Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13240647.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Relationship:
      Original_Male_Character/Original_Male_Character, Original_Male_Character/
      Original_Male_Character/Original_Male_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Just_a_bunch_of_drabbles, Experimenting_with_POV, warnings_per_chapter,
      Most_of_them_are_sfw, But_many_are_not, Details_in_each_chapter_but_tags
      include, Somnophilia, body_swapping, Car_Sex, Predatory/Prey,
      Masturbation, Rape, A/B/O, Body_Worship, wet_dreams, Spitroasting, Daddy
      Kink, Teacher_Kink, Making_Porn, Gentle_Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Role_Reversal,
      Non-Consensual_Spanking
  Series:
      Part 21 of How_Best_to_Use_a_Sword
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-02 Updated: 2018-03-30 Chapters: 102/? Words: 85883
****** The Moments in between the Moments Are Just as Important ******
by AntagonizedPenguin
Summary
     A collection of drabbles for the series, mostly, written in response
     to prompts I received on Tumblr.
Notes
     Like the summary says, this is just a nice place for me to collect
     different drabbles and other short things that I've written in
     response to requests on my Tumblr, so most of them are going to be
     pretty short and though they're canonical unless stated otherwise,
     they don't have much impact on the main plot, which is why they don't
     appear in the main story.
     That said, they are often a place where I'll show a different POV to
     give the reader a different perspective on someone's relationship, so
     it's not like you won't get anything out of reading them if you
     decide to. And depending on what gets requested, there may well be
     some plot tidbits here and there, you never know.
     All usual warnings for different stories in the series apply and some
     of these are going to be nsfw, but most aren't as of my writing this.
     Each chapter will be titled with the characters and prompt that
     started it, for easy navigation.
     This first chapter is mildly nsfw because of Gavin's extremely active
     imagination.
***** Gavin/Owen, Apodyopis *****
Prompt: "Apodyopis--the act of mentally undressing someone, with Owen and Gavin
during a meeting," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
It wasn’t that Gavin didn’t care about his sister’s wedding plans, he did. It
was just that he cared a lot about his plans to strip Owen naked and do
unspeakable things to him more.
To be fair, he wasn’t the only one not really paying attention. Gabrielle
herself looked bored to death, mom looked about ready to stab the decorators
with a fork and he was pretty sure those notes dad was taking were a letter
begging for help. He thought he could be excused for maybe thinking forward a
little.
For all his confidence, Owen had no idea how handsome he was, and it drove
Gavin to distraction all the time. He was just sitting there at the table,
trying to seem interested and doing a terrible job, and all Gavin could think
about was what he looked like without his clothes on.
He’d start by unlacing his boots, tossing those aside before crawling into
Owen’s lap and pulling his right arm out of the sleeve, then his left, then
lifting his shirt over his head and ditching that too. That would give him
access to Owen’s broad chest and shoulders, to the strong form that he loved,
that he wanted to eat off of all the time. He pictured those muscles, the light
scar Owen had under his left nipple from a fall he’d taken as a kid, the
dusting of hair across his chest and then downward, leading to his bellybutton
and then downwards again, light red, hard to make out against his skin.
Then he’d take the belt off, slowly, and unlace the tight pants even more
slowly. Owen’s pants always looked too tight to Gavin. And he’d pull those
down, slowly revealing those powerful thighs and legs, letting them drop when
they got to his knees, so he could head back up and do the same for the
smallclothes, getting Owen to lift his hips as he pulled them down, letting
Owen’s hard cock–Owen would be hard, Owen was always hard–spring free,
revealing his balls and all those intimate places that were Gavin’s alone, and
he’d let those fall to the floor too, maybe kissing those hands he loved, the
shoulders, stomach, as he made his way down to the…
“Gavin.”
Shaking his head a bit and pulling his gaze away from his now mentally naked
Owen, Gavin turned to face his mom. “Yes?”
“You were asked a question. Were you listening?”
Not even a little bit. “Sorry. I don’t think the northern nobility will like it
if you put them that far back, but they’ll live. I’ll talk Lord Dyskin’s son
into it and he’ll talk his dad into it. It’s fine.”
There was nodding, and conversation moved on. Gavin had a lot of experience
covering a lack of attention in meetings like this.
Once he was sure he wasn’t about to be called on again, Gavin returned his
attention to his knight, and resumed where he’d left off.
***** Klaus, Druxy *****
Chapter Notes
     No warnings for this one, except for the potential to figure out some
     plot things if you read this with the right information in mind.
Prompt: "Klaus and "Druxy--Something which looks good on the outside, but is
actually rotten inside,” by sandofthemountain, based on this_prompt_list.
---
 
It was going to be marvelous when it was finished construction. The structure
of the church was the height of modern architecture, the kind of Klaus knew
would age well. Some old things looked out of place a hundred years later, but
this wouldn’t be one of them. In a hundred years, five hundred, it would be
stately and attractive, rather than crumbling and desolate, assuming that money
was put into keeping it up.
Too bad the church, like its ideals, was built on a foundation of rot.
They didn’t know, these people, what they were building. Or where they were
building, and what had used to be here. An irony, considering.
The older Klaus got, the better appreciation he developed of historical
ironies. A church devoted to peace growing out of an attempt at genocide.
Building an altar to a psychopath on the graves of his victims.
Demonizing–literally–the people who had fought and died to save them all.
The city was new, or newer. Klaus still remembered it as it had been, before it
had been wiped off the face of the world in a burst of violence that had
scarred the cosmos. He’d only seen some of it before it had fallen, but he
remembered the graves, the mausoleum, the obelisk, the temple where Klaus had
fallen on the steps, bleeding and looking up at Nathen Jerell De’Kerken as,
vacant, he held up his blade with intent to slaughter a little boy just as he’d
slaughtered everyone else he’d run across.
That had been the only time Klaus had ever seen Nathen, the man at the centre
of everything. He’d been an attractive man, not tall, dark-haired and looking
composed even as he splattered everything in blood. A beautiful man wrapped
around a rotten, corrupt and dangerous soul.
And this church that was being constructed near his grave was no different.
Klaus knew, because he’d watched it be founded, been there during its early
days. Klaus knew, because Klaus knew people and what they wanted and what
motivated them. He’d seen enough of them, spent enough time, and he was always
disappointed by what they ended up doing, by how short-sighted they ended up
being.
Even his own people had gotten lost along the way, distracted by power and
their own foolish disagreements. Short-sighted and foolish, refusing to listen
to someone who knew what was going on.
Klaus wasn’t short-sighted. It was no longer for him to tell the humans of
their folly, to tell them why building this church here was a bad idea. Why
building a church at all was a bad idea.
Temples, churches, altars. No matter how strong the prisons humans built for
their gods, the gods always broke free eventually. Humans and gods couldn’t
exist together.
Klaus turned away from the church and the rotten foundations it stood on. The
war wasn’t over and Klaus was one of the only ones who remembered that. So he
left the humans to their folly and disappeared into the city that was no longer
called Thunder’s Falls.
***** Henry/Sam, Lalochezia *****
Chapter Notes
     This particular set of prompts occasioned a lot of requests for Sam
     and Henry stuff, so of course the usual warnings for those two apply.
     For anyone not reading the main story in which they appear, those
     warnings are rape, manipulation, torture and a generally very messed
     up relationship between a psychopathic sadist and his victim. This
     particular drabble is safe for work though (as are all the ones I've
     gotten for them so far), so that stuff is all background, and is
     heavily implied at the end as well.
Prompt: "Sam and Henry with Lalochezia--The use of abusive language to relieve
stress or ease pain,” by two anons, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“You’re a piece of shit,” Sam spat, pacing the length of the room. “A
worthless, disgusting, cowardly piece of shit.”
Henry just watched him, read Sam’s posture as he paced. He’d moved some of the
chairs and the low table a little bit so they wouldn’t be in Sam’s way, because
bumping into a piece of furniture in the mood he was in would just make it
worse.
“How do you even live with yourself? You’re a pustulent little cretin, filthy
parasite with half a brain, I’m surprised you even mustered enough intelligence
to pick up a sword. World would have been better off if you’d fucking fallen on
it when you were a kid.”
It might have been. Henry didn’t know anymore. He’d thought about killing
himself, more than once. But he couldn’t. Because he had a feeling that part of
Sam hoped he would, and he wouldn’t give that to Sam. He wouldn’t let Sam have
that from him.
Not until he was sure it would hurt Sam badly. Irreparably.
Sam was shaking as he continued on his tirade. “You’re not even going to say
anything to defend yourself because you know I’m right,” he sneered. “You’re
such a fucking waste of air.”
Henry just sat there, breathing loudly enough that Sam could hear him, watching
Sam. He looked so young when he was like this, it almost made Henry feel bad
for him. He wondered what was really bothering Sam. Henry had stopped him from
ripping one of his slaves apart a minute ago and Sam had gone off on him, but
something had been upsetting him all day, since they’d woken up.
Sam was so easy to read it was almost pathetic. Henry had had to learn how to
deal with his moods pretty quickly if he’d wanted to survive, and it had turned
out he wasn’t that hard to handle as long as he paid attention.
“Bet your parents were bloody glad when they were lit on fire, they were
finally rid of you forever. Probably wished you were there with them so they
could listen to you scream. Probably wished they’d killed you when you were a
baby. If only they’d known what a fucking disappointment you’d turn out to be.”
“You’d know,” Henry said quietly, because Sam was working himself up farther
and farther and he needed to be interrupted before someone died.
“What did you just say,” Sam hissed, spinning to face Henry, face contorted in
wrath.
“You heard me. I’m not the only one in here whose parents were disappointed in
him.” Henry’s parents had loved him, but that didn’t matter.
“You…”
“Your father never cared about you. He never even liked you. He regretted not
killing you when you were born and we both know it.” Henry stood up. “I’m
worthless? Yeah, but so are you. You’re a nasty little psychopath who doesn’t
know the difference between a victim and a friend. You don’t know how to do
anything but destroy what you touch, like a snot-nosed little asshole throwing
a perpetual shit fit because he can’t have what he wants. You’ve never
accomplished anything that actually matters and you never will and you think
I’m a coward, you’re the one who had to hide behind me with my crossbow to get
you away from your big bad daddy, you sniveling, stupid, weak…”
The table split into four pieces and fell into itself, and Henry’s chair flew
back, the sensation of ants on his skin enveloping Henry for just a second as
Sam used his magic.
Oops. He hadn’t meant to get so into that. Apparently Sam wasn’t the only one
who liked to vent when he was upset.
He should have known better than to call Sam weak.
Whatever had been bothering Sam before was gone now, replaced with a real anger
as Sam approached him, biting his lip. “Henry. Get on the bed. I think you need
a few reminders of who you are.”
Without a word, Henry moved past Sam, heading for the bed. This, for all that
it was going to hurt, was safer. Sam was a lot more predictable this way. One
day Sam might realize that he as at his most easily manipulated when he was
pissed off, but he hadn’t yet and until he did, it was Henry’s best defense
against him.
***** Gavin/Owen, Brontide *****
Prompt: "Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder, Gavin/Owen," by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
It was just as Gavin was reaching up to dim the lamp for bed that he heard it.
It was quiet, obviously far off, but there it was. Thunder. He’d always liked
thunder as a kid, he thought it was cool. He’d imagine angels fighting demons
in the clouds, throwing lightning bolts at each other as they stormed across
the sky.
Gavin didn’t like thunder anymore.
Owen had heard it too, that was obvious by the way he’d gone suddenly pale in
his chair over there, suddenly clenching his book tightly in his hands.
Gavin put his own book on the bedside table, waved for Owen to come over to the
bed. “Come here,” he said, quietly.
Owen nodded, closed his book and put it aside, climbing into the bed without
undressing and cuddling up to Gavin. Gavin put his arms around him, stroking
Owen’s back. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here.”
“I know,” Owen whispered, nodding against Gavin’s chest. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t, and Gavin knew that. But it was okay, he understood. He kept
his arms around Owen, kissed his head. “You’re fine. Promise.”
Owen nodded again, cringing when another roll of thunder sounded in the
distance.
“You’re safe here, it’s far away,” Gavin whispered, rocking Owen back and forth
a bit. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Owen closed his eyes tight, trying to take deep breaths as Gavin held him.
He was so strong, so brave. His dauntless knight. Seeing him like during a
thunderstorm didn’t change Gavin’s vision of Owen, not in the slightest. He was
only human, and humans all had fears. Having a weakness was what made him
human.
It just made him stronger in Gavin’s eyes. The fact that Owen wasn’t
invincible, the fact that he could be scared by something normal, made the fact
that he wasn’t afraid of anything else so much more powerful. Seeing Owen like
this just made Gavin appreciate his strength all the more. Just made him love
Owen all the more.
“It’s okay,” he whispered again, holding Owen tight. “You’re going to be okay,
Owen. You’re always going to be okay.”
“I know,” Owen whispered back. “I know.”
The thunder sounded again, still far off. It never got closer to the castle
than that, but Gavin held Owen all night, keeping his dauntless knight safe.
***** Henry, Druxy *****
Chapter Notes
     Another Henry and Sam one, warnings intact, though Sam sleeps through
     this one so it's just Henry thinking at him.
Prompt: "Druxy--Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually
rotten inside, Henry," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Once upon a time, Henry would have thought that sitting there watching someone
sleep was creepy. And well, it still was. But it was far from the worst thing
that Henry had done lately, so fuck it. He sat there and watched Sam sleep.
It was the only time Sam ever looked peaceful, when he was asleep. Not always,
he had nightmares just like Henry did, but sometimes. Part of Henry hated that.
Because they both had nightmares when they slept, but when Sam woke up, his
were over. It wasn’t fair that he should get to have good dreams sometimes,
that he should get to sleep peacefully. The universe should be punishing him at
every turn for what he did, for what he was.
But maybe the universe didn’t care. Maybe Sam was right, and he really could do
whatever he wanted.
For all that he hated it, Henry couldn’t bring himself to disturb Sam when he
slept, curled up against Henry’s side, sometimes with his head on Henry’s
chest, like he had now. He’d been doing that more and more. Used to be he’d
start there and roll away in his sleep, but lately Sam had been gravitating
towards him in the night, ending up tangled in Henry in the mornings. Henry
wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He couldn’t disturb Sam’s sleep. Not because he was afraid of the ramifications
or anything. Sam would hurt him if he wanted to and there wasn’t a lot Henry
could do to stop that. It wasn’t because he felt bad for waking Sam up from a
good night’s sleep either–though Sam did always look tired.
Sleeping like this, Sam looked vulnerable, and it was the only time Henry got
to see him like that. He looked small, and content and weak and Henry could
reach right down and put his hands on Sam’s neck and Sam wouldn’t stop him. He
looked human. He looked like a tired kid who needed more rest.
He looked cute, if Henry looked at him long enough, forgot who he was looking
at. Sam wasn’t an unattractive person, not physically. It was his personality
that made him that way.
It didn’t matter. Henry knew that being attractive didn’t mean Sam was secretly
a nice guy at heart. It didn’t mean he was redeemable or that he was actually
just misunderstood or any of that. Monsters could be pretty too.
But at the same time, looking at Sam like this made Henry remember that Sam was
what he’d been made into, that he was just a kid who’d been encouraged to be a
monster by his father. And none of that excused his behaviour–Sam was old
enough to know what he was doing, and he knew that he didn’t have to do it. Sam
was just as much a monster as Solomon had been.
But he was a person too, and that was important. It was important because
monsters were indestructible, monsters were huge and powerful and dangerous.
Humans, humans were small, weak, they could be manipulated ,they could be
tricked they could lose. Sam was a monster, but he was human. He had to eat and
sleep and shit like all of them. He had weaknesses. He wasn’t indestructible.
If he could learn to control his personality, Henry knew, Sam would be a lot
more effective. He’d be able to use that cute face of his to get people to do
what he wanted instead of threatening and maiming his way through life. He was
the kind of person who nobody would think was nasty until they were being
tortured by him. Sam would be able to convince people that he was a victim too,
if he wanted.
And Henry was grateful that Sam would never do that, because it would make him
so much more terrifying. That he went out of his way to make sure his exterior
matched his interior made Sam less threatening, less dangerous. If he wrapped
his rotten, festering cancer of a soul in this, in this sleeping, vulnerable,
innocent-looking boy, hand curled into a half-fist on Henry’s chest, making
weird noises every so often, Sam would be unstoppable.
Henry never planned to tell him that. But he would watch Sam sleep, watch him
unconsciously pretend to be harmless, and remind himself that it could be a lot
worse.
***** Henry/Sam, Tarantism *****
Chapter Notes
     Another Sam and Henry one, also safe for work.
Prompt: "Tarantism--The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing, with Sam and
Henry atop the castle crenelations," by folkendefanel, based on this_prompt
list.
---
The Fury Plateau was painted orange with the sunset, jagged black shadow teeth
cast across it by the falling light. Henry watched them lengthen, biting on the
land, chewing up the light.
It was just sundown. There was no fucking reason for him to be so melodramatic
about it, he told himself, his internal voice sounding annoyingly like Sam. He
should go inside before it got cold. But he didn’t want to.
“Hope you’re not considering jumping.”
Henry wasn’t even surprised to hear Sam. Of course he’d come to find him. Henry
had been avoiding him for a while now, which he didn’t normally bother doing.
“No. Not unless you I can pull you down with me.”
Henry was the one being pulled down and they both knew it.
“What are you doing out here, then?” Sam asked, coming over and joining Henry
on the crenelated wall, leaning against it beside him. He sniffed the air,
which smelled less like sulphur today than usual.
“Just…” Henry shook his head, a hard habit to break. “Nothing. It doesn’t
matter.”
Sam sighed. “We both know you’re going to tell me in the end, Henry. Just spit
it out.”
Henry rolled his eyes. Fine. “It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary today.”
“Oh.” That was all Sam said. No assurances that that was stupid, no scoff, no
laugh. Just oh.
“They always had a party to celebrate, they’d invite basically everyone, made
it a feast for the common people as well. There was a lot of food, and music,
and dancing…” Henry trailed off, smiling a little at the memory. “Anyway, it’s
stupid.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sam agreed, fiddling with a piece of loose stone between his
fingers. “But you’re stupid, so whatever. Cry about it if you want to.”
Henry snorted, giving Sam a suspicious look. He never knew when Sam was playing
games with him and when he wasn’t. He tended to assume that Sam was always
playing games with him.
Sam was standing there, shoulders slumped a little as he played with the stone
chip, resting his weight on the crenelation. “And what’s bothering you today?”
Sam went tense. Sam always went tense when it was time to talk about himself.
Henry assumed he probably just wouldn’t answer, or he’d make a snarky comment
and call Henry something for asking. But instead he sighed. “What’s it like to
have parents who love you?”
That took Henry off guard for a minute, and he watched Sam, trying to figure
out where the trap was in there. But he couldn’t find it, so he had no choice
but to just answer. “It’s nice,” Henry said. “You always have someone who you
can talk to, and who supports you and helps you if you need it. It makes you
feel safe.”
Henry watched, watched Sam react to that, watched him slump a bit more, go
tense again, watched his face twist into something that might have been sad if
Sam had known how to feel anything other than anger. “Stupid…” Sam muttered.
“Yeah,” Henry agreed, still watching Sam. He was a monster, Sam was, and
nothing was going to change that. But he was also, Henry had realized in the
last few weeks, a sad, lonely boy who really wanted someone to love him.
“Hey,” Henry said, gently putting his hand on Sam’s. Startling Sam was
dangerous.
“What?”
Henry gave a tug, pulled Sam away from the wall. “Dance with me.”
“What?” Sam’s face contorted into a sneer, but Henry wasn’t deterred. He put
his arm around Sam’s waist, confident that Sam wouldn’t retaliate. “What the
fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I just miss dancing at my parents’ parties. Dance with me.” Henry
didn’t know why he wanted to dance with Sam. He didn’t know why he wanted to
dance at all. But he did. And he put Sam’s arm where it was supposed to go,
starting to move.
As Henry had thought, Sam let him “This is stupid,” he grumbled, moving
awkwardly after Henry. He obviously didn’t know how to dance.
Their bodies were pressed together, their arms around each other. “Yeah,” Henry
agreed. “But so am I. Indulge me for once.”
Sam let out an annoyed breath, but he kept moving, resting his head against
Henry’s chest. “Fine. I don’t know what you’re after here. You don’t even like
me.”
“No,” Henry agreed. “But you’re the closest thing in the world to someone I do
like.”
And it was pathetic, but it was true. Henry didn’t like Sam. But Sam was the
only person he had left.
And so they danced, swaying back and forth as the sun went down, swallowing the
world in dark.
***** Isaac/Peter, Lygerastia (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     I went full-on porn with this one, so be warned for gentle, not
     really private sex.
Prompt: "Lygerastia--the condition of one who is only amorous when the lights
are out, with Isaac and Peter," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Isaac was sleeping with Baker. Or at least that was what he thought he was
doing, until Peter’s globe of light finally went out. He’d been studying all
day, and it wasn’t like Isaac was pouting that he was being ignored or
anything, he knew schoolwork was important. He was pouting because Peter had
made him go away every time he’d tried to kiss him, which sucked.
But when Peter’s light went out, there was a shuffling, the tap of Peter’s cane
against the floor, and then a weight on his bed as Peter crawled in, not beside
Isaac like he usually did when he wanted to cuddle and sleep, but right on top
of him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Isaac whispered. “How was the studying?”
“It was alright, I guess.” Peter lay down right on Isaac, and kissed him. He
was hard, and Isaac wondered how long that had been true. “I missed you.”
“I wasn’t the one who was hiding behind books all day,” Isaac reminded him,
kissing back.
“Yeah. Sorry. But now I’m here and you’re naked, right?”
Isaac snickered. “Yeah. It’s like you’re only using me for my body.”
“Shhh…” Peter sat up, stripped out of his shirt, and there was a lot of
movement that did good things for Isaac as he got the rest of his clothes off
too.
When Peter rejoined Isaac, he did it under the blanket, pressing their hard ons
together, grinding. Isaac put a hand around his back, keeping him in place.
“You’re unusually assertive tonight,” he teased.
Peter nodded, reaching down and taking both of them in one hand. “I’ve been
hard since the sun went down,” he said, panting in Isaac’s ear.
“We’d better do something about that,” Isaac was trying to keep his voice down.
Baker got annoyed at them, gave a small yap and went to go sleep on Peter’s bed
instead. It was hardly the first time this had happened, he’d live.
“I’m trying to do…that…ah…” Peter gasped as he came, spilling all over Isaac’s
belly. He let himself go and kept stroking Isaac, kissing him all over the face
as he went, until Isaac arched his back and came as well, trying to keep quiet.
“Better?” Isaac asked breathily.
“Better,” Peter confirmed, pressing against Isaac again. “But I’m not done.”
His hand wandered downwards, between Isaac’s legs.
Isaac smiled, not that Peter could see him in the dark. “Spencer and Skip are
going to wake up.”
“Not if we’re quiet,” Peter insisted, slipping a cum-coated finger quickly
inside Isaac. Quickly, but not more quickly than Isaac could handle. Even like
this, he was considerate.
So Isaac spread his legs a bit, gave Peter better access. “I guess we’ll have
to be quiet, then.”
Peter grunted, slipping a second finger in. Isaac kept his mouth shut,
breathing through his nose as Peter fingered him open, then withdrew and lined
himself up.
“You’re so impatient,” Isaac said, stifling a laugh as Peter pressed inside.
“I’m just horny,” Peter grunted, pushing in, and in, steadily. He was audibly
trying to hold back a groan as he did, and by the time he was all the way in,
so was Isaac.
Peter kissed him, the better to swallow both of their noises as he started
moving. He knew how to hit the right spot inside Isaac over half the time now,
and try as he might, Isaac couldn’t quite not vocalize his approval of that,
even as Peter made noises back to tell Isaac how much he liked being in there.
Isaac came first, Peter giving one well-timed strike to that spot, and he
arched his back, swallowed a moan and splattered himself. As he was squirting
his last spurt, Peter went tense, rammed into him and started to fill Isaac up
with a low noise that Isaac loved.
When he was done they collapsed, Peter still inside him, panting, Peter started
kissing Isaac again, on the mouth, on the shoulders.
“Feeling better?” Isaac asked.
Peter nodded, still kissing. “A lot better,” he panted.
“You’re still hard,” Isaac whispered.
“Are you guys done?” a sleepy voice drifted down from above. It was Spencer.
Oops. Isaac wasn’t embarrassed, but he did feel a bit bad for waking him up.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“My fault,” Peter added.
“Just keep it down,” Spencer grumbled, and they could hear him roll over.
“Trying to sleep.”
The two of them waited a minute, until Spencer was probably asleep again. Isaac
grinned in the dark. “We weren’t very good at staying quiet.”
“We just need practice,” Peter said, kissing Isaac again.
“Want to try again, see if we can get it right this time?”
“You read my mind.”
***** Henry/Sam, Tarantism redux *****
Chapter Notes
     Another Sam and Henry one, safe for work except for some swearing.
Prompt: "Alternate Tarantism--the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing
(following up from the previous prompt on the same topic), in which Sam is
forced to do the polka in front of a portrait of Solomon," by an anon, based on
this_prompt_list.
---
 
“You asshole!” Sam railed at the portrait, the one Henry had never noticed and
therefore never taken down, and of course Sam hadn’t known it was there either.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
He was livid, but it was hard for Henry not to laugh because he was doing some
ridiculous looking dance while he ranted and raved. And it…seemed like he had
been for a while.
It might be dangerous. Maybe he was going to have to dance until he died. Which
would be hilarious, but Henry would have to help him.
“If you’d fucking told me anything about anything, none of this would be
happening! If you’d trusted me, I might not have killed you!” Sam was panting
heavily, he’d obviously been at this for a while, as he danced, back and forth,
back and forth.
It went on for a bit, Sam listing all of his father’s many inadequacies,
getting shorter and shorter of breath. “If you’d cared about me at all maybe we
could have…” Sam gave a bit of a sob, fell down all of the sudden, backed away
from the picture as quickly as he could.
He got to his feet quickly, moving away from the portrait and heading for the
door at a near run. Henry moved out of the way and Sam heard him. “Who…”
“It’s me,” Henry said, feeling the crawling of Sam’s power on his skin. “It’s
me, Sam. I…thought I heard you yelling.” There were tears on Sam’s cheeks.
“It was nothing, there’s a…” Sam paused, tried visibly to get himself under
control. “There’s a curse on something in that room. As soon as I stood too
close to it I got…stuck. Briefly.”
“Yeah,” Henry said with a nod. “There’s a…a painting in there. I’ll have it
taken down.”
“Have it burnt,” Sam told him, shoving past Henry and storming into the
hallway. He was shaking. “I’m going to have a bath. Don’t come back until that
thing is destroyed.”
He stormed off, and Henry nodded again. “Okay,” he called after Sam, waiting
until he was gone to smile again.
And though he’d never have thought he could find anything related to Sam funny,
Henry chuckled to himself as he went to go find someone to get rid of the
portrait.
Sam was a terrible dancer.
***** Henry/Sam, Sphallolalia *****
Chapter Notes
     Sam and Henry, safe for work though there's some talk about sex, set
     a few days after chapter 20 of the main story (which was decidedly
     not safe for work).
Prompt: "Sphallolalia--Flirtatious talk that leads nowhere, with Sam and
Henry," by two anons, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Did you mean that, the other night?”
Henry looked up from the book he’d been reading. It was an adventure novel, and
he didn’t think anything about Solomon’s castle had surprised him more than
finding a bunch of them in his library. They all had basically the same plot,
right down to the tacky sex scenes. “Did I mean what?”
Sam was fiddling with some talisman in his hands, the buzz in the air
suggesting he was doing magic on it. “Nevermind.”
“Sam?”
Sam was blushing, Henry saw. “You said I was cute. Do you really think that, or
were you just fucking with me because you were horny?”
Henry blinked, remembering back to the other night. When he’d just…really
wanted to fuck Sam. And it had been good. He was still confused about that. It
looked like Sam was confused about that too.
And he was blushing. Henry raised his eyebrows. And then, getting an idea, he
grinned. “Yeah, I did. Is that a problem?”
“No,” Sam grumbled, red deepening. “Think whatever you want. What do I care
what I look like?”
“You might, if you knew the effect it had on people,” Henry teased, leaning
back in the chair a little. “It’s too bad about your personality, because from
the looks perspective, you’re pretty up there.”
“Shut up.” Sam swallowed, hands still moving over the trinket. The buzz of
sorcery had disappeared from the air.
“Really, I’m kind of surprised you don’t have people beating down the door to
get at you. You’re strong, powerful, important, easy to look at.” It was
actually kind of too bad Sam was a violent psychopath. “Maybe I should be
getting jealous.”
“Stop being stupid.” Sam was fidgeting now, obviously embarrassed.
“I’m just saying, if you wanted a repeat of the other night I could oblige
you.” Henry didn’t know if he could. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about
what had happened.
“Henry…”
“Just let me know, I’m here if you’re interested. If you’re not careful I’ll
have to start keeping you locked up to so I can have you to myself.”
“Henry!” Sam was so red in the face Henry was surprised he wasn’t aflame. “I
said, shut up.”
Henry smirked, picked up his book again. He was at a tacky sex scene. “I could
be the key to your locked heart,” he read.
“If you open your mouth again I’m going to stab you.”
The next line was a hilarious flower euphemism, and Henry had to take a second
to decide if it was worth it. But he just smiled, went back to the book and
kept that one in his pocket for another day.
***** Gavin, Owen/Edwin, Mamihlapinatapei *****
Chapter Notes
     Another one that is not safe for work thanks to Gavin's vivid
     imagination. Edwin hails from a story centered around an incestuous
     relationship, but that doesn't come into play here.
Prompt: "Mamihlapinatapei--The look between two people in which each loves the
other but is too afraid to make the first move, for Owen and Edwin, because
there isn't enough punch-punch-kiss in their lives for Gavin's tastes," by
folkendefanel, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Gavin didn’t usually follow Owen to the fortress, mostly because though he
loved Owen more than flowers loved sunlight, he could only watch his beloved
knight pound on other guys for so long before it got boring. Fighting just
didn’t fascinate Gavin, it never had, and though he had a healthy appreciation
for how good Owen was at it, and he did get a kick out of watching Owen beat up
people who’d trained for years, after a while it got dull and his mind started
to wander.
And Gavin’s mind tended with a lot of consistency to wander onto the same
topic.
At first it was innocent enough. He imagined Owen naked, which was easy enough
since he had a pretty solid image of that in his head. He imagined Owen coming
over here after every training victory and claiming his reward from Gavin for
winning.
Then he decided it wasn’t fair that Owen was the only one who should be naked
and he started imagining that his opponents were too. Gavin had a pretty active
imagination, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch for him to just mentally
undress all the squires his knight was sparing with too. They all looked pretty
nice undressed, in Gavin’s opinion.
Maybe he should see about getting naked sparring day instituted at the
fortress. Now that was fighting he could get behind.
Especially if the winner got to pound the loser in a different way after the
match.
Gavin had the best ideas.
It wasn’t that Owen wasn’t enough for him, never that. But Gavin had been
serious at the banquet when he’d suggested that he and Owen think about
inviting a third person once in a while. Just for fun. Mostly because Gavin
wanted to watch Owen with someone else.
Because Gavin was thinking about this, he straightened a little when Owen’s
next opponent came to face him. Gavin knew that Owen liked Edwin a fair bit, he
was one of the people at the fortress who Owen talked about on occasion.
What Gavin had never noticed before was the way they looked at each other.
Edwin looked at Owen like he wanted to eat him. Owen looked at Edwin like he
wanted to heft him over a shoulder and carry him off.
Gavin’s mind was in a bit of a haze since he’d been actively working on
orgiastic daydreams for the last hour, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t
imagining that.
Their fight was electric, seeming to Gavin to be a lot more tense than the
others. Owen and Edwin kept eye contact the entire time, that strange eye
contact that they both had to know wasn’t normal.
They wanted to fuck.
Gavin wasn’t jealous, because he knew Owen wouldn’t. He was mostly intrigued.
He watched the two of them move back and forth, imagining it happening in his
bedroom and without clothes, with different swords in their hands and…
It only last for a few seconds and the Edwin was on the ground. Owen smirked
down at him in a way that clearly said he wanted a reward to Gavin. Edwin
glared up at Owen, sullen and looking like he half-hoped Owen would claim that
reward. Then Owen helped Edwin up and Edwin stalked off, grumbling something at
his knight, the one who looked like a cousin or brother, before disappearing
into the crowd.
That was apparently the last of Owen’s opponents for now, because he took a
long moment to give some lecture that Gavin didn’t listen to, and then he
wandered over to Gavin, grinning. “You look excited.”
“I just like watching you win. You like Edwin.”
Owen looked at him, wiping some sweat from his forehead. “Yeah,” he said with a
nod. “He’s a good guy, pretty good fighter. You’d like him too, I think.”
“Yeah,” Gavin said, smirking. Owen clearly didn’t get it yet. He would. “I bet
I would.”
***** James/Ron, Basorexia *****
Chapter Notes
     One that requires no warnings for once!
Prompt: "Basorexia--the overwhelming desire to kiss, with James and Ron," by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Ron.”
“Yeah”
“Come here.”
“Okay, sure.”
“Closer.”
“Uh…okay.”
“Closer,” James said again, when Ron stopped just in front of his face.
“How close do you want me to get?”
James smiled, closed the last inch and kissed Ron. “That close.”
Ron giggled a little. James never ceased to amaze at how such a handsome,
strong person could giggle like that. “Oh. You could have just said so.”
“I suppose, but where’s the fun in that?”
James was happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. His
mind immediately cast back to before his parents had left, but even then James
came up with nothing. He didn’t know if it was because his memories were all
coloured by the baby’s birthday or if he really never had been this happy in
his life, but either way, having Ron here was like bathing in sunlight after
living underground his whole life.
James couldn’t believe he’d nearly let Ron go.
He couldn’t believe Ron had chosen to stay anyway.
“Fair enough,” Ron said, giving James one more kiss before backing away, going
back to his work. He was sorting James’s jars of herbs using some strange
system that James didn’t understand, but which Ron claimed would make it easier
to find everything when he was done.
James was supposed to be alphabetizing the books on the shelf and moving the
ones he never used to a pile so they could be out of the way. But it was boring
and Ron was distracting him..He kept watching Ron work, sitting there in a ray
of sunlight and humming a little to himself as he sorted. He had a few stray
flower petals in his hair, which James thought were from the kiss just then.
Every time they touched more of them grew.
James didn’t understand how someone could be that pretty.
Ron glanced up at him, smiling. “You didn’t forget the alphabet, right?”
“Of course not,” James said, turning back to the books, smiling to himself now.
“Just watching you.”
“You’re never going to get anything done if you keep doing that.”
James disagreed. He’d get a lot of watching done. “I think watching you is more
important than the books.”
Ron chuckled. “Well, that’s for you to decide, I guess.”
“Yes,” James agreed with a nod, looking for his climbing plant compendium to
shelve in the proper place. “It is.” He kept his eyes on the bookshelf though,
for a time. He only glanced over his shoulder at Ron every few minutes or so.
He really wanted to kiss him again.
James didn’t think anyone could blame him. He was pretty, the flowers in his
reddish hair, getting long again. He needed to cut it. The way the muscles of
his bare shoulders moved as he sorted and picked through the jars, the way he
tapped his foot, the sound of the song he was humming, one James recognized.
Ron was so wonderful, and James didn’t know what he’d done to deserve him.
“James?”
James straightened, pretended that he’d been considering the cover of this
bestiary. “Yes?”
“What’s this herb? I don’t recognize it.”
James looked over his shoulder, came over to the table. Ron was holding up a
jar of something slightly yellow. James took it from him, sniffed it. “Um.” He
dipped his finger inside, tasted the powder a bit. “It’s mustard.”
“Oh,” Ron took the jar back, popped the lid back on. “I’ve never seen it
powdered before. Thank you.”
“You’re…” James ran his hand down Ron’s shoulder, his upper arm, watching his
lips move. And he leaned down and captured those lips in his, kissing Ron and
not letting him go. Ron tilted his head up, kissed him back, and James held the
kiss for as long as he could before he had to breathe. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” Ron said again, patting James’s cheek. “How’s it going over there?”
“Fine,” James said, starting to pull away before changing his mind and going in
for another kiss. “Just perfect.”
***** Henry/Sam, Capernoited *****
Chapter Notes
     More Henry and Sam.
Prompt: "Capernoited--slightly intoxicated or tipsy, with Sam and Henry," by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“You’re drunk.”
Henry giggled a little. “Nah. I had like one drink.”
It had been a big drink, to be fair. But Henry wasn’t drunk. He was
just…something that wasn’t quite drunk. “Ohg’ne.”
“What?”
“That’s the word for it in Chez’n,” Henry told Sam, swaying a little as he was
pulled back to Sam’s room. To their room. “Ohg’ne, when you drink enough to
make you happy, but not enough to fall over.”
“That’s a stupid word. Drunk is drunk.”
Henry laughed. “You’re funny.”
“Shut up.”
“You always say that when I compliment you,” Henry observed, nodding along to
his own observation. “Don’t you like compliments?”
“I don’t like it when you act like an idiot,” Sam sighed, turning Henry around
a corner. It wasn’t like Henry didn’t know the way back to their room. Sam was
overreacting.
“I think you don’t know what to do when someone’s nice to you,” Henry said,
trying to keep his balance on the swaying floor. “So you’re mean to them so
that you don’t have to try and be nice back.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to leave you here on the floor.”
“I can get back on my own,” Henry told him, closing his eyes. He smiled a
little at the thought that Sam was the one leading them around, but he decided
against making a comment about it. Sam got mad when people made comments about
his blindness, and Henry didn’t want Sam to be mad. “You should be happy too.
Why aren’t you ohg’ne?”
“Because wine makes you stupid, and I don’t like it,” Sam snapped.
“Mmm…you don’t like it that people might see you and not be afraid for two
minutes,” Henry suggested, lurching a little as Sam stopped in front of a door
and got it open. “You don’t like that people might think you’re normal.”
“Why should I? Normal people are a waste of time.”
“Huh.” Henry giggled again. “You’re funny,” he repeated. “Has anyone ever told
you that you’re funny?”
“No, I can honestly say they haven’t,” Sam said, tersely, as he led Henry into
the room and all but threw him into a chair. “And you can stop saying it too.”
“Why?” Henry didn’t understand why Sam was so tetchy about compliments. Well,
he did, but you’d think that he’d want Henry to be nice to him. “You’re weird.
You said you wanted to be my friend, but then every time I try to be nice, you
get mad and pretend you don’t like it.”
“I told you, I don’t like it when you act like an idiot,” Sam said, taking his
coat off and retreating to the bed.
Henry got up and followed him, awkwardly stripping out of most of his clothes
and leaving them on the floor. Todd would pick them up in the morning. Poor
Todd. “But you always think I’m acting like an idiot,” he protested, laying
down beside Sam and yawning. “And you still want to be my friend.”
“I want you to stop being stupid,” Sam told him, even as he let Henry wrap
around his arm. “I think you’ll be a lot more interesting when you do.”
“Hm.” Henry said, wondering what that meant. He had a feeling he knew, but he
couldn’t remember. He snickered. “You’re funny. We both know you’re interested
in me now.”
A low sigh. “Just shut up and go to sleep.”
“Okay.” Unlike a lot of Sam’s ideas, that was a good one, so Henry closed his
eyes, nuzzling Sam and not able to remember why he didn’t normally do that.
“Talk to you in the morning.”
Sam was quiet, and Henry started to drift off, head nice and fuzzy. Just before
he fell asleep, or maybe just after so he wasn’t sure if it was part of a dream
or not, Henry heard, “Talk to you in the morning, Henry.”
***** Pax, Malapert *****
Prompt:: "Malapert--skilled in manners of speech, with Pax," by an anon, based
on this_prompt_list.
---
Apparently mermaids were a thing. Which Pax had totally known, everyone knew
that mermaids were a thing and his marine biology training had included a lot
of suspicious absences with regards to fish people, which had made him assume
that fish people existed, but knowing that from negation and knowing that
because there was a mermaid sitting there on the ship were two entirely
different things.
“Did you know mermaids were a thing?” Pax asked Nate, nudging him slightly in
the ribs to get his attention away from the naked fish lady whose hair looked
like seaweed and onto Pax where it belonged.
“Yeah,” Nate said with a nod. “Though we’ve never actually seen one. Much less
had one insist on coming onboard and negotiating with the captain.”
The mermaid lady’s name was Lydia and she and the captain had been talking for
half an hour about whether or not the Sparkling Wind was allowed to sail in
this bit of water that apparently the mermaids really liked. It looked the same
as all the other water to Pax, but what did he know about water?
“Then we are agreed,” Lydia was saying, smiling up at the captain from the
chair Pax and Nate had helped her sit in. He wondered how long she could be out
of water like that. He was also surprised that she had legs, but apparently
merpeople did, so that was a thesis right there. “You may not sail through
these waters without a proper offering to us to ensure safety, and so long as
those conditions are honoured, we may not impede or assail your vessel.”
Pax frowned, wondering if the captain had heard what he had.
“Very well,” Natalie said, because she hadn’t, clearly. “I…”
“Wait,” Pax called out, stepping forward. “May not?”
“Did I misspeak?” Lydia asked, arching in an eyebrow that she didn’t have in a
very arch way for someone who didn’t have an eyebrow to arch. “Yes, may not.”
“Why is the accord worded in the negative?” Pax wanted to know. He knew that
technically he was supposed to let the captain speak, but the mermaid was
trying to cheat them. “Shouldn’t it be ‘we must pay your offering in order to
sail through these waters, and if we do, your people will leave us alone?’”
“I hardly see the point of rearranging the wording, young human.”
“Pax…” Natalie was frowning, though, and Pax suspected she was catching on. “I
see.”
“I think that you worded the first clause in the negative so you could get away
with putting the second clause in the subjunctive and hiding it in our
grammatical structure,’ Pax said, crossing his arms and looking at Lydia,
unimpressed. Even if she had blue skin, he was still unimpressed. “If we do as
you say, you might not attack us, is what you said.”
A very pretty frown from Lydia. “Of course we will have no cause to attack
you…”
“That’s not the same as saying you won’t attack us. I have no cause to dislike
badgers but I still do. If you don’t plan to attack us, then you shouldn’t have
any trouble changing the wording of your agreement,” Pax said. “And saying that
we may not sail through these waters without a proper offering to you to ensure
safety as stipulated, and so long as those conditions are honoured, you will
not impede or assail our vessel.” Pax thought about it. “And I’d go ahead and
add that you won’t allow anything to happen to us through inaction or
negligence, either. You’re asking us to give you a lot when we pass through.
It’s the least you can do.”
Why mermaids needed human money Pax didn’t know. Maybe there was some sort of
organized crime cabal that was in league with them.
Lydia held Pax’s gaze for a long moment, before throwing back her head and
laughing. “You should have warned me you had such a skilled negotiator onboard,
Captain. Very well. You will meet the conditions we discussed, and we will not
impede or assail you, or let anything else do so. And as a token of
appreciation for your crewman’s linguistic skill, we will waive the conditions
on this one occasion and enforce them only next time. Agreed?”
Natalie looked at Pax, who thought about it. They had definitely meant to
attack the ship later and waiving the fee was an attempt to mollify the
captain. But Pax didn’t see any other traps in the agreement, so he nodded at
the captain.
“Agreed,” Natalie said, offering her hand to shake.
“Good catch,” Nate muttered, as Pax sighed in relief.
“I just didn’t want to be dragged into the abyss by a fish with legs,” Pax
muttered. “I’ve eaten too much fish in my lifetime, I don’t want the process
reversed. Speaking of which, let’s not have fish for supper tonight. Where’s
Cedric?”
***** Marcus/Daniel, Tarantism *****
Chapter Notes
     This story is one about slavery, but other that nothing super
     warning-worthy here.
Prompt: Tarantism--the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing, would suit
Daniel quite well," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Daniel hadn’t been in the room when Marcus had come back, and he hadn’t been
where Marcus had left him at the banister, and he wasn’t anywhere, and Marcus
was worried.
He knew how much it hurt, what Theodore did to them. He knew how it felt. He
didn’t know exactly how Daniel was feeling because it was always different, but
he knew that he was feeling bad and Marcus cared about him. Like Hugh had said,
he wanted to make sure Daniel knew he wasn’t alone. He didn’t seem like he was
the kind of person who kill himself to Marcus, but Marcus’s dad hadn’t seemed
like the kind of person to kill himself either, and that hadn’t stopped him
from jumping off a roof.
He wasn’t going to be anywhere where Theodore would go, or would see him, so
that narrowed his search a little, but the house was fucking huge–too huge–and
Daniel was a tiny piece of shit.
Marcus felt bad for even thinking that, even if he hadn’t meant anything bad by
it. Daniel was a good kid, not like him, and he didn’t deserve to be called
names. Marcus should have been nicer to him from the start, but he’d just been
so hurt, and so angry, and he just couldn’t stop himself from wondering what
Daniel had that he didn’t, from wondering why Daniel was better than him.
But that wasn’t it at all, he understood that. Because Theodore was a monster,
and he got bored with them after a while. That was all it was, Theodore had
gotten bored with Marcus, just like he’d gotten bored with Hugh, and with
Denny, and with Al and Trevor and the older guys. It was what he did. He’d
gotten bored with Daniel now. None of them were better than the others, they
were just newer, and younger.
Marcus was starting to get seriously worried. Daniel was a quiet kid–he talked
quietly, he moved quietly, everything he did was so quiet–he might well have
slipped past the guards and ran, maybe hearing Theodore suggest it had put the
idea in his head. Maybe he was out on the street somewhere where he’d be caught
and killed, or worse, caught and not killed.
But no. Daniel didn’t do things by accident, or on impulse. Marcus didn’t
really know much about him, he didn’t talk much about himself and when he did,
sometimes it had the flavour of something he’d made up, maybe something that
was better than his real life beforehand, which Marcus understood because he’d
done it a few times too, so he didn’t really know. But he could just tell.
Daniel wasn’t impulsive. He was the opposite, probably too much. If he was
going to run, he’d have a plan, and he’d have had it for weeks.
Leaving Marcus to worry if maybe Daniel had had a plan to run for a few weeks
and just not told them.
Just as he was getting seriously worried, Marcus heard someone humming. Turning
towards the sound, he cornered a hallway and pushed open the door to the art
room, where Theodore had lots of stupid paintings hanging.
He pushed open the door as quietly as he could, and there was Daniel, humming
to himself as he danced. Marcus had never seen Daniel dance, but he moved like
water, flowing from one step to another in a way that he had to have learned at
some point.
Marcus had never cared much about dancing, but he was immediately captivated by
the way Daniel moved, and he stood there watching him for an amount of time
that he didn’t track. He’d always thought Daniel was kind of cute, but watching
him like this, he really appreciated how beautiful he was.
Daniel stopped suddenly, stopped moving, stopping humming, green eyes on
Marcus. “Hi,” he said, a little sheepish. Maybe a little worried, like he
thought Marcus would make fun of him. Two months ago Marcus might have, to be
fair.
Marcus felt bad. He hadn’t meant to ruin whatever Daniel had going on. “Hi,” he
said, feeling huge and stupid. “I didn’t mean to…you’re a really good dancer.”
“Oh,” Daniel looked away. “Thanks. I…someone taught me when I was younger.”
There it was again, that sense that Daniel may not have been lying per se, but
that he also wasn’t telling the truth. Marcus nodded. “Are you feeling okay?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know. I was trying to…” he shrugged. “To clear
my head, or something.”
Marcus edged into the room, shut the door. “You should…keep going, if it helps.
You should do whatever helps.” He could see the pain in Daniel’s eyes, even if
he was trying to hide it. He wanted that pain to go away, and Marcus kind of
hated that his first impulse was to punch Simon in the teeth. It wasn’t his
fault any more than it had been Daniel’s. “I can go…”
“No, you…” Daniel trailed off, taking a step back. “It’s okay. You can stay, if
you want.”
Marcus felt himself colour a bit. “It was really nice to watch,” he admitted,
to the floor.
Daniel smiled. “Thanks.” He closed his eyes, took a breath, and started humming
again, a song that Marcus had never heard, but one too structured to be made
up.
And Daniel started dancing again, and for a while Marcus forgot to be worried
about him.
***** Theodore/Daniel, Malapert *****
Chapter Notes
     This one's about the master/slave dynamic.
Prompt: "Malapert--skilled in manners of speech, with Theodore and Daniel
because I miss their conversations a lot (a continuation of the previous
chapter's prompt)," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Let’s play a word game, Daniel.”
Daniel looked up at him, those beautiful eyes sparkling as his mind worked. His
mind was always working, it was one of the things that Theodore adored about
him. “Okay, Master. What kind of word game?”
“Not a difficult one,” Theodore assured Daniel. Words weren’t Daniel’s strong
suit, or at least literacy wasn’t, though he’d taken to reading very quickly
for someone his age. Daniel did have a skill with speaking; Theodore was quite
certain he thought very carefully about everything he said.
He was so unlike Theodore’s previous slaves in so many ways. So much more
careful than Marcus, so much bolder than Hugh. So much quieter than poor Denny.
So much more clever than any of the others, possibly than anyone Theodore knew.
Daniel would be a fearsome intellect when he was grown.
“We shall take turns saying words to one another, and the other shall say the
first thing that comes to his mind,” Theodore said, smiling down at Daniel. He
wanted to see what happened when Daniel didn’t have time to think about his
answers. “How does that sound?”
They were talking a walk through the yard, a good distance from the house or
anyone else. There would be guards here and there, but they stayed out of the
way. Daniel nodded. “That sounds fun, Master.”
