Today we're talking to Devon McCormack, who... *fans self* Quite a hat there, sir! What was I saying?
Hello Devon and welcome to The Hat Party! <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!
If you could go back to any point in your timeline to encourage yourself, when would you go and what would you say?
My first time with a man. I’d say, “Don’t worry. It can fit in there. I promise.” No one really prepares you for that. At least, no one prepared me.
A genre-specific virus has attacked you, rendering you INCAPABLE of writing your chosen genre. What do you do now?!
I become a scientist and work to cure this virus. I at least want to understand how it spreads and do my best to keep from spreading to others, except for a few authors that I’d like to pass it along to. I also join some support groups to help me work through the emotional issues that would stem from being a victim of this tragic disease. I feel like there would be a lot of us.
As for how it would change my writing, I primarily write paranormal stories. I have two books coming out through Wilde City Press. One is about angels and demons. The other is vampires. I have a Harmony Ink Press YA book about demons coming out June/July. But I don’t imagine that I would have to write about paranormal creatures. I could see myself just as easily writing contemporary stories. I also wouldn’t mind writing some sort of Christian and/or spiritual fiction. I don’t consider myself particularly religious, but I have great reverence and appreciation for those who are.
Describe yourself using song lyrics.
“Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy, I’ve come home, and I’m so co-o-o-old. Let me in your window-ow-ow.”
Ok…maybe it doesn’t actually describe me, but I think that’s an awesome answer to that question.
Do you think you’d fare better against feral vampires or zombies?
Hmmm…those sound like frighteningly similar issues. I guess feral vampires. I’m terrified of zombies. In Night of the Living Dead, there’s this girl who loses her mind and just lies on the couch the whole time, whining about her dead brother. That’d be me. I’d lose my mind and be absolutely useless. For this very reason, my bestie and I have an agreement that if a zombie apocalypse ever occurs, I’m to be used as a sacrifice. In either case, feral vamps or zombies, I don’t think I’ll make it long enough to have to do any serious planning.
You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)
Treycore closed his eyes and rolled his head back. A bulge in the covers moved up and down.
Waves of heat rushed through Kid. His cock couldn’t get much harder.
“You mind?” Treycore asked.
Treycore’s eyes shifted to Kid’s concealed cock.
“You wanna get off, too?”
Was Treycore serious? Had he heard him right?
Treycore pulled the covers down, revealing his rigid muscles, tense, swelling as he massaged his impressively massive dick.
Kid slid his boxers down and wrapped his fingers around the shaft of his penis.
“That’s a pretty good size,” Treycore said. “For a mortal, that is.”
“Thanks,” Kid said, not sure whether Treycore was offering an insult or a compliment.
Treycore licked his fingers, dipped his hand down, and rubbed the liquid over his thick flesh.
“Sorry,” he said, “I don’t have any lube. Here.”
He licked his fingers again and wiped them across the head of Kid’s dick. Kid’s shaft tightened as it grew even bigger. A ripple, like an electric shock, rushed from the head of his dick to the back of his pelvis.
What is your most irrational fear and what makes you inexplicably happy?
I like to believe it’s not an irrational fear, but as I contemplate it, I’m tempted to think that it is. I’m terrified of hallucinating. When I was little, I had terrible, monster-filled nightmares. I’ve always been worried, not that anything in these nightmares could actually happen, but that I would take a drug or lose my mind in such a way that I would suddenly be able to see these creatures in real life. That wouldn’t be okay.
Peanut butter makes me inexplicably happy. Peanut butter on bread. Peanut butter in ice cream. Peanut butter in candy. Peanut butter by itself. I don’t know how I would live without peanut butter.
Be honest. Be TOTALLY honest. How’s your handwriting?
Crap. Always has been. When I’m writing notes for a story, I have to go back and translate my chicken scratch. I usually can’t. Is “Jameri” the name of a character? A clue the MC finds? Is that even what it says? I don’t let it get me down, though. My philosophy is, “If I don’t remember what it says, then it’s not good enough to go in the book.”
Overall, I’m okay with bad handwriting. I’ve never trusted anyone whose handwriting is too good.
Worst mistake you’ve made in your career and what you’ve learned from it?
Waiting for someone else to come along and tell me that my work was good. I think it’s a mistake most writers make. We don’t want to have to be confident in our own work. We don’t want to risk putting something out there and discovering that we’re terrible. It’s very vulnerable to throw work out there and get feedback from people who can tell you that you’re crap.
For a long time, I stockpiled my writing, letting this and that project take up way too much space on my hard drive. When I self published the initial version of Clipped, I was just tired and thought, “I don’t care if no one else likes it. I do.” And then I found all these people who actually really enjoyed what I was writing. It was nice and surprising, and I never would have found them if I hadn’t put myself out there.
I think this lesson has changed how I feel about a lot of areas of my life.
And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?
The morbidly obese kinds. You can just set them on a shelf and use them as decorations! So cute.
~ ~ ~
Though mortals have been convinced that God cares about their souls, nothing could be further from the truth. He created the world as a gift for his lover, Satan. But when Satan left him, he decided to end what he saw as his most grotesque creation.
Satan and his army of demons are man's only hope...
The demon Kinzer and his lover, Janka, have been sent by Satan to spy on The Raze, a gang of rogue demons who are working with God to bring about Armageddon. When someone exposes their true allegiances, The Raze clips Kinzer's wings and murders Janka. Kinzer manages to escape. He tracks down Satan's allies to warn them about a mole in their midst when he learns that they've located the Antichrist—a powerful weapon that could prevent the apocalypse. Now, he's on a mission to protect the Antichrist and avenge his lover’s death.
