It's a bit of an odd coincidence that in the same month a much anticipated fantasy game which is focused around burly and dusted fantasy figures dawning armor selectively exposing the taught muscles and imposing figure as they battle winged draconic horrors; I find myself indulging a book which describes a character's inner sexual fantasies about men being devoured by similar scaly monstrosities; indulging every flesh piercing detail.
In that regard I think fate is chuckling a bit
Fantasizing about one of the same gender is one thing, frankly I've had my own share of such. Yet that masochistic tendency described in "Confessions of a Mask" does not fit into my usual forte', and the point A to point B connection that is conjured by my gutter track mind has made in both reading this book and playing that game, which if you haven't figured out yet is Skyrim, has led to some very awkward moments. It's not the same sort of fantasizing on my part as the main character in the book exhibits; but rather now this implanted curiosity and contemplation on how he would react to the play of the game.
It's a sort of "oh look, the dragon just bit my head off.....I wonder if that would turn him on?" type thought that has become the artificially implanted notion, to which the usual reply emerges "....more then likely, yes." followed by an uncomfortable shiver.