The word ‘fun’ there sounded like Daniel didn’t mean it in the way it sounded.
He often did that, said things that were certainly true, but that he seemed not
to mean what Theodore expected him to mean.
“Very well. I’ll go first. Theodore smiled at Daniel again. “Fun.”
Daniel blinked at him, looked down.
“The first thing that comes to mind, Daniel, no thinking on it.”
“Winter.”
Theodore nodded. “Why?”
“My friends and I used to have snowball fights and build forts out of all the
snow,” Daniel said, sounding just a touch melancholy, but not to distraction.
Theodore had never seen Daniel emotional to the point of distraction, except
perhaps just after that assassination attempt outside Clement’s. “In the summer
we had to try and earn money, but there were no sailors around in the winter,
so we were free to do what we wanted.”
“I see,” Theodore said, nodding. Poor Daniel had lived a very depressing life
before coming here, he knew that. It was always sad to remember how depressing,
exactly. “Your turn.”
“Um…” Daniel thought for a moment, wheels turning his head as they always did.
Theodore would give his entire fortune to have a look inside that boy’s brain
as it worked. It must be quite something. He took a breath. “White.”
For the clothes Theodore had them wear, no doubt. “Clean.” Theodore remembered
the first time he’d been able to wear white clothes–real white clothes, not the
many variations that all looked dirty, but the real, expensive white that came
from careful washing.
Daniel nodded, didn’t ask why. Maybe he understood. Theodore wouldn’t be
surprised. There were things that he expected Daniel understood that he’d never
told anyone. “Your turn, Master.”
“Friendship,” Theodore said.
“Water.” Daniel went a tad red in the cheeks, giving him some much needed
colour. “It’s where we always used to play when it was warm. Um, bird.”
“Loud, I fear they always wake me up in the morning.” Daniel laughed at that, a
quiet chuckle that Theodore had taken several days to realize was genuine. “How
about this one? Words.”
“You.” Daniel’s eyes went a bit wide and he worried at his lip, looking away a
bit as Theodore’s eyebrows rode. “You, um, taught me how to read them.”
“I’m touched, Daniel.” Theodore was. He had known that learning to read was
important to Daniel, but not to that extent.
“So was I,” Daniel whispered, taking another breath. “Can I do person?”
“Person?” That one surprised Theodore, and nothing came to mind immediately.
“Clothing, I suppose.” He gave a sly smile to Daniel. “I know it’s vain, but
it’s the first thing I tend to notice when I meet a new person.”
Daniel smiled back, nodding. Not in agreement, just in acknowledgement that
he’d heard. There had been a lot of subtle expressions that Theodore had had to
learn to interpret with Daniel.
“How about…” Theodore tried to read Daniel’s posture, tried to see how he might
react to this one. “Slave.”
Daniel went tense, and Theodore watched him make himself relax. Remarkable, how
quick it was. “Nothing.”
“It makes you think of nothing?” Theodore asked, surprised. He didn’t believe
that for a second.
Daniel shook his head. “No, Master. I think about nothing. The word. The idea
of nothing.”
The garden felt very quiet at that moment. “You’re not nothing, Daniel.”
“I know. But that’s what people think I am.”
There were times when Theodore realized that there were depths to Daniel that
he had barely skimmed, and this was one of those times. “They’re mistaken.”
Theodore very much hoped he could get to those depths someday.
Daniel nodded, guarding his expression. Except for in his eyes, his eyes often
told the whole story. He was upset. “Love,” he said to Theodore.
Ian. “Pain,” Theodore said, without meaning to. Daniel blinked, watching him,
and he put on a smile. “The two are always accompanied, Daniel. That’s simply
the way it is.” Daniel nodded, and Theodore took his hand. “Perhaps we’ll play
more later,” he said, as they approached the gazebo that was near the wall,
with the climbing plants slithering up. He hadn’t expected Daniel to ask a
question that cut him that deep. But once again, Daniel surprised him. Theodore
was starting to think he’d never stop being surprised by this wonderful boy.
“For now, why not escape from the heat and tell me about those snow forts you
and your friends used to build?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, Master. It always snows a lot in White Cape, so…”
Theodore sat, and listened to him, and wondered, and tried to figure him out,
like he had been since the beginning. And, he thought, would be for a long time
to come.
***** Henry/Sam, Gargalesthesia *****
Chapter Notes
     More Henry and Sam.
Prompt: "Gargalestheisa--the sensation caused by tickling, with Henry and Sam,"
by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry felt funny. He often felt funny, especially when he was around Sam, and
he rarely thought much about it anymore. But this was a type of funny that he
hadn’t felt around Sam before. He hadn’t felt it in a long time.
He felt like he was being tickled.
Sam was pretty immersed in whatever he was doing over there, hovering his hand
over some papers they’d taken out of Solomon’s study, trying to figure out what
they did. “What are you doing?” he asked, risking it. It didn’t seem like Sam
was doing anything to him on purpose, so it was probably safe to ask.
“Working,” Sam snapped. He was grumpy because he coudln’t figure the spells on
the paper out, Henry knew. “Be quiet.”
“Okay,” Henry said, sighing and going back to the book he was trying to read.
But it kept getting worse, the tickling, until Henry couldn’t help but let out
a laugh.
“Be quiet,” Sam repeated, not moving.
“Yep,” Henry managed, trying to hold it in. Sam’s magic often had a physical
effect on the people around him, which he knew from talking to a few of the
other people in the castle–the ones who weren’t terrified of him–wasn’t limited
to him. But it had never tickled before.
And Henry laughed again, trying so hard to keep it in.
“Is something funny over there?” Sam asked, voice razor sharp.
“No,” Henry insisted, laughing again. “I’m fine…”
“Henry, stop fucking around. I have a headache and I’m not in the mood to
torture you.”
“You’re…” Henry burst out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair. “It
tickles…”
“What?” The sensation stopped and Sam turned around, clearly pissed. “What the
fuck are you going on about?”
Gasping for breath now that he was okay again, Henry sat up straighter, trying
to get himself under control.”Your power. It tickled. I didn’t mean to laugh,
but you were tickling me.”
“Tickling you.” Sam didn’t sound impressed. “I wasn’t touching you at all.”
“I know,” Henry said. He knew that it hadn’t been on purpose. “That was just
what it felt like.”
“You…” Sam paused, frowning now. “You can feel my magic?”
“Yeah.” Oh, shit. Henry hadn’t realized that Sam didn’t know that. Pointing out
things that Sam didn’t know was always tricky. “Usually it feels like buzzing,
or scratching or something crawling. This time it felt like tickling.”
“Oh,” was all Sam said. Then he visibly composed himself, turning back to the
table. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
“I know,” Henry told him. “It just happens whenever you use your powers. It’s
been stronger since you got the stone.”
“Hm.” Sam raised his hand over the paper, hesitating. Henry had noticed Sam
hesitating more often lately. “Go away. I’m not going to stop doing this
because you’re an idiot, and you’re distracting me.”
Henry smiled, wondering if there was another reason. He stood, headed for the
door, pulled it open. “I’ll be back later.”
“I don’t care,” Sam said. “Just leave me alone for an hour.”
Henry stepped out of the room, and the tickling sensation came back as he did,
causing him to giggle a little on the other side of the door.
There was some maid standing there, cleaning the floor. Henry cleared his
throat, smiled at her, tried not to let his face fall when she cowered back a
little. “I’d stay away if you can,” he told her. “He’s in a bit of a mood.
Won’t even let me talk to him.”
The maid nodded, and all but ran from the hallway. Sam wouldn’t have hurt her
or even known she was there, but Henry always did his best to keep people away
from Sam, especially when he was in a mood.
The tickling steadily fading as he got farther from the room, Henry went to go
find something to do for an hour.
***** Henry/Sam, Basorexia *****
Chapter Notes
     More Henry and Sam, this one touching a bit on sex.
Prompt: "Basorexia--the overwhelming desire to kiss, with Sam and Henry," by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry hated Sam, he really did.
He hated the obvious things. Sam was a rapist and a murderer and a psychopath
who enjoyed being the first two things. It was fully in Sam’s power not to hurt
anyone for the rest of his life and he was choosing to keep hurting people, to
keep hurting Henry.
He hated the way Sam understood the world. That it was all about power and
strength, that people who had those things could do whatever they wanted to
people who couldn’t. That there was no point in virtue or self-sacrifice or
honour, because all that mattered was looking out for yourself; other people be
damned.
He hated the way Sam treated people. It wasn’t just the violence, it was the
sneering, the contempt and utter disinterest with which he spoke to everyone he
knew. Everyone from Todd to Lord Hans was treated as they they barely existed,
and certainly didn’t matter if they did. They were there for Sam to amuse
himself with and if they didn’t do that, they either had to leave or be hurt.
He hated that he was the only one who wasn’t treated that way. He was the only
one who Sam talked to almost like a person. He was the only one who Sam seemed
to realize also had feelings and wants and thoughts of his own. Sam didn’t care
about them, but he knew Henry had them and used them to his advantage.
He hated that sometimes, when he wasn’t careful, he confused Sam knowing he was
human for Sam treating him well. The fact that Henry was Sam’s only friend
shouldn’t have been a point of pride and it wasn’t, except for sometimes when
he heard people talking about how unapproachable the Sorcerer King was and how
impossible he was to understand, and Henry had that moment of knowing they were
wrong. Sam wasn’t unapproachable or hard to understand, not for him. And that
meant something.
He hated the way Sam looked. Because, as Henry had noticed repeatedly over the
last little while, Sam wasn’t unattractive. He should have been, someone like
him should have been. But that wasn’t how the world worked, and Sam was cute,
bordering on the handsome he would be in a couple more years. He had nice
cheekbones and soft hair and round eyes and pretty lips that just…
He hated that he noticed those things as he undressed Sam for bed. Henry had
sent Todd away while Sam wasn’t paying attention, because it was always better
if Todd wasn’t here for Sam to torment. And so Henry was undressing Sam, and he
was just so, so grateful that Sam couldn’t see that he was…looking. A lot.
He hated how soft Sam’s skin was, how small his shoulders were, how long his
fingers. He hated the unbroken skin on Sam’s bare chest, begging to be broken
by something. He hated that it continued, that he was nice to look at all the
way down as Henry took off his pants, and hated that his face was still there
when Henry got up, with those pretty lips that just asked to be kissed.
He hated that he wanted to kiss them.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked, when Henry had been sort of standing
there for a minute, staring.
“Nothing,” Henry lied, stepping back and swallowing. “There you go.”
Sam made a noise, and stepped forward, following Henry. “Something you want to
say, just fucking say it, Henry.”
Henry looked down at Sam, at his lips as they moved.
He hated himself for leaning down and kissing them, right then and there.
Sam was still for a moment, then he pulled away, stepping back and getting on
the bed, a confused look on his face and the briefest of buzzes in the air from
his magic. “What the fuck was that?”
“A kiss, dumbass.” Henry turned away, started taking his own clothes off.
He hated the fact that Sam had been blushing.
“Why?”
“Because I felt like it. You’re the one who’s always going on about doing
things when you want to.”
He hated that he spent Sam’s entire silence trying to figure out what it meant.
He was supposed to be the one who understood Sam. “Just go to bed,” Sam
grumbled after a minute, climbing under the blankets.
“Yeah.” Henry finished undressing and got in bed too, hating that Sam was on
his side, facing away from Henry, not cuddled up to him like usual.
Henry hated Sam, he really did.
But he’d realized recently that hate was a lot more complicated than he’d
realized.
***** Gabrielle, Dystopia *****
Chapter Notes
     Lots of implied sex going on all around this one, but very little
     graphic content.
Prompt: "Gabrielle and a humourous use of Dystopia--an imaginary place of total
misery, a metaphor for hell [which the pedant in me would like you to know is
not at all the definition of dystopia, but I didn't write the prompt list]," by
folkendefanel, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Gabrielle was in hell.
She was trying so hard to figure out what she’d done to deserve hell, and was
coming up with nothing. Gabrielle was a good person all around, she protected
people a knight, had a strong sense of justice, did her best to make the world
a better place. There was no good reason for her to be in hell.
And yet everywhere she went, it was nothing but boys or men fucking.
It had started just after she’d gotten up, when she’d–foolishly–decided to pop
in on her betrothed and have breakfast with him.
The guard had let her into the apartments, and she’d found breakfast sitting
out, ready to be eaten, Franz’s page sitting there at the table. He’d nearly
tripped over himself standing. “Your Majesty.”
“Good morning, Frederick,” Gabrielle gave the room a look-over, not seen either
Franz or Boey anywhere. But their giant dog was sitting in front of the bedroom
door, making the saddest dog face Gabrielle had ever seen. “They’re not awake
yet?” But that wasn’t right, Gabrielle knew right away. Because she may never
had slept with him, but she knew there was no way in hell that Franz didn’t let
that dog sleep on his bed .
“They are, your Majesty,” Frederick said, pressing two fingers together.
“They’re, um. Busy.”
“Busy.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” Frederick had been blushing, just a little bit, which had
been enough to give Gabrielle a decent enough idea of what ‘busy’ meant.
A loud shout a second later, one that could be heard clearly through the door,
was the proof that Gabrielle didn’t fucking need this early in the morning.
Dragon lifted up his head and whinged at the door as Frederick’s face darkened
a good amount.
“I see,” Gabrielle said, keeping her tone even. “Maybe we’ll have breakfast
tomorrow.”
Frederick nodded a little, swallowing. “Perhaps if you came…a little later in
the day?”
Gabrielle gave him a look. “This is a regular occurrence, is it?”
Mutely, Fredrick nodded.
Gabrielle sighed. “Fine. I’ll come back at a later time tomorrow.” She was
certain this was the same time she’d come a few days ago and everyone had been
dressed then. But whatever. “Do tell them I dropped by, will you?”
“You’re not going to stay, your Majesty?” Fredrick asked, glancing at the door.
“It…sounds like they’re almost done.”
“No, I’ll see Prince Franz later today, I think,” Gabrielle said, shaking her
head as she turned for the door. Honestly, he was supposed to be an adult. It
was one thing that Gavin couldn’t keep his damn clothes on for two
seconds–honestly, she’d walked in on him and Owen in three different rooms
yesterday alone–but Franz didn’t come off as the type.
In the hallway, Gabrielle’s stomach rumbled. She should have stolen some of
Franz’s food on the way out.
But she hadn’t, and so Gabrielle headed for the dining room to eat breakfast
there, rather than having servants bring it all the way to her rooms for no
reason. Her parents would likely still be there at this hour, and they were
sane people, at least.
But of course, when Gabrielle got to the dining room, her parents weren’t
there. Just Gavin and Owen. The good news was that there were plenty of free
chairs, since Gavin was in Owen’s lap. And there was plenty of food, since they
were eating each other’s tongues.
Honestly, Gabrielle thought, taking in a deep breath to calm down, and
pretending not to notice than Owen’s hand was down the back of Gavin’s pants,
it wasn’t like they didn’t fucking sleep together. She was happy for her
brother, and Owen was a decent guy, but Gabrielle had never known two people
who were so goddamned codependent, it was embarrassing by association.
Deciding it was safer–for her sanity and her brother’s gonads–not to engage,
Gabrielle just turned and left. She’d eat at the fortress.
She decided to walk, let the air clear her head as she made her way there. It
wasn’t far and the walk was nice, if only because she didn’t trip over anyone
boning on the way there.
Gabrielle was less lucky once she actually got to the fortress, though. The
training yards were only a third full at this time of day, but almost the
minute Gabrielle walked in, she all but tripped over Edwin and…she’d forgotten
his name. Leo? Maybe. Stumbling out of the stables with hay in their hair and
there was no way either of them had slept there.
It was a good fucking thing she hadn’t taken her horse or she’d have had to go
in there.
Gabrielle shook her head and just walked right them, nodding at their salutes
and making her way into the fortress proper. She wanted to get dressed, get her
armour on before she ate so she didn’t have to do it after. Efficiency.
On the way to her quarters she heard no less than three separate cries that
were not that different from Franz’s coming from different rooms. Maybe she was
just hyper aware of it because it was how her day had started. Maybe today was
some weird ‘bang a guy’ holiday that she didn’t know about. Maybe a sex wizard
had cursed the whole city. Maybe literally everyone in the capital in
possession of a cock couldn’t think of anything better to do with it than stick
it in someone else with one.
Or maybe Gabrielle was in hell.
Gabrielle didn’t hate sex, she didn’t hate the idea of men having sex, and she
didn’t care who had sex when and where. It was just that there seemed to be so
much of it happening all around her, all the time. The human race was going to
go extinct if someone didn’t take one for the team and start sleeping with
women. She couldn’t escape, and she was honestly wondering now. Had she
committed some terrible sin against men who liked other men, and this was her
eternal punishment?
Maybe she was just overreacting because she was hungry and sick of everyone
around her not being able to keep it in their goddamn pants.
Gabrielle got to her door without incident, letting out a sigh as she pushed it
open and stepped inside.
And was met immediately with her squire Ashton’s bare ass, looking right up at
her from the middle of the floor, where he was on top of Warren.
They both stopped, rolling a little and looking up at her, wide-eyed. “Um, good
morning, sir,” Ashton said, sounding obviously short of breath while Warren
just closed his eyes.
“Ashton. I know this is your room too, but you’re aware that it’s also mine,
yes?”
“Yes, sir,” Ashton had the grace to sound like he knew he’d fucked up at the
same time as he’d fucked Warren, at least. “I, um. Didn’t realize you were
planning to come in this early today.”
Gabrielle sighed. Of course. “It’s fine. Just…clean up after yourselves when
you’re done. I’m going to eat breakfast.”
“Yes, sir.” Ashton said, sounding like he knew that she was going to put him
through the hardest drills she could think of today. Not that it hurt him
enough to make him unbury himself from Warren, of course.
Gabrielle stepped backwards, closed the door quietly, and then leaned against
it for a moment, until she could hear the unmistakable sound of two squires
going at it again. Then she pushed off the door and headed to the mess hall,
trying to block everything out.
She was in hell. It was the only solution that made sense.
***** Devin, Strikhedonia *****
Prompt: "Strikhedonia--the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it,"
because Devin is tired of everyone's shit," by folkendefanel, based on this
prompt_list.
---
Devin wondered if there was any chance that someday, just for a few minutes,
Prince Gavin would have his royal status revoked and therefore be available for
a solid caning. The boy needed one, that much was obvious.
It wasn’t that Devin disliked the prince–on the contrary, he was a remarkable
young man who in many was was a role model for his generation–but he was just
so insufferably obnoxious.
And boys his age always were–Devin knew that well enough, he’d been around
enough of them and had been one himself a long time ago–but the prince had it
worse than others because nobody could tell him to shut the fuck up, except for
his sister, and he hardly listened to her except when it was convenient.
And he’d gone and stuck Devin, Sir Devin, an anointed knight who’d served the
kingdom and the crown for three decades, helped put down that rebellion in the
north back in the day, kept everyone important alive, served as the head of the
very capable crown princess’s retinue for many years,with the nickname Sir
Babysitter.
Devin had been called worse, far worse, by far worse people. But for some
reason, that name had fucking stuck. He hadn’t realized it at first, had just
ignored it as Gavin being annoyed that he wasn’t being allowed to sneak away
and kiss his boyfriend and saying the first petulant thing that had come to
mind. Which it had been, but he’d said it in front of Warren and the other boys
and that, Devin had realized far too late, had been the end of that.
Because he’d forgotten that if there was one thing boys all had in common, it
was their ability to seize on the chance to mock someone together.
Just a week after they’d gotten back to the capital he’d overheard Warren tell
Evan that he couldn’t join them on some outing because “I’m being babysat
tonight,” which Devin hadn’t quite put together as meaning that they were
training that evening until later.
It wasn’t until he’d heard again from Harvey in reference to a training mission
he was running for a number of squires together that he’d realized what it
meant.
By then it had been too late. He could hardly confront the squires about it–it
was a harmless nickname and he’d be the villain if he made an issue of it.
But being boys, they’d gotten braver, and the first time Devin had heard ‘Sir
Babysitter’ from one of the he’d nearly decked Ashton, but had settled for
having him run laps. A lot of laps. Just because he was concerned about the
lad’s stamina, of course (despite the fact that Ashton had little trouble
keeping Warren up half of most nights).
It would help if the sadly un-caneable prince wasn’t here at the damn fortress
at least twice a week all of the sudden. It wasn’t that Devin thought knighting
Owen had been a mistake, he was a capable young man, but the consequences of it
were not ideal. Especially since Gavin had definitely realized his nickname had
caught on and knew he was the only one who could use it with impunity.
Owen, at least, was respectable enough, when he wasn’t casually mentioning how
easy it was to kill a dragon or how sometimes you just had to do some
impossible feat of acrobatics to solve a problem like he had in this situation
or that. Honestly, it was easy to tell the boy had been raised in taverns. He
was charming in all the wrong ways as far as Devin was concerned.
It was on a brisk morning that it happened. Devin was running a training
drill–yes, he had more than enough seniority not to do that, even if they were
shorthanded these days, but it was useful for the squires and teaching was
always a good way to reinforce one’s own skills as well–and he’d called out to
Warren to pick up the pace of his jabs (and Devin knew that Ashton was the
reason for that, but it was bad form to mention that aloud).
Sweating and tired, Warren just nodded. “Yes, Sir Babysitter.”
Devin had never heard the training ground that quiet. Everyone in hearing
stopped moving, even Owen on the other side of the yard, even Gavin at his
little table. Even Gabrielle, doing her own sword drills.
Warren looked like someone who had just kissed death on the cheek and said
hello.
Devin didn’t react immediately. Knights didn’t get to Devin’s age by being
impulsive. He just stood there, watching Warren stand very still, white as a
sheet.
Across the yard, Gavin chuckled.
Devin sighed. Then he sighed again. Then he opened his eyes, which he didn’t
recall closing. He smiled at Warren. “I’m going to step out for a while. You
can keep at that until I’ve returned.”
“Um…” Warren looked around. “Okay? When will you return?”
“I don’t know.” Devin turned, headed for the gates.
“Wait, you can’t just leave!”
“Yes, I can, lad,” Devin called. “I’ve got seniority. I can do whatever I
want.”
Fuck it, Devin thought as he left the fortress, turning left and heading down
the road. It wasn’t yet lunchtime, but fuck it. He couldn’t cane Gavin and he
couldn’t retaliate against Warren without looking like an asshole, so he was
going to do the next best thing.
Sir Devin was going to go get drunk.
***** Peter/Isaac, Sphallolalia *****
Chapter Notes
     Some suggestive flirting ahead.
Prompt: "Sphallolalia--flirtatious talk that leads nowhere, with Isaac and
Peter, I feel it's pretty suited for them," by an anon, based on this_prompt
list.
---
The problem with Isaac–and it wasn’t really a problem so much as it was just
something about Isaac that Peter had noticed–was that he was always on and he
didn’t even seem to realize it.
Part of the reason why Peter had taken so long to realize that Isaac flirting
with him actually meant anything was because Isaac flirted with everyone, all
the time. It was how he talked to people. He flirted with his roommates, he
flirted with his friends, he flirted with boys, he flirted with girls, he
flirted with teachers, he flirted with his dog. It literally didn’t mean
anything because Isaac was so used to it as a means of communication that he
did it all the time.
Except that sometimes it did mean something, because sometimes Isaac
legitimately was trying to get someone to sleep with him. And Peter was getting
better at telling the difference, with mixed results.
When Isaac leaned forward a little, resting his cheek on his hand as he
answered a question in Lee’s class, that didn’t mean anything. It also didn’t
mean anything when he hid behind his eyelashes while he laughed at Jessica’s
comments about something at lunch.
It definitely meant something when he told Neil he had pretty hands, or when he
asked Skip for a taste of his soup at supper, or when he leaned on Hemi and
wondered aloud what it was like to float. It meant something when he kissed
Peter’s hand idly during study, when he lay his head on Peter’s shoulder as
they were sitting, when he got into Peter’s bed because he was lonely at night.
The place where it was hardest to tell was in what Isaac was actually saying.
“Hey Peter, can I have a taste of your sausage?” could just be Isaac wanting to
steal Peter’s breakfast like he usually did. Or it could not be. “Come sit in
my lap, it’s cold,” could be a true statement, of it could be Isaac being what
passed or sneaky. “Peter, sit behind me for this test, you’re too cute when
you’re thinking and I’ll spend the whole class getting distracted by you,”
might have been flirting or it might have been Isaac recognizing his own
weaknesses.
When they were studying, Peter had a feeling that it was all on purpose, but an
equally strong feeling that it was because Isaac was looking for a distraction
from the work. “You’re too studious. It makes me want to do something
indecent.” “Give me a kiss every answer I get right?” “Why would I look at my
notes when I can look at you instead?”
It was constant. Isaac never stopped. Peter loved Isaac, he did. But it was
tiring trying to keep up with him, to figure out when he needed to take Isaac
seriously and when he didn’t.
They were studying right now, for an exam in Development in a few days. “Okay,
tell me about the idea of resonance,” Peter said, a little tired because they’d
been at this for a while. Skip and Spencer were earlier sleepers and had
already gone to bed, to pick up in the morning while Peter and Isaac slept like
normal people.
“Um.” Isaac closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. He smiled a little. “It’s
when two Pillars get real close together, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“And they…get really excited. They vibrate and rub against each other.” Isaac’s
foot rubbed Peter’s as he talked. “And then something explodes, and…”
Peter swallowed a bit, nodded. “Yeah. They…” he looked at Isaac, prepared with
the dry, technical answer. And he got rid of that, because Isaac hadn’t really
gotten it the first three times. “When they’re close under a skill enough hand,
they can vibrate at the same frequency, until it’s sometimes hard to tell the
difference between them. They might even…penetrate one another, make something
really special.”
Isaac smiled, nodding along. “That makes sense.” He shifted a little on the
bed. “I wonder if it’s fun for them. The Pillars. I bet it feels really nice to
be all close up against each other like that, being…”
“Stimulated?”
“Yeah.
“Maybe it does. They say that the climax of the resonance is the part that
makes the whole thing worth it, but I expect the whole experience is something
really fantastic, actually.”
“Hm, I bet,” Isaac said with a grin, leaning forward a little. “You know, I’m a
much more practical learner. Maybe I’d really understand it with a
demonstration?”
“It’s a pretty advanced magic,” Peter said immediately, looking down and
flipping to the next page. “You’ll have to live with knowing the theory for
now. The next one is entanglement. When the Pillars get all tangled around each
other until they can’t really do anything because they’re just so close
together.”
Isaac sighed, cutely, because everything he did was cute, even when he was
being petulant, and nodded. “They must be real sticky to make that happen.”
“I guess so,” Peter agreed, keeping his eyes on his book. They were going to
get through this if it killed one of them, and if he had to speak Isaac’s
language to do it, then so be it.
***** Henry/Sam, Strikhedonia *****
Chapter Notes
     More Henry and Sam, with Henry realizing he's not powerless. There's
     also some non-descriptive maiming at the beginning.
Prompt: "Strikhedonia--the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it,""
with Sam and Henry," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Cut off his hand,” Henry ordered, making himself look at the accused man as he
did. It was getting easier, to look at them while he did this. It was getting
easier to order things like this for petty crimes like stealing some corn.
Henry didn’t even need to spend time anymore telling himself that it was better
this way, because if he didn’t do this, Sam would do something worse.
He kept his face impassive as the guard carried out his order, removing the man
and bring the next one forward. Today was a day for Sam to pass judgement on
people whose crimes were specifically against the crown. All of them were
stupid things like stealing some food from one of Sam’s fields, striking or
spitting at a guard, slandering the Sorcerer King.
The next one was brought forward, the charges read. He’d thrown a rock at one
of Sam’s guards as the guard had ridden by. “I did it, and I’d do it again,
your Majesty, the man insisted, vehement. Too vehement. Grown men who were past
thirty didn’t throw rocks at guards.
Henry wondered if Sam realized that the man was covering so his child wouldn‘t
be punished.
“You will pay a fine of five silver pieces as the price of disrepsect,” Henry
told him, once the man had finished confessing. “And…”
“Hang him,” Sam interrupted, from his place on the throne.
“Sam.”
“That should put a stop to any future disrespect, no?” Sam said. He rubbed at
his forehead. “Hang him.”
“Your Majesty, I…”
“Was I misheard? You confessed to your crime, unless you’re now about to tell
me that someone else threw that rock?“
Oh, so he did know. Fuck. Henry sighed. “You heard your king.” He gestured to
the guards to remove the man, who went quietly, in shock. A quiet descended
over the room.
“The next one,” Sam called, waving his hand vaguely.
Henry leaned down. “Do you have a headache?”
“These fucking people are my headache,” Sam grumbled.
“I can do it if you want to go lay down,” Henry offered, because he had to
offer. He had to at least try to stop Sam from killing a bunch of mostly
innocent people.
Sam started to say something, then winced. “Fine. I don’t want to find out that
you did something stupid after.”
“I know,” Henry said, a little surprised that that had worked.
Sam sighed, got up and descended the dais. “You’re all boring. I’m appointing
Henry to deal with you all in my place.”
And he turned, left the throne room through the side door, left Henry standing
there.
Henry put his hand on the back of the throne, waiting for Sam to leave. “Bring
the next one forward,” he said, watching the guards. They were watching him
back, as they often did. They’d been watching him this whole time, especially
while he’d been talking to Sam, quietly so they couldn’t hear. They all looked
like they weren’t sure what to expect, which was often how Sam’s guards looked
at Henry.
Because, Henry realized just then, to them it had looked like he had just sent
Sam away.
Oh.
Henry knew that people in the castle were afraid of him. He spend significant
time with Sam and was still intact and apparently sane, he had killed Solomon,
and he occasionally killed guards who had wronged him ages ago.
Now Henry wondered.
He looked at Lowell, a squirrelly, pinched-looking man who was the head of
Sam’s guard. Henry didn’t like him, mostly because he liked to rape children.
Sam liked him just fine. “Bring that last man back,” he ordered.
“Sir?”
“I said, bring him back,” Henry repeated, moving around and sitting on the
throne. “Bring all of them back, actually. Everyone we’ve seen today.”
“I…”
“Now, Lowell.”
After a moment’s indecision, Lowell nodded at some guards by the door, and they
left. There was some quiet muttering around the room, but Henry ignored it, not
saying anything. The guards returned with the man Sam had sentenced to hanging,
and with the three from before him, the man whose hand Henry had cut off, the
two before him who’d suffered the same punishment. There were fifteen more
besides them, waiting for judgement.
Henry looked at the man whose child had thrown a rock at a guard. And he
smiled. Sam was going to be pissed later. But in that moment, Henry didn’t
care. He just…ignored that, a strange feeling coming over him for a minute.
“The crown pardons you,” Henry said.
A hush fell. “M-my lord?”
“I said you’re pardoned. You can go. Do ensure that this doesn’t happen again.”
“Th-thank you, my lord!” the man cried, falling to his knees. “Thank you…”
Henry nodded. “You’re all pardoned. All of you. You three…” He pointed at the
three who’d come first. “You’ll be compensated in gold for the loss of your
hands.”
The throne room seemed to explode in crying and shouts. “Sir!” Lowell said,
stepping close to the dais. “You…you can’t do that!”
Henry fixed him with a look. “I think I can, Lowell. I think we all heard Sam
say he was appointing me to deal with this, didn’t you?”
“His majesty is going to be angry.”
“Only if he finds out,” Henry said, nodding. “And only at me. So you can
decide. You can worry about Sam being mad at me. Or you can worry about me
being mad at you. And maybe consider how replaceable you are while you’re at
it.”
Lowell visibly recoiled, paling a little. “Of course, sir. My apologies.” He
gestured towards his guards, who went about unshackling everyone in the line.
“Those three will be given fifty gold pieces each, and everyone will be given a
fifteen-pound bag of food from the castle larders for the inconvenience,” Henry
said, sitting back a little and waving. “See it done, now.”
Henry sat and watched as the guards did as he said, as the people he’d pardoned
thanked him, the three he’d maimed perhaps less effusively, and he tried not to
grin like an idiot. Sam was going to be pissed later. If he found out. But it
was worth it.
Besides, Henry thought. Sam being angry was part of the fun.
***** Klaus and friends, Concilliabule *****
Chapter Notes
     More Klaus plotting. So much Klaus plotting. Have fun guessing who
     he's plotting with. Hint: They've both appeared in the story already.
Prompt: "Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot,
Klaus and a character of your choice," by stevewestenra, based on this_prompt
list.
---
“This isn’t going to work.”
Klaus nodded, ignoring the chair in front of him just as both his companions
were. Perhaps sitting at the table made everything seem too formal. Like this
was a meeting. Formal meetings left records and trails.
Klaus preferred not to have those behind him whenever possible.
“Don’t just nod and then ignore me,” his companion said sharply. “This is not
going to work, Klaus.”
“Of course it is, and you ought not to call me that where people could be
listening.” Not using his given name had become habit to Klaus recently.
Sometimes he wondered, if it became habit to everyone else as well, would he
still be Klaus?
A roll of the eyes from his friend. “It’s not. Prophecies don’t work this way.
You can’t just appoint someone to fill the narrative and call the prophecy
fulfilled.”
“I fail to see why not,” Klaus countered, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Nowhere does it say that external action cannot influence the future.”
An elaborate sigh. “Tell him,” Klaus’s friend said to their third. “Please
explain to him that this is not how this works.”
“It’s not,” the third said, giving a shrug. “But at the same time…”
“Please don’t agree with him.”
“Waiting hasn’t helped. I don’t see that taking action can hurt. I mean, it
can, fucking with prophecy is dangerous. But in this case I think it’s okay.”
Klaus agreed, and he smiled. “We have the means, thanks to poor Darla. There’s
no harm in giving it a try.”
It wasn’t just a try, and Klaus suspected they both realized that. He did, at
least. Klaus wasn’t in the habit of failing.
“Except for the harm to all those dead babies,” Klaus’s friend muttered, arms
crossed now.
“It’s not like you to be so sentimental.”
“I don’t care about the babies. I care about us getting caught because you’re
losing your patience, Klaus.”
Klaus gave another smile. The one thing he hadn’t lost all through this was his
patience. “We won’t be caught. Please stop worrying.”
“He’s right,” the third said, watching Klaus carefully. “There’s no point in
worrying, or in trying to dissuade him. He’s already done it, after all.”
Klaus hadn’t told them that part yet.
Another eye roll. “Of course he’s already done it. Because he knows we wouldn’t
have let him if he was waiting for our approval.”
“It’s true.”
Klaus couldn‘t argue with that. “The time is right. The prophecy will soon be
fulfilled.”
“More than one,” the third added, looking at something else now. “Two, three of
them. There are a few that are going to…collide.”
“Oh, good,” Klaus’s friend drawled. “Good things always come from collisions.”
“The trick is to be driving as many of the carts as possible to control where
the pieces fall,” Klaus told them both.
“That doesn’t even make sense, Klaus.” But that was said with a sigh, a
resigned one. “Fine. It’s not like we didn’t always know we were eventually on
a collision course.”
“We’ve always been on one,” the third agreed. “From the start.”
“That’s what war is,” Klaus said, nodding. “We will come out victorious, don’t
worry.”
“Of course we will, you arrogant bastard,” his friend said, scornful. “That’s
not in question. It’s whether the victory will mean any damned thing.”
Klaus nodded, because that was the question. But it would, it had to. Klaus
would make sure it did.
***** Yancy/Cameron, Mamihlapinatapei *****
Chapter Notes
     This one is slightly crack-ish, but could potentially be canon. I'll
     leave whether or not it is to your imagination.
Prompt: Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the
other but is too afraid to make the first move, Cameron x Yancy," by
stevewestenra, based on this_prompt_list.
---
At first, Yancy hardly took notice of her, the witch who barged into the
academy one day and inserted herself into the archmage’s office and insisted on
being kept in the circle regarding the chosen one situation. He wasn’t
surprised that the Grand Coven would send someone, though how they’d found out
so quickly was somewhat vexing a question to ask.
It was at the meeting in the archmage’s office after Christopher’s attack that
he first really paid attention to Cameron. She spoke with authority and power,
and he was unsure if it was that that allowed her to be so scornful with such a
figure as the archmage himself, or her prior friendship with him that caused
him to give her such leeway. Everything about her bespoke a confidence that
Yancy had no way of matching, especially in a foreign environment.
Their few encounters after that had cemented a certain…fascination for him. He
was unsure whence it came, but come it did, and soon Yancy found himself
wondering what Cameron would think of a given topic without her presence. He
could hear her voice in his head, making pointed comments about whatever he was
studying that day, correcting the texts when they were wrong as if she herself
had written them.
It had been during one such moment that Yancy had started to think more about
her a person, about where she was from and what she had lived through, how she
wasn’t so much older than him as it first appeared. How he would like to see
her again.
Then Yancy realized he was being unduly influenced by Isaac, and tried to
behave like the respectable adult he was rather than the teenager he’d been,
now lost to the mists of time and age.
The problem was, the more Yancy thought about Cameron and tried not to think
about her, the more he noticed that she seemed to be paying more attention to
him that she did to most people. Which was to say that she knew he existed,
evidenced by her looking in his direction while speaking to him, glancing at
him while saying something that he was obviously going to proffer an opinion
on, not immediately dismissing everything he said as if he hadn’t said it.
Perhaps the strange fascination that held Yancy was also gripping Cameron, and
Yancy couldn’t deny that the possibility intrigued, even excited him.
But he would do nothing. He had not the luxury of youth that Isaac had, making
his intentions for people clear not only to them, but to everyone who paid the
remotest of attentions to him. It was perfectly right and respectable that the
lad express his sexuality in such a way as he see fit, and Yancy had no quarrel
with that, especially not now that he’d the time to get used to it. But as much
as that suited Isaac, it did not suit Yancy. He had always preferred a more
reserved approach, even as a youngster. And it had always worked for him, so
there was no call to change that.
Granted, Yancy was currently without a partner, but that was because his work
took up all his time and he hardly had any to spare for a significant other.
He was walking through the halls of the tower, on his way upstairs to his study
after his seminar, when he ran into Cameron, on the fifth floor, far from where
he usually saw her. “Good day,” Yancy said, getting her attention.
Cameron turned her eyes on him, and for a moment their gazes locked. All
movement in the hallway seemed to cease. He was struck with the feeling that
they were communicating something, something neither of them could say aloud,
something deep and important. That Cameron knew something important about him,
and that he knew something important about her. And Yancy was certain that his
fascination with Cameron was not one-sided at all.
Then the moment past, and Cameron nodded. “And to you as well,” she said,
passing by him.
Yancy waited until she was out of sight before pausing in his step, glancing
futility over a shoulder. That had been…most odd.
He really was far too influenced by Isaac.
***** Sam/Theodore, Cataglottism *****
Chapter Notes
     Pure crack. A meeting between Sam and Theodore will likely happen in
     canon, but not at all like this.
Prompt: "Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue, Sam x Theodore," by stevewestenra,
based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Why would I do that?” Sam asked, face contorting into a frown.
“Because your partner would like it, perhaps?” Theodore said, and Sam heard him
set down his cup.
“Why? It sounds disgusting.” Having someone else’s tongue in his mouth was
possibly the least appealing idea Sam had heard lately.
Rumour was that this man here in Merket knew about the stones that Sam was
supposed to be after. Sam had let Henry talk him into diplomacy–again–and it
was a fucking mistake. Henry’s ideas were always mistakes, because now he was
stuck in this room with this strange man, and somehow the conversation had
turned from stones to magic and the nature of power, to different types of
power, to ways to influence people, to the efficacy of kissing and frankly Sam
had no idea why or how and he didn’t like it.
“It is less so in practice than it sounds, I have heard,” Theodore said. He had
a smooth voice, one that reminded Sam of honey, and voices weren’t supposed to
sound like that. It was clearly practiced, and Sam wondered who the fuck
practiced talking a certain way.
“You’ve heard?” Sam sneered.
“And experienced. I assure you, it is a most effective way of…indicating to
your partner that you are interested in certain ways.”
“You could just tell him you want to fuck him,” Sam said, sighing. According to
Henry, Theodore had a bunch of barely dressed little slaves running around, so
he was hardly in a position to need to be circumspect in his desires. And
neither was Sam.
“Yes,” Theodore agreed, sounding amused. “But this carries more…class,
perhaps.”
“Sticking your tongue down someone’s throat has class?” This was stupid. Sam
didn’t know why he was still having this conversation. Theodore didn’t answer,
and Sam thought about it. This was so stupid, it was the kind of thing Henry
might like. “Demonstrate.”
“Show you?”
“Yes,” Sam demanded. “I don’t believe you.”
“Very well.” Theodore’s voice had a smirk in it, but Sam chose to ignore that
as he listened to Theodore stand, choosing to remain sitting. Theodore came
over, leaned down until his breath was on Sam’s face. “Are you certain?”
“It’s just a fucking kiss, just do it.” Honestly, why were people so useless?
Sam wished he weren’t so interested in this. And he was glad Henry was outside
the door.
“As you wish,” Theodore said, and he leaned down and kissed Sam, his mouth
covering Sam’s, his body covering Sam’s even as they didn’t touch beyond their
lips, and Sam wished he’d stood as well.
When Theodore’s tongue probed at Sam’s lips, Sam recoiled a little, but that
was the whole point of this exercise, so with an internal sigh, he parted them,
let Theodore in.
It was strange, having his mouth invaded like that, and Sam immediately
disliked it, a dislike that grew stronger the more he experienced it. His
reaction, therefore, was to use his own tongue to push back, to push into
Theodore’s mouth and try to wrestle him down, making a little noise of
agitation as he tried.
It didn’t work, but the wrestle went on for a good minute before Theodore broke
away, pulling back slightly. Sam only realized he’d tried to follow when he
came to his senses and found himself halfway out of his chair.
Sam pushed him away, snapping his mouth shut and wiping his lips on the back of
his sleeve.
“You didn’t like it?”
“It was…” Sam wasn’t sure. “I guess it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever felt.
But no, I didn’t like it.”
“Well, my apologies, then,” Theodore said, sitting back down. “But now you can
say you tried it, at least.”
Sam was hot in the face for no good reason and it was pissing him off. He wiped
his mouth again. “Telling someone what you want is faster,” was all he said.
Even as he did, though, he wondered what would happen if he did that to Henry.
He’d been right, it was the sort of thing that Henry would probably like.
He’d try it on Henry tonight, just to find out.
“I suppose,” Theodore agreed. “Now, I think we were talking about power?”
***** Gabrielle/Natalie, Basorexia *****
Chapter Notes
     Another one of questionable canonicity. Could happen someday.
Prompt: "Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss, Gabrielle x Natalie," by
stevewestenra, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Gabrielle didn’t need this in her life.
She had enough problems without having to come all the way to the coast to deal
with some piracy issue, and someone else really should be having this meeting
with some local ship captains to strategize how to deal with it, and the ship
captains really shouldn’t have so much say over what the battle plan was going
to be, just because they were their ships.
Okay, maybe that last thing was fair. But Gabrielle would replace it with
something else.
The woman who was speaking for all the ship captains had no right to be so
attractive.
How did someone who spent all their time in ocean air keep her hair so shiny
and nice looking? How did she have such soft skin? How did she run a ship with
bedroom eyes like that? How did her boobs not fall out of that shirt?
Maybe she was magic. The boob thing gave it away. Gabrielle liked armour and
heavy shirts, and when she wasn’t wearing those, dresses with structured bosoms
to keep hers where they were supposed to be. Captain Natalie didn’t seem to
have anything to keep hers in place, but they just sort of stayed there, in her
half-laced shirt. It was unnerving.
Not that Gabrielle was staring or anything. She was paying total attention to
the meeting.
“I don’t think five ships will be sufficient,” Natalie was saying, giving a
slight shake of her head that had her hair rippling. Rippling. “I’d prefer
seven, or ten if we can swing it.”
“You five are the only ships we have at the moment, Captain, and we can’t count
on the pirates staying still until we have more,” Gabrielle reasoned. “With the
fighting force we have, we can probably do it.”
“See, that probably worries me,” Natalie said back, leaning forward a little
bit. In order not to look down, Gabrielle kept eyes firmly locked on her face.
The problem was, her face was really nice too. Her lips were moving as they
talked, which obviously they were, that was what lips did, but they were nice
lips, and Gabrielle wished she hadn’t noticed that. “Given that if a ship
sinks, everyone on it is likely to die, I’d really rather wait a few days until
we can be assured more numbers.”
Gabrielle had taken this mission to get away from the capital and all her
problems there. At least here she didn’t have to put up with Franz and Boey, or
Owen and Gavin or half the knights, though Ashton and Warren had come, but she
just found things for them to do, aside from each other, to keep them apart.
But sex had followed her here too, and now it was affecting her.
Maybe the problem was actually that Gabrielle needed to get laid.
She’d never had sex with a woman before, except Olivia when they’d been
younger. But never as an adult.
She wondered if Natalie liked women. She wondered what it would be like to kiss
those lips. They looked very nice to kiss. Natalie’s first mate was her son,
but just because she’d had sex with a man once didn’t mean she didn’t also like
women. Maybe she should ask.
Now that she was thinking about kissing Natalie, it was all that was in her
mind and for a moment, Gabrielle forgot what she was doing.
“Your Majesty?”
Gabrielle blinked, shaking her head a bit. “Right. You’re right, Captain. I
think we’d all feel better going into this with as much force as we can. We can
afford to wait two more days–if more ships arrive in that time, we’ll use them
as well. If not, we have no choice but to attack with what we have.”
Natalie gave a nod, smiling a little. “That sounds good to me. Thank you for
being so reasonable.”
“This is your domain, I’m just visiting,” Gabrielle said, smiling back and
trying to look like she wasn’t looking at Natalie’s lips.
Natalie laughed. “Speaking of which, I’d like to invite you to dinner on my
ship tonight. I’m sure you’ll want to see the ship you’ll be riding into
battle, no?”
“I…” Gabrielle swallowed a little, trying not to let her mind be filled with a
lot of dirty thoughts. God, she was just as bad as Gavin. “I am honoured by
your invitation, Captain. I accept.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you this evening, then.”
“Yes,” Gabrielle agreed. “I’ll see you then.”
Gabrielle would also see Natalie a lot before then, in her imagination while
she wondered what it would be like to kiss the captain.
***** Daniel/Sam, Grapholagnia *****
Chapter Notes
     More intense crack that isn't going to happen, but which I had a lot
     of fun writing regardless. I think Sam and Daniel could be friends if
     Sam wasn't so Sam, honestly. There's some nsfw stuff at the end.
Prompt: "Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures, Daniel x Sam,"
by stevewestenra, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“It’s in here somewhere.”
“Okay.” Daniel looked around. “But it’s a really big library. Here somewhere is
a lot of books to look in.”
“Then get looking,” Sam told him, irritable. Sam was always irritable, except
when he was killing people. Daniel still wasn’t sure what to make of him. He
was powerful in a blustery way that Daniel had learned to recognize as being a
front, even if he did have the power to back it up. It was very strange.
“Do you have any idea what part of the library it might be in?” Daniel asked.
The specific book Sam wanted seemed very broad to Daniel, so he wasn’t sure
where to even look.
“Do I give the impression of being someone who reads a lot?” Sam snapped.
Daniel looked at him, looked Sam up and down, glancing at his eyes, unfocused.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just find the damned thing.”
“Okay, okay.” Daniel sighed, went to the closest shelf. Apparently he was Sam’s
librarian now.
Well, Daniel liked books, so that wasn’t so bad. Sam went and sat in one of the
chairs, obviously intending to just sit there until Daniel found what he
wanted.
He really had no idea how big this place was. It went on for quite a while, and
there was a second level.
Daniel read the titles on the spines of the books, carefully searching for the
one Sam wanted. It wasn’t too arduous, though every so often there would be a
book with no title and he’d have to get it off the shelf and check inside to
see what it was, which took longer.
“Why do you even have all these books?” Daniel asked as he looked, to fill the
silence that was made strange by Sam just sitting there.
“They belonged to Solomon,” Sam said, tilting his head over to where Daniel
was. “I don’t imagine he’d read most of them. He just liked to have things.”
“He must have read some of them,” Daniel muttered, taking another titleless
book off the shelf and looking through it. It was a description of plants. He
put it back. “There’s no point in having this many books if you aren’t going to
read any of them.”
“I didn’t ask him before he died,” Sam grumbled. “Read them yourself if you’re
that worried about it.”
Daniel smiled. “I will.”
Sam made a noise and Daniel went back to looking. He wished he knew what to
make of Sam. Were they friends? Did he like Sam? Did Sam like him? Was he here
for a reason or had Sam just been bored the day he’d taken Daniel here?
According to Henry, Sam killed people who bored him, so it wasn’t clear why
Daniel was still alive, since Sam hardly seemed to be interested in him most of
the time.
Everyone was afraid of Sam, but Daniel mostly felt bad for him. He hadn’t asked
to be born in the situation he had and be raised the way he had been. It didn’t
excuse what he’d chosen to do with his life, but it maybe because Daniel had
also done a lot of things that people would call bad, he sympathized a little
bit.
On the other hand, he had a feeling there was a whole side of Sam that he
hadn’t seen beyond the grumpy, kind of sharp boy sitting here. Maybe he was
scarier at other times than Daniel had seen him so far.
Another book without a title. Daniel sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Daniel said, taking it off the shelf. “Some of the books don’t have
anything written on them, so I keep having to…”
Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected.
“Having to what?” Sam demanded.
“Having to take them off the shelves and look in them,” Daniel muttered,
looking down at the picture he’d opened to in this book. It was…very detailed.
A very detailed picture of two people having sex.
