawer, its items clanging against each other, and snatched up a condom. He tore through the package with his teeth, spitting out the wrapper. I licked his shoulder, sucking the freckles there and up to his neck. He tasted like mint and iron and ice.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, raising my forehead to his. Our eyes could not part. As he pushed his boxer briefs down, his heat, long and smooth greeting my tummy, I pressed his forehead into mine.

“I will be better.”

His disappointment melted all around me.

“No,” he mumbled into my lips. A wet peck on my lips melded with the scent of rubber rising from between us and the smack of the last bit of condom sheathing him. It had been too long for the both of us. My mouth watered for him.

Slowly, he turned me around so that we both faced the mirror hanging near the photos of his family. He pushed my hair to the side, then slid his forefinger up and down the nape of my neck.

“Pure girl. Just be.”


#22

Well, I purposefully use mechanical or “Apollonian” language instead of romantic or “Dionysian” language (the former, associated with enlightenment and mechanical things, whereas the later is intended to sound organic and visceral) specifically to tone down the “steam” factor and not make it too sexual sounding (words like wet, replaced with damp. Pulse replaced with shone, and so on) since I am not in favor of sounding overly sensory.

So yes, if it didn’t sound too heated up, I accomplished my goal.

Yours is definitely high on the steam factor though, but again, visceral or organic words alluding to the guy’s member, and the usual male on female dominance (which I am not a fan of) drop my enthusiasm down. 8 out of 10 sounds nice to me.

For the record, I amended my scene since it was a work in progress back then. It’s better now, but I will repost it later and post something more fleshed out instead.


#23

Right, this one’s from the The Celestial War’s later chapters, which went further and sounds more romantic than sensual (I’d argue The White Queen is as hot as the story gets, since the guy actually gets taken to the summit and back a few times by some of the girls, even if there’s only heavy petting. I am writing for teen boys, not adult women).

If you’ve seen Chasing Liberty, you’ve already seen this scene before…

“…How could he kiss her after that!?” I asked, laughing as I pointed at the big screen in the Casa de la Panaderia’s facade. “Is he insane?”

For her part, Sol only laughed slightly at the events in the giant screen overlooking the plaza. Everyone who was watching the screening below us huddled in blankets and sleeping mats.

“Well, they love each other…” Sol responded, smiling gently at me “It doesn’t matter if they fight. Relationships don’t fall apart that easily. More so in movies… and even more so in old movies.”

“Yeah, remind me to never act in a black and white Slovenian silent film!” I laughed off, stuffing some pop corn into my mouth.

“Well, noted…” Sol said, staring somewhat piteously at the crowd.

I too couldn’t help but feel bad for them. There was just something different about seeing the movie from the rooftop of a building instead of sitting down in an open space, especially given how chilly it looked down there. My expression became kind of heavy when I realized I had suddenly gone from not caring what other people did or said, to feeling for them even for the slightest things.

What in the world had happened?

Sol seemed to take note of my slightly weary expression, leaning back closer to me.

“It’s getting late…” she mentioned offhandedly “…it’s past 2:00 AM. Should we go back?”

“I am not tired,” I countered. Naturally, since my body was a disgusting traitor, I decided that was the best moment to let out a loud yawn (sorry if they heard that over at effing SANTIAGO BERNABEU! ). I still stuck to my guns.

“I am not tired.” I repeated.

Sol, being the golden haired ray of sunshine she was, wrapped me up in the blanket we both shared, letting go off it completely.

“Sleep.” she said softly, resting her head on her hands as she leaned back to look at me.

“I am not sleepy!” I complained, but it was futile. The blanket was warm and cold, just the way I liked, and I could hear the sound of “Merrily So” —the movie’s ending theme— start to play from below, meaning the festival was over. It had been the last screening of the night. In other words, it was kind of pointless to stay up here for the night. Still, I was enjoying this moment. I had forgotten how it could feel to spend time with someone you liked without any of the drama surrounding the other girls back at the Palace. I definitely couldn’t stomach returning right now.

I yawned again, stretching my arms.

