Siren Call (MM)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 46,694
6 Ratings (4.5)

[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Fantasy Romance, M/M, gods, HEA]

In a world where gods and men live and work side by side, Rorik, son of Loki, is a man without equal. A very successful trader, he sails the globe with his crew seeking profit and adventure. However, this time he may have bitten off more than he can chew. Capturing a male siren might’ve seemed fun at first but having him may prove dangerous to Rorik keeping his heart. Terren never expected to find freedom in the arms of a barbarian. Promised to a man he’s never met, he yearns for escape. When Rorik comes ashore, he thinks perhaps his luck has turned for the better. A life with the barbarian promises adventure and freedom within the year if he serves on Rorik’s crew. However, other gods will go to any lengths to get him back where he belongs. Can they find the strength to forge their own destiny or will the pressure separate them before they have a chance?

A Siren Erotic Romance


Jana Downs is a Siren-exclusive author.

Siren Call (MM)
6 Ratings (4.5)

Siren Call (MM)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 46,694
6 Ratings (4.5)
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Cover Art by Les Byerley
Professional Reviews

4 KISSES: "Jana Downs has done it again! Siren Call is a wonderful story about two sexy men that is so much fun to read! Rorik just wanted a slave to have sex with at his own convenience, so to steal Terren sounded like a great idea. But Terren craved adventure, traveling and Rorik once he saw him! Ben the sizzling sex and the ups and downs these two men shared in the story was extremely addicting and a lot of fun to read… add interfering Gods into the picture and you will be thoroughly entertained! I can’t wait to read the second book in the series! Recommended!" -- Cheryl, Top 2 Bottom Reviews

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Rorik frowned as he heard the other being speak. Was that some sort of prophecy? He was rather superstitious by nature, and if the creature did mutter prophecy, he felt that he should take note of it. As a tradesman, he and his crew were able to speak several languages including Greek, Latin, and English. Though when they were on board their ship they spoke in the Norse tongue. Maybe his Latin was rusty and he’d mistranslated the odd words. He frowned. He didn’t really believe that. The amethyst eyes of his captive turned to him and studied him with unwavering attention.

“Who are you?” the siren asked in Greek. The way he spoke made Rorik think that the other man wasn’t used to being subservient. He held himself with a confidence that said he wasn’t intimidated by his captor, and that thrilled Rorik. He found the lure of a strong spirit much more titillating than a shrinking violet.

“I am Rorik,” he said. He resisted the urge to display himself for his captive. He wanted to preen like a peacock and have him stare at him like the siren had when Rorik had first come up to him on the cliff. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

The siren held up his cuffed hands and ignored his inquiry. “Take these off,” he demanded instead.

Rorik frowned in irritation. Why couldn’t he just cooperate? Loki’s word came back to him in that instant. There will come a time when you can take the collar off of him and he will be yours of his own free will, but that will take time and no small amount of effort on your part. Breaking an immortal is never an easy feat, but he is young enough that it can be done.” Fine. If the siren wasn’t going to cooperate, he was going to have to put him in his place.

“No,” Rorik said firmly. The siren looked at him in disbelief, like he’d never been told no before. “Tell me your name.”

The siren’s mouth snapped shut, defiance evident in every stiff muscle of his body. Suddenly he blanched and doubled over. “What magic is this?” he demanded. His stomach heaved and threatened to empty its contents into the furs he was wrapped in. He swallowed hard. “W–What are you doing to me?” he asked, his voice a whine.

“The collar you’re wearing prevents you from disobeying any direct order of mine. You are my captive, and until you obey me, you will experience pain. Now, tell me your name, siren,” Rorik commanded.

“Terren,” he croaked. “My name is Terren.” His pain seemed to ease because he straightened and leveled a glare at Rorik. “You must let me go.” His voice was a bit steadier than it had been a moment before. “I have to be somewhere tonight. You don’t understand.”

“Terren.” Rorik tried out his name on his tongue and then smiled, pleased by the sound. “It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful man.” He paused. “You’re not going anywhere. You belong to me now. You are no longer a free man, Terren. You will be mine until I release you.”

Terren sputtered out a protest. “A slave? You think that I’m your slave?”

Roriks steeled his expression. “I don’t think anything. I know. It is my collar around your neck and my manacles around your wrists. You will address me like the slave you are from now on. You will call me sir or master. We’ll speak more about your other duties when I return here tonight. Stay inside my cabin until I get done with my chores.”

“Wait!” he yelped out, gripping Rorik’s forearms like a vise. “Can you—can you at least leave the door open?” He bit his bottom lip like he was afraid to have asked.

Rorik considered him. “Why?”

Terren sighed. “I’m—I don’t like being closed inside a box by myself.”

“It frightens you?” Rorik asked, trying to make his voice gentler. This was obviously a foreign situation for the siren, and he had to show a measure of patience.

“I’m not afraid,” he protested. “I just…don’t like it.”

Terren looked up at him, and Rorik tried to convey his understanding as their eyes met. The siren looked away, his cheeks coloring. Rorik tilted up his chin so that their eyes met once more.

“Your fear is obvious, beautiful. There is no shame in it. A man is not measured by the fact that he is unafraid but how he deals with that fear. How about this, I cannot keep the door open because the salt that is carried on the wind will cover the furs and ruin them.”

“Fine,” Terren snapped. “I won’t ask anything again. Leave me alone then.”

Rorik continued, ignoring the outburst. “However, if you can give me your word that you won’t cause trouble and won’t run, you can come on deck with me.”

His eyes snapped up. “On the deck? Of a ship?” He looked excited, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

Rorik couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Not just any ship, beautiful. My ship. Shadow Chaser is my prize Knarr. She’s carried me across the ocean a dozen times over the years.”