Flipping the page proved that there was another picture on the next page, and
then another. It was a whole book of very graphic illustrations of different
kinds of sex.
Face burning red and glad that Sam couldn’t see him, Daniel kept looking down
at the pages, not able to tear his eyes away.
“Did you find it?”
“No,” Daniel said, shaking his head, tearing his eyes away from the book,
intending to put it back on the shelf. And remember where it was so he could
look at it later.
“Then why are you all quiet all of the sudden?”
Oops. “No reason.”
“You’re a liar.”
That was true, and Daniel sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If there’s one thing that’s going to piss me off, it’s keeping secrets from me
for no reason, Daniel,” Sam warned, half-rising from his chair. “Especially
about something stupid.”
Daniel watched him, wondering if Sam would really get violent over a book. He
kind of reminded Daniel of Marcus, albeit a much more intense and violent
version. “It’s got pictures in it, that’s all.”
“Pictures.”
“Of people. Um. having sex. And stuff.”
“Oh.” Sam paused, a strange expression crossing his face. Then he sat down
again, with a sigh. “And now you’re distracted by it.”
“Maybe…a little,” Daniel admitted, glancing down at the image in front of him,
in which three people were contorted.
Sam huffed. “Look at it, then. My book can wait.” He smirked a little bit.
“Wouldn’t want your hormones to go unanswered.”
Beet red, Daniel considered refusing, but the lure was too great. “Okay.”
Sam snickered. “Should I give you some privacy?” he teased.
“No, that’s okay!”
“So you’ll just touch yourself right here in front of me? Didn’t figure you for
the type.”
“I…” Daniel didn’t see much of a way out of this that wasn’t going to embarrass
him. “I wasn’t going to…”
“If you say so,” Sam said, still smiling. “Come sit down, then.”
Feeling like he might combust, Daniel did as he was told, sitting in the chair
beside Sam’s an opening the book on his lap, which wasn’t as flat as it
normally was.
“See anything you like?” Sam asked after a second.
Daniel looked over at him, biting his lip. And he paused, realizing something.
Sam as flushed in the face too. He was teasing Daniel because he was interested
in the book too.
Oh, well that changed a few things. Daniel looked down at the picture in his
lap “Yeah. This one’s of two men, one of them has the other pressed against the
wall, and he’s…fucking him from behind,” Daniel said, trying not to stumble
over the words he didn’t often string together aloud. “And biting his neck.”
Sam smiled. “Bet that hurts.”
“The other man seems to like it. He’s hard too, you can see in the picture,”
Daniel said, mostly watching Sam. He’d been right, Sam was interested. He
flipped the page. “This one’s got three men, one of them is on his hands and
knees…”
Sam listened attentively as Daniel went on describing the pictures for him, not
hiding that he was as hard as Daniel. They never did go back to looking for
that other book.
***** Nicholas/Isaac, Strikhedonia *****
Chapter Notes
     Just boys having fun.
Prompt: "Strikhedonia--the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it,""
with Isaac and Nicholas," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“I dare you to jump in.”
Nicholas sighed. Isaac was so childish. “I’m not jumping in the pond.”
“Why not? It’s hot, you’re sweaty, there’s a pond.” Isaac shrugged. “I’ll jump
in with you, come on.”
He was already taking off his shirt.
“I’m sweaty because I was running,” Nicholas explained. He had been. He liked
to keep in shape, and that was something that he’d been taking more seriously
since his adventure with Owen at the banquet. He didn’t want to get in another
situation like that and screw it up because he didn’t have the stamina.
Nicholas was considering learning how to use a sword too, just in case.
Heroes in stories always used swords, even if they were mages like him. There
was no reason he couldn’t use one too.
“Yeah, and now you’re not running, so you should cool off with me.”
It was past sundown, and Nicholas didn’t want to ask why Isaac had been out
here walking. He’d assumed his run would go unbothered if he came out at this
time, but apparently not.
“It’s a waste of time,” Nicholas told him. Isaac never seemed to do anything
but fool around, and though Nicholas didn’t dislike him as a person, he was
really irresponsible and it was obnoxious.
“Time you’d be using to have a bath anyway,” Isaac stressed. His shirt was on
the ground and he was undoing his shorts now.
“What are you doing?” Nicholas demanded.
“Taking off my clothes, what’s it look like?” Isaac told him, giving Nicholas a
funny look.
Nicholas looked away, shaking his head. Isaac was so predictable. “I knew you
were just looking for an excuse to strip.”
“I don’t need an excuse to strip,” Isaac told him. “What, come on, you never
swam with your friends back home? Or maybe you stayed fully clothed while you
did.”
“I didn’t.” Contrary to what Isaac believed, Nicholas was a perfectly ordinary
boy who’d played games with his friends as a kid.
“Then why not do it now?”
“Why do it now?” Nicholas countered. “It’s late, it’s dark, we should go to
bed.”
“It’s fun,” Isaac said, shorts dropping. Of course he wasn’t wearing
smallclothes, so now he was naked. “Are you just not allowed to have fun ever?”
Nicholas sighed, looking at the pond. He was hot. “Someone might see us.”
“Swimming?” Isaac asked. “Who cares. Come on.” And he ran, leapt into the water
with a splash. It wasn’t really that deep, but it was deep enough at this part
to jump in, anyway.
Nicholas considered turning and going back to the dormitory now that Isaac was
distracted. But there was nobody around and…he did kind of want to swim.
After a moment’s indecision, Nicholas sighed. “Fine,” he said, stripping out of
his clothes–all of them, though that took another moment’s thought–and
following Isaac into the water.
“See?” Isaac asked, splashing him. “You didn’t melt. Fun didn’t kill the chosen
one.”
“Shut up,” Nicholas muttered, splashing Isaac back.
That escalated quickly into a splash fight that turned into a dunking contest
and water wrestling, which Nicholas won, forcing Isaac to admit that he was the
victor by holding him in a headlock for a good minute, and it was…not weird.
Isaac didn’t grab at him anywhere he wasn’t comfortable being grabbed, ogle him
even though they were really close, make any lewd comments, even when the
movement and friction and contact caused a normal physical reaction in
Nicholas, or behave inappropriately at all. It was just like playing in the
water with any other boy, and it kind of made Nicholas feel bad for assuming
that Isaac wouldn’t have behaved. He had said he’d respect Nicholas’s wish to
just be normal friends, after all. Obviously he’d meant that.
It was…fun. It was a very fun time, and they played in the water like children
for a good hour before, panting, Nicholas realized how late it must be. “We
should go in,” he said, looking up at the moon.
“I guess,” Isaac sighed, floating on the surface of the water. “I had fun.”
“Me too.”
“You don’t have to sound like admitting that is killing you.”
“Maybe it is,” Nicholas joked, wading to the shore where they’d left their
clothes, which were still sitting there in two piles.
Nicholas looked at them, and then over his shoulder at Isaac, who was still
floating. “You coming?”
“In a second, yeah.”
Nicholas smirked, an idea coming to him. He got out, shaking himself off a
little bit and pulling his clothes on. He used Isaac’s shirt to dry his hair.
And he stood there, waiting until Isaac finally started to get out. When he was
about halfway to the shore, Nicholas smirked, picked up Isaac’s clothes. “You
stole my smallclothes last time.”
“Yeah,” Isaac admitted, not abashed. “Threw them in here, actually. They’re
probably around…wait, Nicholas no.”
“See you at the dormitory, Isaac.” Nicholas took off running.
“Nicholas!” Naked, Isaac chased after him, and Nicholas laughed all the way
back to the dormitory. He was allowed to be irresponsible and have fun
sometimes too.
***** Henry/Sam, Somnophilia (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     This is the first of several drabbles that are based on a nsfw
     writing prompt list that I reblogged, so expect several chapters of
     porn in a row. Usual warnings for Sam and Henry apply, with the added
     element that Henry didn't consent to sex while he was sleeping.
Prompt: "Wake up in the middle of the night sex/somnophilia for Henry and Sam
maybe," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry was having a good dream, for once. He was out on a horse, not going
anywhere, just riding for fun, being outside and away from the castle that had
abruptly become his home.
The sky was dotted with strange cats, but that seemed normal.
At some point, though, Henry wasn’t alone anymore. Sam was there with him,
smiling in a way that Sam never smiled. “Come on,” Sam said, pulling Henry
along somewhere, until they fell onto some grass that was a lot softer than
grass was.
Sam was on top of him now, touching him, touching his face, astride him, moving
his hips, moving, and Henry was hot, and close and buried, he could feel
himself inside Sam as Sam smiled down at him. “It’s okay…”
The field of grass faded a little, got a lot darker. Sam was moving on Henry’s
cock a lot harder, grunting as he did, riding Henry. He remembered that smile,
the assurance that it was okay, and Henry reached up and grabbed Sam’s hips,
thrusting up into Sam, making him go harder, aware now that it was a dream
anyway so it didn’t matter what he did.
“Ng,” Sam grunted when Henry started moving himself, but he stayed there,
stayed sitting on Henry’s cock, riding him, groaning a little with each thrust.
“Fuck…fuck…”
Henry got faster, harder as he got closer, worried that the dream would end
before he could cum. Frantic, he fucked Sam hard, driving into him from below
in his need to finish, to see this through. He could still picture Sam’s smile.
“Fuck!” Sam said, audibly as he went stiff under Henry’s hands, and a second
later something warm splattered onto Henry’s chest.
All Henry could think was that was an odd detail for a dream to have before he
fell over the edge himself, arching his back as he shot up into Sam with a cry
that sounded strange to him.
When he was done, spent, Henry fell back, smiling up at the black sky.
“Thanks…”
“Asshole,” Sam muttered, and that sounded more like him than he had before. “If
I’d known you were going to do that I’d have fucked you instead. Teach me to
indulge my curiosity.”
“So grumpy…” Henry muttered to him, pulling Sam down into a cuddle. “Y’should
smile again…I liked that…”
“Liked what you…” A sigh. “You’re not even awake. You didn’t even fucking wake
up, did you?”
“Mmmm…” Henry said, holding Sam there until he stopped struggling, let Henry
hold him the way he needed to be held. “That’s better.” He felt himself
slipping into something else, something deeper than this, back to his field
where Sam smiled and the sky had cats in it.
***** Hugh/Theodore, Body Swap (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Usual warnings for Slavery apply, which are self evident. Hugh is
     Theodore's underage sex slave, for anyone not following that story.
     This one is either noncanonical or is set in the past of the main
     story and possibly still noncanonical, who knows.
Prompt: "How about number 10 [Body Swap] with Hugh and Theodore?" by an anon,
based on this_prompt_list
---
“According to my friend, the spell ought to wear off in a few weeks, but we can
facilitate it ending faster by reenacting what we were doing just before it
happened.”
Hugh was listening, he was listening to what Theodore was saying, but all he
was thinking really was is that really what my voice sounds like? He sounded
like a duck trying to seduce someone.
Theodore sounded like a duck trying to seduce someone. And he looked like Hugh,
skinny and with bags under his eyes that Hugh had never known he had. And Hugh
looked like Theodore, big and too tall. It was weird.
But then, Theodore had already done to Hugh’s body just about everything that
Hugh could imagine. Inhabiting it for a little while was just one more thing in
a long list of things that he would have rather avoided.
“Hugh?”
“Yes,” Hugh nodded Theodore’s head down at himself. His voice was so deep. “I’m
listening, Master.”
“I think it’s best if we go with the second option. As lovely as your body is,
I’d rather have my own, wouldn’t you?”
Hugh swallowed, watching himself move. “Yes, Master. I would.”
“Very good.” Theodore nodded, and he with an awkwardness that Hugh wouldn’t
have expected, he took Hugh’s shirt off, left himself naked on the bed. Hugh
got a good look at his own body. He was smaller than he thought, and the
growing hair that was so obvious to him normally was impossible to see from
here. “Then let’s get to it, shall we?” He took a bottle of oil that they’d
used last night and spread it on his hands.
“Right.” Hugh took a bracing breath, then undid the belt on Theodore’s
nightcoat, let it fall to the floor as he climbed on the bed as well, unused to
being this big. Theodore was underneath him, too young, younger than Hugh
thought he was.
“No need to be nervous,” Theodore said, pulling Hugh closer and leaning up to
kiss him. Hugh tried to kiss him back, not sure how to do it when he was this
big. He would have said it was the weirdest thing that he could have imagined,
kissing himself, but he knew what was coming, so it wasn’t by a long margin.
Hugh nodded. “Master, have you…”
“Done this before?” Theodore smiled, a sly grin that looked wrong on Hugh’s
face. “Yes, I’ve some experience, Hugh. And I daresay your body is well suited
to handle this. Please don’t worry.”
Hugh wasn’t worried about Theodore, he was worried about hurting Theodore and
getting in trouble for it. He hadn’t survived this long to be cast aside or
killed because he didn’t know how to be this tall. “Alright, Master. I’ll be
very careful, though. Can you tell me if it hurts?”
“Of course, Hugh. That’s very thoughtful of you,” Theodore said, kissing Hugh
again before reaching down and gently taking him in hand. Right, he was going
to need an erection for this. Hugh wasn’t unused to not having those, but if
they were going to redo what they’d done yesterday, it was going to be
important.
So he let Theodore get him hard, kind of surprised that he could. They had to
do this, Hugh reminded himself, if he was going to go back to the size and
shape he liked being. Or was used to being, at least.
So, kissing himself back, Hugh reached down and prepared to stretch Theodore,
found his own hand already there, something Hugh had never done for himself.
Theodore smiled at him, and together they went about getting each other ready.
It didn’t take long, and soon Theodore removed his fingers and pulled Hugh by
the dick until he was positioned right there, urging him to push in, spreading
his legs to let him.
To let him. Hugh realized very suddenly that he was the big one here, he was
the one who was in charge, or could be. He could stop, pull away, make it so
none of this happened, and Theodore wouldn’t be able to make him.
Hugh’s collar was glinting on Theodore’s neck.
The spell would wear off in a few weeks, though, and they’d be back to normal,
and who knew what Theodore would do to punish him then? He was always kind and
friendly and even sweet to Hugh because of Denny, but Hugh knew. He knew that
Theodore was dangerous, that he was frightening when he was angry.
No. Hugh wasn’t going to risk his own safety, his own survival, on something
that wasn’t going to pay off. He was still a slave, no matter what he looked
like, and he had to do what Theodore said if he wanted to survive.
So he pushed forward, pressing into himself. Watching, fascinated, as he
disappeared into his own hole, knowing it shouldn’t fit, that he shouldn’t fit,
but knowing that it did, that he would, as he had countless times before. It
felt good, it felt right, it felt like where he was supposed to be, even as he
knew it was wrong, that it was awful, that he shouldn’t want it.
And yet, when he saw his last inch slip in, Theodore’s pubic hair nestled
between his legs, Hugh did, and he made a small sound that came out louder than
he thought.
Theodore was spread-eagled on the bed, eyes on Hugh. “That’s the way,” he
panted, flushed from forehead to nipples. “Keep going, it’s fairly elementary
from here.”
Hugh nodded, and he started moving his hips, pushing into Theodore, fucking
himself. Theodore wasn’t hard but Hugh grabbed him, stroked him in tune with
his thrusts, rubbed his own dick to hardness. He wanted to show Theodore that
it could be nice for both of them, if he tried.
Theodore sounded surprised when he whinged, a sound that Hugh didn’t think he
made. But there it was, coming from his lips, again and again, as Hugh picked
up speed, going faster and harder and rougher as he forgot he was supposed to
be not hurting Theodore. He forgot that, he forgot that he was supposed to hate
this, he forgot everything and then he remembered it all in an explosion as he
shouted out, filling himself with Theodore’s cum, closing his eyes to the
sight.
When he opened them again, looking down at Theodore in his body, at himself, he
was surprised to see a line of cum there, on his belly, almost to his chin. He
hadn’t even noticed.
Theodore was looking up at him, panting. “It doesn’t seem to have worked,” he
said, in Hugh’s duck voice.
Hugh shook his head, sweat falling from his forehead. “No, Master. What should
we do?”
“The only thing we can do, Hugh.” Theodore wrapped Hugh’s legs around his
waist, looking him in the eye. “Try again.”
***** Todd/Sam Fuck or die (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     If you're reading Villain you know Todd and Sam is not a happy
     combination. Very graphic rape in this chapter, and the victim is
     ambiguously a minor (age never stated but he's a servant boy).
Prompt: "This is horrible but fuck or die with Sam and Todd," by an anon, based
on this_prompt_list.
---
“What the fuck is this?” his Majesty snarled, moving strangely as he tried to
get his bearings in the strange white room they’d woken up in.
Todd had been sweeping a floor and he’d suddenly passed out. Now he was here,
in this room with no door. With the Sorcerer King.
Suffice it to say, he was terrified.
He must have made a noise, because King Sam turned, facing his general
direction, fury on his face. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
Todd’s skin crawled in that way it did when he was around his Majesty, that way
that wasn’t normal, that he was sure had to do with his magic. King Sam would
kill him, he knew. Todd didn’t know why he hadn’t already. “It’s me!” he called
out, hoping he would’t be blamed for this. “It’s Todd, your Majesty.”
A growl from the king. “What the fuck…”
He was cut off by a sudden voice that came from everywhere. “Welcome, guests.”
“Who the fuck are you?” King Sam demanded, trying to find the source of the
voice.
“I am one who administers tests.”
“You’re testing the wrong person.”
Todd just cowered a little, though there was nothing to cower behind.
“Perhaps so. I’m sure you wonder where you are.” The voice was sterile, maybe
male, calm, more calm than anyone should be when faced with the king’s wrath.
“You are in my domain. The room you are currently in has no door at the moment,
but one can be produced for you if you meet the criteria.”
“I’m not playing some fucking game with you.” King Sam was getting angrier and
angrier, and that meant someone was going to die painfully, and the only person
here was Todd.
“Indeed. In twenty minutes, the room you are in will fill with toxic gas,
suffocating both of you to death.”
A silence fell.
“Are you interesting in meeting my criteria now?”
King Sam was visibly shaking, fists clenched. “What criteria?”
“If you wish for the door to appear, you two must engage in copulation.”
Todd didn’t know what that meant.
King Sam obviously did. “You want us to fuck.”
Oh. Todd’s stomach dropped, and he started to back away, feeling bile in his
throat.
“I realize you may find this distasteful, but it is necessary for me to
ascertain whether your will to survive overrides social conventions that would
normally prohibit a king and his servant from…”
The voice was still talking when Todd felt himself lifted in the air and
slammed into the nearest wall. King Sam was undoing his pants as he approached,
mostly just looking irritated now.
There was nothing Todd could do. He knew that, he knew that one from
experience. He closed his eyes, tried not to whimper, and let the king close
the rest of the distance.
A hand on the waistband of his pants, a ripple, and the pants tore,
smallclothes and all, leaving Todd’s backside completely exposed. It will be
over soon, it will be over soon, he told himself. It would be, it hadn’t taken
long the first time either. It would just feel like longer. The voice had
stopped talking.
“Keep quiet,” King Sam told him, pressing Todd’s head against the wall with one
hand and pressing his cock against Todd’s hole with the other. “I’m not in the
mood to listen to you cry.”
Todd nodded as best he could, and his Majesty tore into him in one go,
lubricated by something. Maybe he’d done it with his magic, Todd thought
irrationally, to make it easier.
It didn’t make it easier, but King Sam did slide in fairly quickly, pushing
past all the resistance Todd put up without meaning to, clenching down to try
and keep him out, but it didn’t work, he knew it wasn’t going to work, and it
just made it hurt as his Majesty forced his way inside, tearing as he went.
Todd wanted to keep quiet, he did, he didn’t want to give the king any reason
to be mad at him. He kept his mouth clenched shut as his Majesty started
thrusting in and out, grunting quietly as he did. Todd bit his tongue when the
king started to go faster, until he tasted blood.
The pain should have faded but it didn’t, it just kept hurting as King Sam used
him, merciless and uncaring. At least he didn’t break Todd’s arm like he had
last time.
Then it was done, a louder grunt Todd’s only warning before the king came
inside him, pumping him full as he fisted Todd’s hair. Then he pulled out all
at once, turning away. “I’ll take that door now.”
“You…you have passed the test.” The voice sounded surprised. It obviously
hadn’t realized who it was dealing with. “The exit is yours, to your left.”
King Sam turned away, headed there, leaving Todd slumped against the wall,
tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t made any noise, though.
“Do you not intend to help your servant?” the voice asked.
Todd let out a laugh, a bitter sound.
King Sam just snorted. “You like watching, I assumed you’d like to have a turn.
Keep him if it means you’ll leave me alone from now on.”
And King Sam found the door, opened and it and left Todd there on the floor,
laughing to himself.
***** Edwin/Owen, Trapped together (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Just sex in this one.
Prompt: "What if I told you 94 [trapped together] with Owen and Edwin?" by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Is your boyfriend ever going to come back with that ladder?” Edwin demanded.
“My boyfriend is your prince,” Owen reminded him, in that annoying voice of
his. “And no, probably not.”
Edwin sighed. “Great.” Three hours since he and Owen had fallen into this hole
that was just here for no reason, too deep to escape from. Three hours since
Gavin had left, promising to come back with a ladder and telling them to get
“better acquainted” and winking before going.
Edwin was quite certain that Gavin had dug the fucking hole, like some deranged
zookeeper or something. The only evidence to contradict that was that Gavin was
fucking useless and probably wouldn’t know where to look for a shovel unless it
was stuck up Owen’s ass.
“So what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” Edwin asked, sighing. “Just
starve? Live down here? Become moles?”
Owen smirked. “He’ll let us out if we do what he wants.”
“Well, what does he fucking want?” Edwin asked, exasperated. Of course Owen
hadn’t brought this up three hours ago.
“That’s exactly it, actually. He wants us to fuck.”
“Wh…what.”
Owen shrugged. “Gavin is of the opinion that you and I have secret sexual
tension that we need to work out. Preferably naked and preferably releasing it
through our cocks. into each other.”
Edwin flushed bright red, turned away. He moved as far from Owen as he could
get, which was about two paces. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I told him you’d say that.”
“As if I’d want to have sex with you. I mean, with you? God, I’d rather eat
earthworms for the rest of my life.” Edwin started searching around for
purchase, find a handhold that felt good. He was going to get out of here if it
killed Owen.
“I feel the same way,” Owen told him, sounding amused.
Edwin frowned. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked, daring a look at Owen over his
shoulder.
“Nothing,” Owen said, giving another infuriating shrug. “You’re not Gavin.”
“Thank fucking God,” Edwin muttered, hefting himself up, making good progress.
Until everything collapsed in a cascade of earth, and he fell, twisting, fell
some more, landed on Owen with a thud that sent them both to the ground.
“Fuck.”
“You okay?”
“Fine, I’m fine.” Edwin huffed, looking up. He was on top of Owen, in his
goddamn arms like some princess. He blushed some more, looking up at Owen. He
looked so worried, as if the possibility that Edwin had hurt himself honestly
worried Owen.
Edwin wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but suddenly they were kissing.
Just for a second, and then they pulled away. “Um.”
“Hi.”
“Yeah.” Edwin looked away. “So if we…have sex, he’ll let us out?”
“Pretty sure.”
“It’s…worth a try?” Edwin asked. “Not because I like you. Just because I don’t
like being in this hole with you. In fact it’s because I don’t like you at all
and this is the only way to escape and…”
Owen kissed him again, made him stop talking. “I get it. You want a blowjob?”
Edwin blushed, looked away from Owen. “Yes.”
There was a rushed moment of moving around while they figured out how to sit,
and then Edwin was with his back to the wall and Owen between his legs,
unlacing Edwin’s pants and deftly removing Edwin from his pants. “You’re
awfully hard for someone who doesn’t want to do this.”
“The advantage of a blowjob is that I don’t have to hear you talk,” Edwin
grumbled.
“Right,” Owen grinned, licked Edwin briefly, and then engulfed him while Edwin
was mid-gasp.
Owen was…obnoxiously good at this, Edwin realized immediately. He had great
tongue technique and knew how to use it in tune with his suction and his hand
was on Edwin’s balls and he…
It was really hard to remain objective about this the longer it went on, and
really after the first minute or so all Edwin could think was wow, yes, keep
going, fuck, yes.
He didn’t last as long as he’d have liked, and a moment later Edwin was
shooting into Owen’s mouth, which he’d made the conscious decision not to warn
Owen about because screw him. Which Edwin was probably about to do, so that was
okay.
Owen pulled off when he was done, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and
grinning at Edwin. “That was fun.”
“Yeah,” Edwin admitted, short of breath. He watched Owen, who was suddenly a
lot more…not attractive, but a lot more not-repulsive than he’d been before.
“You want to take off your pants?”
“Yeah.” Owen’s grin widened. “Turn over.”
“Yeah.” Edwin started to do that, then paused. “Wait, no. You turn over. I’ll
top.”
“Nah,” Owen said, unlacing his pants and pulling his cock, already hard, out.
“You just came and I didn’t, and I’m better at it than you anyway. I’ll top.”
“What…” The offer of the blowjob had been so Owen could pull this, Edwin
realized. “You asshole.”
“Yep. Turn over. Don’t make me pull rank, squire.”
Edwin had walked into this one, and Owen was moving in such a way as to make it
clear that he was going to get his way.
“Fine,” he decided, figuring that Owen wasn’t…the worst person ever to do this
with. “You’d better not be exaggerating your skill.”
In response, Owen just gave another infuriating grin and helped Edwin roll
over.
It turned out he wasn’t exaggerating.
***** Sam/Henry, Sex fails (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Another Sam and Henry one, but mostly it's just kind of funny?
Prompt: "Sam and a sex fail," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry was almost asleep when Sam started grinding against him. “Sam?”
“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, cock rubbing Henry’s thigh. “Don’t move. I’m just
going to cum before I go to sleep.”
“We could have done something before we got in bed,” Henry muttered.
“I wasn’t hard then. I am now. Now shut the hell up, Henry.”
Henry shut up, letting Sam grind him. The position wasn’t the best for it,
which Henry could already tell but Sam obviously couldn’t. He couldn’t get
enough traction there, his movement was limited. He might cum eventually, but
this was Sam and Henry knew he wasn’t going to have the patience for that.
Sure enough, Sam started to get irritated the longer this went on, and soon he
was growling. “Fuck this,” He muttered, putting his hands on Henry’s shoulders,
and making to roll him so that Sam would be on top of him.
Sam overdid the roll, though, rolled too far, over Henry, and pulled them both
right off the bed.
Henry blinked up at the ceiling, trying for a second to realize what had
happened. And when he did, he had to stop himself from laughing.
That was when he realized that Sam was underneath him. Before Henry could roll
over, he was lifted by magic, tossed aside, hitting the wall and landing in a
pile on the floor.
“You okay?” Henry asked, coughing a little as he righted himself.
“I’m fine. I’m fucking…I’m fine, Henry. You can sleep there tonight, I’m tired
of you.”
“Do you want some help? You’re still hard.”
“No. Go to sleep,” Sam snapped.
And Sam climbed up into the bed, got under the blankets with an elaborate huff,
and a moment later Henry could hear what was obviously him masturbating to deal
with the boner he still had.
It was all Henry could do not to laugh.
***** Nicholas/Isaac, Car sex (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Good old fashioned sex with your rival in a hot car in a public
     parking lot while you wait for your boyfriend to get back from buying
     snacks. That old relatable time.
     I keep accidentally writing the Isaac ones from his POV even when I'm
     trying to experiment with others, haha.
Prompt: "It would probably have to be in the modern AU, but in a car/vehicle
with Isaac and Nicholas or Peter?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“You know you’re really hot like that.”
Nicholas sighed, standing there sweating as he put gas in the car. “Shut your
trap.”
“I’m just saying,” Isaac said, leaning on the car. “That you’re all masculine
and in charge, driving the car and putting gas in it and shit. It’s very
attractive, if you happen to be attracted to masculinity.”
“Which you are.”
“Which I am,” Isaac confirmed. “Just watching you is making me horny.”
They’d had sex enough times that Isaac figured he could just say that to
Nicholas in a gas station parking lot in the middle of nowhere while they
waited for Peter to come back with snacks for the rest of their long car trip
to the camping site everyone was visiting for their long weekend.
“Postage stamps make your horny,” Nicholas said, finishing with the gas and
putting the pump away.
Isaac frowned. “Maybe one with a dick on it,” he mused, thinking about it.
“Anyway, the point is, it’s hot, we’re all hormonal and horny and you’re very
attractive with all your car knowledge.” He straightened, fished into his
pockets and smiled at Nicholas, pressing some things into his hands. “So here’s
a condom and some lube, and I’m going to be in the back seat when you’re done
paying for the gas.”
Nicholas looked at Isaac for a long second, huffing before he pulled out his
wallet to pay for the gas. Isaac grinned and got in the car, already undoing
his cut-offs.
He’d slid them down and had just figured out a way to lay down without the
seatbelts burning his skin off when the back door opened again, and Nicholas
was there, pants already unzipped and condom already on his hard dick. “I
remember a time when you were afraid to let anyone see the waistband of your
underwear,” Isaac teased. “Now you’re putting a condom on in a parking lot.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nicholas crawled on top of Isaac. “I remember a time when you
hated talking to me. Now you’re propositioning me in a parking lot.”
“Yes,” Isaac agreed, nodding as Nicholas looked for his goal. “But I would have
propositioned you even when I didn’t like talking to you, is the difference.
Ah…”
Nicholas knew full well that Isaac was stretched already, since Isaac had been
fingering himself in the backseat of the car for the last little while, just
for fun. It was what Nicholas got for making him sit in the back. So, lubed and
protected, Nicholas just pushed right in, sliding up into where Isaac wanted
him to be, hands on Isaac’s shoulders to keep him in place.
Nicholas had the cutest face when he was inside Isaac, this amazing combination
of concentration and borderline ecstasy that Isaac couldn’t get enough of. His
thrusts were still inexpert but getting better, deeper and longer, but as
always what he lacked in skill he made up for in pure enthusiasm. The car
rocked as he thrust in and out of Isaac, and Isaac kept his hands on Nicholas’s
sides to keep him in place as he did.
Nicholas’s face scrunched up when he started to get close, and so Isaac could
tell when he was there. “Come on, big guy, you can do it. You like fucking me
in your dad’s car? Come on, come on…”
Nicohlas came on, groaning as he filled his condom. He held himself in place
for a moment, just keeping Isaac full, sweating through his shirt, then he
leaned back a little, taking his hands off Isaac’s shoulders and looking
further south. He smiled, took Isaac’s dick in hand. “You didn’t cum, did you?”
“You’d be able to see if I did,” Isaac told him, panting. “Your aim still
sucks.”
“I’m hoping to improve a lot over the weekend,” Nicholas said, giving Isaac a
stroke.
“Hey,” Peter’s voice called out from behind. “You two done?”
“Yeah,” Nicholas said, smiling over his shoulder. He let go of Isaac and pulled
out, backing out of the car. “You want a turn?”
“Sure.” Peter smiled at Isaac, pulled a condom out of his pocket.
Isaac had been such a good influence on him, honestly.
“He’s all yours,” Nicholas said, peeling his condom off and tossing it in a
nearby garbage can with perfect accuracy. He forgot to tie it off, but Isaac
would talk to him about that later.
“Thanks,” Peter said, climbing in the backseat, putting his cane on the floor
as he climbed on top of Isaac. “Hey.”
“Hey. Lube’s in the cup holder.”
By the time Peter had gotten his condom on, his pants down and himself
positioned, Nicholas was back in the car, revving it up. “Don’t get cum on the
seats,” he said as he started to drive. “My dad will castrate me.”
“Duly noted,” Peter said, grinning down at Isaac. “I’m sure Isaac can hold it
in until we get to the campsite. It’s only what, five more hours?”
***** James/Ron, Predator/Prey (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     This one's a bit ambiguous--if you read it as being in the regular
     story, it's just a negotiated role play between them. If you don't
     and put it in an AU, it strays into noncon territory, so it's up to
     you which you'd prefer.
Prompt: "Could you do 69. Predator/Prey, Hunting with James and Ron?" by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
James didn’t run as he made his way through the woods. He didn’t need to, not
anymore. He could hear his prey struggling, caught in one of his traps. He’d
even put his bow away as he sauntered up.
Not slowly, though. The longer his prey was trapped, the more likely he would
hurt himself, and James didn’t want that.
He broke through some bushes, striding into the clearing that his prey was
trapped in, bound together at the ankles by the snare James had set before the
chase had begun. “Oh no,” he said, smiling as he approached. “You’re trapped.
How did that happen, I wonder?”
“Let me go!” Jame’s prey was a nice size, not scrawny but also not too big,
good colouring, a lightish brown mane, reasonably groomed, moving back and
forth as he struggled, writhing on the ground in a futile effort to get out of
the trap.
“Now that would defeat the purpose of catching you, wouldn’t it?” James asked,
smiling. He crouched down in front of his prey, reaching into a satchel for
something. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the trap off your legs in a minute.”
“If you think I’m going to sit here and let you eat me…” his prey growled.
“I hardly plan on eating you right here. I’d want to season you properly
first.” James let the prey decide whether or not he was joking as he took out a
pair of gloves and slid them on, making to push the prey onto his back.
When he resisted, James raised an eyebrow. “I’m being gentle. If you’d like to
be let out of this, let me help you.”
That got him a sullen glare and his prey subsided, going into a careful
stillness that still suggested movement. “My name’s James. What’s yours?”
“Ron,” his prey grumbled, watching James’s hand run over his skin.
James nodded. “You’re well-fed,” he said to himself, making mental notes. “No
injuries or even scars to note. Good colouring, good complexion…”
“Do you have to do that?”
“Yes. I’m assessing you.” James smiled. “You’re a very handsome catch, you
know.” He was. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d caught something he
wanted to look at this badly. “And you didn’t make it easy for me.”
“You were trying to kill me,” Ron accused. “I was supposed to make it easy?”
“Who said I was trying to kill you?” James’s hand slid down a little, to his
prey’s penis. “A good size down here, too. Do you have a mate?”
“I…what?”
“I asked if you have a mate? You’re the right age and you’re clearly a good
candidate for mating.”
“No! I mean. No, I don’t.”
“Hm. Are you infertile?” James asked, rubbing the genitalia, finding he had no
trouble bringing his prey to arousal. A good sign.
“No. I mean, I’ve never…just let me go!”
“I’m going to, I’m going to,” James told Ron, shaking his head at the
impatience. “I just want to check this.”
He kept going with his stimulation, stroking Ron steadily, watching with
interest as colour rose in his face from strain. “Do you like this?”
“Y…n-no…” Ron managed, looking away. “Obviously not.”
“You’re obviously lying,” James said. “And not because your body is enjoying
it, that’s just how bodies work. It’s your demeanour? “Have I mentioned that
you’re very attractive?”
“Yeah…I’ll look great mounted on your wall…” Ron panted.
“Or on my bed,” James mused, still stroking him.
“What? Ah!” Ron arched his back and had his orgasm with some force, shooting a
good amount of seed onto his belly.
“You’re definitely virile,” James said, impressed. He took his hand away, ran
his finger through some of the mess and tasted him. “Hm,” he said, nodding.
“What are you doing?”
“Tasting the seasoning.” James smiled, reached back into his bag again, coming
out with a small knife and a collar and leash.
“What…”
James didn’t give Ron time to finish as he snapped the collar on and used the
knife to cut his feet free. “There you go,” he said, standing up and giving a
tug. “Come on.”
“Come where?”
“Home. Let’s go.”
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“Come on, boy,” James said, resolutely tugging Ron in the direction of his
house.
He was too good a catch to leave behind.
***** Sam, Masturbation (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a kid who will grow up to be horrible exploring himself and
     getting caught.
Prompt: "If you're still taking smut requests can I request some masturbation
with Sam? Maybe that time he mentioned where Solomon caught him?" by an anon,
based on this_prompt_list.
---
It wasn’t like Sam had anyone to talk to about these things.
He couldn’t talk to Dad and Saul would just make fun of him and the servants
weren’t to be trusted. So Sam had to figure everything out on his own.
He was doing just fine for himself, he thought. He’d figured out how to touch
his dick for fun one day when he’d been uncomfortably hard and trying to
rearrange some things with comfort in mind. That had also led to him learning
why his dick got hard, because why else would it, and it had taught him a few
things about sex that explained the bits about what his tutor had told him that
didn’t make sense.
On his own, Sam had also intuited that this wasn’t something to be done in
front of other people–if for no other reason than because he didn’t need them
knowing that he liked doing this, lest someone find a way to take it away from
him–and that ideally his bedroom was the place to do it.
He’d also learned to keep a pair of dirty smallclothes or the corner of a
blanket nearby so he didn’t get his shirt wet.
Sam was laying on his bed, shirt tugged up under his armpits and pants around
his knees, one hand firmly around himself as he stroked himself at a speed that
he’d learned he liked, rubbing the top part against his other hand for
friction.
Breathing heavily, Sam imagined that it wasn’t his hands down there. That it
was another boy, maybe a slightly older boy who liked to kiss him and liked the
sound of Sam’s voice, who smelled just a little bit like sweat but not in a bad
way. Sam’s pretend boy had very strong hands that he used very gently on Sam,
and sometimes he liked to kiss Sam on his chest or belly, or even on his dick.
He was just doing that in Sam’s imagination, and Sam’s balls were contracting
in a way that he knew meant he was done. He made a little sound, and felt
himself start to squirt, taking his hands away so they didn’t get sticky.
It was as he was squirting that the door clicked, swung open, that he heard
footsteps, familiar footsteps, come into the room. “Samson.”
Sam nearly choked on air. So much for keeping this a secret. “Hello, Dad,” he
said, in a small voice.
Solomon was quiet for a second. “We’re all eating dinner together in the dining
room tonight. I expect you to be there.”
Sam swallowed, wondering if he was about to die with his pants down. “Yes, Dad.
I’ll be there.”
“You’d better be.” Solomon made a noise. “I’ll leave you to your fun. See you
at supper, son.”
“Yes, Dad.” Sam said, voice barely above a whisper. Dad left, door shutting
behind him, and Sam’s whole body relaxed, melting a little into his mattress,
breathing harder than he had been before. “Damnit.”
That he hadn’t said anything was worse than if he had. Because it meant that
Solomon was waiting for a time to bring it up that would make Sam look the most
stupid.
Sam spent the whole day and all of supper worrying for a comment that never
came.
When he went to bed that night, there was a girl in his room.
***** Gavin/Owen, Predator/Prey (nsfw, kinda) *****
Chapter Notes
     Mostly just innuendo in this one, some touching at the end.
Prompt: "Because Gavin the deranged zookeeper is a hilarious mental image 69
(ha!) with him hosting a Steve Erwin like nature show and making so many double
entendres during filming that Owen jumps his bones once the cameras are off,"
by Folkendefanel, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“And look at this beauty,” Gavin said, holding the snake up for the camera. It
stuck its tongue out, which would play really nicely. “Long and thick and
strong. I can barely get my hands around this guy he’s so big. Speaking of
which, Owen.” He turned, grinning at his assistant. “Owen here has his guy’s
slightly less dangerous cousin to show us, hasn’t he?”
“Uh, yeah.” Owen swallowed, suggesting that Gavin’s meaning hadn’t gone
unnoticed. Just like the last several hadn’t. The peacock joke. The excessive
use of the word ‘mounting’ in relation to beetles. The offhand comment about
alpha dogs.
Gavin was killing it in this episode.
Owen cleared his throat. “He’s a little smaller than his friend here, and when
Gavin says a slightly less dangerous, what he means is that his poison takes
twenty minutes to kill a healthy adult, rather than ten.”
“Venom, Owen,” Gavin corrected with a grin. Honestly. “Unless you spend a lot
of time with long lengths of muscle in your mouth, you need to worry about
venom, not poison. Remember–it’s poisonous if you bite it and you die, it’s
venomous if it bites you and you die.”
“Right, of course, venom.” Owen smiled at the camera, that disarming smile that
he always had. He’d been a one-off extra in an early episode of the show who’d
played well with the viewers thanks to that smile. “Don’t listen to me. Gavin’s
the expert around here.”
He’d played well with Gavin too.
“That’s right. Now, don’t feel bad that you got the smaller guy, Owen. Size
isn’t everything, as you well know. It’s how you use it.”
Owen seemed to be in pain as he tried not to make a face on camera.
Gavin went on. “Your guy there kills twice as many people a year because he
looks less dangerous and hides better. Sometimes bigger just means clumsier.
We’re going to put these two down before they get too hissed off and explode
all over us. It’s a bitch to clean up.” Gavin winked. He was only allowed to
swear once per episode.
There was a careful process of putting the snakes back down and then shooing
them away so that they wouldn’t bite anyone. A few off-camera wranglers helped
with that part.
When they were done, Gavin stood up, gave his grin back to the people, pulled
Owen into the shot. “That’s enough adventure for this week, or so I’m
contractually obligated to tell you because the network doesn’t want the show
running too long, so thanks for coming into the wild with Owen and I. Next
week–it’s beautiful and knows it, it spends half its life trying to mate, and
I’m not talking about Owen. See you then!”
He and Owen waved at the camera for an uncomfortable second as they zoomed out
and closed out the shot with a nice view of the area they were in, and finally
the director yelled “cut” and Edwin turned off the camera.
Gavin sighed, wiping sweat off his forehead. “That was good.”
“Yeah,” Owen said, grabbed Gavin’s hand and tugging him away.
“What are you doing?”
“Come here.”
“Okay?” Gavin followed Owen behind some bushes, near a tree. And he turned
around, pulled Gavin and knocked him to the ground. “Owen!”
“Obsession with mounting,” climbing on top of Gavin, undoing Gavin’s belt.
“Loving the taste of peacock. Obeying your alpha dog.”
Gavin grinned up at him. “So you were listening?”
Owen’s shorts were around his thighs already, and he tugged Gavin’s down too,
hand around Gavin’s cock. “Yeah. And so were all your viewers. You’re lucky I
waited until the camera was off.”
“That would put ratings up,” Gavin panted, as Owen worked him.
Owen snorted, hand moving down to finger Gavin, he leaned down to kiss him on
the head of his cock, pausing as his grinned up at Gavin.”Tell me. Are you
poisonous or venomous?”
***** Todd/Derek, Rape, etc (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Todd and Derek are characters from Villain, and for context, Todd is
     a victim of violent rape and Derek is a new servant. Abuse is a
     cycle, and there's a graphic rape in this drabble, and both
     characters are ambiguously quite young.
     This one is canon, also.
Prompt: "Because ending up in Hel is a hilariously low probability for me and
because I like giving Penguin a challenge: 5. (the former not the latter)[Bad
sex]; 29. [First time]; 46. [I’m sorry]; 75. [Role Reversal]; 76. [Rough sex/
pain]; 101. [Wish/fantasy fulfillment] for Todd and Derek," by Folkendefanel,
based on this_prompt_list.
---
It wasn’t Todd’s fault.
It wasn’t his fault that Derek had been forced to come here, it wasn’t his
fault that his Majesty was the way he was. It wasn’t his fault that the world
was cruel. It wasn’t his fault that Derek slept in his smallclothes.
In the castle, a lot of respect was given to people who were closer to the
Sorcerer King and didn’t get killed. Todd was his personal attendant, so he got
what he wanted even from people who outranked him most of the time. Which meant
that when Derek had come and Todd had asked for him to be placed in his
chamber, it had been done with minimal fuss.
He’d known, as soon as he saw Derek. His round face, his trembling hands, his
big eyes and soft hair. He was the kind of person who didn’t deserve to be
hurt, and because of that, he was the kind of person who would be hurt. Todd
wanted to protect him from that, so he extended whatever protection was
afforded to him over Derek by bringing him into his bedchamber.
It wasn’t his fault that Derek slept in his smallclothes, and on his belly.
Todd couldn’t protect him from the king. He knew that. And after a few days of
training him, having him meet King Sam, Todd had realized that very suddenly.
Derek needed to be protected from King Sam, and Todd couldn’t do that. The king
was going to rape Derek, just like he’d raped Todd, throwing him against the
bed, pinning his arm behind him, pushing his face into the pillow. He was the
king, he’d do what he want to who he wanted to do it to, and there was nothing
anyone could do about it. Maybe Henry could stop him, but he wasn’t always
around.
Todd couldn’t protect Derek, sweet, adorable Derek, from the king. So, one
night, laying there next to Derek, sleeping on his belly in his smallclothes,
Todd decided what he had to do.
He didn’t do it that night. He stole some oil from the kitchen, hid it in his
shirt, brought it to his chamber and stashed it there. He waited until the next
night, talked normally with Derek like nothing was happening, and waited for
him to strip out of his clothes and fall asleep like always. Todd lay there and
stared at the ceiling, waiting.
He couldn’t stop King Sam from hurting Derek. All he could do was prepare Derek
for it, make it so that his first time wasn’t terrible, wasn’t with the king.
Nobody should have to have the king be their first. But if Todd prepared him,
helped him understand what was going to happen to him, Derek might not get hurt
like Todd had.
Once Derek’s soft snores were filling the room, Todd sat up. He hadn’t put out
the lamp, just dimmed it, and he could make out Derek’s smooth skin in the low
light, his smallclothes tight against his backside.
He really should know better than to sleep like that.
Swallowing, Todd crawled over to Derek’s cot, reached down and touched him on
the back. No reaction, so Todd carefully slid Derek’s smallclothes down to his
knees, looking down at his backside, now bare. It was round and plump and all
Todd could picture was the king’s cock violating it, tearing it open. Derek was
a year younger than Todd.
He was hard in his smallclothes, and Todd pulled himself out, biting his lip.
He was shaking as his uncorked his stolen bottle of oil, poured it on his
erection, some onto his hand and fingers. He carefully corked the bottle again,
set it aside, and hovered his hand over Derek’s round backside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he reached down, found Derek’s hole, and slipped
a finger inside.
“Nh…” Derek stirred, shifting a little with the intrusion. Todd put a
comforting hand on his lower back and slid a second finger in. “Todd?” Derek
asked, bleary. “What’re you doing?”
“Shh…” Todd said, stroking his back. “I need to show you something.” He slid a
third finger in.
“No…stop…it hurts…”
“I know,” Todd whispered, working all three fingers inside. They’d gone in
surprisingly easy. This was easier than he’d thought. It would be so much
easier for the king, who wouldn’t care about hurting Derek. He’d already have
his cock buried in there, and Derek would be bleeding and crying. “But you have
to let me.”
“I don’t want…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Todd told him, interrupting. “The king is going to do this
to you someday, I don’t want your first time to be with him.”
“But, why…”
“Because it should be with someone who cares about you,” Todd told him, pulling
his fingers out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But you are hurting me!”
“I know, shhh…”
Derek tried to get up, to roll over, and Todd held him down. “Let me go!”
“Shh!” Todd climbed on top of him, grabbed Derek’s arm and held it, slid his
other hand, on the arm that still had bandages wrapped around it, over Derek’s
mouth. “Quiet. If someone comes in, it won’t be me, it’ll be someone else. Is
that what you want?” Maybe he did. Todd’s fingers had gone in awfully easy.
Maybe Derek had done this before. Maybe he knew all about spreading his legs.
Whimpering, Derek shook his head. It was too easy to make him cry. He needed to
learn not to be so weak, not while he was here where everyone preyed on
weakness.
“That’s what I thought,” Todd said, breathing hard, shaking. His dick was
rested in Derek’s crack, and he lifted his hips, taking his hand off Derek’s
mouth and using it to position himself, which was harder than it seemed. He
kept Derek’s arm in his hand, moving it behind his back. “It’ll happen like
this,” Todd said, pinning Derek as he found the entrance with the tip of his
dick. “And then this…”
Derek cried out as he pushed inside, clenching tight around him. Todd tried to
reach his mouth again but couldn’t, and so he just pushed Derek’s head down
into the bed. “It hurts…”
“If you think this hurts you won’t survive when the king does it,” Todd warned
him, voice hoarse as he pressed through some resistance, forcing himself the
rest of the way in. It was harder than Todd had thought to do this. A lot of
work to get it in there in the first place. “It doesn’t last long. When it
happens, just keep your mouth shut and don’t give him any reason to get mad at
you. If he gets mad he’ll hurt you more.”
“You’re hurting me!” Derek hissed, crying.
“I need to show you!” Told hissed back. “What’s going to happen. I can’t let it
happen to you like it did to me. You need to be prepared.”
And Todd started thrusting his hips, ramming his dick in and out of Derek,
wishing that it didn’t feel as good as it did, so much better than his hand.
Todd started to go faster, harder, hand tightening around Derek’s wrist,
panting onto his back as he did.
Derek cried out loudly as Todd did. “Stop,” he pleaded, voice raised. “Please
stop!”
“Shut up,” Todd snarled, twisting Derek’s arm and pressing his head down when
he cried out in pain. Why didn’t he understand that this was for his own good?
Why was he so stupid, so weak?
Derek deserved this, Todd realized. He deserved it now and he was going to
deserve it when the king did it to him later.
Realizing that made Todd thrust even harder, all sense that he should avoid
hurting Derek gone from his mind. He needed to hurt him, to show him that it
was going to hurt, that the world hurt. He wanted to hurt him. To hurt
somebody.
As Todd thrust deep into Derek, as he came inside him, pressing Derek’s face
into the pillow to dampen his crying, Todd felt powerful for the first time in
his life.
Shaking, panting, sweating through his shirt, Todd pulled out of Derek, let him
go, got up and laid down on his own cot, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,”
he said in a whisper, still tingling all over from how good it had felt. “But
you had to understand.”
Sobbing into his pillow, Derek didn’t say anything. Todd hoped he understood,
hoped he knew now what was going to happen.