Available at Wilde City
Dedrus scanned Kinzer’s body, admiring his massive biceps, his brown eyes, and his black waves of hair. Even with the wounds and tears that still tainted his face, he was beautiful. Dedrus wanted to press him back against the cushion, rip off his clothes, and provide him with the ease he deserved. But no! He was just wanting it for himself, and he was pretending that it was to serve Kinzer’s pain.
“I loved him so much.” The words cracked through Kinzer’s lips. His cheeks and forehead shivered. Tears filled his eyes. “I know we had so much time, but it wasn’t enough.”
The sting in Dedrus’s chest intensified. His cheeks flashed red as anger washed over him—anger that he loathed because it made him feel like a terrible, selfish creature.
He set his hand on Kinzer’s back, his palm stroking softly across the blue fabric of his polo. He wanted to say, “You’ll find love again.” He couldn’t, because he knew he’d really be saying, “Please find love in me.” He thought of saying, “Everything will be alright.” No. He couldn’t make that kind of promise. “It’ll take time,” felt appropriate, and yet, as an immortal, Dedrus never perceived time as a generous gift as much as a twisted, agonizing punishment.
“I wish I could think of something right to say about this,” Dedrus said, “but I can’t. I know how much you loved him, and I know how much he loved you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be for you. But I’m here. As your friend. I don’t know if that means much, but I know the feeling of having something so perfect and wonderful torn from you.”
Kinzer’s gaze met his. His eyes were sad.
Does he know what I’m talking about?
“Tell me you’ve found someone,” Kinzer said.
“Of course,” he lied. “I’m just being overdramatic.”
“I figured as much. Considering where you work, I'm sure you get a lot of offers.”
It was true, but not the way Kinzer was suggesting. There were nights when Treycore dragged some pathetic mortal back to ease Dedrus’s pain. Those nights were the loneliest. Though he could bring himself to climax, it was an empty relief that just stirred the cruel memories of those moments filled with so much more.
Dedrus hugged him again. “Let’s get to bed,” he said. “You need some sleep.”
“We have plenty to sort through tomorrow. You can have my room. I’ll just sleep here.”
Dedrus released him.
Kinzer picked the sword up off his lap and stood. He reached his hand out. “Come on. It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”
The upward curl of his lip let Dedrus know that Kinzer was more than interested.
Dedrus’s dick swelled. “I don’t think I can.” He wanted Kinzer so bad, and if he put himself in that position, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to resist making a move—especially if Kinzer initiated something.
“I'd rather not disrespect you like that,” Dedrus said.
Kinzer’s hand fell, bouncing against his jeans. His head drooped.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dedrus smiled. “‘Night, Kinzer.”
Kinzer knelt, offering a light peck on Dedrus’s lips.
Don’t tease me with a taste!
“Up the stairs, first room on the right.”
Kinzer walked up the stairs, headed down the hall, and slipped into Dedrus’s bedroom.
Dedrus had hoped that Kinzer’s exit would provide some relief.
He ached for him. His thoughts dwelled on Kinzer’s lips tickling his nipples, his gaze appreciating his body, his tongue delighting in his body’s grooves. He wanted to run upstairs and throw his arms around him, to hold him for the night, and tell him that no matter what happened he’d be there for him. He wanted more than that, but he wouldn’t press his friend. He wouldn’t dare cross that line…even if Kinzer insisted.
Spreading his limbs across the couch, he rested his head on a lace pillow at the end and rolled so that he was facing the cushions.
He closed his eyes.
A few moments passed before something pressed against his ass.
He flipped over and hopped to his feet, ready for a fight.
Kinzer stood before him, holding his hands out, as if showing a cop that he was unarmed. “Whoa, cowboy. Chill the fuck out.”
“Sorry.” Every hair on Dedrus’s immortal body stood on end. “You freaked the shit out of me. Did you need something? Another cover? Pillows?”
Kinzer wiggled his thumb behind the waistband in Dedrus’s khakis.
“Yeah. I need something.” He pulled their pelvises together.
His hot breath rushed across Dedrus’s lips, settling in the bristles across his cheeks. The warmth combined with a rush of blood that surged to his face and made him feel like his cheeks were about to catch on fire.
Kinzer pressed his lips against Dedrus’s.
Amidst the creases in Kinzer’s lips, Dedrus felt the smooth, subtle dip where Kinzer’s cut was healing.
He trailed his palm over the rough fabric of Kinzer’s polo. As he reached the smooth flesh of his neck, curly black hairs pricked his fingertips.
Kinzer opened his mouth wide. Dedrus eagerly reciprocated, tilting his head and allowing their lips to seal together. A swirling sensation gathered at the back of his spine and rushed to the crown of his skull.
Guilt nagged at his thoughts. He couldn’t do this. Kinzer didn’t really want him. He was just vulnerable and ached for a physical distraction from his grief. It would be wrong to take advantage while he was still recovering from Janka’s death.
Kinzer’s tongue flicked his.
He wanted Kinzer so bad, but not like that. Pressing his hand against the dip between the bulbous, jagged pecs before him, he broke their sealed kiss.
“What?” Kinzer rested his hands on either of Dedrus’s hips.
“This wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to disrespect you.”
“I know. But I want you to.”
Kinzer wrapped both arms around Dedrus. Spinning them around, he pushed Dedrus back against a painting that hung from the wall.
Kinzer’s eyes glistened with that gleam—the one that was so familiar to Dedrus.
Dedrus couldn’t control himself. His lips returned to their passionate embrace. His fingers found their way under Kinzer’s shirt, feeling about fervently, savoring the dips in his torso.
About the Author:
On a more serious note, I'm from Atlanta, GA. I work odd jobs. My gay erotic novel Clipped is available through Wilde City Press. I also have a vampire novel coming out through Wilde City in October and a young adult novel being released through Harmony Ink Press in June or July