“Alright, maybe a little drowsy…” I conceded, looking at Sol’s green eyes. “…but I still want to-”

She didn’t wait for me to finish, leaning over slowly before placing a light, warm peck in my forehead, her hand pushing my chest back and her arm sneaking under my head, creating a strangely soft pillow to rest in. The drowsiness worsened, my eyelids starting to weight me down into torpor.

“Sleep…” she whispered again. My eyes started to close almost immediately afterwards.

And there was no way I could refuse it. The softness of the blanket, her fragrant scent and the beautiful ending score coming from down below merged together in an effort to lull me to sleep. It might have been the roof of a building at Plaza Mayor, but I couldn’t deny the place I was right now was far more peaceful and comfortable than any bed I had ever slept on up until now.

I wrapped the blanket shut around me, feeling Sol’s free hand tuck the rest in for me…

Dulces suenos Amaranth…” she whispered one last time.

My eyes finally closed shut… and then everything fell to black.


#24

Why did you want to sound mechanical in that scene?

Thanks for the 8/10.


#25

I love your writing style and the way you create an atmosphere, and the mention of names of places, songs, etc. makes it all feel even more real. It’s a sweet scene, and yes it’s more romantic than sensual, but it works well! 9/10

My scene is from my story “Your Mark on Me”. Scarlett is a teenager, Mark is a writer/businessman, considerably older than her. The two have a special friendship until Scarlett develops a massive crush on him.

The words came out of my mouth almost unwillingly. “Mark, what am I to you?”
He gave me a long, strange look, in which I could read an alarmed uneasiness — as if he was expecting something unpleasant to happen any second now.
“Please don’t do this.” The tone of his voice should have been enough to signal how nothing good would come out of my persistence, but I couldn’t stop.
“It’s been on my mind lately. I need to understand. Am I a pet? Some sort of entertainment?”
He fidgeted and gave a long sigh, then, deciding that there was no way of avoiding it, eventually spoke in a neutral, emotionally-detached voice. “Look, I came to care about you a lot.”
I sniffed. I knew where this was going. “But…?”
“But not in that way.”
My hand was shaking with nervousness and frustration as I snatched the teacup out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. A few drops fell out on the sofa and on the table and Mark looked at me questioningly, expectantly. For a second I was tempted to give him back the cup and pray he’d just forget that I even asked anything, but I knew that was unlikely.
Without further hesitation, I reached out my hand and touched the bulge in his pants. He flinched, completely taken aback, but said nothing. I felt his penis harden instantly under my touch; I didn’t have the guts to watch his face, but I heard him give a long, shaky exhale.
I started moving my hand up and down, as I’d read in the article, hoping that I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t back down now. When his breath intensified, faster and ragged, I knew I was on the right track.
After only a few seconds, his hand covered mine, stopping it in place. I raised my head slowly and, with difficulty, looked him in the eyes. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, but I had just proven him wrong.
“There was no need to do that”, he said, his voice a little hoarse.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
I lowered my gaze, my lower lip trembling. Anytime now, I could burst into tears. I’d made a fool of myself; I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole right there, so I didn’t have to face Mark’s gaze, feeling bad for me, coining in his head the least hurtful way to word his rejection.
But then, he did something unexpected. He pulled me towards him and held me against his chest, his chin resting on my head, his hand stroking my hair with slow, gentle movements, while I leaned against him, not moving at all, my arms stiff along my body, my eyes wide open, unable to react, just blinking. I felt giddy and was thankful that we were sitting, otherwise my legs would have been shaking.
“Don’t feel bad”, he said. “It’s not that I wasn’t… that I wasn’t…”
I pricked up my ears. Mark stuttering, not finding his words — that wasn’t something that happened often. “That I wasn’t…enjoying it. Because… you were right. I do find you attractive. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“It’s just that it’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“You’re only a child. I simply… can’t.”
“But I love you”, I said softly, “and I think you love me too.”
I didn’t mean to let it out like that, but it didn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t like there was much else I could do to worsen the harm I’d already done.
“Maybe it would be better to stop seeing each other.”
I gasped. I tried to utter something, but instead of words I only managed a few strange, unintelligible noises. I jerked out of his embrace; he looked dead serious.
“Mark, please don’t say that. I’m sorry I brought it up. I won’t touch you again, I promise. We’re just friends. Everything will be just like before. Please.” My voice cracked. I didn’t want to cry, but I simply couldn’t stop it.
Mark stood up. He started pacing up and down the narrow space between the sofa and the opposite wall, his hands clenched above his head, as I kept on sobbing uncontrollably on the sofa.
“I love you”, I whispered.
He stopped and stared at me.
“I love you”, I repeated louder. "I don’t understand what’s so wrong about it. Why can’t I just love you? I love you, so much that my chest hurts.”