But if anything, Derek had proven just then that he was pretty stupid. Maybe
Todd would repeat the lesson tomorrow night, just to make sure he got it.
It wasn’t Todd’s fault that Derek needed to learn this.
***** Sully/Cal, Dirty Talk (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Lots of porny dialogue but no action in this one.
Prompt: "Cal and Sully with dirty talk?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“What kind of horse-fucking piece of shit asshat with sewage for brains tries
to pull that kind of bullshit fucking on a…”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Sullivan?” Cal asked, giving Sully
one of those stupid looks of his.
Sully blinked, surprised at having been interrupted. “The fuck do you care?”
It was going to be one of those conversations where Sully got told that
swearing was a lower form of communication, apparently.
“I don’t,” Cal said, giving a shrug. Oh, Sully realized. It was going to be one
of those conversations instead. One of the infuriating Cal conversations. “I
just wonder why you can’t open your mouth without profanity spewing out.”
Sully snorted, rolled his eyes at Cal. “As if I need advice on my mouth from
someone who’s breath always smells like cock.”
It didn’t really, or at least Sully hadn’t gotten close enough to find out if
it did. But that didn’t matter.
Instead of getting annoyed, Cal just leaned back a little, smirked at him. “I
think someone’s jealous that it’s not his cock my breath smells like.”
Sully snorted again. He may have thought about that once or twice, but it
hardly mattered. “As if you don’t sit there and wonder what it tastes like.”
“It’s one of my life’s enduring goals to answer that question,” Cal said,
grinning now.
Sully had no idea what was going on, but he knew if he backed down he’d lose.
“Then come over here and find out.”
Cal smiled at him again, and then he got up and crossed the few steps between
where they were sitting, plopped himself right down in Sully’s lap, sitting
face-to-face with him. “We both know you’re too chicken to put that thing in
anything other than your smallclothes.”
“Oh yeah?” Sully asked, hands coming to rest on Cal’s bony ass. “You know if
you want me to fuck you, you can just say so, Calvin.”
Cal sneered at him. “And what would you do if I did? If I spread my legs right
here, what would you do?”
Sully wished he wasn’t so hard, but at least Cal was too. And he wished that
they weren’t close enough that he could feel that, but there it was. “If you
were enough of a slut to do that? Right here outside? I’d give you what you
fucking wanted, Cal. I’d ram my cock into that hole, where you’ve wanted it
since you met me.”
“Better be committed, because I’d wrap my legs around you so you can’t escape.
Nothing worse than someone who doesn’t finish what he starts,” Cal said, hands
on Sully’s shoulders.
Sully took a breath. “You’d better believe I’d commit. I’d fuck you so hard
your past lives would feel it.”
“Big talk,” Cal teased. “You’ve got big shoes to fill there.”
“And I’d cover your goddamned mouth while I do it so I don’t have to fucking
listen to you.”
“That what you’re in to? You want to dominate me, Sully? You want to control
me, fuck me into the ground, make me beg for it?” Cal ground against Sully now,
their faces almost touching.
“Wouldn’t be fucking hard, since that’s what you want too.” Sully sneered. “I
can see it in your eyes. Mick and Wes are too nice to you. You want someone
who’ll put you in your place. Use you for the cock warmer you want to be.”
Sully had no idea where this was coming from. He was just going with what was
happening. “So yeah, that’s what I’d do. In fact, if I had my way, you wouldn’t
even cum. Just me, as many times as I want. You can run to your buddies after
for that. Maybe they’ll even see what I did to you and realize what a good plan
it was. Wouldn’t that change your life?”
Cal was showing his teeth. “You’re all talk. If we got in bed you’d be a
kitten. I’d have to hold your hand and ride you through to an orgasm because
you’d be too nervous to move without it.”
“Oh yeah?” Sully was really worried that Cal was right, but it wasn’t like they
were going to find out. They were just…playing? Doing whatever the fuck this
was.
“Yeah.” Cal licked his lips, and then he got up from Sully’s lap, turned away.
Sully sat there, blinking, hard, not sure what had happened.
Cal took a few steps towards Sully’s tent, turned and looked over his shoulder,
eyebrow raised. “You coming? We’ve got something to settle.”
Oh.
Sully got up, followed after Cal, suddenly out of words.
***** Gideon/Benedict, Getting Caught (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     A bit of crack.
Prompt: "Number 39 [Getting Caught] with Benedict and Darwin/Gideon," by two
anons, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Is this a broom cupboard?”
“Yes.”
Gideon nodded, hands on Benedict’s shoulders as Benedict kissed a hickey into
his neck. “Thought so. It’s nice.” It was bigger than some of the bedrooms he’d
slept in, and the brooms against one wall were the only indication of what it
was really for.
“Did you expect any less?”
“No.” Gideon rolled his eyes. “Hey, who asked you to stop?”
“You did, when you started talking about brooms, dear.” Benedict’s eyes looked
right through Gideon, which sometimes made him feel nervous, but right now just
made him smile.
“Well, I’ll shut up about the brooms, then.”
“Very good.”
Benedict went back to kissing marks into Gideon’s neck, and Gideon focused on
finding a way to get his hands into Benedict’s overly complicated clothes. He
could tear them open with magic, but that would be a good way to get him kicked
out of the broom cupboard and never invited back. Benedict had trained him
pretty well after the first time.
Finally, just as Gideon managed to get a hand into Benedict’s pants, Benedict
pulled back, satisfied with his mark. “There we go.”
“You want to do anything besides bite me?” Gideon asked, cheeky.
A raised eyebrow. “You object to my attention?”
“No, but we’re on a schedule. Theodore’s only going to buy that we’re heading
his way for so long, and someone never takes a day off to come visit me,”
Gideon reminded Benedict, pulling him closer again. “I’ve got needs here.”
“Of course, dear,” Benedict said, slipping his hand inside Gideon’s pants,
wrapping it around his boner. “Ah, here’s one of them here.”
“Yep, that’s one of them,” Gideon panted, closing his eyes. “Please…”
“You know I can’t say no to you,” Benedict said, stroking him firmly. Another
hand slid into Gideon’s pants, in between his legs, finding his hole. “Should I
multitask?”
“Be my goddamn guest,” Gideon breathed, gasping as Benedict’s fingers entered
him, a small noise escaping his lips. “God…”
“No, only me, Gideon.”
Gideon couldn’t tell the difference at the moment, and he got lost in the
feeling.
Until light shone on them really abruptly, the door to the broom cupboard
opening.
Shit.
Theodore stood there, obviously surprised in a way that Gideon had never seen
him before. “Ah. Well, I suppose now I’ve solved both the mystery of why you
two were taking so long and that of what sounds were coming from this closet.”
Benedict cleared his throat. “Sir. I apologize for…”
“No need, Benedict,” Theodore smiled. “I am your employer, not your owner. My
business with Gideon can wait until you’re done.”
Gideon, for his part, was still hard as nails. “Thanks, Theo. Close the door on
your way out?”
“Of course.” Theodore nodded, stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then
retreated.
Gideon let out a sigh, clenching his legs when Benedict tried to retreat.
“Nope.”
“Gideon.” Benedict sounded almost pained.
“He didn’t fire you, did he? Plus now he knows, so we can take as long as we
want.” Gideon had had a moment there where he was worried that he might have
blown it, that his ability to keep tabs on Theodore would have been compromised
and he’d have had to explain to some very unpleasant people why. But it seemed
fine.
“That is hardly the issue,” Benedict said, quite reasonable. “It is entirely
inappropriate for us to…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gideon leaned forward, kissed Benedict and grabbed him through
his pants. “We’re inappropriate. This guy doesn’t care, does he? Be more like
him, Benny. Get these tight clothes off and let’s see how inappropriate we can
get.”
***** Isaac/Peter, A/B/O (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     I have many thoughts and ideas about A/B/O universes. It's a trope I
     really like, and therefore have opinions on. Here are some opinions,
     and some sex.
Prompt: "Just because I’m interested in how you’ll handle it, A/B/O with Isaac
and Peter," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Isaac was a little bit high, but in a good way, a way that he was used to. It
was hard not to be when he’d been breathing in Peter this whole time, Peter’s
scent filling his nose and convincing something old inside him that this was
good, this was perfect, this was his.
Isaac didn’t think Peter was his and he actively resisted the part of his brain
that wanted him to. But he did like smelling him, especially at the height of
his arousal. And that was made all the easier Peter’s dick was halfway into
Isaac’s mouth and three of Isaac’s fingers were buried in Peter, massaging the
inside of his wet hole, making him moan and writhe on the bed as something old
inside him said that was very, very good and should continue for a lot longer.
Peter wasn’t destined to continue for a lot longer, though, and he half-curled
his torso as he came into Isaac’s mouth with a cry. Isaac had three fingers on
his other hand up his own ass as he sucked Peter, but it was that cry, the
surge of scent that came with it, that had him, with a small rub, nutting
against Peter’s foot as well.
When he’d swallowed all of Peter, he pulled off and looked up at him. Still
flushed bright red, Peter looked down at him, eyes sparkling a little. Isaac
wasn’t the only one who was a bit high. “Better?” he asked.
Peter nodded, panting. “Better. Did you cum on my foot?”
Isaac grinned, removing both his hands from their respective holes and climbing
up Peter as he did, until they were face to face. “Maybe. Marking my territory,
I guess.”
Peter laughed, bumped noses with Isaac. “Loser.”
“You’d have cum on your foot too if you’d smelled what I did,” Isaac told him,
resting his forehead against Peter’s. Their erections were pressed together
like this. “Do you need to go again?”
Peter swallowed, quiet for a second. “Yeah, if you can.”
“I can.” Isaac kissed him, straightened a bit, and reached behind himself,
grabbing Peter in one hand and carefully positioning him. “I love you, you
know?”
“I know,” Peter panted, looking up at Isaac expectantly. “Me too.”
Isaac grinned down, and lowered himself onto Peter’s dick, sighing as he got it
in, farther and farther, until he was properly seated. “There we go.”
“Yeah…”
Isaac put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, looking down at him as he started
moving his hips. They both liked this position best, Isaac because it satisfied
his stupid, outdated, unnecessary, misomegic need to be on top because I’m a
powerful alpha and I will dominate you but still let him be in the fun
position, and Peter because it made him feel comfortable and safe and satisfied
in knowing that it’s okay, he’s in control up there and everything’s the way
it’s supposed to be but not have to worry about getting pregnant.
It worked out okay.
Isaac breathed heavily as he rode Peter, ignoring the light sting because he
hadn’t prepared himself enough and just focusing on making Peter feel good, on
helping Peter through this. Peter was smiling, his eyes closed and sweat
beading on his face as Isaac did all the work, his hands on Isaac’s forearms as
he panted, though about halfway through he moved one hand down, found Isaac’s
erection and started stroking it hard, harder than Isaac was moving on him.
Peter was going to cum first, though, Isaac had decided, and he moved faster,
went deeper, because he wasn’t the one in a heat cycle and could get what he
needed from someone else later easily enough.
Isaac had to hold his everything back to keep from cumming in Peter’s hand, to
the point where it was almost painful, and finally he was rewarded with another
of those cries, and Peter half-sat up, rearing to kiss Isaac as he came inside,
filling Isaac up. Only then did Isaac let himself go, growling a little into
Peter’s mouth as he came, spraying his belly and chest with cum.
Peter collapsed back when he was done, breaking the kiss, and Isaac followed
him gently, not quite laying on him but hovering over him. “Good?”
“Good,” Peter said, taking his hand off Isaac’s dick and running it up his
belly on the way up. He sucked on it. “More territory marking.”
“What can I say, I’m an animal.”
Peter choked a laugh, leaned up to press his forehead against Isaac’s.
“Thanks.”
“Always,” Isaac promised. “You want me to clean you up?”
“Can you? Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Isaac climbed off of Peter gingerly, careful as he pulled Peter
out of him, and stretched as he got off the bed, retrieved the towel and bowl
of cold water he’d put there before coming in. He sat on the bed beside Peter
and gently washed all the cum off his chest, off his dick, all the fluid on his
inner thighs. He even cleaned Peter’s foot off, reluctantly, earning him a
giggle.
He cleaned himself off a bit too, then ran the towel and bowl to the bathroom,
coming back and sitting beside Peter, offering his hand when Peter started
sniffing. “You okay now?”
Peter sniffed the back of Isaac’s hand, settling down, eyes shut. “Yeah.” He
lifted his own hand, and Isaac took it and scented his wrist, giving a kiss as
he did.
“You want me to go?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Isaac told him quietly. He understood why he couldn’t stay,
he always did. “You going to be all right on your own?”
Another nod. “Don’t worry about me. Thomas is going to come over later. We’re
going to watch Serendipity and complain about you.”
Isaac smiled, patted Peter’s hair down. “Okay. Call if you need me to come
back.”
“Don’t want to bug you.”
“Call if you need me to come back,” Isaac repeated.
A chuckle. “Okay.”
“That’s better.” Isaac stood up, cast around for his clothes. His pants were by
the bed, which was convenient, and after he’d slid them on, he picked up his t-
shirt. “You want this?”
Peter cracked open an eye, nodded. Isaac set it down on the nightstand and
Peter snatched it, cuddling it to his chest and sniffing it. “Thank you.”
“Always, Peter,” Isaac reminded him, stealing one of Peter’s shirts as Peter
put his on and nestled back, pulling some of his pillows and blankets closer.
Isaac gave him a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave, so that hormones
wouldn’t make one of them do something stupid. “Always.”
***** Herny/Sam, Dirty Talk (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Some more Henry and Sam stuff.
Prompt: "23 [Dirty Talk] for Henry and Sam? ;)" by an anon, based on this
prompt_list.
---
“You like it, don’t you?” Sam asked, cock buried inside Henry. “You like my
cock inside you, right where you know it belongs.”
Henry just grunted, not saying anything. He’d been letting Sam do all the
talking today. “You don’t care,” Sam panted, ramming into Henry. “You don’t
care where. Your mouth, your ass, you just want it in you, don’t you?”
Henry didn’t answer, and Sam rammed him harder. “Don’t you?” he asked, hand on
the back of Henry’s neck.
Oh, Sam wanted him to talk now. “Yes,” Henry grunted, nodding even if Sam
couldn’t see him. “Yes, I want you inside me, Sam.”
“How badly?”
“Badly,” Henry insisted, grinding his hips back a little, which gave him some
friction against the sheets too. Just giving Sam what he wanted was usually for
the best. “I want it, I want it more than anything. I want to feel you inside
me, you’re so big, you’re so strong, Sam. I want to feel you fill me, feel your
cum run down my legs. I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it for a week.”
Henry figured that would just make Sam laugh, the obvious over-the-top way he’d
said it make him slap Henry and make him be quiet. But instead Sam seemed to
like it. “Oh, you’ll feel it,” he snarled, going harder. He wasn’t really that
strong, so his hardest thrusts didn’t hurt much now that Henry was used to
being violated. “You probably don’t even care that it’s me. You just want cock,
don’t you, you stupid little slut? You’ve probably spread your legs for half
the castle already, haven’t you?”
“Only you,” Henry told him. “You’re the only one I want. The rest of them are
too weak compared to you.” He did not need Sam getting ideas.
A slap on the thigh. “Yeah, right. You’d let a dog fuck you if it showed
interest.”
Henry shook his head. “Your cock is enough for me. It’s my addiction, to you. I
want to taste you, to feel you, to have you dominate me, hurt me. I want you to
cum inside me, your Majesty.”
Sam gave a surprised grunt and did just that, filling Henry with heat. Knowing
Sam wouldn’t, Henry reached down and jerked himself off, the last few strokes
he needed to do the same, making a mess on the bed that he’d have to sleep in,
but whatever.
Sam pulled out as soon as he was done shooting, lay down beside Henry, panting
up at the ceiling. He was sweating from head to toe, flushed with heat. “You’re
such a whore,” Sam muttered, eyes shut.
“Yeah well, whose idea was that?” Henry asked, rolling over so at least he
wasn’t laying in his wet spot. He put his arm around Sam.
“Careful,” Sam warned. “Or I’ll start taking you seriously. There are more than
a few guys who’d fuck you if I told them to. Their dogs too.”
Henry rolled his eyes. He was afraid of Sam, he was. But more and more he was
seeing how empty his threats really were. “You don’t share.”
“No,” Sam said, moving in closer to Henry. “You’re right, I don’t. You’re
mine.”
“That’s right.”
“My dirty little slut.”
“Yep.”
Henry wondered what it said about him that it was so easy to agree to that.
***** Todd/Sam, Mistaken Identity (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     There ended up being a lot of Todd requests this time around, and so
     far none ended up well. Just talk in this one, though.
Prompt: "I feel like #59 [Mistaken Identity] with Sam mistaking Todd for Henry
would be really funny," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
The minute the door to his Majesty’s rooms opened, Todd went still.
He couldn’t help it, he was afraid. King Sam was terrifying, And he knew
better, because he knew that lurking quietly in a room when the king couldn’t
see him was a bad idea that was likely to get him hurt. And as much as he said
that to himself, it didn’t matter, because the part of his brain that was a
mouse wanted the king not to notice him, no matter what. Besides, Henry would
be with him, and Henry would see him. So it wasn’t like Todd was hiding.
Henry wasn’t with the king. “Henry,” King Sam said as he came in, making a
vague gesture towards where he must have thought Henry was. Todd most have
shuffled his feet or something, or maybe the king really did use his magic to
know where people were. Either way, he moved his hand, pointing at Todd. “Get
on the bed.”
The blood drained out of Todd’s face. He could already feel what was about to
happen all through his body, and he wanted to puke.
He wished Derek were here.
“Now,” King Sam continued. “I’m tired, and my shoulders hurt from sitting all
day. I want you to fuck me and then I’m going to have a bath, and then bed.
Might get you to fuck me again after. I want sex and I don’t want to do any of
the goddamn work, so I’m going to lay on my back and you’re going to put
yourself to good use, got it/”
Todd’s eyes were widening so much he thought it must be audible. He…hadn’t
expected to hear…any of that.
If repeating it wouldn’t be a death sentence, Todd would love to be the one to
tell people that King Sam really was bottoming for his bodyguard.
“Now,” the king demanded, snapping his fingers. “Come on. I shouldn’t have to
tell you that this is me asking nicely. I’ll even lay on my front if you want,
you can pretend you’re a big strong man or whatever you want.”
Todd didn’t move, knowing that if he did he’d be torn apart.
“Henry.”
“I’m sorry!” Todd squeaked, because he felt a buzz run through the room. “I’m
sorry, your Majesty. It’s me. Henry’s not here. P-please don’t kill me, I swear
I didn’t…”
The silence that fell on the room was the coldest thing Todd had ever felt in
his life, and snapped his mouth shut. The furniture shook for a moment and a
sensation like a million ants ran over his skin.
King Sam let out a breath, pointed at the door. “Go find Henry and tell him to
come here.”
“I’m…”
“Don’t talk.”
Todd swallowed, hurried for the door.
“Todd.”
Todd froze, eyes shut, a whimper escaping his lips.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that silence is a valued trait in servants.
If it’s not a trait you have, I will make sure you live a very, very long life.
Got it?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Todd said, voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t even hear
you. I wasn’t listening. I…”
“Go before I strangle you with your own skin.”
Todd ran.
***** Frederick, Masturbation (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a kid innocently touching himself.
Prompt: "I want to be on team "I'm horrible but" too! Can we have 56
[Masturbation] with Frederick? He must overhear Franz and Boey sometimes,
right?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
The walls here were thick, but not thick enough. Walls between a master and his
servant shouldn’t be too thick, because Frederick needed to be able to hear if
Prince Franz suddenly needed help in the night or something, so he wasn’t
surprised.
Also, there was a gap in the wall for a spy to slide into, which made it easier
for sound to carry through the wall. Boey had helped Frederick close up the
pathway, but the gap was still there.
There were times when Frederick wished that the walls were just a bit thicker.
He’d take not hearing Prince Franz be assassinated in the night as the trade-
off if he could hear less of other things.
He was grateful for everything they’d done for him, but it was easier to forget
that when it was Boey’s turn to be on top. Fredrick’s prince was very loud. He
was happy that they loved each other and that they were together and everything
like that, he really was. He just wished they could do it quietly.
Not even because they kept him awake, but because hearing what they were doing,
how much they liked it, all but forced Frederick to picture it and wonder and
think and that kept him…up.
Totally undressed, Frederick touched himself with both hands wrapped around,
eyes squeezed shut as he tried to think of something that wasn’t what his
master was doing in the next room over.
He tried to think of Abby, the girl he liked in the stables, but he felt funny
imagining her naked and he ended up picturing Silas instead, who at least he’d
seen without his clothes before. Maybe if Silas got better they could do this
together.
He was very practical, and he knew that the easiest way to help his excitable
tenant downstairs calm down was to let him have what he wanted rather than
fighting. It was a fight Frederick had always lost in the past and didn’t
expect to start winning.
So he did this, panting and writhing on the bed as he pulled on his dick,
muscles clenching as he started to get closer to the good part. He was getting
closer and closer, and then Frederick heard his prince give a particularly loud
shout and Frederick yelped in surprise as he came earlier than he thought,
squirting some fluid onto his belly.
He collapsed backwards, panting and annoyed with himself. He usually tried to
catch the mess in some dirty laundry so it didn’t get on him and make him
sticky. But whatever, he thought, cleaning himself up with his discarded shirt.
He’d have a bath tomorrow anyway, maybe.
Frederick carefully tossed the dirty shirt into the laundry basket so he didn’t
have to get up, and he lay back down, staring at the ceiling. They’d quieted
down in the other room, but it was probably only temporary. But that was okay.
Frederick’s little friend was sated, so he could probably sleep now.
He wondered if someone would make him yell like that someday.
***** Isaac, Masturbation (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Also just masturbation in this one, but with a guest appearance by
     Isaac's vivid imagination and a historical figure.
Prompt: You know what, I have a request. Can you do a masturbation one with a
boy of your choice? Write a nice scene of self love you've been wanting to
write," by Gamerkun0525, based on this_prompt_list.
---
The only thing Isaac didn’t like about history was that sometimes he had to
acknowledge that it existed and learn about it.
He was studying in the library for once, because he’d had the brilliant idea
that he’d try to read some stuff in books there to help him remember what he’d
learned in class. All that really meant was that he’d been sitting in an
uncomfortable chair at a small table on the back wall of the second floor for a
long time and his butt hurt.
Nobody was around at the moment, which sucked, because it meant he couldn’t go
talk to someone as an excuse not to read about Queen Meredith the Trader, who’d
brokered a peace treaty between the kingdom of Dolovai and the kingdom of
Porean, which didn’t exist anymore but had used to be up north with White Cape
as its capital.
That, at least, was legitimately interesting. Isaac had learned that if he’d
been born a thousand years ago, he’d have lived in a country called Dallarjon,
which had been conquered after its last king had decided to make the whole
military go armourless to intimidate their foes, which had resulted in them
being slaughtered.
Isaac turned the page, and there was a picture of stupid King Otto who hadn’t
understood how war worked.
He was pretty cute, actually. It was just a drawing, but he was about Isaac’s
age, maybe a bit older, and Isaac used his imagination a little. He had a
dimple on his chin and hair that fell into his eyes and his crown was on
crooked, and Isaac knew it was because the book was trying to make him look
dumb but he seemed really sweet from the picture. He could picture King Otto
fretting about how to win the war his grandmother had started with Dolovai and
its allies, deciding to try a last-ditch plan to intimidate them into
submission and sending his army out naked.
The book didn’t say they’d gone out naked, but Isaac filled in the blanks.
Holding the book in one hand, Isaac reached into his pants with the other and
grabbed his hard-on, picturing King Otto telling his army to disrobe, and them
loyally doing as he’d said, stripping to a man and standing at full attention
for their liege.
Maybe some of them had practice at that, Isaac thought. Maybe King Otto had
needed comforting before then, nice, strong soldiers in his bedroom to make him
feel safe in a world at war. A new group of five or six soldiers every night,
staying in his bedroom to keep him safe, taking turns staying inside him until
he fell asleep.
It was how Isaac would arouse loyalty and fellowship if he were a king.
One soldier in his mouth, one in his ass, Isaac thought as he jerked himself
faster. Maybe two if he was flexible enough, which he probably was, he was a
king and he’d had lots of practice. He could probably outpace five guys a night
at that rate, and he had a lot of soldiers, so probably more. Ten, or even
fifteen loyal fighters waiting to serve their king. And not to mention the
king’s policy before every battle to motivate his naked soldiers by laying
outside and spreading his legs for anyone who…
Isaac came with a quiet grunt, filling the front of his pants. When he was done
he sighed, pulled his hand out and wiped it on his pantleg. Study break was
over. He wrote “King Otto—naked soldiers” in his notes and looked back at the
history book, which had unfortunately left out all the good parts.
Fortunately Isaac had an active imagination.
***** Owen/Gavin, Hand Jobs and Relaxation (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     This one's pretty lovey-dovey honestly.
Prompt: I don't know if this is a cop-out for the kink prompt, but can I just
request something happy with Gavin and Owen? Whatever kink you want/is easiest
for you to write, but just something wholesome," by Sandofthemountain, based on
this_prompt_list.
---
Not a cop-out at all, friend, here you go. Them being nice and wholesome and
happy.
From this list (I went with 42. Hand jobs, but mostly it’s just them being
love-dovey)
Owen let out a content sound as he sank into the hot bath. He’d never
appreciated having his own private bathtub until he’d started spending his days
sparring with knights. He looked forward to this every day when he came back.
“Feels good?” Gavin asked, slipping into the water beside him. “Yikes, this is
hot, you psycho.”
“Good for the muscles,” Owen told Gavin. Of course it was actually Gavin’s own
private bathtub that Owen was just lucky enough to have access to. But that was
close enough.
“Not really.”
“Whatever, it feels nice,” Owen sidled up to Gavin, put an arm around him.
Gavin rested his head on Owen’s shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Boring. I had to sit and listen to my father hear petitions most of the day.
How was yours?”
Owen smiled. “I got beat up fourteen times.”
“So good, then?”
“Yeah.” Owen nodded. “And now I’m here in a bath with my perfect fiancé, so
it’s even better. I’d go so far as to say perfect.”
Gavin laughed, moving closer to Owen. “Yeah? You know that perfect means it
can’t get any better, right?”
“I do know what perfect means.”
“Hm.” Gavin’s hand was in Owen’s lap now, wrapping around his soft cock. “You
don’t think this can get better?”
Ah. “Well, I guess it can, now that you say that.” Owen reached across with his
free arm and did the same for Gavin, leaning into him.
“Had a feeling that would be your opinion,” Gavin said, squeezing as Owen got
hard. He did the same under Owen’s careful hand. “Missed you today.”
“I missed you today too,” Owen told him, kissing Gavin’s temple.
“Remember when it just used to be the two of us, all the time?” Gavin asked,
breathing a little harder, red in the face from the bath and from Owen’s hand.
Owen nodded, suppressing a low sound. “Yeah, I remember. It was…I liked it.”
“I did too.”
“I like every minute I spend with you,” Owen continued. “Every one of them is
precious to me.”
Gavin swallowed, giving Owen a good squeeze. “The world is just…brighter when
you’re around,” he panted, breath stuttering.
“I love you,” Owen whispered.
“I love you too,” Gavin whispered back.
They came together, a quiet rush of panting, water sloshing, leaning into each
other. They sat there beside each other for a time, just breathing. And Owen
kissed Gavin on the mouth. “You were right,” he said. “It could get better.”
“Now it can’t,” Gavin smiled up at him. “Now it’s perfect.”
Owen gave Gavin another kiss. “All it needed to be perfect was you.”
“And you.”
“Both of us, then. Together.”
***** Nate/Pax, Body Worship (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Right what it says on the tin. Pax's self-esteem issues tend to
     encourage Nate to do stuff like this.
Prompt: "Can we please get Pax and Nate body worship they're good boys," by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Nate started with Pax’s hands.
He held one hand, kissed the individual fingers, the back of it, the palm. “I
love these,” he whispered, moving over to the other hand and doing the same. “I
love how fast and nimble they are, and how they move when you talk.”
With Pax squirming a little underneath him, he moved up to the forearms. “I
love your arms,” Nate said, kissing his way up one, down the other. “I love how
strong they are. Up here too,” he added, moving up to the higher part of the
arm, above the elbow. “So strong, so thick.”
“And here, I love these,” Nate continued, kissing along Pax’s shoulders.
“Always carrying the weight of the world on them. And this.” He kissed Pax’s
neck, his windpipe. “Important, helps me hear your voice.”
“Nate,” Pax whispered, but Nate just smiled up at him, and moved down to Pax’s
chest. “I love this,” he said, kissing across it, up and down, each nipple.
“Broad and thick.” Pax was going to be a barrel when he was older, but Nate
didn’t say that and moved down to his belly. “And this, nice and soft.”
“Nate,” Pax grumbled.
“It’s a good thing,” Nate said, giving Pax a kiss on his bellybutton and
squeezing the extra flesh a bit. “I like that parts of you are soft.”
Pax’s thighs were soft too, and Nate squeezed one, than the other, still
jerking Pax off as he kissed his way down. “I love these,” he said. “Look how
powerful they are. You could probably kill someone with these. And then…” He
moved down, kissing Pax’s shins one at a time. “You swam back to me with these.
These legs carried you all the way back to me, Pax. I love them for that.”
Pax stifled something that might have been a laugh. “Other parts of me helped.”
“And I love all of them. Feet included,” Nate said, kissing those, and giving
one a lick that had Pax giggling. Then he moved back up. “Oh, I missed a part.”
“I…noticed,” Pax muttered, still squirming a bit.
Nate kissed Pax’s balls, pulled up tight. “Love this part,” he said, “and this
one.” He kissed up the shaft, around his hand, and got to the top. “And this
one too.” Nate slid his hand down, took Pax into his mouth, sucked.
He only had to do that for a few seconds. All this time jerking Pax off had
gotten him close, and pretty quickly he was shooting into Nate’s mouth with a
strangled cry.
Nate swallowed it all with a smile, pulled off. “Definitely love this part.
Easily my second favourite part of you.”
“S-second favourite?”
Nate nodded, and crawled up Pax’s body. He kissed Pax’s forehead. “Love your
big brain,” he said, breathing lightly on Pax’s face. “Love your beautiful
eyes,” he said, kissing those too. “Your cute little nose, your happy cheeks,
your sticking out ears.” Every part of Pax got a kiss.
Then he kissed Pax on the lips. “But this is my favourite part.”
“Really?” Pax whispered.
“Really,” Nate said, nodding. “It’s why I fell in love with you.”
“Nate…” Pax was bright red from all this, and Nate liked him that way.
Nate just kissed him again, determined to keep going until Pax was convinced.
***** Theodore/Pax, Wet Dream (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Obviously crack, but hey, it's a dream. Could have happened. Bear in
     mind that Theodore's a slave owner and a child molester, so his sex
     dreams will include those things.
Prompt: "#100 [Wet Dream] perhaps Theodore having a - Ahem - smutty dream about
Pax" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“I saw you looking at me,” Pascal said, smiling at Theodore from the window,
where he was crouched.
Theodore was sitting, alone in his big bed, waiting. “I saw the way you looked
back,” he said.
Pascal cocked a grin, slid into the room. By the time he got to the bed he’d
lost his shirt, leaving himself in just his tight pants as he crawled over to
Theodore. He moved with a fluid grace that Theodore envied. “You want this,
right?” Pascal asked, the red stone flickering in his fingers.
“I do.” Theodore watched it move between his fingers, disappearing sometimes.
He was very skilled.
“Hm.” Pascal grinned again, climbed on top of Theodore, straddled him. And he
put the stone in his mouth. “Come get it.”
Theodore did, leaning in to kiss Pascal deeply, arms going around the young
man, enjoying his weight on him. There was no stone in his mouth, but Theodore
hardly cared about that when he had such a wonderful replacement.
They fell back onto the bed, Pascal on top of Theodore, hands all over each
other. Theodore was hard and aching when Pascal let him go, smiled down at him.
“Do you like me?”
Theodore smiled. “You’re a little old for me.” He wasn’t sure why he said that
when he wanted to say yes.
A nod. “You’re a little young for me.” Pascal stroked his face. “But we’ll make
do.”
Confused, Theodore looked down at himself, saw a boy instead of a man. A boy’s
body, one he hadn’t had in a long time.
He looked back up at Pascal, saw him smiling there. A collar was in his hand.
He reached down, clipped the collar around Theodore’s neck. It hung there, warm
and comfortable, making Theodore feel like he was safe. “There we go, that’s
better. Come on, Theo, let’s make you happy.”
Theodore nodded, wanting more than anything for that to happen, and Pascal was
inside him, thrusting, pushing, warmth spreading through Theodore as he was
carried off, filled and made whole and…
“Cum for me, Theo?”
Theodore woke up with a start and a wet spot on the bedsheets. That had
been…unusual.
Fortunately he didn’t seem to have woken up Daniel, who had rolled away from
him in the night again. Shaking his head, Theodore moved away from the wet
spot, took Daniel into his arms and closed his eyes. He barely even remembered
the dream.
***** Ron/Owen, Underage (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Two young kids learning what boners do. They're cousins, but they
     don't touch each other and it's all innocent.
Prompt: "Can we have 95 with Owen and Ron? I've been wondering ever since Ron
brought it up XD," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Come on, come on!”
“Okay, I’m coming, God.” Ron followed after Owen at the fastest pace he could
muster, which was faster than he’d like because Owen was pulling on his wrist
and dragging him through the woods. It was all Ron could do to stay on his
feet. “This better be good, Owen!”
Owen dragging him into the woods always ended with one or both of them getting
in trouble.
“It’s awesome, I promise!” Owen said, though last time he’d said that it had
been an angry cat that had chased them.
Still, Ron went along with it, letting Owen drag him all the way to the big
standing stones before going left and taking them to the riverbank, where the
water gurgled. “Okay!” Owen declared, looking around and nodding. “Here.”
“What’s here?” Ron looked around. They didn’t come here a lot, because it was
far away and also there was nothing here that wasn’t everywhere else.
“We are,” Owen said, grinning like an idiot. He always grinned like an idiot,
it was just his face.
Owen started taking off his shirt.
“Um. Are we swimming?” Ron thought that was a bad idea. They should swim closer
to the village.
“Nope. Well, maybe later. Come on, take off your clothes!”
“But…” Ron was already taking off his shirt too. “Why?”
“Because I said so, dummy,” Owen was done stripping like that, and stood there
naked, waiting for Ron to finish.
Ron just sighed and did as Owen told him, because Owen wasn’t going to tell him
anything until Ron did what he wanted. His cousin was a little demanding. So he
took the rest of his clothes off, kicked them aside to join Owen’s in a pile,
and stood there. “Now what?”
“Now I’ll show you what I found out. Sit down.” Owen sat as well, and he
started tugging on his dick.
“What…are you doing?” Ron asked, shivering a little as his bottom hit the damp
ground.
“You know how sometimes it gets hard? I found of something cool you can do with
it. Come on, make yours hard too, I’ll show you.”
Ron had a bad feeling about this, but he tugged on his own dick too until he
was hard like Owen, who was sitting there patiently waiting for him. When he
was ready, Owen grinned that grin again. “Okay, do what I do.”
“Okay.”
Owen just did the same thing he’d been doing before, tugging on his dick, hand
wrapped around it in a fist. Frowning, Ron did the same. He trusted Owen, even
if Owen was an idiot. “What are we doing?”
“Just keep doing it. Trust me, it’s awesome in a minute.”
Ron kept doing what he was doing, watching Owen with his frown in place. After
a good minute or so, he started to feel a bit funny, then a lot funny, and he
took his hand off his dick.
“No, no, no, keep going,” Owen panted, flushed in the face. “Keep going, Ron.
Trust me.”
“But it’s weird.”
“I know, but trust me,” Owen said, emphasizing that part this time. His hand
didn’t stop the whole time.
Ron sighed, put his hand back on his sensitive dick and kept moving it, trying
to ignore the funny feeling as he went.
Suddenly Owen made a weird noise, doubled over a little, and lay down on the
ground. “Owen!” Ron asked, getting closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” Owen was smiling differently now, like he’d just had a good supper.
“Keep doing it, Ron, come on…”
Ron watched Owen, who seemed happy and wasn’t touching himself anymore. Maybe
that meant if he kept doing it, he’d be…
Ron did as Owen told him, and sure enough, a minute later he got hit by
something that seized him in his belly, knocked him on his back and left him
not breathing for a second while it ran through him. It was the best thing he’d
ever felt.
“Oh…” Ron said, when it was over, staring up at the sky. “Wow.”
“Yeah?” Owen appeared over him, grinning. “Told you.”
Ron’s dick was tingling. “You were right,” Ron said, even though he hated
saying that. “It was awesome.”
“Let’s go swimming for a bit and then we can do it again!” Owen said, pulling
Ron to his feet and dragging him to the water. “Come on!”
Like always, Ron went where Owen pulled him.
***** Simon/Daniel, Handjob (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     One sad slave boy helping another one sleep.
Prompt: "I want Daniel and Simon to have something nice. Could you write them
having nice handjobs or something?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Simon wasn’t a baby. He’d never needed someone to sleep with, not since he’d
been little.
But since he’d been…sold, and bought, and brought here, to this house, to this
person, Simon had been having trouble sleeping. And he’d found that sleeping
with Daniel helped, a little.
Daniel was nice. Hugh and Marcus had warned Simon that he might not be, but he
really was. He was like a big brother, or at least like what Simon thought a
big brother should be. He treated Simon the way that Simon hoped he treated his
own sister.
He wasn’t Simon’s brother, but having him here made it easier. Easier to live,
easier to know this was happening for a good reason. Easier to be brave. Easier
to sleep.
Especially to sleep. Daniel slept a lot, so Simon wasn’t ever worried that he’d
wake up and find Daniel not there. It was comforting. It was nice.
Until Simon had a really weird dream about swimming in the ocean and a mermaid
he met there, and woke up with a boner, curled up against Daniel’s leg.
Swallowing, Simon carefully rolled over, hoping he couldn’t wake Daniel up.
That would be too embarrassing. He’d never be able to look Daniel in the eye
again.
Fortunately he pulled it off, and he let out a relieved breath.
Of course, he couldn’t do anything about this. Simon couldn’t touch himself in
a room with five other people in it. Maybe if he were at home, if they were all
his friends, he would be more brave. But not here, he couldn’t do it. There was
no privacy in this room at all.
So he just suffered through it, laying there and trying to go back to sleep,
not able to get comfortable, fidgeting as a result.
After a while, Daniel rolled over, put his arm around Simon’s midsection, held
him in place. “Settle down,” he muttered sleepily. “You’re okay.”
“Sorry…” Simon whispered, going still. He was going to die.
“Mm.” Daniel shifted, his arm moving a bit lower. It hit the tip of Simon’s
boner and stopped. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s…sorry.” Daniel had just apologized to him, but it was Simon’s fault.
“Normal thing,” Daniel said, sounding more awake now. “You want to do something
with it? I can let you go?”
“No, I’ll…I’ll be okay.”
Daniel sighed. “You can’t sleep with it, can you? That’s why you’re moving so
much.”
Daniel was really smart. Simon had already noticed that a few times, but there
it was again. Or maybe he just knew what being a boy was like. “I’m trying not
to, I just…”
“Yeah,” Daniel whispered. “Do you want me to help?”
Simon tensed a little, but…he did. “Please?” He could be brave if Daniel did it
for him. And Simon wasn’t a total stranger to friends helping each other out.
He’d done this once or twice with his buddies at home.
“Sure,” Daniel said. He reached down a little, found Simon’s dick and started
to stroke it without hesitation. “Let me know if you don’t like it.”
“I will.” Simon liked it, a lot. He was having to bite his tongue to keep
quiet. Daniel stroked him quickly, not too hard but enough to show that he
wasn’t taking his time. He probably wanted to go back to sleep, Simon figured.
He was pressed up against Simon, and he wasn’t even hard.
“D-do you want me to do you too?”
Daniel shook his head behind Simon. “I’m okay. Next time, okay?”
“Y-yeah…” Simon swallowed, then gulped in a breath. “I’m going to…I’m…”
It was pretty obvious what he was going to do, and Simon spasmed as it hit him,
a fire that seared through his body and made him whimper out loud as he came.
When he was done, Daniel carefully let him go, wiped his hand on the blanket
and wrapped his arm around Simon’s midsection again. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Simon confirmed, his erection abating. Nobody else had even woken up.
“Thank you.”
“Just ask if you need me to do it again, okay?” Daniel asked. “I know you’re
not afraid.”
Simon nodded, even though he was afraid of a lot of things. “Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Simon,” Daniel said, voice already drifting.
It took Simon a few extra minutes, but he fell asleep again too, feeling safe.
He dreamt normal dreams this time.
***** Nicholas/Isaac, First Time (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Nothing objectionable here, just a blowjob.
Prompt: "Can you do Isaac and Nicholas’s first time with each other in the
modern AU?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“You’re such a pain in the ass, and not…”
“And not even in the way that you like,” Nicholas interrupted, rolling his
eyes. “I know. Your jokes are as predictable as the rest of you.”
Isaac bristled. “At least I have a sense of humour,” he grumbled.
Nicholas didn’t even remember what they were arguing about anymore. Probably
the same thing they’d been arguing about since they’d met. At this point,
arguing with Isaac was just what their relationship was. He actually kind of
looked forward to it.
“Just because I don’t joke about my dick every ten minutes don’t mean I don’t
have a sense of humour,” Nicholas told Isaac. He was so single-minded.
“Maybe, but if you did something with your dick other than ignore it you’d be a
lot less uptight,” Isaac thought back.
“Oh, you think that, do you?” Nicholas asked, not sure why.
“Yeah, I know that. Experience.”
“Prove it.”
Hold on. What had Nicholas just said? He’d been going with the flow of the
argument, not really thinking his comments through. Maybe letting something
other than his brain talk.
Oh, God, he was spending too much time with Isaac.
And part of Nicholas thought suddenly that might no be a bad thing. The part of
him that was receiving a lot of blood flow suddenly.
Isaac stopped short, looked at him. “Careful,” he warned. “I’ll take you
seriously.”
Nicholas took a breath, seeing the opportunity Isaac was offering him to back
away. “Maybe you should.”
Isaac smirked, grabbed Nicholas’s tie and dragged him around the corner of the
nearest building, pushing him against a wall. “Alright, then.”
Nicholas looked around, nervous about being outside, but he also kind of liked
being outside and as much as he and Isaac didn’t always see eye-to-eye, he knew
that Isaac knew a lot about being safe, so it was probably fine.
That was definitely not Nicholas’s dick talking, no sir.
Isaac grabbed him through his pants, obviously liking what he found there.
“Little distracted, Nikky?”
“Just…do it,” Nicholas said, trying not to blush. It wasn’t a big deal, he told
himself. People did this all the time. And he’d decided a long time ago that he
wanted his first time to be with someone who knew what they were doing.
“Bossy,” Isaac touched his nose. But he dropped to his knees, undoing
Nicholas’s belt and fishing his dick out of his underwear once the zipper was
open on his pants. “You’re lucky I’ve been wanting a taste of this, or I’d
leave you hanging.”
Nicholas looked down at Isaac, shuddering a little already at the feeling of
Isaac’s hand on him, and wondered why he’d never done this before.
Another smile, and Isaac fished into his pocket, came out with a condom that he
opened with his teeth. Nicholas watched in fascination and Isaac pinched the
tip, put it against his dick and slid it on, covering Nicholas in an instant.
“There, now you’re all dressed for the occasion. Second thoughts?”
“Nope,” Nicholas insisted, swallowing.
“Okay.” Isaac pressed Nicholas’s hips against the building, and he put his
mouth over Nicholas’s dick, and it was amazing, and Nicholas was going to die.
He was pretty sure of that. This was what dying felt like. It was warm and hard
and brilliant and it smelled like sweat. Nicholas had his hands in Isaac’s
hair, and Isaac was sucking hard on him, hands keeping Nicholas in place and
also standing up, which his knees badly wanted not to be. They were outside,
Nicholas remembered, trying to be quiet, but it was hard, it was really, really
hard…
Nicholas swallowed out a cry as he came, filling the condom in Isaac’s mouth,
bending over as he tried to fall or implode, he wasn’t sure. That went on for a
decade or so, and when it was done, Nicholas slumped, panting, eyes closed,
pointed at the sky.
Isaac pulled off him, stood up. He patted on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Feeling less
uptight?”
Nicholas opened his eyes, trying to breathe normally. “No,” he panted. “Wasn’t
all it was cracked up to be.”
Isaac snorted. “So you don’t want to do it again?”
“I didn’t say that.” Honestly, there was no reason for Isaac to overreact.
Nicholas wanted to do it again all the time, though he’d settle for eight times
a day.
“I thought so.” Isaac smiled, and he reached down, grabbed Nicholas’s dick. The
condom was slid off, and Nicholas watched Isaac tie it. Made sense. “You want
it again, come ask me politely,” he said, grabbing Nicholas’s hand, depositing
the condom in it, and kissing him on the cheek. “Get rid of that, will you?”
And Isaac sauntered off, swaying his hips a little in a way that Nicholas
couldn’t help but watch, leaving Nicholas leaning against a wall, out of
breath, half-soft dick in the air, holding a used condom.
Something else to look forward to along with their arguments.
***** Oliver/Yancy, Schoolboy/Teacher Kink (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Obviously very crack-ish, and involving a teacher/student dynamic. I
     picture it as a role play, but that is also their actual relationship
     (minus the sex) in the story, so read it how you will.
Prompt: "I do believe that number 78 with Yancy and Oliver would be hilarious.
Alas, I let you be the judge of that. xD," by an anon, based on this_prompt
list.
---
Oliver’s knock was immediately answered. “Come on,” the gruff voice of his
teacher called out.
Confident, smiling, Oliver opened the door, shut it behind him. “Sir?”
“Yes, Oliver,” Yancy said, looking up from his work. He nodded at the chair in
front of his desk, which Oliver sat in. He didn’t seem to notice that Oliver
had dressed for him, in his tightest shirt and shortest shorts, no
smallclothes. “What can I do for you, lad?”
Oliver crossed his legs, leaned forward with a bit of a pout on his face. “I
didn’t do very well on the last test, professor. I was wondering if there
was…anything I could do to make up the points? Maybe an…oral exam?”
“Hm…” Yancy gave Oliver that same gruff expression he always did, and waved a
hand. “Come here.”
Oliver hopped up, grinning from ear to ear as he made his way around Yancy’s
desk, moving in between the desk and his professor, preparing to slide down in
between Yancy’s legs like he always did.
Yancy grabbed his arm, kept him standing. “No.”
“I’m…sir?”
Yancy smiled. He stood up from his chair, face an inch from Oliver’s. “I said
no, lad. I’m tired of you coming in here and thinking you can just suck your
way out not studying for my class. It’s disrespectful and I won’t tolerate it
anymore.”
Oliver stared, wide-eyed at Yancy. “Sir…I…”
Yancy smiled. “If you want a better grade, you’ll have to work for it from now
on. Turn around and pull down those obscene little shorts of yours.”
“Yes, professor,” Oliver said, hastening to do as he was told. He found his
face burning when he exposed his ass to his teacher, who stroked it.
“No smallclothes, hm? Makes things easier.” There was silence for a moment.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” Oliver asked, nerves showing. Maybe Yancy was
going to spank him. Oliver was already hard thinking about it.
In answer, a wet finger prodded Oliver’s hole suddenly, followed by another,
and both pushed in right away. Oliver groaned in discomfort as he was
penetrated. “I’m going to show you how easy you’ve been having it until now,”
Yancy told him, sounding distracted. “This is what it takes to get a better
mark in my class. If you expect that better mark, the only thing I want to hear
you say until I’m finished is ‘yes, professor,’ understand?”
“Y-yes, professor,” Oliver repeated, nodding.
“Good lad.” Yancy added another finger and kept going with those for a minute
before pulling them out just as Oliver had gotten used to the sensation. Then
something else pressed against his hole. “Ready?”
“Yes, professor.” Oliver may not have planned this, but he definitely wasn’t
complaining about the direction it was taking.
Yancy pushed inside, and Oliver was filled by his teacher, whinging as he was.
“Do you like that?” Yancy asked when he was about halfway in, leaning into
Oliver to whisper in his ear.
“Yes, professor,” Oliver recited, nodding. He did like it. It made him feel
naughty, doing this with his teacher.
Yancy started pushing hard, pulling out and thrusting in, hands on Oliver’s
hips to keep him in place. “Must easier to have just studied,” he said as he
moved.
Oliver didn’t agree. He didn’t say anything.
“Hm,” Yancy snorted. “I had a feeling you’d be of that opinion, lad. You always
were the contrary sort.”
“Yes, professor,” Oliver agreed. He did like to cause trouble for his teachers.
Yancy fell quiet again, the room filled with grunts and the creak of the desk
and the slap of flesh, until a moment later when Yancy gripped him tightly.
“Hold still, Oliver.”
“Yes, professor…” Oliver knew what was coming, and sure enough, with a groan,
his teacher came inside him, shooting hot seed into his hole. Oliver was about
to cum too, he was just one movement, one twitch away and he’d…
Yancy pulled out, patting Oliver on the back. “You liked that?”
“Y-yes, professor…” Oliver swallowed. He’d chance it. “But…”
“But?” Yancy looked down. “Ah. You wanted to climax as well, did you?”
“Yes, professor. Please?”
Yancy smiled. “From now on, you’ll come here two times a day for tutoring. I’m
afraid it’s the only way you’ll pass the class. Understand?” Oliver heard a
drawer open.