“You must’ve seen a lot of places, done a lot of things, had a lot of adventures?” His excitement was almost infectious. The siren seemed to be swinging between needing to rebel and being excited about the prospect of being aboard his ship.

He nodded, smiling. He hoped Terren’s curiosity would outweigh his annoyance over his capture. “Yes. I suppose you could say that.” He brushed his hand over one feathered wing near his face. He noted that Terren shivered under the touch. “These might get in the way above deck. Is there any way that you can tuck them back?”

“I can do one better,” the other man offered. A glow infused his body, and in a flash where the otherworldly creature had sat was the most beautiful man Rorik had ever seen. He was the same but not the same. Still just as lovely but somehow infinitely more approachable. He had the same chestnut hair and amethyst eyes, but he looked somewhat less ethereal.

“That’s an interesting trick,” Rorik admired. He’d seen Loki do something similar on a few occasions. “Well, come on. You’ve got a ship to see.”




“Shift into your other form, beautiful,” Rorik panted in his ear as he licked the shell and nibbled on the lobe. Terren blinked, clearly confused. “The wings are taking up the whole bed.”

“Huh?” Thinking was obviously not his strong point at the moment. Rorik didn’t know whether to laugh or curse the fact that he was so overwhelmed.

“The wings, beautiful,” Rorik repeated. “As wonderful as these feathers are, they’re everywhere, and I can’t really get comfortable.”

“Right,” Terren murmured. “I should’ve thought of that.” Between one breath and the next, he was blissfully human. He gasped into Rorik’s mouth as he claimed his lips in a kiss.

Rorik ran his hands down his lithe body, enjoying the ripple of muscle underneath the soft skin of his companion. He would never tire of this. Not in one year’s time. Not in ten years’ time. Not ever. Momentarily he considered going back on his word and resolving to keep him forever. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this way with another man. Rorik cupped the siren’s balls in the palm of his hand lovingly. He was going to enjoy this.

Terren’s back bowed as Rorik rolled his sac between his callused fingers. His dick strained forward, seeking his attentions. Rorik lapped at his mouth and used his other hand to caress Terren’s cock from base to tip. There was a desperate edge to all of the siren’s reactions. He broke the kiss.

“Tell me you want me,” Rorik demanded in a husky voice.

“I want you.” Terren panted, his eyes rolling. “Want you so bad I ache.”

Rorik chuckled at his enthusiasm. He loved the husky tones of his prize. He pumped his wrist a few more times just to watch Terren writhe under the assault to his senses. It was a special thing to be someone’s first, an honor to be the companion of a siren, a bigger honor to be the one chosen for a siren’s awakening. He kissed Terren’s palm and trailed his hand down the crevice of his buttock to find the tight rosette hidden between the tight globes of Terren’s sweet ass.

At the first gentle touch of his fingers, Terren cried out, his eyes going wide and his mouth opening in a whispered O of surprise. Rorik reached to the satchel beside the furs and slicked his fingers with the salve his father had left for him. He would need something to ease his entry into Terren’s tight body. Deftly he began to work one thick digit into the ring of muscle that guarded the siren’s entrance. He knew the stretch and unfamiliarity of entry would dampen the passion between them, but it was necessary. He didn’t want to hurt his prize. Terren’s worried eyes met his as Rorik pressed one finger home.

“W–Wait.” Terren mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “This doesn’t feel like the rest. Wait.”

“Easy, beautiful. The first stretch is always the hardest. Be easy. I have you.” Rorik kissed the inside of Terren’s thigh in encouragement. He pressed the second finger into the siren’s body, and Terren hissed in pain. “Breathe out, love.”

“Easy for you to say!” Terren snapped. “You’re not the one being ripped apart!” He groaned. “This isn’t like she said it was going to be.” He struggled against Rorik, unable to stand the stretch.

“Relax,” Rorik commanded, touching his lovely prize’s hip to steady him.

“I don’t—I don’t want this!” Terren cried out. He was panicking. Rorik changed tactics. There was no way he was going to keep going if he was this upset. He backed off his fingers a bit and added a lot more salve.  

“Shh, easy, beautiful. Easy.” Rorik slowly scissored his fingers in and out. “Do you want me to stop?”

The siren panted in exertion, his face red from the effort. He swallowed. “No. I don’t want you to stop. Just… go slow?”

Rorik smiled at him in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “As slow as you want, beautiful Terren.” He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Rorik made a decision and sucked the entire length of Terren’s arousal into his mouth, suckling on it in time with the movement of his fingers in the siren’s body. He knew the instant his fingers grazed one of Terren’s pleasure spot.

Terren eyes widened in surprise. “Oh good Apollo’s chariot! That feels good.”

Rorik grinned at the admission. “It’s only the beginning, love,” he promised, twirling his tongue over the weeping tip of Terren’s cock. Another ragged cry filled the air of the cabin. Rorik worked him for endless moments, ensuring his pleasure with every motion. He was ready.

Rorik pulled his fingers from deep in the recesses of his siren’s body and crawled up to settle between his thighs. He reached for the salve and slathered some on his arousal, posing at the entrance and searching Terren’s face for approval.

“For gods’ sakes, Rorik, hurry up!” Terren groaned, his eyes popping open to glare at the barbarian. “Take me!”

Rorik chuckled at his spunkiness and pressed the head of his cock against the tight muscle of Terren’s body. The siren’s body welcomed him inside, eagerly swallowing his length. Though he winced initially, Terren’s gasp of approval made Rorik growl in satisfaction. His prize was as passionate as he’d imagined him to be. Mine.


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