#26

To not sound overly visceral. It makes you feel some detachment but doesn’t put you off completely. I don’t want people to read something and have their hormones get any ideas from it.


#27

Why? That’s truly fascinating.


#28

I don’t want people to get aroused when reading things. The story is intended for guys. Teen guys. If you’ve known how it feels like sometimes, you’ll realize that if we see something, sometimes our hormones do the thinking for us. I was able to keep it subdued, but I have much stronger self control than most guys did at the time. I am creating something that guys will be able to read anywhere, rather than within the safety of their bedrooms at night, so I need to make sure even when the temperature rises, certain body parts don’t. Mechanical lexicon takes the steam off, and makes it so you can see something naughty is going off without associating yourself with it.

You can still put yourself in the scene, but from there on in, it requires some conscious effort rather than happening without your express consent. If I ever get around to writing the uncensored scenes (probably not in months), then you might actually see more organic words being thrown around, since the purpose of those scenes would definitely be to get guys in the mood to spend some time alone or with another (probably female) person.

And I can’t stress how often this happens. The original doesn’t have them, yet story 2 has at least 17 instances of the girls doing something naughty with the guy, though plot reasons mean they can’t go all the way until the end of the series, and they don’t in this series.

Also, on a side note, the name of the movie from my scene below was actually Chasing Liberty. I have no idea why I made that mistake. But if someone has seen Anna Foster in action, they’ve seen Amaranth Graves (the MC of this series) in action already, just a she version of him.


#29

@michelletache MY HEARTSTRINGS! They are not being plucked! They are being played like a fiddle! This is a 10/10 solely because of the “I want you so terribly I feel like I am running out of air to breathe whenever you’re around and I am drowning whenever I see you among other love interests!” factor.

We need more heartstrings tugging and less “rubbing and tugging” in this thread. Like right now!

I did detect the naughty scene, but I liked the ending so much it just went by!

Ps: Whoever said guys didn’t like romance was probably on drugs, very, very drunk, or flat out insane.


#30

This was surprisingly endearing for a potentially taboo subject. The “what are we” discussion is something men will always hate and try to avoid (for the most part). You did a good job making a realistic scene with realistic dialogue and emotions here. It never felt cheesy or overdone. 9/10


This is a short passage from my major story rn, THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.

“What’s wrong?” The genuine concern in her voice stabbed me. She kissed my forehead, then pressed her head to mine. “It’s okay. I promise. Please keep going.” I was in pain.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Back against the wall like a wounded animal, desperately searching for whatever control my brain hadn’t surrendered to lower regions. Predator turned to prey, imbalance in the ecosystem. It was wrong. It was so hot.

Her forehead gently pressed against mine, and a slight smile came to her face. I couldn’t read it. Dangerous. Too comfortable - like she’d done this to many before me and enjoyed watching the collapse. She angled her head and chased my lips. I pulled away, smiled. A last lunge for the exit. Her eyes met mine.

“Please.”

And I was lost.


#31

Aww thank you so much! That’s exactly the kind of intensity of feelings on her part that I was trying to convey :slight_smile: And I think guys just don’t like to admit that they like romance :stuck_out_tongue:


#32

Thank you! That was the main challenge with this story, keeping it sweet and making the male character not come across as creepy, despite the fact their relationship is not quite all right…


#33

I think the excerpt would have profited greatly from it if you’d added a couple more paragraphs in the beginning. I’m having problems grasping the situation. I like the last long paragraph. that’s when I started getting a feeling for the characters, though I think your sentences are a bit hacked short.

Beware, manXman vampire romance commencing :3 can’t have BL missing in this thread.