“Yes, professor, I understand,” Oliver said, mind going crazy trying to figure
out what was happening, but he didn’t need to be told to know not to turn
around. This, two times a day? Oliver could handle that. He might even request
extra sessions. As long as he got to cum.
A moment later something was stuck inside him, polished wood, felt like. “Can’t
have you leaking. If you’d like an orgasm of your own, sit down and let’s talk
about the Unification Treaties. Convince me you’ve been paying attention in my
class, and you’ll enjoy the next time a lot more.”
Oliver’s eyes went wide. He didn’t remember anything about the Unification
Treaties. He’d been doodling during that lecture. Those four lectures. But he
bit his lip, pulled up his too-tight shorts and moved back to the visitor’s
chair, gingerly sitting down and preparing for the worst hour of his life.
“Yes, professor.”
***** Sully/Cal/Joey, Spitroasting (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Just some good old spitroasting between people who aren't dating.
Prompt: "Could we get 91 [Spitroasting] with Joey and Cal working out their
stress on Sully (consentually!)?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Sully reminded himself that he’d asked for this. Well, he hadn’t suggested it,
but he’d said yes. It wasn’t a bad idea, they all had their stress to work out.
He kind of thought that maybe Joey could have put a warning on his pants before
taking them off, because Sully might have agreed a little more slowly if he’d
seen the size of that thing before agreeing to put it in his mouth.
At least Cal, lining up against Sully’s asshole, was a normal size.
“You ready?” Cal asked from behind.
Sully snorted, projecting confidence. “Yeah, yeah. Just do it.” He opened his
mouth, inviting Joey to slide his dick in there. He was a very powerful and
experienced demon. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by some stupid dragon
whose body hadn’t figured out proportions.
Joey took his invitation, sliding his head past Sully’s lips and beyond,
feeding Sully more and more of himself. Behind him Cal pushed in much more
quickly, and his hips were smacking against Sully’s before Joey had even hit
the halfway mark.
“Doing a good job,” Cal grunted, as he started thrusting. Sully tried to focus
on that, but he couldn’t take his attention away from his mouth. “Got
experience, Sully?”
Sully so badly wanted to tell Cal to shut up.
Joey stopped him from doing that, pushing more and more in until he hit the
back of Sully’s throat. Sully tried to relax but couldn’t, a least not right
away. “That’s okay,” Joey whispered, patting Sully’s head. “You took a lot of
it.”
Sully was going to kill him. Joey was going to get murdered in his sleep, and
that patronizing tone was the reason why.
Joey pulled back and started to thrust in, gently so as not to choke Sully,
finding a rhythm with Cal after a minute. The two of them rocked him back and
forth as they fucked each end of him, Cal holding Sully’s hips and Joey his
head. Sully focused on trying to relax his everything, but especially his
throat, to make this easier for all of them.
He managed it all at once and he was just as surprised as Joey when with one
thrust, Joey slid all the way into his throat, stopping when his balls hit
Sully’s chin. Sully allowed himself a moment of triumph at Joey’s surprised
sound.
But then Joey picked up his thrusts again, fucking Sully’s throat now, and some
signal passed between the two of them to go faster, harder, to really go to
town on Sully in a way that had him focusing very hard on breathing through his
nose.
As he got used to that, though, Sully realized that his focus on the front had
distracted him from something else. Cal was really good at whatever he was
doing back there, and as soon as he realized that, Sully went tense, starting
to feel himself getting close to an orgasm. Cal noticed and started going
faster, somehow aiming his thrusts right at Sully’s prostate, and a second
later Sully was moaning around Joey as he came, shooting onto the ground. The
moaning pushed Joey over the edge too, and his pulled Sully’s hair and rammed
all the way in, crying out as he painted Sully’s throat white.
It wasn’t until Sully was nearly recovered that Cal came without any warning,
filling Sully’s ass with a whimper. By the time he was done, Joey was moving in
Sully’s mouth again, gently, but obviously considering.
“Hey,” Cal said, patting Sully’s ass. “You want to switch?”
Joey stopped moving. “S-sure.”
Oh, fuck. Sully thought as they both pulled out, leaving him shaky for a
second, and switched positions.
With Joey’s hands on his hips, Sully looked up at Cal, who was cleaning his
cock off on one of their discarded shirts. “Having fun?”
Sully nodded. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely, though he was a little focused on the
dragon dick pressed against his asshole.
“Good,” Cal said, lifting Sully’s chin and holding out his dick, still hard as
morning. “Because I think we’ve both got a few more loads in us. Open up.”
***** Todd/Sam, Daddy Kink (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     More of poor Todd being on the receiving end of Sam's everything.
     It's a theme.
Prompt: "Daddy kink for Todd and Sam? Sadly I enjoy their interactions and this
one seems. Interesting," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Todd had been hurt enough times that when King Sam said “Get over here,” Todd
just did as he was told.
He was going to be hurt either way, especially since Henry wasn’t here to
intervene, and so if he complied, Todd had learned that he might be hurt a
little less if nothing else. Resisting had never gotten him anything other than
broken bones.
So Todd came and stood in front of King Sam, looking at the ground even though
the king wouldn’t know the difference. “Yes, your Majesty?”
King Sam smacked him across the face. “You sound like an idiot quivering like
that. I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”
“I’m s-sorry, your Majesty,” Todd said, trying not to whimper. The slap hadn’t
hurt that much, but his cheek stung.
Another smack. Todd wished Henry were here. He liked Henry, Henry was nice.
Todd wished King Sam were hurting Henry instead of him. “I’m going to give you
a reason to cry, don’t worry. Strip and get on the bed, now.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Todd whispered, shaking hands coming up to lift his shirt
over his head, then unlacing his pants when he was done. He worked as quickly
as he could, knowing the king was impatient, and he climbed naked onto the
king’s bed. King Sam was also undressing haphazardly, and he pushed Todd onto
his stomach and climbed on top of him. He wasn’t that much older than Todd, but
he seemed so much bigger.
“God, you’re such a baby,” King Sam growled, hand on the back of Todd’s neck.
Todd tried not to make a noise. “Your parents must have been so disappointed in
you.”
Todd didn’t mean to, he shouldn’t have made that sound. But he made it, that
small cry as he remembered, remembered the old Sorcerer King tearing his mom
and dad to pieces in front of him, all the blood raining down, splattering him.
They’d always told him he was the light of their lives, and when they’d died,
the light had gone out of Todd’s, too.
“Ah,” King Sam said, shifting behind Todd, two wet fingers forcing their way
inside Todd roughly, the king’s dick lined up to follow them. “Do you miss your
parents, Todd?”
“I…” Todd closed his mouth, tried to pretend this didn’t already hurt.
The hand on his neck pressed, and Todd felt himself start to burn. “I asked you
a question. Do you wish mommy and daddy were still here?”
Eyes squeezed shut, Todd swallowed a cry. “Yes…”
“You would just watch me hurt them instead of you,” the king said, and Todd
could hear him smirking, and the worst part was that he knew King Sam was
right. “Fine, then. How about we play a game of pretend, to make you feel
better?” The king pulled his fingers out and leaned down to speak in Todd’s
ear. “Until I’m done with you, I’ll be your daddy, got it?”
Todd felt himself recoil. “Y-your Majesty, I…”
“Is that how you talk to your father, Todd?”
Todd shook his head, wishing that burning on the back of his neck would stop.
“I…no, daddy.”
It stopped. “That’s better.” And the king thrust right into Todd, pain searing
through Todd’s body. He bit his lip, trying not to scream, but still ended up
making a lot of noise
“Don’t worry, son,” King Sam said, not giving Todd time to adjust to anything
before he started thrusting in and out. “I can tell what a stupid slut you’re
growing up to be. Daddy’s going to take care of you the way you want him too.”
Todd didn’t, he didn’t want this, but that didn’t matter and King Sam kept
thrusting into him, getting faster and faster. The pain started to dull but not
disappear, and Todd could feel tears running down his face. “You like this?”
King Sam asked, hand tightening a little on the back of Todd’s neck.
Todd nodded, knowing what he had to do to get out of this with the least amount
of pain. “Yes, daddy.”
“I knew it. You want daddy to keep going?” King Sam grunted.
“Y-yes,” Todd said, swallowing bile. His head was starting to feel foggy. “Yes,
keep going, daddy.”
“For how long, son?”
“For as long as you want.”
“Good boy,” King Sam said, patting Todd’s shoulder and picking up his speed.
Todd cried out again, wishing that it would just stop hurting, wishing that
he’d brought Derek with him today.
“You’re better at this than your mother, boy,” King Sam told him. “You were
born to take daddy’s cock, you know that?”
“Y-yes…daddy…” Todd didn’t know what was happening. It was because he was all
foggy, or something. But the king’s voice was even starting to sound like his
dad’s. He was starting to imagine that this really was his dad doing this, and
not the king.
“Good, because you’re going to be doing a lot of it. A lot of…” The king
stopped talking, and with a loud grunt, he pressed Todd down hard into the bed
and came inside him, dick throbbing as he filled Todd up.
And as he did that, Todd came too, letting out a cry of surprise as he shot
onto the blankets. He hadn’t even noticed he was hard. How? He…he hadn’t like
that. No. No, he hadn’t like that, he couldn’t, he…
“Liked that, did you, Todd?”
Todd shook his head because he knew the king couldn’t see it. “Yes, daddy…” he
sobbed.
Todd hated himself for saying it, he hated the king for doing it. He hated
Henry and Derek for not being here. He hated his parents for not being here. He
hated everything.
“Good.” King Sam gave Todd a smack on the thigh. He sounded gleeful, and he was
still buried inside Todd. “Because daddy’s not done with you yet.”
***** Henry/Sam, Jealousy (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Less nsfw than most of the others, but still Sam and Henry stuff.
Prompt: "How would #50 [Jealousy] work with Sam and Henry?" by an anon, based
on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry didn’t like Sam. Everyone, including Sam, knew that. It wasn’t a secret.
But he also had to keep other people away from Sam, or rather keep Sam away
from other people, and the way to do that was to maintain Sam’s interest, to
keep Sam thinking about him rather than anyone else. To make sure Sam hurt him
and not some random castle servants.
Doing that for as long as he had was starting to confuse Henry from time to
time. He found himself forgetting that he didn’t actually want Sam’s attention,
he just wanted it off other people. They were remarkably similar desires that
overlapped too often for his liking.
Part of it, Henry thought, was because a side effect of his keeping Sam’s
attention so long meant that everyone knew he was the Sorcerer King’s favourite
and kept away accordingly. It had only take one maid thrown through a window
and one guard with his skull cracked open for people to realize that if the
king decided someone was too close to his favourite, he got jealous and that
person died.
At first Henry had assumed that wasn’t it at all. That Sam had just wanted him
not to have friends as part of the game he was playing with Henry. But more and
more he’d started to wonder if maybe Sam really did get jealous. It wasn’t as
though he had anyone to talk to but Henry anyway.
Henry stood there, watching Sam’s expression as he calmed down, the body of a
servant Henry had been talking too against one wall, and he realized that was
almost definitely it. Sam didn’t look happy or anything. “Sam?” Henry asked.
Sam turned away, stalked back to his rooms. “Henry.”
“You can’t kill everyone I talk to.”
“Yes, I can,” Sam sneered as Henry followed him. “He was hitting on you.”
“He wasn’t.”
“Yes, he was. I’m just removing that problem before I walk in and find you with
his cock buried inside you.”
Henry thought about that for a second, considering carefully what to say. “You
think a lot about that, don’t you? Other people fucking me?”
“Of course not.”
Sam always said that when he was lying. It was adorably transparent.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I just don’t share.”
“Okay.” Henry rolled his eyes, didn’t say anything else as they made their way
back to the rooms. He felt bad for the servant, but at least Sam hadn’t
tortured him.
Todd was there when they got back to the room, setting out dishes for them to
eat supper. As he usually did, Henry jerked his head to the door to get rid of
him before Sam hurt him.
But Sam grabbed Todd’s arm before he could. “On the bed.”
“I…”
“No,” Henry said, put his hand on Sam’s wrist Sam smiled. “Sam.”
“Henry,” Sam said. “I’ve decided to spare you today and play with Todd
instead.”
Something surged inside Henry, and he pulled Sam away from Todd. He hated
watching Sam rape Todd. Not just because it was hurting Todd, because Todd had
never done anything wrong. “Get out, Todd,” Henry said, pulling Sam away,
ignoring the buzzing that crawled up his arm as he did.
Todd didn’t move, but Sam didn’t pull away from Henry either. “Now who’s
jealous?”
That…wasn’t what it was. Henry wasn’t jealous. He was just trying to protect
Todd. He was just trying to keep Sam away from Todd. From everyone. To keep Sam
to himself, contained where he couldn’t…
To keep Sam to himself.
“I am.” Henry wasn’t jealous. He pushed Sam on the bed, started taking off
Sam’s shirt, waving for Todd to get out. “You’re mine.”
“You’ve got that backwards,” Sam said, reaching up and grabbing Henry through
his pants. Henry was hard already.
The door clicked shut. “Maybe,” Henry admitted, slipping his hand into Sam’s
pants and stroking his cock to hardness. “But hey, Todd’s gone and you killed
the servant I was walking to. Guess that just leaves us with each other,
doesn’t it?”
It was better that way.
***** Theodore/Daniel, I'm Sorry (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Some more slavery stuff, with much more rough and obvious rape than
     usual.
Prompt: "Ooo, could you do Daniel and Theodore 46 [I'm Sorry] pleassee?" by an
anon, based on this prompt list.
---
It was a mistake, Theodore knew that. He was done with Daniel. The betrayal had
killed it, and he had Simon now.
But there he was in his long shirt, watering flowers in the hallway. He’d gone
stiff as Theodore walked by, like he always did, and Theodore had ignored him,
like he always did.
But he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, just briefly, at Daniel. At his
body. And remembering, remembering why he hadn’t ended it himself.
Theodore took a step back, approached Daniel. Daniel was completely stiff; he
knew Theodore was there. He always knew, he paid attention to everything around
him. A skill Theodore had once admired and still did, even knowing the why of
it. It was hard for him not to be impressed by Daniel even now. Theodore put
his hands on Daniel’s hips, lifting the shirt up and exposing his backside.
“Hold still,” he said.
Daniel nodded incrementally, but didn’t say anything. His eyes were closed.
He’d used to be a better actor, but Theodore supposed that now he wasn’t
acting. There was no point for him to pretend he wanted this.
That made something surge within Theodore, the fact that maybe he was seeing
the real Daniel for once. Theodore slid three fingers into his mouth and sucked
on them, and then penetrated Daniel with the first one, then a second. Daniel
let out a quiet breath, shifting a little, but he relaxed and let Theodore do
it, even when the third finger went in and stretched him farther.
It must have hurt, or at least stung, and Theodore paused. What was he doing?
He was old enough to have his urges in check, but here he was, apparently
unable to control himself. Was he really so weak that he couldn’t stop himself
from doing this, from raping Daniel in a hallway like an animal?
The issue wasn’t that Theodore couldn’t control himself. He could stop this,
walk away right now if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. Theodore hadn’t
decided he was done with Daniel—Daniel had made that decision, and it wasn’t
his to make. Daniel was Theodore’s property, and Theodore would do what he
wanted with his property.
Theodore pulled his fingers out of Daniel, opened the front of his pants. “I’m
sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m afraid this is likely to hurt.”
Another incremental nod. Theodore wondered if he’d be able to get anything
other than that out of Daniel. He’d never been the most responsive in the
bedroom, even when he’d been acting.
Fishing his erection out of his pants, Theodore guided himself to Daniel’s
entrance, trying to keep himself under control and not give into shaking.
Daniel just stood there, compliant, and let him do it. He had the ability to
stop Theodore, most certainly. He could break away, run, probably even attack
Theodore if he chose to. But he didn’t. Maybe he missed Theodore’s affections
and hoped behaving here would help him recover them.
This wasn’t affection. That was gone between them now. This was something else,
and as Theodore penetrated Daniel, he decided not to examine too closely what
that something else was.
Theodore generally used a lot of lubrication so as not to hurt his slaves, so
he was unused to this much difficulty pushing in. But push he did, forcing his
way inside, not stopping until he was fully sheathed. Daniel was breathing in
shorter bursts now, shoulders tense as he fought to keep himself relaxed
inside. He must be hurting, but he gave no sign.
Theodore had missed this, he realized, eyes closed as he paused to get his
breath. He’d missed being inside Daniel. Bodies were all the same, or close
enough. Doing this same thing with Simon was physically identical to doing it
with Daniel, or Marcus or Hugh or Denny or any of the others before them. The
same tightness, the same warmth, the same sensations. And yet, he’d missed
this. He’d missed doing it with Daniel. Every boy was different, and Theodore
had missed the particular flavour that Daniel lent to the encounter.
He’d missed Daniel.
And Daniel was the one who’d taken this away from him.
Theodore started thrusting, faster than he’d meant to, hands on Daniel’s hips
to keep him in place as he moved in and out, watching his erection disappear
inside Daniel’s entrance. Daniel was gasping for air, but quietly. Theodore was
going to get him to make a sound if it killed one of them.
So he picked up his speed, wanting Daniel to remember this, remember that this
was the only way he could have Theodore now, remember how gentle and nice it
had been before, and compare it to how rough and painful it was now.
He wanted Daniel to know that it was his fault that this was happening.
One particularly hard thrust finally gave Theodore what he was looking for when
Daniel opened his mouth, let out an involuntary cry. Theodore surged forward,
fucking Daniel with new strength, and got a repeat of that sound, one, two,
three more times. And on the third time, Theodore came with a grunt, shooting
his seed inside Daniel, holding him in place to ensure it went in as deep as
possible.
Theodore stayed there, holding Daniel there, for a long moment while he
recovered, trying to breathe normally. Only then did he let go of Daniel, pull
out. Daniel’s shirt fell back down, covering his backside, and he started
shaking as soon as Theodore’s hands weren’t on him anymore. He was probably
hurting.
Theodore had never wanted to hurt Daniel, to hurt any of them. He held his hand
out as if to touch Daniel, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. Theodore
could see some of his cum running down Daniel’s leg.
So he turned away, tucking himself back into his pants. “I’m sorry,” he
whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”
“It’s…” Daniel swallowed audibly. “It’s okay, Master. I’m fine.”
And it was back, Daniel’s mask, his even tone. Theodore had managed to crack it
for a second there, but Daniel had it back already.
So Theodore put his back on as well, nodded. “Good. Take a rest, Daniel. You
seem tired.”
And he walked off, resisting the urge to apologize again.
***** Todd, Masturbation (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Poor Todd finally gets a break and has some fun alone. Though bear in
     mind that the noncon context is still implicit throughout.
Prompt: "Just some masturbation for Todd? He deserves a break," by an anon,
based on this_prompt_list.
---
When he wasn’t busy he’d sit in a cupboard for a while, or his room if Derek
was working somewhere, or even just in an empty room behind the door. And he’d
pretend he was happy. He’d pretend his parents were alive, that they were all
still living together in the town, that the Sorcerer King had never come.
Sometimes he’d pretend other things.
Sometimes he’d pretend that he had a girl who liked him, or maybe a boy. That
they’d grow up and get married and have kids like normal people. That they’d
have sex like normal people, that it wouldn’t hurt and it would be nice and it
would be everything that sex was supposed to be instead of what it was.
Sometimes Todd would get hard during the day, so he’d go to one of his quiet
places and he’d pull it out, and he’d pretend he liked sex. That was what he
did today, in a small sitting room in the west side of the castle that never
got used, he sat behind a chair and stroked himself, pretending that he had a
girl to help him with that.
She had nice hair, and pretty eyes and smiled a lot and she told Todd he was
cute while she played with his boner. Todd sat back and let it happen, playing
with himself as he pretended. Sometimes he pretended she was using her mouth,
or that they were having sex.
But sometimes that wasn’t enough, and today was one of those days. He was
bored, hard but not getting anywhere with it, imagining just this. So he
imagined a boy instead, to change it up a little, a boy with a cute nose and
hair that needed cutting and a gap between his teeth that he could whistle
through, who used his tongue on Todd and told him how good he tasted.
Todd’s pretend servant boy looked a bit like King Sam, but not really because
he didn’t exist in Todd’s imagination. The world in Todd’s head was a good one,
one that didn’t have evil people in it.
Todd pretended he was on a chair, with the boy in between his legs. A throne.
Todd was a king, and this boy his servant. Todd would press him farther and
farther down, not letting him up, enjoying what he was doing. Later, he’d
invite the boy to his bedroom and they’d take off their clothes, and Todd would
climb on top of him like he did with Derek, and he’d enter him and they’d have
sex. Todd was rough with him but only because his servant boy wanted it, he
always asked for Todd to go harder, to be rougher, he liked that.
Todd came, making a mess of his hand, smiling as he arched his back, nice heat
coursing through him. He wiped the mess on the carpet, knowing nobody would
notice. Nobody used this room anyway.
Back in the real world, Todd stood up, fixing his clothes, and thought that
next time his servant boy might like it if Todd smacked him a few times.
But that was for next time, and for now Todd sighed, cleared his head of
fantasies, and went to go live in the real world.
***** Henry/Sam, A/B/O (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Henry and Sam, with all the noncon that those two occasion. And an A/
     B/O story, with all the noncon that those tropes occasion.
Prompt: "A/B/O with Sam and Henry?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Henry didn’t know how it had taken him so long to notice.
Sam was on top of him, prepared to fuck him again, a fate Henry was resigned to
now. Sam was a stronger alpha than him, his scent overpowering as it always
was, permeating the air, permeating everything in the room.
“You going to submit easy this time?” Sam growled, as he pushed Henry down,
pulling his clothes open. “Or do I have to fight you for it again?”
Henry couldn’t help but fight, his body knew that he wasn’t supposed to be in
this position, even if his brain knew it was safer just to submit. He’d been
getting better about just letting Sam have his way, sparing himself the pain.
He took a deep breath of Sam’s scent, because it would help convince him that
Sam was stronger than him, that he had no choice.
And that was when Henry noticed.
There was something else to Sam’s scent. Something underneath it. And the scent
itself was vaguely…chemical.
Sam reached down, hand going for Henry’s pants, and Henry grabbed his wrist.
“Hey…”
“You’re not really an alpha, are you?” Henry asked, holding Sam there. He was
stronger than Sam, physically speaking.
Sam’s expression lasted just a second, but it was enough to tell Henry he was
right. “What nonsense are you on now?” Sam snarled. “Sounds like you’re
forgetting your…”
“You’re not,” Henry said, shaking his head. He flipped them over, put Sam
underneath him with a yelp. He leaned in, took a good sniff of Sam’s neck, his
scent glands. Chemical, covering up something else. “You’re a beta.”
Sam looked furious, fighting under Henry’s grip, Henry’s weight. Henry was
going to be punished for this, the knife, probably. But right now, he didn’t
care, because his Alpha instincts were having a field day and Sam was
underneath him. Henry ground his erection into Sam. “I thought your scent was
too strong. It’s fake. Comes out of a fucking jar, doesn’t it?”
“Listen, you…”
Herny let out a low growl. “No, no,” he warned. “You’re going to do what I say
this time, you little twerp.”
Sam’s expression contorted, going through a series of emotions before settling
on rage. But he was tinted with colour too. “I’m going to kill you,” he
whispered, jaw squared.
“No, you won’t,” Henry said, leaning down and nipping Sam’s chin. “Don’t worry.
I won’t tell anyone your little secret. But I think your hormones are telling
you what’s going to happen next, don’t you?”
“I’m not fucking submitting to you.”
“Good.” Henry lifted Sam’s arms above his head, pinned them in one of his. He
lifted Sam’s shirt up as he struggled, then undid his pants and yanked them
down, exposing his hard-on. Henry smirked at it, undoing his own pants and
fishing his own out.
He rubbed his against Sam’s, hard as he wanted, and as he did he used his teeth
on Sam’s chin, on his neck, on his shoulders. Not hard enough to leave marks,
but hard enough that Sam would feel it.
Sam fought him the whole time. Henry had to credit him, he hadn’t been kidding
when he said he wasn’t going to submit. He squirmed and wriggled and made
frustrated noises and tried to kick, but Henry wouldn’t let him, wouldn’t let
him get any leeway, and he just kept humping Sam, the struggle making his
instincts happy, and after a moment he seized up and came, squirting all over
Sam’s chest, marking him with his scent.
“You want to cum too?” Henry asked, panting on Sam’s face.
Sam didn’t answer, eyes shut, jaw clenched, face contorted a little.
“Is that a no?”
“Shut up. I’m going to…” Sam sounded like he might cry.
Henry smiled, and he wrapped a hand around Sam, jerked him for a few seconds,
ignoring Sam’s protest, the shaking of his head. As Sam came, Henry bit him
just lightly on the shoulder, where the mark would be covered by his shirt. Sam
shouted underneath him, before going slack under Henry.
Henry kissed him, and then let him go, rolling off. Sam pushed him, surged out
of the bed, backing away. “I’m going to flay you alive,” he snarled. “I’m going
to…”
“So you didn’t like it?” Henry asked, smiling a smile that Sam couldn’t see.
“You seemed to enjoy it to me. Being dominated.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s not true and we both know it.”
Sam let out a wordless growl, and he stormed off in the direction of the
bathroom, kicking a chair out of the way when it got too close to him.
“So we’ll do this again tomorrow, then?”
The bathroom door slammed shut, and a minute later Henry heard the water
running.
Henry chuckled to himself and fixed his clothes, reclining on the bed. He was
going to be punished for that, no doubt about it. But it was worth it for the
look on Sam’s face.
When Sam came out of the shower an hour later, he wasn’t wearing his artificial
scent, and smelled of pure, clean beta. He came over and sat beside Henry on
the bed, glowering. “I’m too tired to punish you now. But don’t think you’re
getting away with that.”
Henry smiled, put his arm around Sam, who bristled but didn’t fight him off.
Definitely worth it. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
***** Nicholas/Isaac, Making Porn (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Set in either the future of the Modern AU or in a different AU where
     they're broke university students who figure they may as well cash on
     in their every day activities.
Prompt: "55 [Making Porn] with Isaac and Nicholas?" by an anon, based on this
prompt_list.
---
The cameras didn’t bother Nicholas as much as he’d thought they would. He
walked into the room, towel around his waist, and was able to mostly ignore
them, eyes focused on Isaac on the bed, three fingers up his ass as he jerked
off with a stupid look on his face.
And if Isaac wasn’t distracting enough, the thought of some cash after this was
done helped keep Nicholas focused. Tuition and food were expensive and this was
something that they’d do anyway, so where was the harm?
Or at least that was how it had been sold to them.
Nicholas god the nod from Thomas, the director—“director”—and stepped into the
shot. They’d even sprinkled some water on his chest to make it look like he’d
been in the shower. “The fuck you doing?” he demanded. “Touching yourself on my
bed?” Even to him, the lines sounded bad, but Nicholas hadn’t written them.
Isaac’s eyes snapped open, affecting an exaggerated look of worry. “I…didn’t
think you’d be back so soon…”
“Yeah, well, I am,” Nicholas said, stepping forward and trying to put whatever
a “horny sadistic grin” was on his face. “If you were that into me you should
have just said so.”
And as Isaac spluttered, Nicholas dropped his towel, revealing that he was hard
in a scene that he hoped would have suitably dramatic music in the final edit.
He was also already wearing a condom for speed of getting to the good part.
He’d thought it was a bit silly that he’d apparently been wearing a condom in
the shower, but he’d been assured that nobody was going to care that much.
It was the sort of thing that Nicholas would care about if he were watching
porn.
Anyway, he was wearing a condom, which was good since he hadn’t really mastered
the art of putting one on without looking like dog chasing his tail (Isaac’s
words), and he climbed onto the bed, on his knees, and smirked at Isaac. “If
you want me so much, come get a taste.”
It had been written as ‘cum’ in the script, but Nicholas tried to enunciate in
such a way as to make clear he knew how English worked.
Supposed to be enraptured by Nicholas’s masculine authority (Nicholas hadn’t
written the damn script), Isaac moved a little closer, and once he was in
reach, Nicholas grabbed him, pulled him down really rather rudely, and forced
Isaac’s face onto his cock. His face not his mouth. He held Isaac down there,
grateful that for the moment he didn’t have to make any silly faces as the
camera zoomed in on Isaac licking what he could reach while Nicholas rubbed his
cock all over Isaac’s face.
Nicholas had probably seen scenes like this a hundred times in porn and never
realized until now that it was really terrible oral technique. He knew a thing
or two about getting blowjobs and this wasn’t really how they worked.
Still, it wasn’t like it was the worst, and when the camera zoomed out a
little, it wasn’t hard for him to make a face like he was enjoying himself. “Aw
yeah, work that, you little bitch.”
Nicholas had never called anyone a bitch in his life, and Isaac really wouldn’t
be his first choice to start with. Especially not while he was in the middle of
sex. It was just mean.
At a motion from Thomas, Nicholas started thrusting a little, moving his cock
up and down Isaac’s cheeks, and even into his mouth for suck once in a while.
“You want that? You want to taste that?” Nicholas asked, pretending for some
reason he wasn’t wearing a condom and that Isaac was going to taste something
other than latex. At Thomas’s nod, Nicholas grabbed Isaac’s hair and thrust
into his mouth hard. “Here you go!”
Probably the weirdest part about this was some dude he didn’t know giving him
cues for how to have sex with Isaac. But even that wasn’t as weird as he’d
thought. Especially not after that time last month in Isaac’s apartment. In
retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have been so zealous in his insistence that
he wasn’t shy.
In any case, Nicholas wasn’t feeling shy now, but he was feeling like kind of
an asshole as he roughly thrust into Isaac’s mouth with “aggression but not in
a rapey way” Isaac sucked on him, cheeks hollow, so that it was possible to see
the muscles moving with the passage of Nicholas’s cock.
Nicholas felt himself start to cum, and he took a second to remember his lines.
“Here it cums, you little…yeah…” he managed, as he filled the condom in Isaac’s
mouth, bucking his hips hard into Isaac’s face, burying his cock in there.
When he was done, he pulled out, smirked down at Isaac, who was drooling a
little. “Hope you’re not tired. I’ve got another hole I want to try out.”
“Cut,” Thomas said, waving at the camera guy to turn off. Nicholas looked up at
him, and Isaac wiped his mouth. Thomas smiled. “That was pretty good, guys.
Good visuals on the blowjob. I want to see it last longer—you came too fast,
Nick. Can we have you pull out after a minute or so of sucking, let Isaac lick
you again, maybe your balls too, and then have another round of deepthroat
before you shoot?”
Nicholas blinked. What he’d gotten out of that was that Thomas wanted Isaac to
blow him again, which sounded pretty nice. “Sure. Isaac?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Isaac nodded, leaning back on his hands. “He could go a
little rougher with the thrusting, yeah?” Nicholas knew for a fact that this
was Isaac’s first time shooting porn too, but he fit right in.
Of course.
“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, holding his fingers a short distance apart. “Just a bit.
Don’t want to come off as rapey.”
“Can I change some of the lines?” Nicholas asked, peeling the condom off and
tossing it in the garbage can. Isaac tsked, but Nicholas ignored him.
Thomas shrugged. “My girlfriend wrote those lines.”
Nicholas…wasn’t sure what to say about that.
Isaac laughed, patted Nicholas’s thigh. “Don’t worry about it. Nobody’s in it
for the dialogue anyway. Now, do you want me to put your condom on for you?”
***** Wes/Mick, Gentle Sex (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Some nice loving morning sex in captivity.
Prompt: "Hi! I really like your writing and would love to read prompt no. 38
[Gentle Sex] or 60 [Morning Sex] with Wes and Mick!" by an anon, based on this
prompt_list.
---
Their prison cell was just a room, actually. It even had a nice window. The
window overlooked a cliff and a three-mile drop, so there was no danger of them
escaping that way, but it was a nice view.
It wasn’t the worst ever, and it almost made Wes forget sometimes that they’d
been kidnapped by demons who wanted to kill Cal. They were awfully friendly
demons, actually. Giving them a nice room, feeding them, letting them out to
bathe every other day and giving them a magic chamberpot that cleaned itself.
If they hadn’t wanted to kill Wes’s boyfriend, he’d almost have been tempted to
call them nice.
They had three straw mattresses on the floor to sleep on, and Wes and Mick had
taken two and piled them on top of each other, letting Travis have the third
one on the other side of the room. It worked out okay, except they were kind of
bored.
All that was to say that when Wes woke up one morning with a boner, it was
hardly the weirdest thing ever, even in the circumstances. Mick was on top of
him, and Wes just held him there, not really able to do anything. He chanced a
glance over to the other side of the room and saw Travis snoring on his
mattress. He slept later than both of them, usually.
Wes just stayed where he was, waiting for the sun to wake Mick up. When it did
a few minutes later, Mick yawned, nuzzling Wes. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Mick made a noise, nuzzled a bit more. “You’re hard.”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
Wes was quiet for a second, logic and instinct fighting. Instinct won. “Travis
is still asleep.”
“Mm.” Mick hadn’t opened his eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Wes asked. He’d assumed Mick would be more nervous with Travis in the
room.
“Okay. We’re going to be here for God knows how long together.” Mick kissed Wes
on the chin. “Just be quiet.”
“Says the loud one.”
“You’re already sucking at this.”
Wes snickered, and he reached down into Mick’s pants, wrapped a hand around his
wood. Mick did the same for him and they started stroking each other in tune,
kissing once in a while. They didn’t go fast, they were in no hurry.
Wes felt himself start to make noises and held them in, settling for kissing
Mick a little more frequently, on the forehead and hair, all over what he could
reach. Mick’s sudden deep breaths suggested he was doing something similar.
Pulling Mick up a bit, Wes brought him to proper kissing level and covered
Mick’s mouth with his as they touched each other. He kissed him softly but
insistently, wanting to taste him even as gentle waves of pleasure started to
push through him.
“Mm…” Wes did make a noise as he came, but he was matched by Mick, his hand
covered in sticky cum. After he was done shooting Wes just lay there, letting
Mick lay on top of him, continuing to kiss Mick for a good while.
When Mick moved his mouth away for air, he smiled down at Wes, opening his eyes
for the first time. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Wes said, not minding that he was going to have this mess in his
pants now.
“We’re going to be okay,” Mick whispered, patting Wes’s cheek with his free
hand.
“I know.” Wes kissed him again. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Mick smiled. “Now hopefully Cal will hurry his short little
ass up and rescue us.”
Wes chuckled, holding Mick in place. He did hope that. “Yeah. But being here
with you isn’t so bad either.”
***** Sully/Bartholomew, After Injury (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     This prompt was so exciting, Sully and Bartholomew are great
     characters whose relationship I can't want to get more into. This
     one's canon, or at least the relationship behind it is.
Prompt: "Are the prompts still being accepted? I'd like some insight in Sully
and Bartholomew friendship and I think #2 [After Injury or Hurt/Comfort] would
be interesting (if it won't be a spoiler of course)," by an anon, based on this
prompt_list.
---
“Ow.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, you’re not the asshole who put it there,” Sullivan grumbled,
staidly looking up at the sky as Bartholomew healed the cut on his thigh. “But,
you know, if you want to take that as an invitation to hurry up, I wouldn’t
mind.”
It wasn’t Bartholomew’s fault the healing was going slowly. Injuries earned
fighting dragons didn’t heal fast. “You know, those sons of bitches were
supposed to be on our side.”
“They are,” Bartholomew muttered, fingers pressed gently around the wound that
was high up on Sullivan’s thigh. High enough up that he’d had to drop his pants
to let Bartholomew heal him properly.
If there was anyone Sullivan trusted to have his hand that close to his exposed
junk, it was Bartholomew.
“Funny, because I’m pretty sure one just tried to kill us.”
“Theresa’s magic doesn’t always take the way it should. Didn’t you notice he
was completely out of it? The graft made him crazy.”
Sullivan sighed, wincing as the cut burned. He had a few other cuts as well,
but not life-threatening ones. So they could wait until after Bartholomew
healed the one that had nearly castrated him. “You ever think that we make an
awful lot of collateral damage for people who are supposedly the good guys?”
“Yeah,” Bartholomew agreed, prodding a little deeper. “The bad guys are worse,
though.”
“I know. Any chance you could…” Sullivan made a circular hand gesture. “You
know. Not take forever? A bit chilly to be hanging out like this.”
Bartholomew smirked. He reached up with his other hand and gave Sullivan a
poke, right on the head of his boner. The boner he’d popped three seconds after
exposing himself. “You sure that’s the reason? You don’t just want to sneak off
and give this guy a pull?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Sullivan grumbled, looking back up at the sky. It was a
natural response to the adrenaline of the fight they’d just been in. Everyone
got off on killing dragons. “Like you’re not liking having your face down
there. Pervert.”
“Yeah, because there’s nothing I want to look at more than Sullivan Junior,”
Bartholomew teased, giving Sullivan’s boner a shake with his other hand.
“H-hey! Get your own!” Sully should have just healed himself. Or died of blood
loss. Either way.
“I’ve got my own, but it’s not trying to poke me in the eye.”
“Not my problem,” Sullivan growled as Bartholomew took his hand away. “What are
you doing?”
“You made it pretty clear you didn’t want my hand there,” Bartholomew said,
attention focused on Sullivan’s wound again. He had a way of looking innocent
even when he was splattered with blood.
Sullivan sighed. Bartholomew was so annoying. “That was obviously a no that
meant yes, dumbass.”
“No doesn’t mean yes by definition. Do you want me to help you with that guy or
not?”
“Yes,” Sullivan said, since he wasn’t being understood. “It’s your fault.”
Bartholomew chuckled, took Sullivan’s in his hand again and, still using his
other hand to heal the cut, leaned forward and slipped his lips over the head
of Sullivan’s dick.
Sullivan watched as Bartholomew sucked on him, rapt as he disappeared into
Bartholomew’s mouth. Call him weird, it was a view that always fascinated him.
Bartholomew only took the head in, sucking gently on it as he ran warm healing
magic into Sullivan’s thigh, using his tongue liberally to lap up the fluid
that Sullivan was leaking.
Sullivan blamed the adrenaline for the fact that he didn’t last long.
Bartholomew was good at this, and he was horny from killing the dragon, that
was all. That was why it was only a minute later that he arched his back,
thrust his hips a little and shot into his friend’s mouth, whimpering out
Bartholomew’s name as he did.
Bartholomew swallowed it all, and kept his mouth there for a few seconds
longer, gently suckling Sullivan’s head to get all the residue, and then he
pulled off, smiling up at Sully. He removed his hand, revealing that the cut
was gone as well. “All better,” he said.
Sullivan looked down at him for a moment, struck, and not sure what to say.
They’d done this before, they did it all the time. They’d been fuck-buddies for
years. Bartholomew was his best friend.
And Bartholomew was hopelessly in love with Gilligan, and they both knew that.
So Sullivan smiled back down at him, offering Bartholomew his hand to help him
up. “Thanks. You want one too?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no.”
“That’s not the same as saying yes,” Sullivan reminded him as he pulled his
pants up, fixing his armour back in place.
Bartholomew chuckled. “Fair. Yes. But let’s get the rest of your wounds
healed.”
Sullivan shrugged. “They’re not life-threatening.”
“Still.”
Bartholomew had non-life-threatening injuries too. “They can wait until we get
back to the Citadel. Walking around with some battle scars makes me feel all
strong and manly and shit. Besides, you cut a dragon’s head off an hour ago. I
think you deserve a blowjob from your best friend, don’t you?”
Bartholomew laughed out loud now. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes a
hell of a lot of sense.”
“That’s why I’m the smart one,” Sullivan told him, stretching and trying not to
wince when his remaining injuries complained. “Now sit down, whip it out and
let’s celebrate.”
***** Hugh/Al/Trevor, Hurt/Comfort (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Some attention for a few minor characters in slavery, which I
     appreciate.
Prompt: "Hmm, number 2 [After Injury or Hurt/Comfort]with Hugh, Al and Trevor
would be interesting. Al and Trevor need some attention as well. :)" by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Hugh stared down at his boner, willing it to go away, and willing himself not
to break down over it. It was just a thing, just a body thing, it didn’t mean
anything. He knew that well enough.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Theodore and Marcus. Marcus was a loudmouth, a
brat, the kind of kid who’d probably been a bully. Hugh couldn’t stand him. He
was rude and took up a lot of space and he smelled weird; he was annoying and
so self-assured and always making threats that he wasn’t going to follow
through on. He was a pain in the ass and he didn’t deserve what was happening
to him at all, but Hugh was just so grateful that it wasn’t him anymore, that
Theodore didn’t want him in his bed anymore, that Marcus had taken his place.
He was so grateful but he couldn’t even have that to himself because he knew it
was wrong, knew that Theodore was hurting Marcus, knew what was happening and
there was nothing he could do about it.
And all he wanted was for this boner to go away but he couldn’t stop picturing
Theodore and Marcus in bed and it was making him hard because Hugh was a freak
who got off on…
“Hey.”
Hugh jumped when Trevor sat down beside him. “H-hey.”
Trevor put an arm around him as Al sat down on his other side. They’d always
been nice to Hugh, even at the beginning when he’d been a sniveling jerk. “You
okay?” Trevor asked.
Hugh nodded, not trusting himself to talk.
“Only you’ve been sitting here for a while looking like you want to cry at that
boner.”
Hugh felt his face heat up, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking down.
“I…”
“It’s okay,” Trevor told him, pulling Hugh closer. Hugh started crying into
Trevor’s shirt like an idiot. “You’re okay.”
“It’s, it’s not that,” Hugh cried. “It’s just…”
“You’re thinking about him and Marcus,” Al said, patting Hugh’s back. “And you
feel bad because you’re hard over it.”
Sniffing, Hugh nodded. He’d been more transparent than the thought. “I’m so
awful.”
“No,” Trevor told him, pulling Hugh into his lap and wrapping an arm around
him. “You’re just a teenager, and thinking about sex makes you get hard, even
if it’s bad.”
Al crawled closer to him, hand on Hugh’s leg. “You haven’t touched yourself
since Marcus came here, have you?”
Quietly, Hugh shook his head.
“Because it doesn’t feel right? Feels like that shouldn’t be something you
should do anymore, because you hated it when he did it to you, and now he’s
doing it to Marcus, and you shouldn’t be happy when Marcus is getting hurt.”
Hugh nodded. Al could read his mind. “How did you know?”
“Because that’s how I felt when he bought Denny,” Al said, sadly. Nobody talked
about Denny without sounding sad. “I tortured myself over it, refused to do
what was normal. Trevor started jerking me off in my sleep until I stopped
acting like I didn’t like sex.”
As he said that, Hugh knew what was coming. He’d seen Trevor and Al touching
each other before. He looked up at Trevor, holding him in place. Trevor smiled
at him. “Can we touch you, Hugh? We won’t if you say no. But we want to help
you. And we want to show you that it doesn’t have to be like it was with him.”
“And,” Al added, smiling encouragingly. “Torturing yourself isn’t going to help
Marcus and it isn’t going to help you either. We want you to feel better, not
worse.”
“I can…touch myself…” Hugh muttered, oddly embarrassed.
“But you won’t, will you? Come on, let us help you.”
Hugh looked down at his boner, thought about Theodore and Marcus. And let the
image of Al and Trevor push that away. Maybe they were right. He nodded.
“That’s a boy.” Trevor pulled Hugh’s shirt over his head, leaving him naked,
and reached down to wrap a hand around his boner. Hugh hissed. “That’s what
happens when you ignore yourself.”
Hugh nodded, eyes shut, moving his hips a little, raising them from Trevor’s
lap. Al’s hand was on his inner thigh, and he was kind of hoping it would move
a bit. That hand squeezed him. “Hugh. Can I put a finger in you? I think you’ll
like it.”
Hugh knew he would, and he nodded immediately, not caring how humiliating it
was anymore. He just wanted to cum.
A second later Al’s finger slid into him, not doing much but being there, and
Hugh clenched around it, focusing on that and on Trevor’s hand and on how nice
they both felt and…
“Ah!” Hugh came in a surge, the power of it washing through his body in a way
he didn’t think an orgasm ever had. It carried him away in an explosion of
sensation and when he came back, he felt so much lighter than he had. There was
a lot of cum on his chest.
He lay back against Trevor, panting, and Trevor held him. He took his hand off
Hugh, and Al removed his finger, and both of them just sat there and waited for
him to recover. Hugh opened his eyes, saw Al smiling at him. “Feel better?”
Hugh nodded. “Thank you…” he said, tearing up again.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Trevor urged him, hugging Hugh from behind. “You’re okay.”
“Why are you guys so nice?” Hugh asked, sniffing. He didn’t deserve it.
“Because we care about you,” Trevor said, moving with Hugh on his lap, leaning
back against the wall beside Al and shifting Hugh so he was cuddled in between
them.
Hugh nodded, not sure he believed that. “Okay. Thank you for…”
“Anytime, Hugh.”
“You could help us out too if you want,” Al suggested.
“Al.”
“What? I’m just offering.”
“I’d like that,” Hugh said, nodding as he snuggled in between them, happy
despite himself to be where he was. Or at least as happy as he knew how to be.
“I’d like that.”
***** Henry/Sam, Role Reversal (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     A different type of Henry/Sam story, set in an AU where Henry's the
     evil overlord, Sam got captured trying to take him down and is slowly
     being corrupted by the eminently reasonable villain. Where Sam is
     violent and physical in the main story, here Henry is coercive and
     manipulative in a subtle way. This is still a rape scene. Sam
     consented because Henry, who has all the power, manipulated him into
     doing it. Sam's consent doesn't mean anything as far as I'm
     concerned.
Prompt: "75 [Role Reversal] with Sam and Henry if you’re still doing those?" by
an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“How does that feel?” Henry asked, when his third finger was inside of Sam.
“It’s fine,” Sam grunted, trying not to squirm.
“Just fine?” Henry brushed Sam’s prostate as he asked.
“Ah! It’s good,” Sam corrected. “It’s good. I like it.”
That was better. Henry smiled. “If you’d prefer we could just stick with the
fingers. If you aren’t ready for…”
“I’m ready!” Sam interrupted, moving his hips. “I’m ready for your cock, God.
Just do it. Not a child.”
Henry chuckled, brushed Sam’s cheek with his other hand. “No,” he agreed.
“You’re not.”
Sam was an idiot, though. A few months of impressing him with how smoothly the
kingdom ran, of explaining to him why an anarchist approach to government
wouldn’t work, why sometimes kings had to do bad things, and he was already
enamoured with Henry. A few jokes here and there about masturbation to relieve
stress, told in the conspiratorial tones of boy talk, and he felt like he was
part of something secret. Just enough attention, compliments on Sam’s
appearance and intelligence, and Sam wanted more from the powerful older boy
who was interested in him. And of course, a few snide comments here and there
about Sam’s inexperience, and he was jumping to prove himself.
Henry could have just tossed Sam in his bed and had his way with the boy, but
what was the point of that? All he’d had to do was ask, and here Sam was,
practically demanding his cock.
So Henry gave it to him, pulling his fingers out and oiling himself up,
positioning himself at Sam’s stretched hole, hands on Sam’s thighs to push them
apart. “Last chance to back out.”
“Just do it.”
“As you wish,” Henry said, pushing his cock into his chained sorcerer, slowly
but resolutely. It should sting but not hurt. He wanted Sam to come back to his
bed after this, after all.
It was obvious on Sam’s face that he didn’t like it at first, but Henry kept
going until he was all the way in. Once he was, he reached up and stroked Sam
again. “There we go. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“It’s…it’s good,” Sam gritted, breathing hard. He nodded. “You can…” He was
clenching over and over around Henry’s cock.
“I will,” Henry said, and he started moving inside Sam. Sam’s hand came up and
gripped Henry’s wrist, his clouded eyes wide open as Henry thrust in and out,
picked up speed. He aimed as best he could for Sam’s prostate, intending to
make this as good as he could for Sam.
Showing Sam the good parts of his life was Henry’s main goal. It was how he was
going to get Sam’s loyalty, after all.
Henry fucked Sam slowly, deliberately, aiming for Sam to orgasm before he did.
It was harder than he’d expected. Henry had fucked people before, but Sam was
different, somehow. Maybe it was his inexperience combined with his desire to
please that he hid under a veil of anger. His insistence that he was fine by
himself that he used to hide the fact that he was desperately lonely. Maybe it
was his power, trapped behind that collar.
Or maybe he just felt really good around Henry’s cock, who knew?
Either way, Henry was having a hard time not just driving into Sam, fucking him
senseless. He couldn’t do that now, not yet. Not while there was still a
concern that he’d scare Sam off. So he went slow, touching Sam’s face to
distract himself as sweat beaded on his brow. Sam was panting, sweaty, flushed.
“Bet you never thought you’d be doing this with the evil king, hm?”
“Sh…shut up…” Sam grated.
Henry gasped a laugh as he thrust in again. “Think your dad would be
disappointed if he saw you doing this?”
“I…”
“Spreading your legs for me?”
“Maybe,” Sam panted.
“Especially if he saw how much you liked it.”
“I don’t care.” Sam was clearly having a hard time speaking. “I don’t care
about him. Just fuck me.”
That was an admission that Henry hadn’t expected. “As you wish,” he said,
rewarding Sam by doing just that, just a little harder, just a little faster.
Which was just enough for Sam, who tensed up, clenched around Henry and
squirted all over his belly despite Henry not having touched his dick. Henry
took that as his cue, and once Sam was finished and relaxed, Henry gave him
three fast thrusts and brought himself over the edge, grabbing Sam’s shoulders
as he pushed all the way in, kissing Sam as he came.
Henry pulled out once he’d shot inside Sam, laying beside him on the bed. “You
were better at that than I expected,” he said.
