NEW RELEASE
Book Title: No Man’s Territory
Author and Publisher: Duncan Gaye
Cover Artist: Antonio Nardello
Release Date: October 15, 2026
Tense/POV: Third person/past tense
Genres: Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction, MM Romance, Military Fiction
Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity, Gentle Giant, Size Difference, Caretaking, Language Barrier, Forbidden Love, Survival Against the Odds
Themes: Survival, Love, Trust, Vulnerability, Queer Identity, Masculinity, Caregiving, Self-Acceptance, Sacrifice, Human Connection, Truth, Hope
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 44 500 words/ 150 pages
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
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Blurb
Lieutenant Alistair Harrow knows the rules of survival during wartime: stay alert, maintain control, and never let the men see you crack. Then, his world explodes. An artillery attack leaves him broken and half-buried beneath the wreckage of a collapsed trench; certain he will die alone.
Until a giant Polish volunteer rescues him.
Tomasz Nowak says little, but everything about him is deliberate: the way he lifts Alistair, the way he hides them from patrols, the way he binds his wounds with whatever he can find. In barns, churches, and rain-soaked fields, the two men build a fragile refuge out of firelight, shared silence, and the simple fact of refusing to let each other go.
Alistair has no choice but to surrender his control and trust Tomasz with his life. Tomasz discovers that being needed is not the same thing as being wanted. And somewhere along their arduous journey through no-man’s land, dependence becomes intimacy, and intimacy becomes desire.
“He would rather die in truth than live in the lies that were handed to him.”
FOR FANS OF:
- In Memoriam — queer intimacy amid the First World War
- 1917 (film) — an intimate survival journey across the Western Front
- Regeneration — war, masculinity, and repression
No Man’s Territory is a historical M/M love story with a hopeful, unconventional ending. While the romantic relationship is central to the story, it offers a different kind of happily ever after—one rooted in survival, hope, and the enduring impact of love.
Excerpt
His sergeant appeared through the predawn gloom, his strapping figure seeming to coalesce from the murk like a thought taking shape. Sergeant Wickham was a capable and methodical man, but he had a nervous habit of often glancing at the wire, as if expecting the Germans to strike at any moment. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, barely above a whisper.
"Watch rotation, sir. I've put Cawthorne on the northern post, Matthews and Cross on the listening post at the wire. The lads in the reserve trench are standing to." Wickham paused, and his gaze, involuntarily, flicked toward no-man's-land. "All quiet up to now, sir. Too quiet, perhaps."
Alistair nodded in agreement, but he did not answer immediately. He was listening, concerned now that others had noticed the quality of silence pressing down upon them.
Alistair survived three years of war precisely because he had learned to listen for the unspoken. The earth was still. No distant rumble of German artillery. No crackle of small-arms fire from the forward positions. No whine of wind through the shattered trees beyond the wire. It was the kind of silence that came before catastrophe, the silence a man's nervous system recognized as a prelude to something terrible.
"Acknowledged," he said, finally. "Keep the men alert but not tense. The strain shows. Have them maintain position, no unnecessary movement."
"Yes, sir."
“And sergeant—yesterday, one of your privates looked like he was half asleep up there. I will not stand for such idleness in my unit. Make sure your men are ready for action. We are soldiers for Christ’s sake, not gadabouts! That’s an order!”
Wickham withdrew, and Alistair returned to the ladder. The rungs were slick beneath his palms. He climbed carefully, each movement precise, and pressed the binoculars back to his eyes. The world beyond the wire remained unchanged. Gray upon gray, the suggestion of depth without revelation. The absence of detail was almost worse than the detail itself would have been. At least if they could see the enemy, a wisp of smoke, any type of movement or disruption, there would be something to measure against. This absolute stillness, this refusal of the world to give up its secrets, was something else entirely.
An hour passed. Or perhaps it was only thirty minutes. Time had become unreliable in recent weeks. The dawn gradually stole across the fields, bringing with it a wan gray light that revealed extraordinarily little and suggested everything. His eyes, pressed to the binoculars, began to water from the strain. Somewhere beneath the trench, rats chittered to one another in a language of survival. Yet he did not move.
Above, in the space between the fire step and the parapet, a bird—a sparrow or some other common creature—alighted on the wire as if the war were a mere interruption in the natural order of things.
The order of things. Lieutenant Harrow knew he did not need to keep watch like this. He appreciated the risks. Any time he poked his head above the ledge, Fritz could blow his brains out the back of his skull. He had even seen it happen with his own eyes. He knew he had every right to order someone else to take his place on the ladder, Wickham, or any of the corporals.
Part of the reason was noble, to protect the men under his charge, naturally. The deeper truth, however, was that he could not trust a soul on either side of the wire. He could not take anyone’s word for anything. He needed to be up here, to experience the veracity of the danger, to see it for himself, to make it real. He would rather die in truth than live in the lies that were handed to him.
Alistair's hand trembled. Just slightly. Just enough so he noticed it, there, at the edge of his consciousness. He clenched his fist, then released it. The tremor subsided. Control. Control was the only thing that separated the officer from the animal. Control was what allowed a man to stand on a ladder in the pre-dawn dark and look out at the landscape that might kill him. He knew, with absolute certainty, that whatever came would find him standing.
About the Author
Duncan Gaye lives in River Forest, Illinois. He believes magic can be found anywhere, even the suburbs. He writes the kind of love stories that sneak up on you—queer, tender, and just a little strange. His books are full of burly big-hearted men, tall tales, impossible odds, and the kind of endings that leave you wanting more.
When not writing, he likes to read, travel and relax with his adorable senior dogs, Spotty and French Fry.
The Long Shadow Series by Duncan Gaye is a thematic anthology series of stand-alone LGBTQ+ novellas and novels that tell love stories shaped by the extraordinary. Blending elements of speculative fiction, magical realism, tall tales, and literary drama, these are stories where intimacy and identity meet epic strength and emotional vulnerability.
From the mythical to the mundane, each book explores larger-than-life characters—strongmen, bodyguards, super soldiers, and other giants. For fans of emotional intensity, queer desire, and stories that stretch the boundaries of realism, this series offers a new kind of legend.
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