From: Blood Sucker (Sequel to Blood Donor)

He leans in and kisses me, maybe not chasing away the last bit of doubt, but definitely most of it. My guts do somersaults that leave my world spinning while my groin starts heating painfully so, overcome by the pleasure of his lips on mine. I moan when his hands drop to my rear, giving it a firm squeeze.

Something about Dael’s touch is just so different, or maybe it’s just that I haven’t enjoyed it for so long - or that I’ve been missing him so terribly.

My hesitation comes loose, and I press my body firmly against his, grinding our hips together and eliciting a moan from Dael in return. The kiss turns fervent when he slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring every last inch, trailing along the rim of my fangs. My knees suddenly become weak when he exerts pressure on their base, causing waves of pleasure to break off and surge through my body. They ebb out at my groin, leaving me wanting for more.

I shift in his arms and force a hand between our bodies to rub it across the hard bulge in his hand. Dael growls, pulling away to look down at me. His gaze makes me squirm, especially because I need him to do more than just look at me. I grab his length firmly, causing him to hiss. He glances around quickly, then lifts me up at my ass, and I immediately wrap my legs around his hips, forgetting all about stroking him.

His fingers massage the skin between my buttocks while he carries me into his apartment, roughly kicking the door shut when we’re inside so he can press my back against it, pinning me to the sleek wood. I gasp when he thrusts against me, rubbing our hard-ons together. My fingers are at my pants immediately, unbuttoning and unzipping so he can pull them down far enough to get access to my rear.

Dael’s finger pushes into me, and I throw my head back with a moan at the unfamiliar, yet welcome sensation. I’ve missed having him inside of me. He stills though, and when I open my eyes to slits, he’s regarding me with a frown, probing carefully.

“You’re tight,” he remarks, sounding terribly confused. I blink a couple times while my mind unclouds until I can grasp what exactly he’s talking about.

I grin. “For such a passionate stalker, you really know nothing.”

His frown deepens further before it eases out suddenly when he raises his eyebrows, looking utterly surprised. “I thought-”

He breaks off when I roll my eyes at him.

“I’m not saying I didn’t have sex, but I just never-” I shrug. “You’re the only one who’s allowed to fuck me, Dael.”

“Really?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound like he’s doubting a word. In fact, he’s already smirking again, leaning closer to trail kiss along my jaw, from my chin to my ear. “No one else?”

Smug bastard.

“No one, Dael. And just in case you’re interested, I never went back on that promise I made you, either.”


#34

I’m not really too familiar with the inner workings of man-loving, but I will give it my best judgement. I thought it was well-written and really gave insight into the character’s personalities. There were just a couple parts that confused me, like when you say “he exerts pressure on their base” I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the fangs or their man parts. I’m assuming the fangs, though, just based on the grammar.

And maybe it’s just because I haven’t read the rest of the story, but he says “I’ve missed having him inside me” then proceeds to talk about how no one has ever fucked him. Has he had sex with Dael before, or is this his first time?

I would give it a solid 8/10. It was well-written and I liked the dialogue at the end. Now I will follow that up with some lady on lady loving.

From: Into the Underwood

She pulled away for just a moment, bringing her hands up hesitantly to undo the buttons that held her jacket closed around her stays, and Sasha looked up to meet her eyes.

“Sylvia…” she said, “Are you sure?”

Sylvia nodded, giving her shy smile. “It’s just… I’ve never done it before,” she said, “Will you show me?”

Sasha chuckled. “Yes, I can show you.”

And soon her jacket was removed as well as her skirts and her stays, and Sasha pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling up her shift and lifting it over her head. Sylvia knew she should have felt nervous to be so completely bare before Sasha’s eyes, but somehow, she wasn’t. Somehow, it all felt perfectly natural.

Sasha ran her hands up the curve of Sylvia’s waist and over her shoulder blades as her eyes took in her naked form, admiring her small breasts, the tapering of her waist, the swelling of her hips. Then she looked up to meet Sylvia’s eyes again.

“You really are beautiful, Sylvia,” she said, drawing her in for another kiss.