Predictably, Sam sidled up closer to him. “It wasn’t hard or anything. You made
it seem like such a big deal.” He was so flushed in the face it was funny.
Henry smirked. “Well, I went easy on you. I didn’t know how hard you could take
it.”
Predictably again, Sam scowled. “You could have gone harder. You don’t need to
baby me.”
“No,” Henry said, lifting up one of Sam’s hands and kissing it. “No, I don’t.
If you’d like to do it again sometime, I can go harder.”
“I’d…yeah.”
“Alright. I’ll give you some time to recover. Maybe a week since it was your
first time.” Henry put a little bit of doubt into his voice.
“I…don’t need that long. I’ll be fine.”
“Hm.” Henry kissed him on the cheek. “How about this, then? I’ll let you decide
when you’re ready to go again. I’ll be there in about ten minutes, so whenever
you’d like. Tomorrow, the day after…”
Sam was about to explode in his frustration. More than anything, he hated being
underestimated. “Ten minutes is fine,” he spat. “I’ll be ready. Go as hard as
you want.”
“Alright, Samson, I will.” Henry kissed him again. This was even easier than
he’d thought it would be. “Just remember that you asked for it.”
***** Ron/Chokevine, Plant Sex (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     In which Ron has a sexual encounter with a plant named Charlie.
Prompt: "Idk what number this would be but uh... Anything with Ron and Charlie
the Chokevine?" by Gamerkun0525, based (but not really) on this_prompt_list.
---
Ron had been in the river for about twenty minutes when he felt a tendril wrap
around his ankle.
Sighing, he looked up at Charlie the chokevine. “Do you mind?” he called. “I’m
trying to catch fish here. Which is your job, by the way.”
James had assured him that the plants understood him when he talked.
The chokevine tendril just wrapped tighter, and Ron sighed again. If Charlie
wasn’t going to let go, Ron was going to have to untangle him, and he was in
the river and didn’t want to drown. It was possible that Charlie would stop him
from drowning.
Ron wasn’t about to risk it, though, and he took a step forward to give the
vine some slack, and lifted up his foot to unwrap the tendril. As he did,
another one wrapped around his other ankle, and Ron staggered for a second,
trying to keep his feet. He put his hand in the water and found one on his
wrist as well, holding him in place.
“Not cool, Charlie,” Ron said. “You’re not even supposed to be able to reach
this far. How did you…”
Ron trailed off when another vine wrapped around him. “Oh…” he said, as Charlie
started squeezing his dick. “Well. If you wanted to play all you had to do was
say so.”
James had said he could do this with Charlie whenever he wanted.
Charlie got Ron hard pretty quickly, no mean feat in the cold water. He
squeezed up and down the length of Ron’s erection, and even paid some attention
to his balls now and then. Ron stepped forward to give him a bit more leeway,
and Charlie wrapped around him some more.
The very tip of the vine was wrapped around the head of Ron’s dick, and it was
there that Charlie was squeezing the hardest and most often. Ron was panting,
putting most of his energy into staying standing in the moving water, happily
letting Charlie do all the work. He was keeping a pretty consistent pace,
bringing Ron nicely closer and closer.
He didn’t notice another vine sneaking between his legs until it was pressing
at his hole, and Ron gasped as Charlie penetrated him, the thin vine sliding up
inside him easily and without much resistance. It was smaller than anything
else Ron had had up there, but it felt funny, different, and he liked it.
When Charlie poked Ron’s prostate, Ron came right away with a shout that echoed
in the woods. Charlie squeezed him through his orgasm as Ron shot into the
river, the flow of water taking all his cum away like it had never been there.
When he was done Ron stood there, just focused on staying standing. All the
chokevine tendrils loosened, the one behind sliding out, and they all drifted
away. “Thanks,” Ron said to Charlie, who rustled in response.
Ron was going to have to have a talk with James about what he was teaching that
plant. How did a chokevine know where to find the prostate?
A minute later, Charlie rustled again, and the vines pulled three fish out of
the river and tossed them on the bank.
“Aw, you didn’t have to do that,” Ron said, heading for the bank. “Thank you.”
Charlie wrapped around his ankle again, just to give him a gentle squeeze, and
then retreated.
As Ron picked up the fish, he patted Charlie’s vines. “You’re not so bad, you
know? I’ll see you later, Charlie.”
As he headed towards the tree stump where he cut the fish open, Ron got a quick
slap on the butt from something thin and narrow. “I’m going to pretend you
didn’t do that.”
Ron hadn’t thought that plants could laugh, but he was pretty sure Charlie
proved him wrong as he walked away.
***** Marcus/Theodore, Spanking (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Theodore administering a nonconsensual spanking to a defiant slave.
Prompt: "Weird idea, but number 90 with Theodore and Marcus, perhaps? Since he
was probably very defiant and all. (I have already accepted that I will go to
hell so whatever)," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“Why don’t you come here and sit on my lap, Marcus?”
Marcus glared from his chair. “Why? Because I don’t want to.”
“Excuse me?” Theodore asked, looking up from his book. He was holding out his
arm, obviously having expected Marcus to just jump up and sit on him.
Marcus curled more into his seat. He was naked because Theodore wouldn’t let
him have his clothes, but he wasn’t ashamed of that. “That’s why I don’t come
sit on your lap. I was answering your question.” He refused to make eye contact
with Theodore.
Theodore wanted a shy, polite little slave who would call him ‘Master’ and bend
over when asked. He wasn’t getting that with Marcus. Marcus had decided on the
first night when Theodore had fucked him—Theodore could have his body, but he
wasn’t getting Marcus’s mind and Marcus wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
Theodore just seemed amused as he watched Marcus. “Very clever. I meant that I
want you to come over here and sit on my lap.”
Marcus looked up. “Good for you.”
“Marcus.” Theodore’s voice hardened. Marcus glared. “Come here.”
“Fine,” Marcus sighed, got up, scratched at his neck under his collar, and came
over, standing in front of Theodore. “What?”
Theodore looked at him, a hand brushing Marcus’s arm. “I’m getting a little bit
tired of your attitude, Marcus. I’d like you to start being a little more
polite.”
Marcus snorted. “Well, I’m getting a little tired of you being a pervert. I’d
like you to keep it in your pants a little more.”
Marcus saw it, he saw the minute he crossed over the line. The word ‘pervert’
had Theodore’s expression hardening into something more like a glare, and his
grabbed Marcus’s wrist tightly. “All right, I’ve had it. Come here.”
“What…” Theodore yanked Marcus towards him, pulling him downwards. “What are
you doing?”
“I’m going to punish you for being rude. I don’t like to hurt my slaves, but
your behaviour is extremely inappropriate and I will not tolerate it anymore.
Lay across my lap.”
Marcus’s eyes went wide. “Are…are you going to spank me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a little kid!” Marcus had been spanked as a child all the time. He’d
thought he was past that now.
“You’re acting like one. I think a nice spanking will encourage you to behave.
Come.” Theodore pulled him down, draping Marcus across his lap. Marcus was too
stunned to do anything but comply.
Theodore rested a hand on Marcus’s butt, sighing. “I don’t like hurting people,
Marcus.”
“Then don’t!”
Theodore chuckled, stroking Marcus’s butt. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t
going to do it, Marcus realized. He was just trying to scare him, to show
Marcus that he was serious. Marcus got the message—he wasn’t making things easy
for Theodore but he also wasn’t trying to make them harder for himself. He
wouldn’t call Theodore a pervert anymore if it was such a sensitive thing for
him to hear from the teenage slave he was fucking.
Marcus relaxed, confident that he was right. Theodore was too much of a wimp to
actually spank him. He was probably going to pet him for a minute, maybe finger
him and then scold him, that was all.
Assured in his conclusions, Marcus let out a small breath of relief.
And sucked it back in all at once when Theodore’s hand smacked him right on the
butt. “Hey!”
“I told you why you were here, Marcus,” Theodore said, raising his hand and
spanking Marcus again.
It was the fourth slap before Marcus braced himself, preparing his body for the
smacks as they came. Theodore wasn’t hitting him particularly hard or anything.
He could take it. He was strong.
Sure enough, Theodore stopped after a few more strokes. “That was ten,”
Theodore said, letting out a breath. “For being smart with me. I’ll give you
twenty for disobeying me, and then twenty more for insulting me. I think that
should be enough to get through to you.”
Without waiting for an answer, Theodore started spanking Marcus again, harder
this time. Marcus clenched his jaw shut, determined to keep quiet. He wasn’t
going to make any noise, he wasn’t going to let Theodore have the satisfaction
of knowing this was working. He wasn’t going to let Theodore win.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room, the only sound Marcus would
allow. He counted them in his head. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Theodore’s other
hand was on Marcus’s back, holding him in place. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.
Every smack was pushing Marcus against Theodore’s lap, rubbing. Seventeen,
eighteen, nineteen. Marcus…
Marcus was hard, and when he realized that, a small sound of embarrassment
escaped him.
Twenty.
Damnit. Marcus panted, trying to catch his breath, grateful that Theodore had
decided to take a break. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice Marcus’s boner.
“Now,” Theodore said, also panting. “Would you like to apologize for calling me
names, Marcus?”
Marcus had always been told that his mouth was going to be the death of him
someday. “Screw you.”
“Ah.” Theodore sighed. Marcus’s butt stung. “I’d hoped to take ten off this
lot, but you’ve gone and added ten. A pity.”
The first strike came hard, the hardest yet. And the next several made clear
that Theodore had been holding back on purpose. Marcus really needed to learn
to keep his mouth shut.
But now wasn’t the time for that, because Marcus couldn’t keep quiet anymore,
and he let out a cry with each smack. At ten strokes, tears started to collect
in his eyes.
At fifteen, he stopped feeling strong.
At twenty, he managed to get out, “I’m…I’m sorry…” and it sounded pitiful.
At twenty-five smacks, Marcus came against Theodore’s legs, and he was so out
of it he didn’t even feel the last five hits.
“There you go,” Theodore said, patting Marcus on the back. His butt was on
fire. “Let’s stand you up, now, I want to get a good look at you.”
Marcus stood up in front of Theodore. Tears tracked down his cheeks, his eyes
were puffy and red, his nose was running, his whole face was flushed. His dick
was still hard and sticky.
Theodore smiled at him. “I think you liked that, didn’t you?” he said, brushing
Marcus’s boner.
Thoroughly humiliated, Marcus just stood there. He’d hated that…but he’d also
liked it. Maybe.
Now Theodore stroked his cheek. “You’re so strong, Marcus. Such a strong boy.
Always so strong. I think maybe part of you enjoyed not having to be strong for
once.”
Marcus didn’t know what to do. So he just nodded. It was easier.
“I enjoyed it too,” Theodore said, gesturing towards the tent in his pants.
“I’m glad you’re so strong, Marcus, it makes me less worried that I’m going to
hurt you.”
Marcus smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He’d met the other slaves, the ones
Theodore had gotten tired of. They were all wimps. That was probably why he’d
gotten tired of them.
“Now,” Theodore said, undoing his pants. “For a different reason this time, but
I’m going to ask you again. Why don’t you come and sit on my lap, Marcus?”
“Yes, Master.”
***** Nicholas/Isaac, First Time (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Not actually anyone's first time, but it's Nicholas's first time
     bottoming. :)
Prompt: "“I never even thought about putting anything up here until I met you.”
“Give it a try sometime,” Isaac suggested, clenching a little around Nicholas’s
thumb. “It’s fun. Pairs well with having your other hand on your dick.” “I’ll
keep that in mind.” [from chapter_42_of_Chosen_One] #29 would Nicholas bottom?"
by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“This was a bad idea,” Nicholas muttered.
“You want me to stop?” Isaac asked, immediately and sincerely.
“No…” Nicholas said. “I didn’t say that. Just…you’d better not tell anyone
about this.”
‘This’ was Nicholas, stark naked on Isaac’s bed, ass in the air, hugging
Isaac’s pillow while Isaac slid three fingers in and out of him from behind,
patiently stretching him. He never should have listened to Isaac’s suggestion
that he try sticking fingers up there, because Isaac had been right, it did
pair well with his hand on his dick, and Nicholas had found himself liking it.
And getting frustrated that he couldn’t fit just a little bit more up there,
couldn’t quite reach that part that he could almost feel and wanted to touch.
He had enough experience with Isaac that he hadn’t had to think too hard about
what else might go up there to help him with that problem.
“Of course I won’t,” Isaac said, sincere again. “Come on, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nicholas said, panting. “I know. That’s why I came to you and not
someone else.” Nicholas snorted. “Who else could I go to and say ‘hey, I’ve
been wondering what it’s like to have a dick up my ass, help a guy out?’”
“I can think of a few guys who’d indulge you,” Isaac said, really getting his
fingers up there, farther than Nicholas had gotten.
“No,” Nicholas shook his head. “I asked you for a reason.”
“And what reason is that?”
Nicholas flushed a little. “Because I assumed you were good at it.”
That and because he trusted Isaac to go slowly, to stop if Nicholas asked him
to, and to make sure everything was done properly. Which apparently included
ten minutes of fingers up there first.
Not that Nicholas was complaining.
Isaac chuckled. “Well, I’m not as experienced with topping as I am the other
way around, but I’ll do my best. Here, I’m going to show you something
awesome.”
Before Nicholas could even form the question, Isaac poked something inside him,
that same something that Nicholas had been looking for. Nicholas shuddered,
letting out a quiet moan. “Good, huh? That’s the best part of being on bottom.”
“Yeah…” It had felt really good. “Do it again.”
Isaac did, but then he pulled his fingers back as Nicholas gasped in pleasure
once more. “You want to keep going with the fingers, or are you ready to join
me in the world of bottoms?”
Nicholas was, at best, a tourist in the world of bottoms, but he nodded. “Okay.
I’m ready.”
“Okay,” Isaac said, pulling his fingers out of Nicholas. Nicholas tried not to
make a stupid noise as the loss, looking over his shoulder to see Isaac pouring
oil on his hand and coating his dick with it carefully. When he was done he
smiled at Nicholas, put a hand on Nicholas’s ass to steady himself and guided
himself towards Nicholas’s hole with his other hand. “Tell me if you want me to
stop at all, okay?”
“I know.” Nicholas appreciated the reminder, though. He was telling himself
that he fit inside Isaac, and he was bigger than Isaac. He knew a dick could
fit up there. It was fine.
“Good.” Isaac pressed against Nicholas’s hole, and slipped inside easier than
Nicholas had thought. That must have been what the ten minutes of fingers were
for, he figured, because Isaac slid inside a good length, filling Nicholas up
in a way fingers hadn’t.
“Oh…” Nicholas said, taking deep breaths. Isaac paused, patting his back.
“How’s it going?”
“You’re bigger than you look,” Nicholas said, smiling, eyes closed.
A chuckle.
“What?”
“You know I’m only halfway in, right?”
Oh. Nicholas opened his eyes, surprised. It felt like much more. “Well…yes. It
doesn’t hurt. You can put the rest in.”
He’d expected it to sting a little, but Isaac had done a good job preparing
him.
“Alright,” Isaac reached around and wrapped a hand around Nicholas’s dick,
slowly jerking Nicholas off as he pushed inside.
Nicholas buried his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds he was letting out.
Now it stung a little, but not so bad that Nicholas wanted it to stop. After a
really long minute, he felt Isaac’s hips connect with his. “There you go,”
Isaac muttered, hand on Nicholas’s thigh. “All the way in.” His voice sounded
strained. “You good?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Okay. I’m going to move.” Isaac did just that, pulled out and pushing back in,
then doing it again faster, and a little faster again until he was matching the
speed of his hand on Nicholas’s dick. He was panting but not nearly as badly as
Nicholas, who was short of breath.
Isaac picked up speed, a lot of speed but not too much, fucking Nicholas with
thrusts that certainly seemed practiced to Nicholas. Even from here he could
tell that Isaac had more control over himself than did Nicholas when he was
topping. “Forgot how good this is,” Isaac grunted as he fucked Nicholas.
“You’ve got a nice ass, Nicholas.”
“Th-thanks…” Nicholas wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but Isaac was nice
so he took it as once.
Isaac let out a breath and pulled all the way out of Nicholas for a second,
readjusting him before driving back in all at once. And hitting that spot again
inside Nicholas, making Nicholas yelp. He could practically picture Isaac’s
smirk, and as Isaac started hitting that spot over and over, Nicholas found it
was practically all he could picture. He was hot, so hot, all over and he was
about to…
Nicholas came with a loud shout into the pillow, bucking his hips as he shot
all over Isaac’s bed. He was quite sure he’d have cum even without Isaac’s hand
on him, honestly.
He was starting to understand why Isaac liked this so much.
Isaac kept fucking Nicholas after he’d cum, giving a few more hard thrusts
before doubling over, kissing Nicholas’s shoulder and shooting inside him with
a grunt. “Oh, wow…”
Nicholas sort of collapsed forward, not able to stay on his knees anymore. He
flopped down in his own mess, and Isaac came with him, the jolt driving him
deep inside Nicholas in a movement that had them both making noise.
They lay there for a second and then Isaac pulled out, laying on his belly
beside Nicholas. He kissed Nicholas on the cheek. “So, how was it?”
Nicholas was still catching his breath. His ass was sore, and felt empty and
warm and sticky. “You shot inside me.”
“Yeah. I wanted you to get the full treatment.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I…I liked it,” he admitted. “I like topping better. But I
could see visiting the world of bottoms every now and then.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Isaac giggled. “You know I never thought you’d even
want to try this.”
Nicholas smiled, leaning over and kissing Isaac on the cheek, just for fun.
“What can I say? You’re a terrible influence.”
***** Aaron/Seth, Last Time/End of the World (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Two guys who know their future share their last night together.
     I was so happy to get this prompt, seriously. I love these two so
     much.
Prompt: "The #52 [Last Time/End of the World]prompt made me think of Aaron and
Seth, would it have happened? I don't know much about them but unrequited love
makes me deeply sad," by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Neither of them could sleep. They were laying in their tent beside each other,
staring up at the canvas. They’d have been better walking through the night.
But here they were, quiet. Suffocating in what they knew was coming.
“I can’t…” Seth whispered suddenly, shifting. “Aaron, you awake?”
“Yeah.”
Seth rolled over, onto his side, and then more, on top of Aaron before Aaron
could stop him, looking down at Aaron. The air inside the tent was glowing, the
proximity to the tower casting light through the fabric.
“What are you doing?”
“I…” Seth looked pained. His bare chest was covered in scars. “We’re going to
die tomorrow.”
Aaron looked up at him, made himself smile. “Yeah.”
It was what they’d chosen.
“You said…” Seth swallowed air, exhaled. “You never said anything to me because
you didn’t want to push me away. You didn’t want to…ruin our friendship.”
“Yeah,” Aaron said, nodding. He’d been scared. Seth was his best friend.
“We’re doing to die,” Seth said, insistent. And he leaned down and kissed Aaron
on the mouth. “Let’s ruin our friendship.”
Aaron wanted to. It was a bad idea. Seth didn’t really feel that way about him,
he was sure. Seth liked girls, he’d liked Amy. He was saying that because he’d
liked Aaron’s sister. He was saying that because they didn’t have to live with
each other after this. He didn’t want to spend his last night alone.
Aaron wanted to. It was a bad idea.
They were going to die anyway, and Aaron didn’t want to spend his last night
looking up at the tent canvas either.
“Okay,” Aaron said, putting his arms around Seth, and kissing him back. They
kissed for a while, a good while, moving against each other. Aaron was hard in
his breeches but before it could become a problem, Seth was reaching down,
fishing him out of there, pulling Aaron’s clothes down. Aaron gasped as Seth’s
hand wrapped around him, warm and tight, rough and calloused from holding a
sword all his life.
Seth kissed Aaron hungrily, possessively and inexpertly, and Aaron kissed him
back in exactly the same way. Aaron had loved Seth for so long. So long. And
Seth was probably just doing this because Aaron was here and they were going to
die. But Aaron didn’t care. He wanted it, had wanted it for a while.
Aaron wasn’t even surprised when he came, making a pitiful noise and a mess on
Seth’s hand all at once.
Seth let go of him, looking down at Aaron with eyes heavy. He glanced at his
hand. “I want to…”
Aaron nodded before he could even finish, and Seth kissed him again, reaching
down and finding Aaron’s hole, having enough sense to stick his cum-stained
fingers inside Aaron to stretch him, but not enough sense to do it slowly,
gently. Aaron didn’t care. They were running out of time, and this was their
last chance. He didn’t care if it stung.
Aaron reached down, pulled his pants down as Seth fingered him, bringing one
leg nearly up to his shoulder to get his leg out of the hole and then spreading
his legs to give Seth the access he needed. With his hands free, he started to
liberate Seth from his clothes as well.
When he got Seth’s pants down to his thighs, enough that his boner sprung up to
his belly, Seth pulled his fingers out. “I’m going to do it.”
“Yeah. Do it.”
Aaron braced himself as Seth grabbed his dick, pointed it at Aaron’s hole and
pressed it in, slowly. It hurt. It had never hurt when Aaron had pictured it in
his mind with his hand for companion, often when Seth was snoring nearby. It
hurt and it spoke of desperation, insistence.
Seth pressed into Aaron, kissing him hungrily again, hands on Aaron’s sides as
he drove in, gasping when he hit full hilt. And then Seth started thrusting,
awkward, uncoordinated, for all the world like he was doing what he’d heard was
the thing to do. It still hurt but Aaron didn’t care, he wrapped his arms
around Seth’s chest, his legs around Seth’s thighs, and let Seth fuck him,
grunting and groaning and kissing Aaron over and over as if to make up for all
the years of not kissing him at all.
Seth’s thrusts picked up suddenly, getting harder, faster, and Seth came inside
Aaron, shouting a sound that Aaron swallowed, hands moving up to Aaron’s
shoulders as he rammed into Aaron.
When he was done, he collapsed a little, breaking away from Aaron’s lips,
breath falling on Aaron’s neck. Aaron could see stars as he looked up, still
holding Seth in place. “Did…did you like it?” Seth asked after a minute.
“Yeah,” Aaron said, nodding. He felt a tear threatening to collect in his eye.
“Yeah, I did.”
“You didn’t…” Seth reached down, hand on Aaron’s dick again.
“It’s okay,” Aaron whispered. “It’s fine.”
“No,” Seth said, shaking his head. “I want you to like it. You deserve it.”
“I do like it, Seth,” Aaron promised. “I do.”
“I’m going to do it again,” Seth said, kissing Aaron, squeezing his dick.
“Properly this time. You’re going to like it.” His voice was quivering. He was
crying. “You’re going to like it. I love you, Aaron.”
“I love you too, Seth,” Aaron said, crying a little himself. “I love you too.”
“You’re buzzing so much,” Seth whispered.
“I know. Sorry.”
“I wish you’d told me.”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know.” Seth lifted his head, looking down at Aaron. “You’re going to
like it this time. I love you.” And, as he started moving again, more slowly
and carefully, he kissed Aaron like that was true.
They were going to die anyway. With his arms and legs wrapped around Seth,
Aaron kissed him back and pretended it was true.
***** Aaron/Seth, Last Time redux (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     A sort-of continuation of the previous chapter, featuring the very
     last moments that I'm willing to show for the two of them. :)
Prompt: "Inspired by the last drabble, do you think you could do a Last Time
one specifically for one (or both) of the characters being executed shortly
after?" by an anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
Up close, the tower was so bright it hurt Aaron’s eyes, it hurt all of his
senses.
They stood about five feet from the top of the hill, looking up at it. There
was no door, no obvious way in. But Aaron knew how to get in. They were
outfitted for battle, a mockery. Seth was in his armour, his helmet, sword
sharpened and ready. Aaron’s armour was lighter, slightly less battered except
for the scorch marks that Seth didn’t have. Underneath one scorch on the left
breast was an engraved spider. The same as the one on the metal brace on his
right wrist, which clung to a number that didn’t mean anything anymore.
Aaron could feel his entire body buzzing like it wanted to explode.
He took a step forward. Seth reached out and grabbed his hand. “Aaron.”
“What?” Aaron turned, faced Seth, who leaned up and kissed him.
Aaron couldn’t help himself. He kissed Seth back, gently. Gently, which turned
into not as gently, and their arms were around each other, holding each other
in place. Seth’s tongue found its way into Aaron’s mouth, and Aaron slid his
hand down and fumbled around with Seth’s belt, lifting chainmail and slipping a
buzzing hand inside Seth’s pants.
Seth had an easier time getting his hand in Aaron’s, and the next few minutes
were quick, frantic, lasting forever and not taking any time at all. They just
kissed, and touched each other like they were the only people in the world, the
only things that mattered. Like they loved each other and were about to have a
normal day, like this was just the first of many times they’d do this.
Seth came first, wrapping his arm tighter around Aaron as he stained his pants,
hand tightening around Aaron’s dick as he did, jerking him hard. Aaron came
with a pitiful whinge, filling his own pants as he panted into Seth’s mouth.
They kissed for a good long minute after that, communicating without words.
Then Aaron pulled away, flushed in the face, and let Seth go. He wanted to just
have this, forever. He wanted to go away, to leave, to just live somewhere with
Seth.
But he couldn’t have that. The Web buzzed around him. “Let’s go,” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
They fixed their clothes, turned back to the tower, started back up the hill.
“When we get in there let me do the talking,” Aaron told Seth, preparing
himself to draw on the Web for the last time.
“I’m not hiding behind you.”
“I didn’t say that. Just don’t charge forward without me.”
Seth looked at him. “I won’t go anywhere without you.”
“Okay.” Aaron smiled, reaching his hand out as they reached the base of the
tower, feeling its power, connecting to it. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The bright light the tower emitted had drowned out everything else. Aaron
couldn’t see Seth anymore. But it didn’t matter. He knew he was there, with
him, until the end.
***** Isaac, A/B/O (slightly nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     Just Isaac having a slightly embarrassing moment that works out
     pretty alright for him in the end.
Prompt: "From that prompt/kink list: 1 [A/B/O], involving Isaac and how partial
shifting and the subsequent tails involved seem to occur at the most
hilariously inconvenient of times," by folkendefanel, based on this_prompt
list.
---
Contrary to popular belief, Isaac wasn’t actually horny all the time.
Sure, a good amount of the time. Maybe more than some other people (though
Isaac had a feeling that other people just pretended they weren’t most of the
time). Maybe half, three quarters of the time, Isaac was in the mood for dick.
But there were times where he wasn’t, honestly.
And the problem with the society they lived in—one of the problems, Isaac could
go on for days—was that certain things were associated with some primal desire
to cum in something. People did a partial shift for all kinds of reasons,
physiologically speaking, many of them not at all dick-related, and almost all
of them uncontrollable at times.
Really, it was just immature to laugh when it happened.
“Wow, Isaac, you must have done really well,” Andy said from behind him, poking
Isaac’s shoulder and drawing Isaac away from his test paper that he’d just been
handed back.
“Huh?” Isaac had indeed done quite well, better than he’d thought—the extra
half-hour they’d started giving him to accommodate him was really helpful.
“Yeah, I did okay. You?”
“Fine.” Andy smiled. “I mean, not ‘popping a tail’ okay, but I’m good.”
“What…” Isaac looked down over his shoulder, saw his fuzzy grey tail, which
hadn’t been there a second ago. Wagging back and forth aggressively, even.
“Fuck, whatever,” he muttered, blushing. Absently, he brought his hand up to
his head, pleased to note that at least his damned ears hadn’t come out.
It may have been perfectly normal, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t embarrassing.
“Just saying,” Andy giggled, as they packed up their stuff. “I was going to ask
if you wanted to come over, but it seems like you and the history test want a
little alone time.”
“Perfectly normal thing to have happen,” Isaac grumbled, shoving things into
his bag. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure. So are you going to top or bottom for the test? I feel like paper cuts
are an issue either way?”
“Oh, my God,” Isaac growled, not meaning to. “Get over it. Nothing to do with
sex, I was just excited.”
“Just like you were excited during the basketball game yesterday?”
Isaac rolled his eyes, reached down to adjust his pants, open up the tail slot
in the back.
“And during the drunk driving demonstration,” Andy continued, leaning forward.
“And during the assembly last week. Oh, and when we had that guest speaker on
homelessness? And at lunch yesterday, but I guess pizza is always worth a tail
wag. Plus there’s…”
“Do you have nothing better to do than keep track of every time my tail shows
up?” Isaac asked. At least two of those had been because of horniness, to be
fair. And fortunately Andy didn’t know about his great-aunt’s funeral, or the
fancy town council party, or the pride march or the doctor’s office or the mall
when he’d been buying shirts or the movie theatre or the…
Maybe Isaac had a bit of a problem.
“Well…” Andy stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the ceiling as they
headed out of the room. “I mean, I was thinking I’d invite you over for a twin
sandwich after school, but if the tail wagging doesn’t mean anything and you’re
not in the mood…”
“Hey,” Isaac said, nodding with vigour. “Just because it doesn’t mean anything
now doesn’t mean it won’t later. I’ll be there.”
He was always down for a twin sandwich, and he didn’t have any plans today.
“Cool.” Andy smiled. “See you then. You have Health class next—you might want
to put that guy away before you walk in there or you’ll get used as a
demonstration.”
“Fuck…” Isaac sighed. Andy wasn’t totally wrong. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Uh-huh,” Andy said, tugging Isaac’s tail. “I don’t mind a little fur in my
sandwich.”
“Shut up,” Isaac grumbled.
“Goes well with the cream filling.”
As Isaac tried not to turn red—honestly, as if the prospect of sex embarrassed
him—Andy laughed, headed off for class and left Isaac standing there in the
hallway. Tail wagging like crazy for everyone to see.
Contrary to popular belief, Isaac wasn’t actually horny all the time. But it
sure as hell wasn’t hard to get him there.
***** Owen/Gavin, Winter Clothes *****
Chapter Notes
     I came across the art challenge called Magic_Meat_March on Tumblr the
     other day and though I'm not an artist, I just really wanted to
     participate, so I wrote a thing and will likely write a few more
     things. Enjoy Owen and Gavin shopping for weather-appropriate
     clothes.
“If we’re going to fight a winter wizard, we’re going to need better gear,”
Gavin said, leading Owen into the shop.
Owen nodded. “This is a bit chilly in this weather,” he agreed, tapping on the
steel codpiece he wore, painted red like his boots, gauntlets and shoulder
guards. Hands clasped behind his head to show off his chest, Owen looked around
the shop.
Gavin cocked his hips, hand on one of them as he licked his lips, considering.
His knee-high boots, gloves and the strap for his pack that ran across his bare
chest were all the same supple leather as his shorts, snug and using as little
fabric as possible to let him move quickly and quietly in a fight.
“Can I help you two gentlemen with something?” The proprietor, an older lady in
layers of fur, approached them with a smile. “My, aren’t you both handsome?”
Gavin gave her a coy smile. “So they tell us, ma’am. We need winter gear,
preferably something that might defend us against ice magic.”
“Ah,” the shopkeep nodded. “Yes, you two’ll freeze dressed like that. I’ve just
the thing, come.”
She led them down to the back of the shop, past racks of heavy-looking armour
for women, taking up a lot of space just because of how big and complex they
were to put on. Owen was grateful that he didn’t have to muck around with all
that. He was nervous enough as it was that adding winter protection to his
armour would make problems for him in fighting.
Finally, at the back of the store, she pointed them towards the wall of real
clothes. “For ice, I’d suggest this for you,” she said pointing out one outfit
to Gavin. “And for your big friend, something more like this one.”
Gavin nodded, touching some of the material and considering. He pointed at the
one she’d selected for Owen, which Owen liked the looks of more than he’d
figured he would. “Do you have a red one? He has this theme going.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you two head into the back to change and
I’ll bring them back to you?”
Gavin nodded, pulling Owen into the back room, where he smiled. “See, it’ll be
fine.”
“We’ll see after I’ve tried it on,” Owen said, arms crossed. “If I have to
fight in it, it has to be comfortable.”
“Let’s try things on, then.”
By the time they stepped out of the back room twenty minutes later, Owen was
sold. The shoulder armour on the winter gear hugged him more closely and didn’t
pinch as much as his old armour, the new gauntlets were strong but without
being too heavy, his new boots left more of his calves free to breathe when he
ran, and the new codpiece was less metal against his skin, thinner and easier
to move in, holding his junk in place but not too tightly. A chain ran from the
bottom of the plate, between his legs and up between his buttcheeks, connecting
to the strap in the back, which was far preferable to the uncomfortable plate
of metal on the last one that had been just too small to sit on. At least now
there was nothing to make a strange imprint on his butt.
Everything on the new armour was lined with fur, so he should be plenty warm in
the winter.
Owen stretched out his arms, bent over a few times to touch his toes, did a few
squats while Gavin paid. His new boots came just short of his knee and had a
bit of a heel to them to give him a boost in height that would be useful for an
archer, and also doing great things for his bare thighs. Gavin’s gloves were
made from fur as well, and he’d gone with a narrower pack strap that crossed
his chest between his pectorals and could be easily removed if someone grabbed
him. The new shorts were made totally from fur, cut triangularly and stopping a
good two inches higher up his thighs, not to mention cut a lot lower on top,
the V-line of his pubic bone fully visible.
Gavin said that Owen’s new armour should do its job of distracting the enemy
perfectly, but Owen had a feeling that Gavin would be the one stunning them
into inaction.
Gavin turned his torso after paying, giving Owen a good look at his chest while
keeping his backside on display. “Ready to go?”
“Always,” Owen grinned, arms behind his head again as he and Gavin headed
outside to go fight evil and end eternal winter. “I hope you kept the old
stuff,” he said, as they stepped out into the wind. “We’re going to be too hot
in this once it’s not winter anymore.”
Gavin shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”
Sure enough, though snow was piled up high and barrels of water were frozen
solid, Owen barely felt the cold.
They were wearing fur, after all.
***** Ron/James, Optimized for Maximal Power *****
Chapter Notes
     Going to try and give all the major characters the skimpy empowering
     outfits treatment. There's a prompt list associated with this, but
     most of them don't work for the series so I'm ignoring it a bit.
“Why do we have to wear these?”
“Because it’s a formal meeting and we need to dress formally.”
“But why is this formalwear?”
“Because it just is, Ron, I’m not going to explain the whole history of
clothing to you.”
“Because you don’t know?”
James looked at him, holding out what he expected Ron to wear. Ron looked back,
for a whole second before giving in, taking it, looking at it. “I don’t think I
can fit in this.”
A small smile. “I think you can pull it off. Or stuff it in, whichever. It’s
the expected garment for my attendant.”
With that, James turned around and started stripping out of his regular
clothes, preparing to dress in his formalwear laid out on the bed.
“All I’m saying,” Ron said, still contemplating the—very small—piece of fabric
in his hand. “Is that I don’t understand why formalwear has to be
so…revealing.”
“It’s more than you normally wear,” James said, picking up his tight shorts and
stepping into them.
“I know, I know, just…” Ron gestured at James as he sucked in his belly,
strained a little to fit into the shorts, which left a pronounced bulge in the
front when he got them on properly. James took a moment to adjust himself. “Why
can’t you wear more than that?”
“I’ll be wearing my coat,” James said, waving at it. Aside from the shorts and
his moccasins, it was the only thing he’d be wearing to the meeting.
“But…”
James sighed. “It’s because I’m a witch. Having my skin exposed to nature lets
me be in closer contact with it. I get my powers from nature, remember? Showing
a lot of skin makes me more powerful, and that’s important at a formal event.”
“But…” Ron made a vague gesture. “Your cousin doesn’t dress like that. Your
aunt doesn’t. Your grandmother doesn’t.”
“Do you want my grandmother to wear short shorts?”
“That’s not the point!”
James smiled, patted Ron on the shoulder. “I think the point is that you’re
nervous. Don’t be—it’s empowering.”
Ron sighed now. “I guess,” he conceded. As James turned away to pull his long
coat on, Ron bent over and slipped into the tiny scrap of fabric, a little
sling of black cotton for his junk to live in, held up by a thin waistband. Ron
would be more covered by putting on a pair of socks.
It was too small, and Ron had to do a lot of creative stuffing and squishing to
get everything to stay in without causing a malfunction. When he was finally
done, he looked up at James, smiled.
James had sat down on the bed, one leg drawn up to his chest, arms around his
knee as he leaned forward a little. “There. See, you look all sexy, doesn’t
that feel good?”
Ron nodded, admitting to himself that it did. “It does make me feel pretty
empowered.” He looked down at himself, flexing a little. He looked pretty good.
“Me too,” James said. “Literally and figuratively.” He stood, his shorts
inching down a bit as he moved. Since they only had about an inch and a half of
leeway, it was quite something to watch. “Come on, let’s go be formal.”
“Alright, alright,” Ron smiled, followed James out of the room. The strip of
fabric in the back was already working itself into a wedgie, and Ron picked at
it a little.
Ron sure did feel powerful, but he’d be happy when he could get out of it. He
wasn’t made for formalwear.
***** Cal/Wes/Mick/Sully, Dressing the Part *****
Chapter Notes
     There's a prompt list for this, which I'm not following super a lot,
     but I try when I can. Today it was sexy comic/manga covers. :)
“You can’t go in like that,” Cal said, watching Sully get ready.
“What?” Sully looked down at himself. “Like what?”
“You’re not dressed for work.” They were going in to raid an abandoned fortress
for a dangerous artefact that was in there, and were suiting up as they spoke,
except for Sully, who was just standing there in his ratty old clothes.
“I don’t have other clothes, dumbass,” Sully muttered. As they all changed,
he’d been doing a very good job of keeping his eyes away.
“Yeah you do, I put them in your bag ages ago.” Cal shook his head, a bit
exasperated. “Didn’t you notice?”
“What?” Sully frowned, looked in his bag for a minute, coming up with the
clothes. “Don’t fucking sneak shit into my stuff.”
“Just get dressed,” Cal said, shaking his head as he tied his loincloth. “We
don’t have all night.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sully gave a dramatic sigh and started stripping out of his worn
old shirt, his baggy shorts, and pulling on the work clothes Cal had bought
him.
As Sully dressed, Cal checked to see if the others were ready. Wes had finished
coating his bare chest in protective oil so his muscles gleaned him the
lamplight, and was just tying the strap on his large steel codpiece that he’d
pull tight pants up over, giving the impression of girth and hardness that was
meant to intimidate the enemy. Cal knew for a fact that it wasn’t just an
impression and that Wes mostly filled that thing out, but they could hardly
have him going into battle unprotected. He grinned at Cal as he reached for the
pants, patting the codpiece as if in invitation.
Cal smiled back and turned to Mick, who had finished tying the typical mage’s
gear of a long strip of fabric, starting around the neck, crossing to cover the
nipples, crossing again in the back to cover the butt and coming up between the
legs to hold the junk in place. The patterns of the fabric enhanced his powers,
but ever modest, Mick was wearing a pair of triangle-cut smallclothes
underneath the wrap. The reduced amount of the power stole that touched his
skin meant he’d sacrifice a little power, but Mick felt just a little too naked
without the shorts—and he made up for it anyway with glowing blue warpaint
across his muscled chest and arms. He smiled shyly at Cal.
For himself, Cal was wearing his usual short coat, arms covered by the tight
sleeves and chest mostly covered except where the low neckline left a lot of
space before the single button keeping it in place. His midriff was bare and he
was wearing his sword belt above his loincloth, tied tightly so it wouldn’t get
in the way of work. His short boots were held up with straps tied to garters on
his thighs. “Ready, Sully?” Cal asked, winking at Mick.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sully had pulled on the tights Cal had bought him, which were a
tad small and left nothing to the imagination, especially not with that low
cut. On his chest he wore an open vest with nothing underneath, and his arms
bore a few leather straps with pouches on them. Standard gear for a thief,
nothing too fancy. Cal figured he could customize himself later if he wanted
something a little better—it was kind of a lot of fabric for someone who had to
move quietly. “This is…better than my old clothes, for stealing. Thanks.”
“Can’t have a teammate going out not properly dressed.” Cal smiled, dropping
into a near-split to stretch out his legs while Wes picked up his axe, the way
he was leaning forward really highlighting how nicely the tight pants fit his
backside as it stuck out a little. Mick was stretching, leaning back a little.
Sully came over and joined them, stance wide as he stood with his hands linked
behind his head, for all the world like he’d always been part of their team.
Cal was struck with a thought for just a moment that together, the four of them
looked like they should be on the cover of one of those novels about
adventurers who saved the world, or something.
“Alright,” Cal said to his team, pumped now. “Let’s go break and enter, and not
necessarily in that order.”
***** Isaac, Uniform Policy *****
Chapter Notes
     Naturally, Isaac is totally okay living in a world where skimpy
     clothes are the norm.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“There is no rest of it,” Yancy told them. “These are the training uniforms.
Please change into them and meet me in the classroom immediately.”
And with that, Yancy left, obviously just expecting them all to figure out how
a long sash was a uniform or indeed, an outfit at all.
“Hm.” Isaac looked at it, amused. Maybe he was supposed to tie it around his
waist? Or like, over one shoulder and in between his legs?
“This is silly,” Nicholas insisted, picking one up. “They told us this was an
upgrade. This isn’t even clothes. How are we supposed to wear it? What’s it
supposed to cover?”
Isaac shrugged. They had indeed been informed that they were far enough along
in their training to wear the proper mage attire. “Well, there’s an obvious
first step,” he said, quickly taking off his clothes. “Now we just have to
figure out the…”
He picked up his sash as he spoke, and it glowed, the black fabric alighting
with blue and red symbols all down its length. And it jumped on Isaac, ignoring
his yelp. While the other guys all laughed at him, Isaac tried to fight off the
sash, but it was merciless. It wound around his neck, then down across his
chest in an X, then around his back, making another X over his butt. The two
ends came up between his legs, merging together to cover his dick, and then the
whole thing just…adhered to him. It stayed in place without him having to do
anything, no matter how much Isaac moved around, trying to get a better look.
“Oh,” he said, looking down at himself. It wasn’t even uncomfortable, it felt
like wearing nothing. Which Isaac could get behind. “That’s not so bad, then.”
Following his lead, a few of the other guys stripped out of their clothes too,
letting the magic sashes latch on to them and do the same. Once they were sure
it was safe, the rest of the class followed suit, and soon they were adequately
dressed. Or at least dressed. “I feel naked,” Nicholas complained, picking at
the ends of the sash as he tried futility to cover himself with his hands.
“I feel…kind of powerful,” Peter muttered, frowning down at himself. He had
turned most of the way over his shoulder to look down at his backside, which in
Isaac’s opinion looked even better than usual.
“Me too,” Isaac agreed, and it wasn’t just because the outfit was awesome. He
could literally feel magic coursing through him in a way it didn’t normally. He
grinned, feeling cocky. Mostly because he was in a room full of barely dressed
guys, which always made him feel good. “Come on, let’s get to class.”
In the classroom, Yancy was dressed in a sash like theirs, hairy chest and
belly on display. Under his robes, he was buffer than Isaac had expected,
though the way he stood with his chest puffed out might have enhanced the
illusion a little. Still, Isaac was slightly less enthused about the outfits
all of the sudden. Putting an age limit on them wouldn’t be the worst idea
ever.
Then again, when he was Yancy’s age Isaac might change his mind about that.
“About time you all stopped dilly-dallying,” Yancy grumped, directing them to
join the other half of the class. The girls were all standing there as well,
also dressed in their uniforms. Made of similar fabric but much more of it, the
girls were dressed mostly in black, barely any skin showing. Their outfits
didn’t look as form-fitting, either.
“I want an explanation for this,” Nicholas said, gesturing at the girls. “How
come they’re allowed to be dressed?”
“This is the academy’s training uniform,” Yancy informed them, gesturing at
himself. “As you are learning magic, you will find it useful. It helps your
body channel and control magic. Once you’re fully trained, you may choose not
to wear it, but even then it is helpful, take it from me.”
“Okay,” Nicholas said, quite reasonably, nodding. “Awesome. Can I have a girl’s
uniform?”
There was some collective laughter at that, though Isaac didn’t approve. There
was nothing wrong with wanting to wear a girl’s uniform if that was what made
Nicholas comfortable.
Yancy shook his head. “The boys’ and girls’ uniforms are the same material, and
the same function, Nicholas.”
“But there’s more fabric…”
“I don’t see the problem,” Bianca said, smiling at Nicholas. “You guys look
good, and that’s what matters, right?”
“But…”
Isaac put a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Come on, Nicholas. Don’t be such a
prude. Nothing wrong with showing a little skin.” He struck a bit of a pose,
hands on the back of his hips and grinning seductively. “See?”
“If you boys are done playing,” Yancy interrupted, bringing their attention
back to him. “Let’s begin class. Clear your minds, and feel your power. The
uniform will help you if you’re uncertain.”
Feeling powerful, Isaac got to work. He was really liking being a mage.
***** Pax/Nate, Under the Costume *****
Chapter Notes
     The theme for today was superheroes and I couldn't think of anything
     good in the main timeline, so here they are as superheroes.
     Or...super people of varying moral fibres, at least.
“Halt, evildoer.”
Pax didn’t halt in putting diamonds in the pouch on his belt, but he did look
up, pulling a bit of a face. “I’m not sure this qualifies as evil,” he said to
the mask standing in the doorway. “I mean I’m not building a death ray or
trying to enslave the population or making alliances with otherworldly beings
or plotting to blow up the sun. This is mischief at best. Also, ‘halt,
evildoer?’ Really? It’s not the fifties anymore, you know.”
“Well…” the mask frowned behind his mask, a green bandana tied around his
forehead and eyes. It matched his seafoam green coat, spandex stretched across
his muscles, V-neck diving down to his navel, exposing the iron medallion he
wore that probably gave him his powers. Matching short pants that halted at his
knee carried his insignia, a stylized anchor that was emblazoned on his…er,
anchor, and looking there made Pax realizing that the pants were even tighter
than they looked. A pair of pixie boots brought the ensemble together, along
with a cutlass at his hip. “Okay,” the mask—the Swashbuckler, Pax
remembered—agreed. “But halt, mischief-maker doesn’t have the same ring to it
and also, put those diamonds back so I can take you to jail.”
“Don’t be silly,” Pax said, standing lithely. Not that he was a particularly
lithe person, but it was a mindset. “You don’t want to take me to jail.”
“Yes…I do?”
“No, you don’t,” Pax insisted, smiling. “Jail is dangerous and dirty and awful
and I’m harmless and charming and don’t deserve it.”
“You’re stealing the…”
“I probably had a hard past, don’t you think?” Pax asked, interrupting. It
shouldn’t take long before his power of persuasion kicked in. “I’m probably
only stealing because that’s all I was ever raised to do by the evil
businessman who raised me after my parents died, and I’m probably just trying
to feed orphans and my cat. Look at me, I’m harmless, right? I’m not up to
anything that bad.”
“I…guess,” the Swashbuckler agreed, nodding. He was still in his heroic stance,
chest jutted out, hands on his hips, chin up. “You shouldn’t steal, though.”
“Yeah, but I will anyway. Besides these diamonds are insured, so it’s not like
the owner’s out anything. Come on, move out of my way, give me your wallet and
we’ll get out of each other’s hair. You can get back to stopping people from
committing navel-themed crimes and I can get back to being all sad and orphaned
and stuff.”
“Oh, sure,” the Swashbuckler said, moving out of the doorway and reaching into
the back of his pants—how—and taking out his wallet to hand over to Pax.
“Thanks,” Pax said, taking it, taking out all the money and pocketing it
before, with a glance at the Swashbuckler’s driver’s license—Nate Seaworthy, he
had a whole theme going there—he handed it back.
“No problem. Wow, your costume is just body paint, isn’t it?”
Pax smiled, nodding. “Looking at me, were you? It’s not all body paint, I’ll
have you know. You need to improve your observation skills.” To demonstrate, he
tapped the small swatch of leather that was adhered over Pax’s groin. He was
too modest to go out totally naked, after all. Other that, though, he wore
nothing but a special black body paint that formed a protective barrier around
him, prevented him from shedding any skin or hair that would give DNA trace,
blocked his fingerprints, was totally waterproof and stopped him from being
seen on infrared or X-rays.
It was a bit of a bitch to get off, but it saved him having to learn how to sew
or deal with leather chafing.
“Oh, no,” the Swashbuckler said, frowning under his mask. “I know who you are.
I know you. You’re…Siren, aren’t you? Oh, shit, you’re controlling me right
now. Oh, damn.”
Pax frowned, reached up and put a hand on Swashbuckler’s face. “Hey, now. The
news gets me all wrong. I’m not controlling anyone. Don’t you think you’d know
if I were controlling you?”
“I…maybe?”
“You would, you’re pretty smart.” And pretty hot, now that Pax was looking at
him up close. The costume was terrible, but it did good things for his muscles.
“My powers don’t control people, silly. I’m just a really good singer.”
“R-really?”
“Yeah, really,” Pax lied. He ran his hand down the Swashbuckler’s chest now,
all the way to his navel, where he stopped. The mask was starting to grow a bit
of a problem in his hot pants there, but that wasn’t Pax’s power either. “I’m
going to go now. Please don’t tell anyone you saw me?”
“Um, okay?”
“Thanks. Oh—I liked your costume better back when you were First Matey,” Pax
added, because he had. “You should think about going back to the briefs, the
cameras would love your thighs now that you’re all grown up.”
A blush. “I’ll…think about it.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you around, Swashbuckler.”
“See you around, Siren.”
Not if Pax had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t.
As Pax walked past him and out onto the balcony, Swashbuckler called after him.
“I like your new costume! The leather pants before looked uncomfortable.”
“They were,” Pax confirmed, preparing to climb to the roof, lifting one leg
nearly to his head to get onto his rope ladder.
“You have a cute butt—and a cute everything else.”
Blushing under his paint, Pax blinked at the Swashbuckler, took in his costume
again. “You might want to put that anchor away before you sink,” he muttered,
not sure what else to say. No, he could think of one thing. “You’re pretty cute
too, Nate. Don’t tell anyone you saw me and maybe we’ll chat again.”
And, not sure what he’d been thinking, Pax raced up to the roof and disappeared
into the night.
***** Isaac/Daniel, First Time (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     This prompt and the next one (which were the same prompt) both come
     from an AU I was prompted to come up with where the characters are
     all actors on a TV_show. So here we have the actors playing Daniel
     and Isaac getting together in their downtime.
Prompt: "I know the prompts stopped getting sent a while ago, but can you do
first time in the TV show AU with Isaac and Daniel or Sam and Henry?" by an
anon, based on this_prompt_list.
---
“I find it really cute that you stopped wearing underwear, you know.”
Isaac blushed, gave Daniel a nervous chuckle as he let Daniel slide his jeans
the rest of the way down. “Acting requires dedication,” he said, grinning down
at Daniel. “You learned three kinds of martial arts, I gave all my boxer shorts
to the Goodwill.”
“The things we do for our characters,” Daniel said, kissing Isaac’s thigh as he
got the pants the rest of the way off, leaving Isaac naked underneath him.
“Though really, you shouldn’t have given them away. You should have waited
until the show got popular, sold them to yours. Preferably without washing
them, they’d have paid more that way.”
Isaac’s gut twisted in shyness. “I don’t need to encourage the weirdos,” he
said. “Got plenty enough people who want to fuck me without making it worse.”
“Can you blame them?” Daniel asked, climbing up Isaac and hovering over his
face, dipping down for a kiss. Isaac kissed back, his shyness replaced mostly
with warmth now. He’d waited for that for a while. “Look at you, you’re
edible.”
“You going to eat me, then?” Isaac challenged.
“You bet.” Daniel leaned down for another kiss, and this one lasted a lot
longer. Isaac put his hands around Daniel, pulling him closer, feeling their
bare skin against each other. “God,” Daniel muttered when he stopped for air,
nosing Isaac. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
Isaac frowned at him. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?” Isaac had been
pursuing Daniel for months. He’d been pretty convinced Daniel only liked him as
a friend, given that Daniel had slept with five other people in between now and
when Isaac had started using his ill-gotten seduction powers on his teacher.
“You’re not shy normally.”
“Cause you’re special,” Daniel said, kissing Isaac again, sliding his hips
against Isaac’s. “You’re not a name on a list. I was waiting for you to be
ready so you wouldn’t think I was just trying to fuck you.”
“You are trying to fuck me,” Isaac remined him.
“Yeah, but like, with emotions and stuff. It’s different.”
“Aw…” Isaac teased, but that made him genuinely happy. He’d been a bit worried
about that. “I like you too, Daniel.”
A chuckle, a kiss. Daniel’s hand reached down, grabbed Isaac, warming him up.
“So I’m not just a name on your list either?”
“I don’t have a list.”
Daniel frowned, lifted his head. “You…don’t?”
“No?” Isaac looked up at him. “Should I?”
“Well…no, I just assumed you did. You’re kind of, you know. Flirty. With
everyone.” Daniel was flushed now. “I just thought…”
Isaac laughed. “I’m an actor, Daniel. I donated my underwear to charity and
started flirting with everyone. I kind of figured that was enough without
hounding all the dick in town.”
Daniel blinked. “You…made out with Nicholas at the Emmys!”
That had been mortifying for both of them. “That was a publicity stunt.”
Daniel stared at Isaac now, obviously stunned. “I…thought it was real. It
looked real.”
“I’m an actor?”
“A really fucking good one.”
“Tell that to the asshole who won my Emmy.”
“Wow, my life is upside-down suddenly,” Daniel muttered, shaking his head.
“Huh. Well then. Not that I mind, I like being part of a more exclusive club.”
Isaac grinned, pulled Daniel back down for another kiss. “You’re the founding
member.”
“W-wait, seriously?’ Daniel asked, swallowing. “This is your first time?”
“Yeah,” Isaac smiled. “I’ve faked it enough times that I think I know the
basics, though.”
“You should have told me! I’d have made it more romantic and shit instead of
making bad dick jokes and wearing my show-themed boxers.”
The show-themed boxers had been kind of hilarious. “What, you’d have made good
dick jokes?”
“And worn my silk boxers,” Daniel confirmed. “And bought you dinner at a classy
restaurant and had rose petals and a violinist and like, you know, hearts on
the ceiling or something.”
“Is that how you lost your virginity?” Isaac asked.
“Well, no, I lost my virginity in the back of my dad’s car in a mall parking
lot at three in the morning,” Daniel admitted. “But I…you’re special. I should
have made it special.”
He sounded upset, actually. Isaac kissed him again. “It’s special because it’s
with you. But if it means that much to you, we can get dressed and have a do-
over.”
Isaac was hard and ready to not be a virgin anymore, he didn’t want a do-over,
he wanted sex. But he didn’t want Daniel to look unhappy.
“Oh, God,” Daniel said, kissing back. “I don’t deserve you, you’re perfect.
You’re really okay with it like this?”
They’d had mac and cheese for supper, Daniel’s cat had sat on Isaac’s lap
during Justice League while they’d thumb-wrestled over which of them would get
to blow Jason Momoa first (Isaac had let Daniel win, he know how much it meant
to him) and now they were about to have sex in Daniel’s bed, which had a lot of
pillows in it, something Isaac found breathtakingly cute. “I love it like this,
Daniel. Tonight was great.”
Daniel ducked his head a little, taking a breath. When he looked back up, his
confident smile was back in place. “Well then. If you’re happy, I’m happy, and
I know how to make it even greater.” Hand back on Isaac’s hard-on, he grinned,
kissed Isaac’s cheek.
Isaac arched his back a little, already liking Daniel’s hand there. “Show me.”
***** Henry/Sam, First time (nsfw) *****
Chapter Notes
     From the same prompt as the last one--I interpreted it as Henry and
     Sam's actors shooting their first sex scene in the TV show
     (industrious readers might recognize Sam's dialogue when the cameras
     are rolling), since the actors are just friends.
“The first time I got caught touching myself,” Sam said as he unlaced Henry’s
pants in a practiced motion that didn’t look practiced, “the next day there was
a girl in my room.”
Sam touched Henry through his smallclothes idly, playing with him before making
to push them down. “Which was very thoughtful of my father, but I was always
afraid to tell him that I wanted a boy instead. Ah, fuck, what the hell?
Henry!”
Henry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing as his boner hit Sam in the face.
“Sorry,” he managed, meaning it. “Sorry.” Still, he snickered.
“You’re not supposed to be hard! I’m raping you here. Stop liking it!”
“Cut!” The director called, and the cameras pulled back from them a bit.
“Sorry,” Henry called, laying back against the wall. The lights came on and he
winced a little as they hit his eyes. “Sorry. I’d say it was my fault, but he’s
got a mind of his own.”
“You hit me in the face,” Sam accused, wiping his mouth.
“Hey, I’m chained to a wall. Whose fault is it that his face was in my crotch?”
Henry asked.
“Well, I didn’t write the script.”
“Stop screwing around, guys.”
“Yeah, Sam,” Henry said, smirking and giving Sam a gentle kick. “Stop screwing
around and get screwing. Also, pull my pants up. It’s weird to just sit here
with it all hanging out.”
Sam snorted, but reached over and started to put Henry back in his clothes.
“Awfully forward of you since we don’t know each other that well.”
They didn’t, but Sam was already one of Henry’s favourite people after the few
weeks of getting read to shoot their first episode together. “Yeah, well,
you’re going to be touching my dick on TV for a good while, so we may as well
just get used to it, yeah?”
Henry had seen some of the simulated sex the other actors on the show did for
their scenes, and they were really realistic, and looked even moreso on screen.
He was glad that most of their scenes in this season took place in near-
complete darkness because the show didn’t want to have graphic rape in every
episode. There was just enough light to get the impression of what was
happening, though apparently the planned to completely cut the lights for some
of the more intense scenes that would happen later on.
Still, they’d been warned that if the show continued on, their characters would
be going at it under the lights just like everyone else someday. No point in
worrying about a little contact now, as far as Henry was concerned.
“You say that now, but when I come in your bed at night to sell your bodily
fluids on the internet, it’s all ‘no Sam, that’s weird,’” Sam muttered, fitting
Henry back into the smallclothes and lacing up the old-timey pants he had on.
The costumes department for this show was really top-notch.
“That reminds me, come hang out tonight,” Henry suggested. “We’ll get pizza.”
“Sure. I’ll bring that album I wanted to have you listen to.”
“You two ready to go again?” The director asked.
“Henry’s still boned up,” Sam reported, though he didn’t check. “Give him a
minute to pretend he doesn’t love me.”
“But I do!” Henry insisted. “You’re my heart, my soul, my very world, Samson.”
“You’re nothing to me, just a quick lay and some free pizza.”
“Never promised a lay, never promised I was paying for the pizza.”
“Oh, I get how it is. Can we swap out my trick knife with a real one? I think
it’s more realistic that way.”
“Well, there goes my boner,” Henry griped.
Sam grinned. “Am I good or what? Hit the lights and let’s go again, I’m ready
to get my creep on, and I’m starting to realize how much Henry deserves it.”
***** Edwin, How to Power up a Knight *****
Chapter Notes
     Today's prompt was 'strange game mechanics' so I gave Edwin video
     game armour that makes him level up under the right circumstances. :)
“Isn’t this kind of…a lot of armour?”
“It’s training armour,” Erik told him, as Edwin finished strapping himself in.
“Right,” Edwin nodded, getting the last of it in place and looking at himself
in the mirror. His shoulders were covered entirely, and from there the armour
went down his sides, leaving open space across his chest so as not to impede
his breathing, and meeting in the middle halfway down his belly, where the
armour ran down in a straight line fitting between his legs in a cup that held
him very firmly in place, and then stopping. Aside from the straps around his
waist, his shoulders, there was nothing on Edwin’s back, nothing on his legs
but metal boots, nothing on his arms.
Edwin flexed a few times in the mirror, deciding if he liked it. Not that it
mattered whether he liked it, since it was his armour now.
Still, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at Erik’s, which didn’t
have the plate running down the sides, just the shoulder pieces and the steel
below the belly and the cup. Someday Edwin would dress like a proper knight.
“If you’re done admiring yourself,” Erik said, heading for the door.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Edwin muttered, flinching a little when Erik gave him
a friendly slap on the ass on the way by. “Hey.”
“Good for you. Powers the armour.”
“What?” Edwin asked, following him out into the hall as they headed for the
training yard.
Erik smiled. “The armour’s magic, or it’s got some magic in it. Makes you
faster, stronger, all that jazz. But you have to help power it up.”
“With…a slap on the butt?” Edwin asked, not sure he was buying that. He did
feel a bit lighter.
“Among other things,” Erik said with a shrug, leading Edwin out into the
training yard.
There, Edwin joined his friends and looked out at the other knights. “Do you
ever feel really overdressed?” he asked.
Ty was touching his toes and looked up at Edwin as he came over. “Don’t even
get me started. How are we supposed to move in this?”
“Once we get better they’ll upgrade us,” Leo said, on the ground doing the
splits. Edwin sat with them to stretch too. “Can’t have us getting stabbed
before we’re fully trained.”
“At least not in the bad way,” Ty added, giving Leo a pinch. “Useful that
there’s nothing back here.”
As he reached behind his head, doing his own stretches, Edwin frowned, looked
down at his armour. It was really snug, had had no give in a few vital places.
And that was when Edwin figured it out. The armour didn’t get powered by the
slap on the butt. It was powered by Edwin’s reaction to that, which was…going
to be extremely limited as long as he was wearing it.
They’d been given armour that fed on sexual frustration.
“Oh, boy,” Edwin said, leaning back and looking up at the sky. There was
nothing to be done about it. Just had to prepare himself for the inevitable. At
least he’d get a lot stronger. “This is going to suck.”
***** Sam, The King's New Clothes *****
Chapter Notes
     Here we have Sam, rocking his evil king outfit.
Sam didn’t give a damn about appearances, but he’d been told repeatedly that
they were important, so for his first public appearance as king, Sam dressed
the part.
He liked the idea of the boots more than the boots themselves. Hitting his mid-
thigh, they’d been a pain to sit through the lacing of, and the two-inch lift
on them seemed like a good idea to give him an imposing height, but just made
him feel wobbly when he walked in them, and hurt his feet a little. He knew
he’d feel powerful once he figured out how to move without feeling like he was
going to fall over. And maybe once he’d found a way around this little chafing
problem. he had up at the tops. They were going to need to be lined with
something softer.
The velvet shorts he was wearing were so short they needed a more hyperbolic
word. Really they were a pouch for the royal package and not much else, but
being a tiny piece of fabric away from exposure made it clear that Sam had
nothing to fear, so he wore them proudly. He wasn’t afraid of anything. They
could look all they wanted.
There were belts criss-crossing his chest. Sam wasn’t sure what the point of
those were, and they itched against his bare skin, but he tolerated them for
the effect they would give. The leather gloves were studded down the backs of
his hands and had pointed fingertips that gave the impression he had claws. He
wondered if they were sharp enough to cut skin.
The coat, now Sam like the coat. Sam never wanted to wear anything but this
coat. Sweeping on the floor behind him, the coat was heavy and made of smooth
leather that Sam liked running his fingers over. It whispered when he moved,
gliding through the air on his body. He’d take the whole rest of the ensemble
off and just wear the coat, but apparently that would send the wrong message.
People who could see were really too stupid to live if they thought that the
way a person looked defined what they could do.
But since there were more of them than there were of Sam, he played their game,
dressed like a king.
There was a whip clipped to the side of the coat, which Sam hoped he could use
someday. Just because it seemed fun, even though his magic was just so much
more practical.
Sam stalked back and forth across his room a few times to get a sense of how to
walk in all this. When he was ready, he had Henry escort him to the throne
room. He hadn’t gotten much of a sense of Henry’s attire from touching it, but
it seemed to be mostly a lot of leather straps, many of which were connected to
the collar on his neck, so Sam approved. He didn’t care anyway.
The doors to the throne room were pushed open—both of them, kings didn’t go in
only one door—and Sam strode down the length of the room, liking the hush that
fell, the fact that his boots clicking on the floor was the only sound. There
had been a carpet before that had been torn up in the battle, but Sam was going
to tell them not to replace it.
Hips swaying back and forth as he strutted, Sam smirked. Yes, this felt good.
This had been a good decision after all.
Sam knew the length of this room just fine. When he reached the dais, he
ascended, then turned, letting the coat turn with him in a way that had it
flaring out behind him for a moment before he sat, crossing one leg over his
knee as he waited. A moment later, someone put the crown on his head, and Sam
leaned against the arm of the throne, resting on his elbow.
To the people arrayed in front of him, Sam smirked and said, “Kneel for your
king.”
***** Theodore, High Society, High Fashion *****
Chapter Notes
     I didn't want to put Daniel in something skimpy for consent reasons
     (plus his usual outfits are skimpy anyway), so here's Theodore doing
     fashion instead.
Sitting on the bed in his long shirt as Theodore finished dressing, Daniel was
profoundly grateful that he didn’t have to go to fancy rich person parties,
because just helping Theodore dress for his had been exhausting.
The only solid piece of fabric Theodore was wearing was a sleeve between his
legs, held in place by a thin string tied around each thigh. The sleeve was
folded in on itself a little for some extra fabric—both to give the illusion of
greater girth and to provide more room if some anatomical thing happened that
required it.
After that, Theodore’s outfit had consisted of nothing but sheer pieces of
fabric that had been hard to handle without tearing and had to be harder to
wear. He had bracelets and rings on his arms and hands, covered by a thing
layer of white that hid nothing on each arm. A second layer covered that, a
wrap that went around his back. A tunic of a different, darker but still sheer,
fabric covered his chest.
What Daniel supposed could be called pants was three different pieces of
clothing. One stocking for each leg, very tight and in danger of tearing with
every movement, and what Daniel could only think of as a skirt wrapped around
the waist, a greenish fabric that may as well have not been there but gave the
impression that Theodore was dressed. He wore soft slippers on his feet but no
other protection.
“You keep staring, Daniel.”
Daniel smiled, looking up at Theodore. “I’m sorry, Master. I’ve never seen
clothes like this before.”
A chuckle. “No doubt. A holdover from a time when people of status just
couldn’t gather without someone getting killed.” Theodore held out his arms.
“There is simply no way to hide a knife in all this, now is there?”
Daniel had to admit, even he wouldn’t be able to sneak a weapon anywhere
dressed like that.
“And of course, I can’t wear any armour, indicating that I feel perfectly safe
in my host’s home,” Theodore added.
“Do you?”
“No, but that’s what guards are for. Finally, the fabric is very expensive and
difficult to keep intact, so only wealthy people can wear it. Status symbol and
political statement all in one.”
“I didn’t know clothes were so complicated.” All Daniel knew was that Theodore
was wearing a see-through outfit out in public, and it was apparently necessary
and important that he did. Go figure.
“I shall teach you about the politics of clothing sometime,” Theodore said,
looking himself over one last time in the mirror. “Remind me when I get back to
tell you about the masquerade balls of old, where men were masks and nothing
else.”
Daniel smiled. “Was there a good reason for that?”
“What better way to show you have nothing to hide?” Theodore smiled. “I shall
go now. Don’t stay awake, I’ll be quite late.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Master.”
“Goodnight, Daniel.”
In a swish of sheer fabric, Theodore turned to leave the room. Daniel watched
him go, thinking that the whole lot of fabric he was wearing somehow managed to
show more than if he’d just been in nothing at all.
***** Wally, Hiding in Plain Sight *****
Chapter Notes
     This prompt was guys with animal ears and tails, so instead of
     sticking ears on one of the characters, I instead took the
     opportunity to introduce a new character who I think you guys will
     like. So here's Wally.
Wally loved the Night of Spirits. It was a dusk-to-dawn carnival of music and
lights and drinking and Wally wasn’t really in to any of those things normally.
But this was a festival, it was fun, and Wally got to dress up, or dress down,
as it were.
When else could Wally go outside and mingle with everyone in town wearing fuzzy
dog ears on his head, wagging a furry tail behind him as he moved through the
crowd, rubbing against people in the crowded streets? With those and the fur on
his forearms and calves, the grey animal pelt belted around his waist, Wally
didn’t need anything else because he looked the part of the werewolf and nobody
expected werewolves to wear pants.
Not that almost anyone wore pants on the Night of Spirits—everyone was dressed
up in some costume, which usually entailed a little clothing as people could
get away with. Some very drunk and confident people even found they could get
away with none when they tried hard enough, though Wally would need to have
some drinks before he got that confident too. For now, the animal pelt—which
was just a small fox fur, its head directly in the center of Wally’s pelvis,
covering only the bare minimum for public decency—was his friend.
Ideally, Wally would find someone to be his replacement friend for the night,
and then he could do his favourite party trick of opening the fox’s mouth to
reveal the prize inside.
Wally danced for a while with two guys dressed as old-time warriors in leather
thongs, nipple piercings and war paint, but they got distracted by someone much
more confident than Wally in green body paint. Then he shared a drink with
someone in a cape of feathers, but the guy fell asleep before Wally could ask
for a look under the cape.
Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, Wally wasn’t discouraged. There
were plenty of people here having fun.
“Nice ears!”
Wally turned, grinning toothily at the guy who’d approached him, a dark-haired
guy who also had wolf ears on his head, though his were obviously held on by
the string tied around his chin. He also wore fur on his arms and legs, some on
his chest and around his waist, a limp tail sticking out at the back of his
pelt.
“Thanks,” Wally told him, grinning. The guy had gone full werewolf for his
look, he even had fake paws on his feet and a dog nose on his face. “I like
your nose.”
That got him a grin. “How are they staying on? How’d you get them to look so
real?” The guy pressed closer to Wally, sharing his space.
They looked so real because Wally wasn’t dressed up. The Night of Spirits was
the one night when he didn’t have to dress up, in fact. Dress up as a human.
“Family secret,” he said, letting his fangs show.
“Aw, come on,” they guy said, patting Wally’s chest. Wally resisted the urge to
lay back on his belly with his arms and legs in the air, asking for more rubs.
“Us werewolves have to stick together!”
He even howled for good measure.
Wally howled with him—instinct—and then laughed. “Tell you what,” he said,
putting an arm around his new friend and pulling him towards the nearest bar.
“Buy me some drinks and I’ll think about it.”
Wally loved the Night of Spirits.
***** Travis/Joey, Compromise Is Key *****
Chapter Notes
     Monster boys day! So here is everyone's favourite clothes-hating
     dragon.
“I’m not wearing clothes,” Joey insisted.
“You have to,” Travis told him, holding up a small pair of shorts. “Just this,
that’s all. It’s not so bad.”
“It’s stupid.” Joey crossed his arms and looked away. “People all look the same
naked, why do I have to hide?”
“Because you just do!” Travis insisted. “Joey, you can’t just be out there
swinging around for everyone to see. You need to wear something.”
Travis was wearing something. A shirt of light chainmail, sleeveless and with a
low-hanging neck that let a decent amount of his chest breathe, it came down to
just his thighs, keeping hidden everything that was supposed to be hidden,
though every once in a while the wrong swinging angle and the wrong shifting of
the chain would make possible a little peek, just a little.
Travis couldn’t afford other clothes and it was too hot for them anyway. “Just
this,” he said, holding up the little shorts that were too small for him.
“No,” Joey insisted, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t wear that either. You
should just go the way you want to. You’ll be happier.”
“I’ll also be in trouble,” Travis insisted. “And I’ll have people staring at me
all the time.”
“And you think those shorts will stop people staring at me?” Joey asked,
tilting his head forward a bit. His horns were pretty obvious, curling over his
head. As he spoke, his scaled dragon tail swished back and forth agitatedly. “I
think they’ve got better things to look at than what’s between my legs,
Travis.”
“I know,” Travis said, tone pleading. “But this is just how it works, Joey.
Please, you have to cover up at least a little. It’s not that I want you to.
It’s just that that’s how the world works.”
They had a staring contest for a good minute, and Travis started to
irrationally wonder if dragons blinked. Had he ever seen Joey blink? He
couldn’t remember.
But Joey sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll cover up the parts that humans
are so afraid to see.”
“Thank you,” Travis said, holding out the shorts. He was relieved.
Joey shook his head again. “I’m not wearing those.”
“Then what…” Travis was getting a headache.
Joey smiled, and lifted his tail. He wrapped it halfway around his waist before
wending it between his legs, then around one thigh to keep it there. When he
was done, his junk was hidden behind his tail, his commitment to modesty beyond
reproach. He stood there with his arms crossed, leaning a little to one side,
and smirked at Travis. “There. Hidden enough for you and the rest of human
society?”
Travis looked at Joey carefully, walked around him in a circle. It was possible
to see a bit of him from the back if he looked, but that was the fault of
anyone looking, now wasn’t it? When he got back to the front, he nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Fine. As long as you can keep your tail like that, you’re
fine.”
“Good,” Joey said, smiling normally now. “Human conventions are stupid.”
“I know.”
With a sigh, Joey shook his head. “Come on, then, let’s go so I can see this
stupidly modest society of yours myself.”
***** Franz, Alien Customs *****
Chapter Notes
     Credit to my partner for coming up with the idea of an outfit held up
     by an erection to parallel the idea of a ladies' outfit held up by
     the boobs that we've all seen too often.
“Are we sure,” Franz asked, trying as hard as he could to hold still, “that the
north is a real place? On our world? Have I accidentally gotten engaged to a
princess from another planet?”
“We’re pretty sure we’re still on the same world, yes,” Boey deadpanned,
clipping part of Franz’s outfit in place. “Hold still.”
“I’m holding still.”
“You’re fidgeting and it’s making this harder.”
Franz snorted. “I’m just saying, if Gabrielle comes to this party and has
tentacles or her skin is green or something, I’m not going to be surprised.”
“In this story, you’d be the one with green tentacles, since it’s her planet
we’re on.”
Franz sighed. “I guess. How does anyone dress like this?”
“It’s traditional northern formalwear,” Boey reminded him. “It emphasizes
strength and virility.”
“Is that what it does?”
“Yes, now shut up and let me strap on this last part—again. And let me remind
you…”
“Not to get distracted, I know.” Franz let out a sigh. “There’s got to be a
better system than this.”
“We could get you a prosthetic.”
The outfit, if one wanted to call it that, was a series of silk straps that
crossed the chest, emerging from a ring over Franz’s sternum. They were pulled
tense around his body, where they tied together between his shoulder blades and
were pulled down to join another series of similarly taut straps that ran up
his legs. Those two wound together in between his buttcheeks, branching out
there and wrapping around his waist, where they connected to a swatch of silk
that covered Franz’s erection—and he had to be erect, pulling the fabric out
from his body to keep the straps tense. If he softened up, as he had when he’d
tried dressing the first time, the straps got loose, stopping pulling on the
piece on his back, and the loss of tensile power everywhere made the outfit
literally fall apart.
Northern formalwear emphasized strength by forcing him to stand with his
shoulders squared and his back muscles tight, showing off his musculature, and
emphasized virility by virtue of making it impossible to wear the whole
ensemble if one couldn’t stay hard for an entire evening.
The gala was meant to last at least six hours.
Fortunately, after the first wardrobe malfunction, Boey had tied a nice ribbon
around Franz to keep him encouraged, and he’d had a cup of tea with some herb
in it that was supposed to help with this problem.
“No,” Franz sighed, waving his hand. “I wouldn’t want to look weak. Your tea
and ribbon should do the trick, Boey. I do not understand northern fashion. We
may as well be on a different planet.”
“We may as well,” Boey agreed, fitting the last piece in place and standing up,
patting Franz’s shoulders. “Look at you, then. An alien prince, all dressed up
like a human.”
Franz rolled his eyes. “Get me another cup of that tea, just in case.”
***** Pax/Nate, The Perilous Ocean *****
Chapter Notes
     My second most common request after werewolves is something with
     tentacles. And fortunately that was the prompt for today! So here are
     some tentacles.
“What does it want?” Pax asked, slashing at a tentacle with his knife. It
recoiled, but there were so many more. They were under attack from some weird
squid. Or a collection of squids? There were a lot of tentacles.
And they had an agenda, from what Pax could tell. They were trying to grab him
and Nate and do…something with them. Pax had already been grabbed twice and
Nate three times, and they’d just barely managed to get away.
“I don’t know—dammit!” Nate shouted as he was lifted off his feet by the
tentacles, which hefted him into the air and started undulating up his legs.
“Nate!” Pax tossed a knife into the nearest tentacle, and they dropped Nate
with a thud, but not without payment. With a tear, Nate’s pantleg stayed up
there, wrapped in the tentacle. It took most of the fabric with hit, leaving
Nate in just a scrap of decency. “Stop getting grabbed!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Nate grumbled, picking up his cutlass. He was without a shirt
from escaping another tentacle, and that pantleg had been his last one. The
tentacles weren’t trying to undress them, Pax was sure, it was just a
coincidence that Nate was in a scrap and Pax had had lost his shirt.
Just as Nate said that, Pax was grabbed from behind, and with a dignified yelp
he was lifted off the ground, a tentacle wrapped around every limb to stop him
from moving. “Pax!” Nate ran forward, trying to hack through the tentacles to
rescue him, but they made a fight of it, trying to grab him.
Pax struggled, trying to get away, as more tentacles wrapped around him,
sliding up his pantlegs. “Ah…” He arched his back as they slid up, a few more
touching his chest. What did they want? Why was this happening?
It was probably just some wild animal acting on instinct, he tried to tell
himself even as he was sure it wasn’t. There was something else going on here,
something strange.
The tentacles slid higher and higher, covered more and more of Pax’s body, and
even as he started to feel thoughts that weren’t his telling him it felt nice,
Pax shook himself out of it, flipped the knife in his hand and slashed at the
tentacle holding him, making it let go. He used that knife to free himself from
the others, and fell to the ground in a graceful ripping of fabric as the
tentacles destroyed his pants, leaving him in just his smallclothes.
He quickly joined Nate, and the two of them stood back to back, weapons out.
“We’ll have to cut a path through them,” Pax said, pointing to where he thought
they looked thinnest.
“Right. I’ll follow you.”
Pax nodded, and he charged. They had to get out of here, get back to the ship.
The tentacles kept trying to grab them, to do God knew what, to keep ripping
their clothes off.
Pax decided not to think about what would happen when they ran out of clothes.
***** Owen, Dragons, Interspecies Politics *****
Chapter Notes
     Here's some fantasy sexual dimorphism (not to be taken too seriously
     as canon, though lady dragons are bigger than dude dragons).
“Please just try not to be rude,” Joey said as he led them into the cave.
“Remember that they’re not human and they do things differently from you.”
As Owen nodded, Gabrielle spoke. “We’ll remember. You don’t have to worry about
us.”
“I wasn’t worried about you,” Joey muttered, looking at Owen.
Owen held up his hands to show how empty and innocent they were. “I wasn’t
planning on bringing it up.”
“Yes, you were.” Gavin said, crossing his arms.
“Was not.”
“Don’t,” Gabrielle said, pointing at him, her armour—the full suit, for best
effect, even in the heat—clanking as she moved. “Don’t mention your hobbies.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Owen insisted. “Unless they get uppity.” If they did,
mentioning that he killed dragons liked flies—okay, particularly big
flies—might be helpful, Owen thought. Clad in his smallest, thinnest armour—a
leather thong and two small pieces of armour on his arms–in order to minimize
heat-related issues if it came to a fight, Owen was prepared to throw down with
a cave full of huge scaly monsters.
Joey sighed, the end of his tail twitching where he had it wrapped around his
leg. “Just don’t say anything to the matriarchs. Let the princess talk.”
“Good plan,” Gavin said, giving Owen a pointed look. He was dressed for the
heat too, having ditched his shorts entirely and going with just a cloth band
tied around his waist.
“Okay, okay.”
With a hesitant nod, Joey led them into the cave, which was huge and full of
dragons. There were four of them, taking up the whole massive cavern, waiting
for them. They were the size of buildings, with heads that Owen could stand in,
looking down at them through slitted eyes, fangs and horns and claws all
curving wickedly and dangerously, the room full of fetid breath and a low
rumble. Owen figured he could take them if he had to.
“Which ones are the matriarchs?” Gavin asked Joey.
“All of them,” Joey muttered, waving.
“Honoured matriarchs,” Gabrielle said, bowing. “Thank you for allowing us this
audience.”
“And welcome to our summit, human princess,” one of the dragons rumbled. “We
understand you have a request of us.”
“We do.”
“In that case, this is a matter for women. The little one will take your
attendants to join our men while we speak of important matters. They will not
be harmed.”
“Very well,” Gabrielle said, not even looking back to see what Gavin and Owen
thought. Joey had warned them that this might happen.
With a nervous smile, Joey jerked his head towards a small opening on the other
side of the cave, and led Owen and Gavin that way while Gabrielle and the
matriarchs waited for them to leave. They were led through a low tunnel that
had a light at the other end. “Male dragons don’t participate in decision
making,” he told them as they walked.
“God, Gabrielle’s not going to want to leave,” Gavin said, in front of Owen.
Owen expected to see more dragons when they emerged into the smaller cave, and
he did, but not in the way he was expecting. Instead of huge, scaled beasts,
the cave here was full of naked, pretty men with horns and tails like Joey,
chatting and mingling and wrestling but definitely all mostly human shaped.
“They…look more like us than I expected,” Owen muttered.
Gavin slapped his arm. “Don’t be racist.”
“I know, I know, but…” he waved around, then waved behind them. “They don’t
look anything like the female dragons?”
“They’re not human, Owen, they don’t have to conform to what we think people
ought to look like.”
“But…how do they…” Owen made a gesture with his hands.
“That’s a bit rude to ask when you don’t know them, hm?” Joey asked, leading
them over to a small gathering of dragon guys. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.
Feel free to take your armour off if you want to get comfortable. Everyone’s
friendly and these meetings usually take hours.”
***** Sully/Bartholomew, Monster Pride *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm always down for a chance to do Sully and Bartholomew interacting.
     Even if it is scantily clad.
There had been hesitation, at first, to accept it. To accept that they weren’t
human anymore, that they were something else. A lot of them had worn illusion
spells for a good while, worn a lot of conservative clothing that hid the parts
of their bodies that had transformed, grew hair over horns, tucked tails into
pants, covered claws with gloves, didn’t smile to hide fangs.
Power had come at a cost for all of them, and though they’d asked for it and
paid it willingly, it was a cost some of them weren’t comfortable with.
But there had been a gradual shift, a push to accept who they were, to accept
what they’d become. And Sullivan was glad for that. He was glad that he was
finally content enough to let his horns show, to not hide the tattoos that
started on his face and went all down his body, carving red lines through his
jaundiced skin right to the soles of his feet. His ears were pointed and his
eyes were snake-like and that was fine with him.
It was going to take monsters to win this war. Sullivan was a monster and he
was proud of that.
He didn’t even have it the worst off, he still looked largely human. Not all
the others could make that claim, their skin hardening like stone or their
faces disappearing under tusks or other protuberances, limbs lengthening or
shortening or multiplying, half or total transformations into bestial forms.
But all of them were starting to accept who they were, accept what they were,
and that was good.
When the sling had come into fashion among them, Sullivan have been one of the
first to start wearing it. A little piece of fabric with two loops of string
that went around the legs to keep it in place, it only hid just over half of
what it was supposedly meant to cover. Sullivan generally wore his over the
bottom half, letting the top of his piece be exposed for people to see. What
did he care if people saw him? This was who he was.
Sullivan had never felt more powerful or confident than he had since he’d
started wearing it. He’d even modified his to make it a bit smaller, just
because it made him feel that confident.
Not everyone had taken up the trend as quickly as Sullivan had, and he
understood that. Which was why, one day when he’d spotted Bartholomew from
behind—full on, wearing nothing but some loops of fabric on his legs—Sullivan
had yelped with something like glee and ran to jump on him, arms wrapping
around Bartholomew’s neck as he landed between Bartholomew’s wings. “Look who’s
finally stopped being all stuffy!”
“Get down, Sullivan,” Bartholomew muttered, blushing a little as Sullivan
openly peered down to see how his sling fit him. He’d tried to stuff as much of
himself in there as he could, which was going to lead to something falling out
later but for now just made an impressive bulge. “I was starting to stick out
by not wearing it is all. I still think it’s silly.”
“That’s just because you’re still worried what people are going to think of
you,” Sullivan teased, pinching Bartholomew’s mottled cheek and refusing to get
down. “Don’t be. Everyone’s going to love it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bartholomew was still red in the face—or as red as his face got
now that it was all parchment-like—and stopped trying to get Sullivan down.
“I’m not carrying you to the meeting.”
“Of course you are, dumbass,” Sullivan told him, nestling in, pressing against
Bartholomew’s back and wrapping his legs around Bartholomew’s waist.
“Stop fucking around, you two,” Cameron’s voice said behind Sullivan, and
unfortunately, Cameron’s voice was followed by Cameron, as if often was,
standing there in her floor-length ball gown of red silk, looking at the two of
them impatiently. She always looked to Sullivan like everyone’s angry
grandmother combined into one person. And also combined with every terrifying
warrior ever birthed in the world.
Sullivan got down, clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m sure,” Cameron drawled, breezing past them to the meeting room while
Bartholomew glared at Sullivan. She’d spotted Klaus and was headed towards him.
He was wearing the sling too, his wiry body on display in all its skeletal
glory.
He actually looked kind of good for a hundred-and-sixty-year-old man, Sullivan
thought.
His jaunt on Bartholomew’s back had moved his sling so some things had popped
out, and Sullivan fixed them unselfconsciously, giving Bartholomew a friendly
slap on the butt as he went by. “Come on,” he said. “Wear your monster with
pride and let’s get to work.”
***** Gabrielle, Sudden Change of Equipment *****
Chapter Notes
     The theme for this one was 'genderbending,' but eh, so I did this
     instead.
“What the fuck is this?” Gabrielle demanded, gesturing at her chest, her voice
deeper than she wanted it to be.
“I think you should ask what the fuck isn’t that,” Gavin teased, and Gabrielle
didn’t have time for him to tease her today, so she punched his shoulder. “Ow!
No need to get all aggressive and punchy.”
“I think there’s a really good reason to get all aggressive and punchy,”
Gabrielle countered, glaring at him. “My armour doesn’t fit anymore, which
might be because suddenly I have a dick.”
Gavin grinned at her. “And yet if I went around telling everyone my genital
structure, I’d get punched for that too.”
“Shut up.”
“Also I have one too, and I’m not aggressive and punchy.”
“I am,” Owen added, helpfully. “It’s just a spell. I’m sure we can get it
reversed, or it’ll wear off or something.” He was looking at Gabrielle
thoughtfully.
“What.”
“Nothing. You just look a lot more like Gavin than before.”
Gabrielle fixed a glare on him. “Stop imagining a threesome or I’ll castrate
you myself.”
“Consider that line of thought ended.”
She kept the glare in place for a minute longer, just to make sure that Owen
was serious. Only when he looked worried for his life did she nod, turn away
and sigh, trying to adjust her suddenly ill-fitting armour.
Gavin was grinning at her again. “What?”
“You can’t dress like that,” he said.
“I can dress however I want.”
“Sure,” Gavin agreed, nodding. “But if you dress like a lady while you’re a
man, people are going to wonder. And I assume you want to keep this a secret.”
“First of all, still a lady,” Gabrielle said, punctuating that with a slap to
the head. “Secondly, shut up.”
“But I’m right.”
“Yes,” Gabrielle sighed. She hated when Gavin was right. “You’re right. I can’t
let people find out about this. I’ll need a disguise until it gets sorted out.”
“You can be our new travelling companion,” Gavin said, nodding. He turned to
Owen. “She’s closer to your size than mine. Lend her a spare set of armour
that’ll fit her?”
“Sure.”
“Hold the fuck on. I’m not dressing like that.”
Gavin blinked. “Why not? It’s how men dress.”
“I know, but it’s…” Gabrielle paused. She couldn’t say objectifying, or
demeaning or sexually provocative, because that would let the two of them in on
the conspiracy that men weren’t supposed to know about. “Fine,” she muttered,
trying not to blush. “Give it over. And you’d better have washed it, I’m not
wearing anything you sweated on.”
Owen grinned at her now and dug in his bag, coming up with a small metal plate
on a chain and some gauntlets and a sword belt. The benefit of male armour,
Gabrielle supposed, was that it was possible to carry a few different sets, and
it didn’t take long to put on. “Here you go. Cleaned it yesterday.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said grudgingly, taking it and turning to go.
“Where are you going?”
“To change,” Gabrielle said, trying to sound patient.
“Where?”
Gabrielle paused. Leaving this room would entail people seeing her. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay,” Owen told her. “You don’t have anything we haven’t seen already.”
“I hate both of you. You’re planning to torture me until this wears off, aren’t
you?”
“Yes,” both of them said, nodding in unison.
With nothing else for it, Gabrielle sighed and started to change clothes right
there. As she pulled on Owen’s spare armour, Gabrielle looked down at herself
and figured that at least she looked good.
***** Owen/Gavin, Identical Is Relative *****
Chapter Notes
     Totally 100% identical team uniforms!
It wasn’t like Owen was going to complain about the outfit.
First of all, it had been free. And second, Aria was requiring them all to wear
the same uniform if they were going to take this bodyguarding job she’d
arranged for them all. It was the kind of job, she’d told them, where they
needed to look professional, that meant they had to look like a real team,
which meant uniforms.
The uniform was a bit more than Owen would have liked, but it wasn’t so bad.
Black boots, a pair of tight shorts—very, very tight, Owen was worried about
bursting a seam if he moved the wrong way and not at all worried that anyone
who saw him was going to misjudge his size based on his bulge—a short jacket
worn open over nothing that cut off at the belly. There was even a jaunty
little hat to be worn sideways. It looked good, which was its main function,
just that if they had to fight in it Owen wasn’t sure about it holding up.
But hopefully that wouldn’t happen, he figured, strapping his sword on and
nodding at himself in the mirror before setting out to join the others.
Gavin was in the hallway waiting for him, dressed identically but for the bow
strapped over his back. The shorts were just as tight on him, which meant that
Aria must have had them sized. Impressive attention to detail. “Ready?”
“Yeah. You look good.”
“I know.” Gavin grinned. “So do you, for being so overdressed.”
“I’ll live.”
Gavin nodded, and the two of them headed downstairs, Owen keeping an eye on
Gavin to make sure he didn’t fall, and for that reason only, not at all because
of the way Gavin’s hips swayed and his muscles moved in those shorts.
When they got downstairs, the others were already waiting for them. Dennis,
dressed just like them. Aria, Cleo and Deatra, similarly uniformed in their
long pants, heavier boots, full-length coats sweeping the ground, buttoned up
to hide the armour they were wearing underneath. “Took you two long enough,”
Aria told them.
“Sorry,” Gavin said, smiling. “Owen always takes forever to get dressed. He has
to admire himself in the mirror for a while.”
“Hey.”
“Let’s just go,” Aria said, waving them out.
Dressed as uniformly as a team could be, the six of them went to work.
***** Ron/James, Merchandise Rights *****
Chapter Notes
     Sexy figurines!
“Oh my God, look.”
“At what?”
“At that! They have figures!”
“Figures?”
“Of us!” James said, pulling Ron over to the shelf. He’d dragged Ron out on one
of his ‘co-star friend days’ which seemed to entail wandering into random
stores and spending a lot of money.
“You have to stop getting excited every time you see merch from the show,” Ron
told James, following him over.
“No, I don’t,” James said, peering into the display case.
“It’s really hard to stay unrecognized when you squeal about how much something
looks like you every fifteen minutes,” Ron pointed out.
“Okay, first of all, bad boy. Second, I don’t squeal, and third, this doesn’t
look like me, it looks like you, see?”
Ron sighed, peered into the case at the figure. It did look like him. A lot
like him. Enough that Ron was trying to remember if he’d modeled for a figure.
“They…really went all out on me not having any clothes, wow.” He knew fans were
into that, but wow.
“You’ve got a little leaf there, see?”
Ron thought it could be a bigger leaf. “What is that pose?” he asked, frowning
and turning his shoulders a little to try and imagine doing it. The figure was
standing with its legs spread, half turned at the waist, pecs bulging a little
more than Ron’s really did (a lot more than Ron’s really did), eyes trained on
the viewer. “I don’t…think a spine can bend like that?”
“You could if you tried,” James said, peering at it. “Wow, they even got your
hair right.”
Ron scowled, not sure why a naked figure of him was so fascinating. At least,
he saw, looking at the price tag, it was four hundred dollars. Which was
insane, but okay. “There’s one of you too,” he said, pointing. Then he looked
properly, and frowned again. “Those sure are some short shorts you’ve got on.”
“Have I ever dressed like that on the show?” James asked, looking. “And there’s
a whip made out of—is that chokevine? Wow, the detail. I want a whip. How come
I never get to whip you on set?”
“I don’t know, ask the director.” The way the figure was posed, James was in a
near-split, holding up the whip, smile on his face. “I don’t think you’re that
bendy.” His statue, Ron noticed with a triumphant grin, was three hundred and
eighty dollars.
“Hm.”
Ron knew James well enough not to like that ‘hm.’ “What?”
James had his phone out, was grinning at Ron. “Do the pose the figure is doing.
I want a picture.”
“No!” Aside from the fact that Ron would kill himself trying to stand like
that, it was silly.
“Come on, it’ll be good press,” James said, cajoling.
It would be, Ron had to admit. “Only if you’re going to do it too.”
James cocked a smile. “Deal. Actually you know what, it’s more realistic if we
dress like them. Take your clothes off.”
“Sure…” Ron started to do what James told him—undressing on command was
habit—then he stopped. “I can’t strip in a store, you jackass!”
James giggled. “I know. I was just seeing if you would. I’m going to buy them.
We’ll do the photos at home.”
“I’m…”
“Too late, you already agreed! Hey,” James said, flagging down someone who
worked in the store. “I want to buy these two.”
Defeated, Ron just let him do it, hoping James would forget by the time they
got back to his place.
He didn’t, but it turned out to be damn good press.
***** Sam/Henry Sex Sells Soundtracks (Among Other Things) *****
Chapter Notes
     Struggled a little with a sexy album cover idea until I realized that
     TV shows have soundtracks and I have a TV AU.
“Lean forward a little more.”
“Like this?” Sam asked, putting a bit more weight on his left leg.
“Yeah, that’s better. Hold that.”
Sam did as he was told, hearing the clicks of the camera go off. “You’re still
peeking out a bit, can you lean forward some more?”
“I can,” Sam said, grinning. “I’m not sure how much more Henry can take of me
leaning forward.”
“I’m fine,” Henry said from the floor, voice a little strained.
“You say that, but you say it in the same tone you always use when I’m hurting
you and you’re too macho to pretend I’m not,” Sam told him.
“I’m fine,” Henry insisted. “It’s only my potential future children you’re
hurting.”
Henry was laying naked on the floor with Sam stepping on his junk, Sam’s foot
providing Henry’s only coverage from the prying eyes of the camera. Sam was
nude as well, and was trying to lean in such a way as to hide behind his thigh
without actually hurting Henry.
“This would be easier if one of us could wear pants,” Sam muttered, trying to
adjust his stance.
“Every soundtrack cover has this theme. We’d have to reshoot and re-release all
of them with clothes if we let you wear pants,” the photographer very patiently
told Sam.
“I know, I know. How’s this?” he asked, finding a position that felt good.
“That’s better.” There was more clicking, a lot more this time. “Okay, that
looks good. I just want to get some more under different light.”
“Yep, okay. I’ll just…stand here. On my buddy’s crotch. I’m fine.”
“More pertinently,” Henry said from the floor. “I’m also fine.”
“Nobody cares about you,” Sam assured him. “Everyone watches the show because
they like it when you suffer.”
“Good, then we’ll tell them all the story about how filming this actually
ruptured a testicle.”
“Two seconds ago you were bragging that it didn’t hurt,” Sam told him.
Henry chuckled. “Who said it hurt?”
“You’re insufferable.”
Sam was used to stuff like this by now. As much of the promotional imagery for
the show as possible was shot with carefully censored nudity. They’d appeared
covered only by each other’s hands and feet on DVD covers, posters,
advertisements, merchandise, all kinds of junk. Henry claimed it was
embarrassing to walk into a grocery story and suddenly see himself naked on the
cover of a magazine, but Sam couldn’t relate.
“Could be worse,” Henry said conversationally as the photographer fiddled with
the lighting.
“Yeah?”
“Edwin had to stand there in front of Erik while Erik cupped his junk from
behind. They kept having to reshoot because you know.”
“I know,” Sam said, because he did. Individually both of them were very nice
people who Sam liked. Together they were the most obnoxious people on set
because of their stubborn refusal to just get along like humans. “I wish I’d
been there for that.”
“It was hilarious, went on for like an hour.”
“Alright, I’m ready to go again,” the photographer called. “Try to look like
you’re in pain.”
“I guess it’s time for acting,” Henry said, smirking with his voice.
Sam sighed, pressed down harder. Just to make the album cover more realistic.
***** Owen/Gavin, Same Old Story *****
Chapter Notes
     For the role reversal, since the whole story is based on the idea of
     a dude in distress, I just did a Gavin and Owen reversal.
Owen wasn’t sure what to think.
He’d started to worry that nobody would ever come rescue him from the dragon,
and that he’d just have to resign himself to a life of sitting with piles of
treasure in some cave and eating deer that the dragon brought for him. It
wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t the castle and he was pretty sure his parents
were going to be upset if he didn’t come back.
He’d tried to escape, but every time he did the dragon growled at him, and it
wouldn’t let him go near anything that was a weapon. Owen had thought maybe he
could wear it down over time, lull it into a false sense of security or
something, but that had turned out to be unnecessary.
When the blonde guy had shown up, Owen had figured he was toast. Human toast,
that was. He wasn’t even wearing armour, just regular hunting gear, and he was
armed with a bow. A bow and arrow, against a dragon the size of a house. No
matter how cocky he’d been that he was going to win, Owen hadn’t figured him
for having a chance.
But, well, here he was. Dead dragon, living hunter. He was scraped up from the
battle with the dragon, cheeks shining red from the heat. His shirt had been
burned off except for one sleeve, showing off his nicely muscled chest. His
pants too had suffered damage in the battle, with only one pantleg remaining—on
the opposite side to the intact sleeve—and that shredded below the knee. The
wrecked side of his pants was gone all the way up, the waistband the only part
that had survived. One more half-inch and the dragon would have had those pants
completely off. Whatever smallcothes the hunter had been wearing were ruined
too, and Owen could see just the barest hint of what they were supposed to be
keeping in place, about to fall out of what remained of the pants. The other
side was intact, but with heavy rips that left a good amount of skin open to
the air. When the hunter had had his back to Owen before, Owen had seen that
almost the entire back of his pants were ruined too.
He still had his funny hat, though, which had a feather in it. And one boot,
though it was singed. And his bow, but no arrows.
“Oh,” Owen said, when he realized that the dragon was dead.
“Oh?”
“You’re…alive,” Owen said, blinking. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for
slaying the dragon, noble warrior. I’m Prince Owen, and the kingdom owes you a
great debt.”
“Aw, thanks,” the hunter said, grinning. He gave Owen a mock bow. “I’m Gavin.
Glad you’re safe, your Highness.”
“As am I. Whatever you desire as a reward for your bravery, it will be granted
to you,” Owen promised. Gavin had the look of a commoner to him, so he probably
wouldn’t want anything that grandiose. Some gold, a small fort or something.