And soon Sylvia found herself laid out upon the furs as Sasha explored the geography of her body by hand, by mouth, by fingertip, tending to the embers of Sylvia’s desire until the flames took light. By then, Sylvia had already pulled away Sasha’s shirt and her bindings so that she could feel her skin direct against her own. And when Sasha’s fingers dipped down into her secret place, Sylvia felt that same exquisite agony that she had only ever imagined she’d feel at her touch.

With curled fingers moving inside her, Sasha brought Sylvia up the precipice and held her there, back arching, hands grasping, until she came back down in gasps and choked sobs. And as Sylvia caught her breath, she marveled at how different it felt with Sasha, at how different it was to feel it both inside and out and throughout her whole body.

Sasha pulled her close, stroking her hair, kissing her sweat-dampened forehead until Sylvia’s senses returned to her. And when they did, the fire was still alive inside of her as she rolled on top of Sasha and began undoing her belt.

“Sylvia,” she said, “You don’t have to…”

But Sylvia leaned in and silenced her with a kiss. “I want to,” she whispered.

Sasha laid back as Sylvia peeled away her trousers, tossing them to the floor before she pressed her body into hers, unencumbered, and kissed her again. Reciprocation wasn’t something Sasha was used to. For many of her previous lovers, her masculine disposition was a draw, but her feminine physicality an obstacle, something to be imagined away or ignored in the heat of the moment, untouched and unacknowledged. But here with Sylvia, every part of her was accepted and adored, lovingly stroked, kissed, and caressed. And when Sylvia’s hand found her center, it almost surprised her how quickly it brought her to release.


#35

Yeah it’s basically the end of the second book ^^


#36

It is an interesting and a very detailed passage, that pays attention to both lovers. I would have wanted to feel a bit more emotions vs accuracy and a summary in the end about Sasha but that’s my personal preference. 8/10


I want to clarify that Nirav is in his twenties, so nothing against the guidelines is taking place, but the society in my verse is very different, with the women holding power, so that explains the MC treating her lover as a spinster.


The heat brought on by the wine and the crowd dissipated by the time we were in the view of the festivities again. In the narrow alleyway, the light and the noise of the piazza ahead made one side of a sort of a box that Duke and I had found ourselves in. The cobblestone under our feet, the blind house-walls on two others, the night behind us, and the starry skies above completed it. All these sides would be equally blind to us. We slowed down, reluctant to rejoin the party. Dancing and Idezza fled my mind.

“Here,” I said, and parted his lips with my tongue. Nirav’s curls, the cement washed out of them, perfumed by something bitter-fresh, snaked into my eyes. I loved both the taste of his lips and the aftertaste when the velvet kisses trailed lower and lower down my neck.

Oh, blessed be the narrowness of the alley again, for the wall was only a step away. I pressed him into the stucco, and straddled his hips. The free-flowing skirts I wore for the occasion fell about our legs in soft folds, causing no trouble. The men’s wardrobes, however, are designed to keep them chaste, all the abominable lacing, the tightly locked belts and tight seams. Yet, I hadn’t met a woman in my life who was stopped by knots on a leather string, and I am certainly not one myself.

Nirav’s age and his good looks made it nearly impossible that the first nectar from his flower’s pestle had not been drunk already, but I did not mind. As sweet as the green wine of innocence is, I wanted to drain the headier mixtures to the last drop. He was still the prettiest thing in the night, and that’s with the silver disk of Yshtana out to look upon the world.

I slid onto him. The moment the getaway to my womb felt the touch of his flesh, its needs blinded me to the rest of the world. Our box grew even smaller, him and I, hip to hip, chest to chest. Nirav sagged under my weight with every trip I took. He was a talker, but all he said was my given name, Ismar, Ismar, Ismar… first into my neck, then into my ear. I had never understood those calling to the Divines when making love to a mortal, but I came close that night, then was fresh out of words altogether, profane or spiritual.

He shuddered between my thighs all too soon, alas. I would have cried out my unfulfillment, but he rolled his head back… If the darkness could be luminous, and the stars could be black, that’s what Nirav’s eyes were like. The reproach died on its way to my lips. Instead, I said, “Idezza has to honour me in absentia for the rest of the night. Follow me, I want to teach you patience.” Were he wed, it would have been his wife’s task and his brother-husbands, but it fell to me, and I was determined to remedy the lapse.