Some noble’s daughter as a wife.
“Anything?” Gavin grinned. “You sure?”
“Of course, like I said, I owe you a debt.”
“In that case, I think I’ll go for the classic reward, assuming that’s on the
table.”
“The…classic reward?” Owen asked, frowning.
“You know. Slay a dragon, Rescue a prince, get a kiss. Get something else.”
“You want…sex?” Owen felt himself blushing, wishing that Gavin wasn’t so
attractive and battle-torn.
“I mean, only if you’re down for it, obviously. Don’t feel obligated. I just
thought, hey, I’ll ask. You’re hot, and killing a dragon is horny work. If you
don’t want to I’ll make do with piles of gold or something.”
“No, I…” Owen swallowed, not sure what he was about to get into. “I think your
preferred reward can be arranged.”
Gavin grinned. Owen wasn’t sure what to think, but if nothing else, he knew
nothing but good was going to come of this.
***** Isaac, Nicholas, Fundraising *****
Chapter Notes
     All-male sexy car wash! Isaac's class was saved further
     objectification by virtue of the prompts being mostly sfw.
“That’s a dumb idea.”
“It’s a great idea, It’ll raise lots of money, who wouldn’t come to that?”
“Not everyone is as gay as you.”
“Maybe not, but some people are women, stop being so sexist.”
That was how the conversation had gone when Isaac had suggested the dorm run a
car wash as its fundraising initiative for the year in their annual attempt to
beat the girls’ dorm’s ten-year winning streak. The opposition, to be fair, had
been less to the car wash and more to his suggested uniform.
Isaac had wanted white briefs and nothing else. Almost everyone else had
thought that was too scandalous for a fundraiser, and though Isaac didn’t see
anything scandalous about underwear, they’d eventually compromised on a white
t-shirt and shorts for everyone instead. Isaac had put up a fight to keep just
the briefs under the t-shirt, but even that had been deemed too much.
It was fine, he’d made up for it by just not wearing underwear at all under the
shorts, and had managed to convince a few other guys to do the same. And in the
heat, about half the guys had taken off their shirts anyway, so that was a
plus.
Isaac hadn’t yet, liking the way it clung to him when it was wet, liking that
it showed without telling, liking that people whose cars he was washing were
looking at him.
Thank goodness there was a ready supply of cold water around to help with any
problems that might, ahem, arise.
Isaac leaned as far as he could over the hood of the car he was doing, glancing
through the windshield to smile at the ladies inside. They waved at him, and
Isaac waved back, smile widening as he climbed up onto the hood—hot, ouch—to
wash the windshield itself.
He washed in circles, taking his time, before getting up on his knees and
leaning forward, pressing himself against the windshield to wash the roof for a
minute. Which meant he had to wash the windshield again, but nobody had ever
said the point of a car wash was to wash cars.
The ladies looked very happy as Isaac got down, and Isaac was very happy too.
He sauntered over to the bucket of water and bent over, back to the car,
washing out his rag and dancing to nonexistent music as he did. “You almost
done over there?” he called out to Nicholas.
The response was a rag hitting the back of his head. “Done,” Nicholas said
back, coming around the car. He was one of the ones who’d taken his shirt off,
and Isaac thought that if they took a break together, he’d probably be able to
talk Nicholas out of those red briefs too—the shorts were just as see-through
as Isaac had hoped—and get him to just the shorts. “You done doing your
stripper routine?”
“What stripper routine?” Isaac asked, picking up the hose to rinse the car off,
spraying Nicholas with it because he could, and grinning. “I’m just washing
cars here.”
Nicholas gave Isaac a friendly shove and Isaac laughed, going about hosing down
the car. He patted Nicholas on the butt as he went by, then winked at the
ladies in the car while Nicholas just sort of stood there with his arms
crossed, looking all stoic and handsome and possibly not noticing just how much
cling he had going on at the moment.
Isaac didn’t plan to tell him.
When he was finished, Isaac handed the hose off to Nicholas and leaned down by
the driver’s side window, grinning inside. The window rolled down, and Isaac
said. “All done here. You ladies have a good day.”
“You too, and thanks. I’m sure you and your…friend did a great job.”
Isaac beamed. “We both know our way around a hose. See you!”
That got him more tittering, and the ladies drove off.
Nicholas, to his credit, waited until they were out of range before spraying
Isaac with the hose. Isaac relished the opportunity to cool off, and let it
happen. “Stop saying stuff like that to people.”
“Nope,” Isaac said, waving the next car in the line forward. As the ladies left
the parking lot, they stopped to put a tip in Garrett’s box by the gate, though
they’d paid on the way in. “I’m trying to raise money here, Nikky. And it’s
working.”
***** Ron/James, A Very Flexible Model *****
Chapter Notes
     In which Ron finds out that he's the subject of a lot of James's more
     creative drawings.
“Can I look at these?”
James nodded, didn’t even look up from his drawing pad. “Sure.” He’d asked Ron
to just sit there and be drawn, not posing or doing anything special, just
‘natural, the way you are.’ Ron wasn’t sure what that meant, but he figured
that meant ‘sit there naked and dick around for a while until I get bored,’
which was fine with him.
But then his phone had died and there was nothing else in reach, so Ron was
kind of sitting here in limbo, wondering how long James planned to draw,
knowing it was a long time because James could do nothing if not fixate, and
he’d probably only stop when he was hungry.
Since the only thing in reach was a box of drawings that James had under his
chair, Ron had picked that out. With James’s permission secured (he had
perpetual permission, but that didn’t stop him from asking every time, just in
case James had pictures he didn’t want Ron to see), he opened the lid and
pulled out the stack, taking a look at the top one.
It was mostly sketches of him, Ron saw, a blush creeping across his face. He
knew James drew him a lot, but he hadn’t realized how often. His face at
different angles, his torso, never clothed.
As he got deeper into the box, he found more drawings of himself, still never
clothed, and this time not just busts. That was fine, it was what James was
drawing right now. Ron wasn’t afraid to see his own dick in pencil on a page.
Though as he got deeper into the pile, it got to be less innocent pictures of
Ron standing there and more…creative.
James had posed Ron a lot in his pictures. Flexing his muscles, turned back
towards the page, leaning back a little.
As Ron rifled through the pile, he came to realize that there was an
organization to it. James had arranged the sexier pages to be at the bottom. He
was only about halfway through, and every picture was obviously meant to
emphasize his muscles (which Ron wasn’t sure he really had), or his groin area.
He was hard in a good amount of them now, too.
Ron must have made a noise as he rifled deeper, looking at some pictures of him
facing the camera despite his backside being on full display, one of him
touching himself while leaning back way too far, one of him sucking his own…
“Oh! No, no.”
Ron looked up, saw James staring at him. “No, you weren’t supposed to look at
those.”
“You said I could.”
“I didn’t look to see what you were asking about. Those are…” James was flaming
red in the face.
“Your porno drawings of me?” Ron asked, holding up a picture where he was
rather impressively fingering himself while holding himself up with his other
hand.
Obviously mortified, James nodded. “Sorry. I meant to tell you I’d done them,
but I…”
“I’m not mad. I think you think I’m bendier than I am.”
“I was practicing my anatomy.”
“Well, you were practicing my anatomy,” Ron said, smiling. He was flattered,
actually. If a little embarrassed. “I’m just saying…” He came to a picture,
showed it to James. “I like this one.”
“Me too.”
“You can see my buttcrack and my dick in it.” Ron frowned, trying to figure out
how he’d have to stand. “I…” he got up, flexing a little, turning his waist a
bit, bending backwards. “Hm…”
“I don’t expect you to actually do it,” James said, biting his lip.
“I don’t think I can do this pose in your sketch,” Ron said, bending farther
until his hands touched the ground, turning a bit sideways. He lifted up his
left leg to give him a bit of a tilt. His back ached, but he was pretty sure
James could see both like this. “How’s this?”
James watched him carefully. “Wow, I never thought of that pose. You can see
both…” He looked down at his sketchbook, turned to a clean page. “Hold that
pose for a while.”
“Guess you weren’t overestimating my bendiness after all.”
“You shouldn’t have shown me this,” James said, sketching furiously. “I’ve got
a lot of ideas and now I know you can do them. Don’t move.”
Ron’s back was sore by suppertime, but James got a lot of good drawings out of
it and he wasn’t bored anymore, so they were both happy.
***** Cal/Wes/Mick/Sully, Job Hazard *****
Chapter Notes
     Gotta love sexy clothing damage.
Cal hadn’t expected gremlins.
They were small and wimpy but numerous and armed with pokers, and when they
swarmed the team out of nowhere, it was enough of a problem to be called a
problem, if not an emergency.
“Careful, guys,” he said, drawing his sword. “They’re more dangerous than they
seem.”
“How dangerous can they be?” Sully scoffed, taking out his knife. “They’re six
inches tall.”
And he stepped forward, aimed a kick at the nearest gremlin.
Five more gremlins jumped on him. “Fuck!” Sully batted them off, stepping back,
a hole opening on the leg of his shorts from one of their pokers. “Oh, it is
fucking on, you assholes.”
The gremlins ran and leapt and poked at them, doing their very best to bring
Cal’s team down. Nobody got too hurt, but that didn’t mean there was no damage.
Holes were torn in Wes’s pants, and one of the straps on his codpiece snapped.
Mick’s stole and smallclothes were torn. Cal lost the button on his coat and
almost all of one sleeve, and the garter holding up his left boot snapped,
forcing him to step out of it or trip, and his loincloth got an opening right
below what would have been a very bad place to get poked. Sully was the one
they were mad at and he got the brunt of it, his boots torn, his vest shredded
and left hanging off one arm, his shorts cut wide open in the back and front
both, a small scrap persisting in front to cover him, which Cal thought was a
small miracle.
By the time they’d dispatched with all the gremlins, they were tired and
sweaty. Cal wiped his forehead, looking around for damage. Nobody was too badly
hurt, thank God. Wes was trying to figure out a way to wear his codpiece with
only one strap, and whatever he came up with there was going to be shifting
that gave a little peek at what was underneath. His pants were torn up and
down, covering about a third of what they’d covered before. He had dirt all
over his chest and face. Mick’s stole was hanging kind of uselessly around his
neck, his war paint smeared, and he was trying hard to shift what was left of
his smallclothes in a way that would cover his front at least. Sully was half-
hanging out of his shorts but sighing with not much to be done about it; his
armbands were gone and his boots were a mess, his vest in pieces. Cal was
barely keeping one boot, and his loincloth would keep him covered as long as he
didn’t do squats. He took off his coat and handed it to Mick, to gratefully
tied it around his waist.
“Who come I don’t get the coat?” Sully asked, glaring. “I’m worse off.”
“You picked the fight,” Cal said, though the fight had already been picked by
the time Sully had done his thing. “Anyway, you’re fine. We’re okay. That could
have gone a lot worse.”
“Not sure what we’re going to do if something else like that happens,” Wes
muttered, finishing his adjustments.
“Gaining a healthy appreciation for the breeze?” Cal suggested, shrugging.
“Let’s worry about that when we come to it. Let’s keep moving, it’s not far
now.”
Battle-torn and weary, they kept moving.
***** Owen and team, Strip Down to Fight Cancer *****
Chapter Notes
     A friendly charity game between Owen's school and Isaac's.
“At least it’s not raining.”
“Yeah, we won’t freeze.”
“I was thinking it would make the paint run,” Gavin mused, blowing on Owen’s
back, touching him lightly. “There we go. All uniformed up.”
Like every other guy in the locker room, Owen was all uniformed up in cleats,
knee guards, a white jockstrap and some blue paint with his last name and
number on his back, about to go out on the field for their charity game against
St. Sebastien’s. The game was to raise money for kids with cancer, and their
team had incentivized people to donate money by agreeing to take play with part
of their kit off for every twenty large they raised.
Owen had figured at worst they’d play shirtless for the day, but nope. He
didn’t know if it was because everyone was generous or because they were
perverts, but they’d managed to raise fifty-five thousand dollars—which was
awesome, but meant that honour now bound them to play without their shorts
either.
At least, Owen figured, they’d fallen five grand short of the next twenty. That
would have been…interesting. There had been a big surge of donations in the
last few days after the coach had managed to get the other team to agree to
strip off too and make it even, so everyone was in their jock and it was
totally the rich kids’ fault.
“Alright, let’s go!” Warren called out to them, and the team started filing out
onto the field, where a huge crowd greeted them, cheering as they emerged. The
camera connected to the big screen focused on each of them in turn, and Owen
grinned when it was his turn, flexing a little, waving to the camera.
The crowd cheered some more. Owen could get used to this.
The other team filed out after them, to more cheers, in black jocks and yellow
paint. They looked markedly less confident than Owen felt, and only a few of
them struck poses for the camera.
They were going to lose so bad.
Two teams of half-naked soccer players arrayed themselves on the field, and the
whistle blew, and the game started.
Owen mostly forgot about being mostly undressed as he played, running circles
around the guys on the other team, bumping shoulders and legs and chests with
them, the crowd enjoying that by their cheers. One guy on the other team got a
penalty for grabbing the strap of Ashton’s jock and nearly exposing him on
camera.
By the end of the first half, the score was three-nothing and Owen was pretty
sure that only one of those numbers was going to go higher.
“God, you guys could let me do something,” Gavin complained as they all headed
to the locker room after the first half, the coach waiting for them. “I’m bored
as hell out there.”
“You’re lying,” Evan accused. “You’re ogling Owen, you’d be useless if the ball
came your way.”
“I am not!”
“He’s ogling all of us, don’t think he’s not,” Owen said, earning a red-faced
Gavin and a slap on the arm.
“Alright boys,” the coach said, waving them all over. “There’s not much to
this. You’re playing well, keep playing well. You all have a decision to make.”
“What kind of decision?” Warren asked, arms crossed.
“More donations were coming in during the first half,” the coach told them. “A
lot of them. You’re up to sixty-four thousand, now.”
A silence fell over the locker room. The players all looked at each other, and
at the only piece of equipment they had left to take off.
“Other team says they’ll follow your lead on it,” the coach added. “I think
everyone would understand if you decided not to follow through. But it’s up to
you.”
They all looked at each other for a second, not sure what to do. Of course, it
was Gavin who broke the silence, with a wide grin as he reached down for his
jock. “Come on, guys. We’ve got a second half to play, and we’re out of
uniform.”
They’d made a pledge. Honour bound them to follow through on it.
***** Hans, The Mysterious Vanishing Pants *****
Chapter Notes
     Taking the magically vanishing clothes prompt as an opportunity to
     introduce a new character or two!
Hans admitted to being nervous. He’d never been entirely comfortable around
magic and such forth, and so being dispatched to investigate ‘strange
happenings’ near the Flaming Plains was not his favourite assignment ever.
But as his queen commanded, so did Hans do, and he led a troop of twenty
soldiers, plus the queen’s favourite wizard Ronaldo, down to the site of these
strange happenings, hoping that they weren’t so strange after all.
But, well. Trees were upside down, rocks were hollow, the roads twisted and
turned and went nowhere, and the air was full of invisible insects. “What are
we dealing with, Ronaldo?”
Ronaldo shook his head, hands waving around in some magical gesticulation that
wizards were fond of. “A rogue wizard, I assume,” he said, sighing. “A powerful
one.”
“More powerful than you?” Hans was not going into battle against some crazy
wizard if Ronaldo was going to be useless. He liked his internal organs
internal, thank you.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I can handle it. Judging by the magic in the
air, I’d say he or she isn’t far, perhaps just up that hill.”
He pointed at a nearby hill that seemed to be tilting somewhat to the left, and
Hans sighed. “Onwards, then.” He directed the troop that way, hoping they
weren’t all turned into caterpillars.
At the base of the hill, they dismounted, and proceeded up it on foot. The air
was rippling with magic that was perceptible even to Hans. Ronaldo was
prepared, hands out to strike with magic if they were attacked.
Hans’s shirt disappeared. “What the…” he looked down at his bare chest,
wondering where his shirt, his armour had gone. He looked at Ronaldo, only to
find the wizard standing there without pants, his coat and shirt and loincloth
all that was covering him. “What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack,” Ronaldo said, looking around. “But I don’t understand
why…”
All around them, Hans’s soldiers’ armour was disappearing, seemingly one piece
at a time, eliciting chaos. “The only thing to do is find him,” Ronaldo said,
looking up to the top of the hill. “And stop him before he makes something
important disappear.”
Hans’s pants vanished, and he thought that something important was about to
disappear, but he nodded gruffly, waving for the men to follow him up the hill
at a near-run.
By the time they reached the top, very few of them, Hans included, could boast
more than a loincloth to his name. Clad in nearly nothing, Hans held up his
sword, prepared to do battle.
Sitting on a petrified tree stump was a boy in big coat, knees huddled up to
his chest. He looked up at them, scared. The air was rippling around him.
Hans’s sword disappeared. “What the devil…”
“Not a rogue,” Ronaldo said, stepping forward. “Just untrained. He can’t
control his power. I understand now.”
“What will you do with him?” Hans demanded. He was a bit miffed about the sword
disappearing. He’d liked that sword.
“Train him,” Ronaldo said. To the boy, he smiled. “Don’t be afraid, I can help
you. What’s your name?”
The boy blinked, the ground underneath him painted in white and red stripes
now. “Ignatius. Don’t come any closer. You’ll disappear.”
“No, I won’t,” Ronaldo assured him. “I know about your power. I can help you, I
promise.”
“Can you help him get our clothes back?” Hans asked.
“No, I’m afraid those are gone. We’ll all just have to live with it while we
make our way back home.”
Live with it, Hans thought, looking at himself, at his soldiers. A fine lot
they made now, traipsing around in their loincloths. “This boy owes us an
apology.” If he’d known he was going to end up being stripped out in the open,
he’d have eaten less chicken for the last ten years.
“This boy is going to be the most powerful wizard in the kingdom. I’m sure
he’ll make it up to us.”
Hans sighed. “At least nobody died,” he muttered, turning around. “And at least
the kid’s fully clothed, so hopefully it won’t seem weird when we bring him
with us. Let’s go.”
Hans just hoped that Ronaldo could get the kid’s powers under control before
anything else vanished.
***** Daniel and company, The Best Pranks are the Simplest Pranks *****
Chapter Notes
     A rejected Magic Meat March drabble that only got rejected after it
     had been written, so here it is anyway.
Marcus was fidgeting outside Daniel’s door when he came out of his dressing
room. He was always done first out of the four of them, and Daniel understood
that. He himself always needed a bit of time to stop acting since his character
was so mentally difficult, Hugh liked to take long showers after filming and
Simon liked to stay in his dressing room and fret that he hadn’t done well
enough in his scenes.
Marcus always waited for them to finish so they could walk out together, but he
didn’t always fidget, so Daniel punched his shoulder, joining him at the wall
outside their co-stars’ dressing rooms. “Pants on backwards?” he asked, since
Marcus was mostly adjusting his jeans.
“No, I…” Marcus made an agitated noise. “I think I’m wearing your boxers?”
“Hm.” Daniel could believe that. He’d probably left a pair or two at Marcus’s
house in their time hanging out, it happened.
“I didn’t think they were that bad this morning, but suddenly they’re too
small.”
Daniel stuck out his tongue. “Not my fault you got dressed in your sleep. Let
me see.”
“Let you see?”
“Let me see if they’re mine,” Daniel said, shrugging. They filmed for a few
hours every day with no pants on, it really wasn’t that big a deal.
“You planning to collect?” Marcus was already unbuttoning his jeans, though.
“No. Just curious to see if I could make you pull down your pants in the
hallway.”
“Of course you can make me pull down my pants in the hallway,” Marcus muttered,
giving an eye roll as he did just that. “The whole world’s seen me without my
pants on, who cares if the janitor does too?”
As Marcus lowered his jeans to his knees, Daniel frowned. “Those are my
boxers,” he confirmed.
“Told you, you think I don’t know what my friend’s underwear looks like?”
Marcus winced. “Hold on, let me say that again but not weird.”
“No, I mean…” Daniel leaned in, looked closer at the blue pattern. “Those are
the boxers I was wearing this morning.” And, Daniel noted, they looked better
on Marcus’s larger frame than they did on his own.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Then…what are you wearing now?”
Now, that was a good question. Daniel undid his belt, pushed his khakis down to
his knees, revealing the green and white starred boxers that he’d put on
without thinking as he’d changed. “Um…I’ve never seen these before?”
Which was, in itself, kind of impressive.
“What do you mean you’ve never…
Simon’s dressing room door clicked open, and they both looked up as he came
out, frown on his face before he even saw them. “Did one of you guys…oh, there
they are,” he said, pointing at Daniel. “Why do you guys have your pants down
and why are you in my underwear?”
“We’re solving a mystery,” Daniel said, gesturing for Simon to open his pants.
“What are you wearing if these are yours?”
“I don’t know,” Simon said, doing as he was bid. “This pair was with my
clothes, but it’s not mine?” He lowered his pants as well, showing off a white
pair of boxers, which sagged a little for being too big, and which Daniel
recognized.
“Those are Hugh’s,” Daniel said, glancing at his door. “Someone’s having some
fun with us, I think.”
“So what, Hugh’s going to come out of there with mine on?” Marcus asked.
Even as he spoke, Hugh’s door opened and he came out in nothing but a pair of
boxers and a t-shirt, pants in his hand. “Which one of you assholes…Simon,
really? Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I didn’t do it!”
“Those aren’t mine,” Marcus muttered.
“I should hope not, but…”
“No, I have Daniel’s, Daniel has Simon’s and Simon has yours. Whose are those?”
Marcus demanded, pointing at Hugh.
“I don’t know, but I want my clothes back.”
“No,” Marcus shook his head, pulling his pants up hastily. “Because that sets
off a whole chain of people taking off their underwear and I don’t have mine to
take back yet.”
Daniel looked at the three of them, then down at himself, then turned around to
where the hallway bent around a corner. “Sam, Henry. Get the hell out here so I
can kill both of you.”
“Oh, seriously?” Hugh asked, sighing.
To their credit, the two of them came out from around the corner immediately,
giggling like idiots. “Surprise!” Sam said, and Henry did jazz hands.
“I hate you, and I know enough martial arts to demonstrate how much,” Daniel
told them, arms crossed.
Sam just laughed. “Beat up the blind guy, real progressive of you.”
“Don’t you two have jobs or something?” Marcus demanded of them.
“Nah, we’re just here for the comic relief. And you should really congratulate
us,” Henry said, nodding. “This wasn’t easy to pull off.”
“Yeah, whose underwear am I wearing?” Hugh asked.
“And where are mine?” Marcus wanted to know.
“I want to know how you did it,” Daniel added, just because he was pretty
impressed with the organization and sneakiness. Neither of them was even
filming today.
“No, we’ll get dressed first and tear down the wizard’s curtain after,” Simon
said, poking Daniel.
“But they didn’t just do this to us—they must have switched everyone on set.”
Henry burst out laughing, and Sam was leaning against a wall to keep himself on
his feet.
“Where are…”
“Not telling. You want to find out you’re going to have to get panting people,”
Henry teased, hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“I…” Marcus looked at them. “He thinks I’m not going to do that. You’d better
believe I’m going to do that. Come on. Underwear hunt.” And he stalked off,
taking Hugh and Simon with him, Simon quickly trying to do up his pants. “Come
on, Daniel.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,’ Daniel said, shaking his head at Henry as he covered
up. “You’re wearing his,” he whispered to Henry, and Henry nodded
apologetically. Daniel grinned. “I’ll record as much as I can.”
“We figured you’d be on our side in this,” Sam said, beaming. “Record with
sound.”
“Can do.” Daniel turned and followed after his co-stars as they went to unravel
the great underwear swap.
***** Hugo/Rock, Gladiatorial Contest *****
Chapter Notes
     The prompt today was for sexy fighting, and I've had some gladiators
     in my back pocket for a while now that my partner convinced me to
     break out for this one.
They weren’t in the big arena, the one that roared when the fight started. The
smaller one just made a lot of discordant noise, but that didn’t bother Hugo.
As he walked out in his show-armour, unbuckled helmet, leather shoulder and
half-chest plate, exposed belly, belt attached to a half-skirt of leather
straps that only covered his sides and left his backside hanging out and his
leather thong exposed, he waved, smiled for the modestly sized crowd. The cheer
intensified.
Beside him, Rock was also waving, giving the crowd his best grin and making
sure to turn around so his wave got all of them, and so all of them got sight
of him. He was from the northern colonies, so they’d dressed him in a parody of
his homeland’s warriors, a bear’s head for a cap, the fur coming down like a
mane to his shoulders, bangles of bone on his arms, red paint across his chest
and a small pelt tied around his waist with furry boots to match it all.
Then they grinned at each other, making their way to the centre of the small
arena. Both of them recognized this cheer. Nobody was here to see bloodshed
today. They were here for a show, not a fight.
Hugo and Rock were both showmen just as much as they were fighters, and neither
of them had a problem with providing less than bloody entertainment sometimes.
After letting the crowd brew for a minute, Hugo pulled out his dull short
sword. “Let’s go, you big, dumb barbarian!” he shouted, knowing the lower seats
would hear him.
“Come at me, you puny little colonizer!” Rock shouted back, affecting a
northern accent as he hefted his studded club with a cocky grin.
“Your funeral,” Hugo muttered, running at Rock and starting the fight in a wash
of cheers. The good thing about the show-fighting was that since Rock was the
foreign barbarian, he would lose. The bad guy always lost. They fought, not for
real but in the flashy way that crowds liked, the way that got them sweaty and
just a little bit scuffed up, the way that made it seem like they were trying.
After a few minutes, the energy of the crowd ebbed, though. “They’re getting
bored,” Rock muttered, bringing his club down to smash in Hugo’s face in a
telegraphed attack for Hugo to block.
“Yeah, let’s do something exciting,” Hugo agreed, flexing his muscles to make
it seem like he was straining.
They broke apart and Rock aimed a swing at Hugo’s head that Hugo dodged in an
experienced way that let his cap come off, eliciting a gasp from the crowd at
the close save. In a crouch, Hugo smirked, lunged forward, carefully hooking
his sword through the tie on Rock’s pelt so that when Rock sidestepped, the
pelt opened, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
Hugo came out on the other side of the lunge, pulled Rock’s pelt off his sword
and held it up victoriously as the crowd roared approval. That roar increased
as Rock leapt on Hugo from behind, one arm putting him into a choke and the
other tearing his skirt away, leaving him in the thong. “Cocky bastard,” Rock
teased.
Hugo elbowed Rock in the gut and staggered forward when Rock let him go.
“Crowds love to see the barbarian get humiliated,” he said with a grin, wiping
his mouth. He dangled Rock’s pelt as if taunting him with it, then tossed it
over his shoulder.
“Who’s humiliated?” Rock asked, foregoing his club and leaping forward to grab
Hugo’s arms, grappling with him. Hugo refused to go down like Rock wanted and
they stood there, pushing and shoving each other, until a minute later Rock
suddenly went low, got his arm around Hugo’s middle and hefted with a shout,
tossing Hugo over his shoulder.
“Put me down!”
Rock smacked Hugo’s ass, carrying Hugo into the centre of the arena as the
crowd hollered. Hugo still had his sword and he tangled it in Rock’s leg to get
them to fall, but the pile they landed in had Hugo on the bottom, on his belly
and it was easy for Rock to pin his arm and push his head into the dirt. “What
are you doing?” Hugo asked him as Rock straddled him. “You’re supposed to lose,
you’re the bad guy.”
Rock leaned down while the crowd shouted at them. “Barbarians don’t play by the
rules, Hugo.”
***** Edwin/Owen, Test of...Something *****
Chapter Notes
     The alternate (and slightly less sfw) version of the sexy fighting
     prompt that I almost went with.
“This is stupid,” Edwin muttered, rubbing oil on his arm.
“It’s what your prince commands.”
“The prince can…” Edwin wisely stopped himself from saying anything else,
shaking his head. He finished lathering himself up with oil, provided by Owen,
and turned to face Owen, also all oiled up.
Both of them had stripped down to their smallclothes for the wrestling match
that was apparently part of the screening process to be on Gavin’s guard. Edwin
didn’t know if he was supposed to lose or win if he wanted to get on, which
meant he didn’t know what he was supposed to do to not get on. It was very
stressful.
Owen grinned at him. “Ready?”
“I guess.”
“You can start whenever,” Gavin said, sitting in a chair not far off, legs
draped over one arm as he watched them.
Gavin winked at Owen. Owen winked back. Edwin hated both of them so much.
And then Owen hunched down, ran at Edwin. It was all Edwin could do to square
his shoulders and meet Owen, but it was already too late and they were on the
ground, rolling over on top of one another, sliding and slipping. Edwin
couldn’t get any traction and Owen was heavier than him by a good amount,
leaving Edwin little to do once Owen got on top of him.
Still he tried, as Owen straddled him, smiling down at Edwin as he did. “You’re
not going to give up that easily, right?”
“Of course not,” Edwin grunted, using the oil to his advantage and managing to
draw a leg up to his chest, kicking Owen in the belly to get him off. When Owen
was on the ground, Edwin got to his feet, waited for Owen to do the same, and
then darted around behind him, leaping onto Owen’s back.
Unfortunately he slid, and Owen turned, managing to half-catch Edwin under one
arm, getting in something like a headlock except around his chest. He then slid
his hand down and hefted Edwin up, Edwin’s face ending up right beside Owen’s
crotch, where he swore Owen hip-checked him on purpose before tossing Edwin to
the ground and falling on him, taking the breath out of Edwin’s lungs.
“That was a good move,” Owen said, as he lay on top of one of Edwin’s arms and
tried to pin the other. “It’s not going to work twice.”
Edwin’s right arm was pinned underneath Owen, touching fabric. He had a moment,
a long moment of wondering whether pride was more important than winning, and
he decided that it wasn’t. Edwin grabbed Owen through his smallclothes,
squeezed hard.
Owen grunted, recoiled automatically, and Edwin slithered away, almost getting
up before Owen grabbed his leg, pulled him down and fell on top of him from
behind, arm around Edwin’s middle and another keeping Edwin’s arm pinned behind
his back. Owen reached down and Gave Edwin a return squeeze. In his peripheral
vision, Edwin saw Gavin shift, watching them with interest now. “If that was
what you wanted,” Owen said, breathing on Edwin’s neck, “all you had to do was
say so.”
Edwin butted his head back, managed to free his arm and was able to at least
spin around, grabbing arms to grapple with Owen, the two of them writhing on
the ground together. Pressing against each other, rubbing, grinding, grunting
as they tried to best each other in combat.
Edwin wasn’t sure which of them got hard first, but he assumed it was Owen and
redoubled his efforts to move him. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
“Trying…to…get you off…”
Owen grinned. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
Edwin’s face exploded in more colour than exertion could account for. “That’s
not…that’s not what I meant. I meant get you off me!”
“Hm.” Owen pressed down harder, not letting Edwin go anywhere. “Keep trying.
We’ll see what happens first. And don’t forget.” Owen leaned down, mouth just
on Edwin’s ear. “Your prince is watching.”
***** Everyone, Tan Lines *****
Chapter Notes
     Today's prompt was the beach episode, so I wrote an entire episode.
Owen threw himself into a leap, fist extended, muscles straining as every part
of him struggled to reach the volleyball.
He hit it, kept it in the air, and fell flat into the sand. “Gavin!”
“Got it.” Gavin was there, ready, and when the ball came his way, he hit it
right over the net, right in between Edwin and Ty. “Ha.”
“Oh, it’s one point, get over yourself,” Edwin muttered, trotting out to get
the ball.
“I think the ‘ha’ was more about the fifteen other points that one was tacked
onto,” Ty told Edwin.
Owen grinned as he stood up, dusting himself off. “Good hit.”
“Good save,” Gavin said, smirking. “And you were worried the bathing suits
would distract me.”
Owen shrugged. A day at the beach with a bunch of guys in tiny bathing suits?
Of course he’d been worried that Gavin would get distracted. “It was a fair
thing to assume.”
“As if I’m some kind of horny dog who gets distracted by the sight of sausage,”
Gavin muttered, coming over and giving Owen a kiss.
Owen narrowed his eyes, took in Gavin’s relaxed form, his tight bathing suit
hugging him closely, his tanned skin a little shiny with sweat. Then he looked
over at Edwin at Ty, talking strategy, flushed and out of breath, sand clinging
to them in various places.
And Owen got it. “Ah. You’re not distracted because you have a goal.”
“Yeah.” Gavin slapped Owen’s chest. “Winning.”
“No. Which one of them did you negotiate the stakes with?”
It didn’t matter what the stakes were. The only thing Gavin liked more than
winning was winning something.
Gavin licked his lips. “Doesn’t matter. A few more points and we’re going to
have our very own errand boys for the rest of the day.”
Owen laughed. Edwin was going to be so pissed. But then, Edwin was probably the
one who’d agreed to it in the hopes that it would be the other way around.
“You’re insufferable.”
“We make a good team, then,” Gavin said, snapping the front of Owen’s speedo.
“You two done flirting or should we stop playing?” Edwin demanded.
“We’re never done flirting,” Owen called, patting Gavin’s lower back as they
both turned to face the net. “But we can still kick your asses. Let’s go.”
—
“It’s hot.”
“It’s summer. We’re at the beach.”
“I am aware of this information.”
“And I’m aware that it’s hot.”
James sighed, and he lay down on his belly, handing a bottle of sunscreen to
Ron. “Do my back.”
Ron took it, squirting the sunscreen onto James’s back, rubbing it in slowly.
“Drink something.”
“I will. You too. Can’t have you overheating in all those layers you’re
wearing.”
Ron chuckled, glancing down at his frankly skimpy bathing suit. Half his ass
was hanging out the back and the front wasn’t much better. “I do feel oddly
overdressed.”
It was more than Ron wore when they were alone.
“Feel free to take it off. I doubt anyone would mind.” James waved a hand.
“Based on the vibe in the air, I suspect we’re going to see some dick by the
end of the day anyway.”
“You think?” Ron asked, looking around the beach. A lot of guys here, playing
or sitting or swimming. He didn’t feel a vibe. “Is this one of those magical
vibes, or a you had too much coffee vibe?”
“Who knows.” James sighed, put his head down as Ron did his shoulders. “Just
mark my words. Dicks everywhere by the end of the day.”
“Not everyone here has one of those.”
“I know. But that’s the majority. There might be other parts everywhere too.”
James looked up at Ron. “Sunscreen yourself too and then when it sets, I want
to go look for seashells.”
“Okay,” Ron said, moving past the minimal fabric on James’s backside to his
legs. “And I made us lunch, so we’ll eat after.”
“Perfect.” James put his head back down, let Run rub him with the sunscreen.
“I’m having fun. I know it doesn’t seem like it.”
“I know you are,” Ron said, smiling to himself. “I’m having fun too.”
“Good.” James nodded. “It’s hot, though.”
“It is pretty hot,” Ron agreed, nodding as the sun beat down on them.
—
“Why is it so cold?”
Cal glanced at Sully, rubbing his bare arms. “Because we’re in a cave.” They’d
found an awesome one not far from the main beach area.
“Should have brought a shirt,” Mick said, patting Sully’s shoulder.
“You guys didn’t!”
Indeed, none of them were in anything but their small bathing suits, Cal and
Sully in their speedos, Wes in his low-hanging shorts and Mick in his tight
short shorts. “Yeah,” Wes said, nodding. “But we’re used to it.”
“You could have warned me!”
“But we’re hazing you,” Mick reminded him.
“Speaking of which, go and check out that weird pool,” Cal said, pointing up
ahead of them. There was a pool of water that seemed to be glowing, possibly
with algae. Cal didn’t want to step in a pool of algae. Not when they had a new
guy for stuff like that.
“Ew, no.”
Cal grinned at him. “You’re the one who wanted to join our team.”
“I know but…what if there’s like snakes in it or some shit?”
Cal leaned in, thumbs in his wasitband. “Why do you think you’re the one
checking it out and not us?”
Sully looked from Cal to Wes to Mick, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, God.” He
stamped past Cal, towards the pool. “If I die, I want it carved on my tombstone
that I hated you!”
Cal chuckled, watching him with the other two. “There’s probably nothing there,
huh?”
“Probably,” Mick agreed, arms crossed. “Just some slippery algae.”
“His feet are going to glow the rest of the time we’re in here,” Wes pointed
out.
“That’s handy.” Cal smiled up at the two of them. “Sorry, I dragged you both
away from the beach for a cave.”
Wes shrugged. “Caves are cool.”
“And beaches are boring.”
“And we like you, remember?” Wes asked, patting Cal’s shoulder as Sully dipped
his foot into the pool.
“I guess.” Cal grinned. “I do want to go treasure hunting on the beach, though.
I brought my metal detector.”
“Oh,” Mick said, frowning.
“What?”
“I wonder if there might be leeches in there.”
All three of them looked up at Sully as he waded carefully into the pool.
“Should we warn him?”
“Nah.”
“No.”
Cal nodded. “He’ll be fine.”
—
“This is the worst,” Isaac complained, laying back on the blanket.
Peter nudged him. “I think it’s pretty funny.”
Isaac glared at him. “You’re not the one in crisis here.”
“Hey.” Peter poked him this time. “I suggested you wear something different.
You remember what you said?”
“I said I thought it would be fun,” Isaac grumbled.
“Yeah. You wanted to flaunt.”
Isaac sighed. Flaunting he was, he’d bought what was essentially a G-string
online and worn it to the beach today for fun. He really liked it, like the
screaming green colour of it, liked how small it was. The problem was that now
he was at a beach crammed to bursting with sexy guys whose almost uniformly
small bathing suits were also crammed to bursting and Isaac’s sexy swimwear was
comprised of not nearly enough fabric to deal with the fallout from that.
There were sexy, mostly naked guys everywhere sweating and swimming and
jiggling and dripping, suits clinging and hugging and showing off, and Isaac
couldn’t look at any of them or he wouldn’t be able to fit into his own suit.
“Oh, look,” Peter said, tapping Isaac’s shoulder.
“What?”
“Your friend Leo. He just spilled his drink all over himself.”
“Fuck.”
“It’s okay, someone’s wiping it off his chest for him.”
“Peter.”
“And that guy’s speedo is riding up a lot, you can pretty much see…”
Isaac groaned, drowning Peter out as he started to have the very problem he was
trying to avoid. Maybe he should just let it happen. People would think he was
weird, but at least he’d be happier. It was an all-male beach anyway.
Beside him on the blanket, Baker barked, and Isaac looked up just in time to
see a frisbee land in the sand just beside him. And running at them like a bat
out of hell was a huge mastiff, who was obviously very concerned that Isaac was
going to steal his toy.
“Oh, hell no,” Peter muttered, inching back a little.
“It’s okay,” Isaac said, picking up the frisbee while Baker ran over to
intercept the other dog, who easily outweighed him by ten times. He held up the
frisbee, and the dog came skidding to a halt in front of their blanket,
spraying them with sand but not colliding, at least. Baker was bouncing around
him, trying to get his attention while the new dog focused on the frisbee.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Isaac asked, patting his head.
“Sorry!” A kid was running up to them, fortunately both in loose shorts and too
young for Isaac to be interested, so it was safe to look at him. “Sorry,” the
kid repeated, panting. “We were throwing it for him. It got away from us.”
“It’s okay,” Isaac said, tossing the frisbee to the kid. The dog’s interested
changed immediately. Baker was still trying desperately to get his attention.
“What’s his name?”
“Dragon,” the kid said, smiling. “I should get back.”
“I think you’re going to end up with twice as many dogs as you came here with,”
Isaac warned him, nodding at Baker.
“That’s okay. We’re just throwing the frisbee in the water so Dragon doesn’t
get hot.”
The water. The water was cold. Isaac smiled. “Can I play? I’ll bring Baker.”
“Sure!” The kid grinned, and nodded over to the two guys he was playing with,
both a good amount older than him. “I’m Frederick.”
“Isaac.” Isaac stood, smiling down at Peter. “I’ll be back.”
Peter nodded, grabbing his book. “Have fun.”
As Isaac trotted off to play with dogs in cold water, he chanced a glance
around the beach. It looked like everyone was having fun. A lot of fun. He
quickened his pace a little, trying to get to the cold water as quickly as he
could. Then maybe he could have a lot of fun too.
—
Rowing was harder than it seemed, and Pax was glad that after this he was
probably never going to have to do it again.
“How far did you want to go out?” Pax asked, trying not to pant like some
exhausted malcontent. But they were pretty far out from the beach now, and
though the sun was still beating down, the ocean wind was also chilly and Pax
was worried that much farther and his lack of shirt was going to become a
problem.
Many of the people on the beach were wearing very, very small bathing suits,
which was okay for them. But Pax didn’t want to do that where there were so
many people, so he was wearing a nice pair of shorts that were a good length.
Nate could wear the speedo in this relationship as far as he was concerned.
“I guess this is far enough,” Nate said, pulling back his oar and stowing it
between his feet on the floor of the little boat.
“Far enough for what?” Pax asked, looking back to the beach, which was very far
away indeed. “What’s the point of coming all the way out to the beach with
everyone if you’re just going to ignore everyone and go in a boat? Why did we
go in a boat, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to spend time alone with
you, but I’m just not sure about a boat as the medium for that. What if there
are sharks?”
“There are no sharks,” Nate assured Pax, patting his leg. “I just wanted to
bring you out here for a bit.”
“Out here? To the middle of the ocean? Why?”
“We’re hardly in the middle of the ocean.”
“We’re at least halfway to Portugal by now.”
“I brought food, but probably not enough to get us to Europe,” Nate mused,
fiddling with is backpack, fishing inside and looking for something. “Anyway.
Now that we’re out here where nobody can see us, I figured you could, um, take
your bathing suit off.”
Pax blinked. “Sorry?”
“No reason to be shy if we’re alone, right?” Nate straightened, and he pulled a
little speedo out of the bag, holding it up with a smile. “You just look kind
of uncomfortable in those shorts.”
“Well…” Pax looked at the speedo, then at his shorts, then over at the beach,
which was really quite far off. “There is a good bit of chafing…”
“So take them off.” Nate grinned.
“I feel like you’ve lured me out here under false pretenses,” Pax said, untying
his shorts and slipping them down, taking the speedo from Nate and pulling it
on. All with nary a rock to the boat, thank you very much.
“Maybe. But the ends justify the means, right?”
“Sometimes.” Pax did feel a lot better now. He smiled at Nate, setting his
shorts on the bench beside him. “Just while we’re out here, though. I’m
changing back before we go back.”
“Yeah, I know.”
They had a nice lunch on the boat. And then, just before they were about to
start rowing back, a bird appeared from nowhere and stole Pax’s shorts.
—
Ice clinked as Edwin handed Gavin his drink. “Here you go.”
Gavin looked up at him, stretched in his beach chair like a stripper on display
“Sorry?”
Edwin sighed, rolled his eyes. “Here you go, sir.”
“That’s better.” Gavin grinned, reached out to take the drink, then he frowned.
“Where’s the little umbrella?”
“What?”
Gavin pointed at the iced tea. “It should have a little umbrella in it. You
know, the ones they put in drinks on beaches? I want one of those.”
Edwin looked at the drink. “They didn’t put one in.”
“Go back and get me another drink that has an umbrella in it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, go back and get me another drink that has a little umbrella in it,”
Gavin told him, raising a finger. “Not that drink, the ice will already be
melting. This drink is already dead to me. A new drink, with a little umbrella
in it.”
“Stop being a diva,” Owen muttered, on the next chair over. He was drinking his
drink with no problem, even without an umbrella.
“This isn’t about being a diva, this is about the drinks people cheating us out
of our beach experience.”
“I think it’s about being a diva and giving Edwin a hard time.”
“Giving Edwin a hard time is pretty fun,” Gavin admitted.
Owen nodded. “Fair. You heard the man, Edwin.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “You’re both divas,” he muttered.
They looked at each other. Owen shrugged. Gavin held out his hand. “The drink.”
“I thought you didn’t want it!”
“I don’t. Give it to me.”
Getting a headache, Edwin did. Gavin took it, took out an ice cube, set the
glass down, and grinned. He sucked on the ice cube for a second, then took it
out of his mouth, his hand darting up to Edwin’s groin.
How he managed to do it Edwin didn’t know, but the ice cube ended up in the
front of his bathing suit, Edwin dancing back a little. “Fuck, ah!”
“Let it melt,” Gavin ordered. “It should help you cool off. Now go get me my
drink, and maybe think carefully about what bets you make next time you
challenge someone to a friendly sporting match.”
“I’m going,” Edwin grumbled, trying not to do a funny dance as goosebumps ran
down his legs.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m going, sir,” Edwin muttered, turning away.
“I have another ice cube for you when you get back, so don’t dawdle.”
Edwin shot a look at Owen, who was grinning, and went to go get the stupid
drink with the stupid umbrella.
“Stop being mean to him,” Owen said.
“Hold still so I can ice cube you too,” Gavin muttered. “And he likes it, it’s
fine.”
“What do you like?” Ty asked, coming back from getting the two of them some
popsicles.
“Shut up,” Edwin muttered.
“You know you got a wet spot on your…”
“The popsicles are melting,” Edwin told him, hurrying off, red in the face,
fully aware of his wet spot. He was going to spend the rest of the day being
ordered around like this. It was degrading. Maybe he should demand a rematch,
double or nothing.
But then, Edwin didn’t want to fathom what the double would be if he lost
again. The only way Gavin and Owen—but Gavin especially—could get more
dictatorial would be…
By the time Edwin’s ice cube melted, he was looking forward to having another
one.
—
“This is a waste of time.”
“It’s fun,” Henry insisted.
Sam snorted, laying back in the shade of the umbrella. “It’s fun if you’re an
idiot.”
“Well, I guess that makes me an idiot,” Henry said, shifting on the sand beside
the blanket.
“That’s not what makes you an idiot,” Sam muttered, sighing. “It’s just a
symptom. You don’t have to sit here with me all day.”
Henry made a noise, a verbal act of noncommittal. “I don’t mind sitting here
with you.”
“You don’t like sitting here with me,” Sam countered. “You’re doing it because
you feel bad leaving me alone.”
Another noise. “No. I’m doing it because I want you to have a good time.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that I might have a better time without you?”
“That seems unlikely,” Henry said.
Sam didn’t have anything to say about that. Henry wasn’t wrong, exactly. He
sighed. “Help me up. We can go for a walk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Am I ever not sure?” Sam demanded, holding out his arm. Henry took it, and the
two of them stood, Henry leading Sam out into the sun, slowly walking across
the sand. “Maybe we can find some dumb kid and convince him to come home with…”
“No,” Henry interrupted, squeezing Sam’s arm. “We’re going to have normal
people fun, not murdery psychopath fun.”
Sam sighed, loudly. “Fine.”
“No need to sound all dramatic.”
“I wasn’t sounding dramatic. I was expressing my disappointment at your
banality.” Honestly, Henry didn’t understand the possibilities there were here.
Henry made another noise. “We’ll wait and find out how the day goes,” he said.
“But for now we’re just having a nice walk.”
Sam gave another sigh, let Henry have his way, just this once. “If I trip on
something…”
“I know, I know.”
Even without any actual sources of fun, Sam, thought, it ended up being not so
bad.
—
“Are you guys, um, almost done?”
“Don’t know,” Marcus said, piling more sand onto the growing mound covering
Daniel. “Can you move?”
Daniel probably could, if he tried. “No.”
“He’s lying,” Hugh said immediately, still smoothing out the sand on the other
side of Daniel. “More sand.”
“Got it.”
“Why do you assume I’m lying?” Daniel asked, pretending to be affronted. Some
sand fell on his face and he blew it off.
“Because you’re a liar,” Hugh reminded him, patting the mound.
“And doing a dress rehearsal for my own funeral is supposed to cure me of
that?” Daniel asked, rather than denying it.
He wasn’t exaggerating, much. This was making him feel more and more like a
corpse being interred.
“No,” Marcus said, looking up as Simon as he returned with buckets of water.
“But it’s supposed to stop you from running off. Now you have to spend time
with us.”
“Not sure where you thought I was going to run off to,” Daniel grumbled,
smiling up at Simon as he distributed the pails. He was all red and sweaty.
“Simon, take a break from water duty.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind…”
“Marcus can do it for a bit,” Hugh said, looking at Simon as well. “Go get a
drink.”
“Get me one too,” Daniel told him, as Marcus got up to get more water,
scratching his inner thigh at the hem of his speedo. “Sand in uncomfortable
places?”
Marcus grunted. “Might…go for a short swim. Just to shake some things loose.”
“Think about how I must feel.”
Marcus grinned at him. “Too bad. Back in a bit.” Hugh had already emptied the
two pails of water, so he took them and two more, and trotted off to the water.
Daniel sighed, some sand shifting as he did.
“Stop doing that.”
“What, breathing?” Daniel asked.
“The more disruptive you are, the longer this is going to take,” Hugh chided.
“What, do you have blueprints or something?” Daniel demanded, and Hugh just
smiled, shifting a little and tugging at his own suit. “I’m taking vindictive
pleasure in knowing you’ve got sand up there.”
“When we let you out, I’m stuffing your suit with sand.”
“Not going to fit much in there,” Daniel muttered.
“You’d be surprised.”
Hugh came back, opened a can of Pepsi and put it down in the sand beside
Daniel, sticking a straw in it near Daniel’s mouth. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said, smiling at him and taking a sip. “You’re the only one I
like.”
Simon crouched behind the can, inadvertently giving Daniel a close-up. “What do
you want me to do?” he asked Hugh.
“Don’t die of dehydration,” Hugh told him. “And then start piling sand over
here. It’s not thick enough.”
Daniel just sipped his drink, sighed. They were going to be here for a while.
Hopefully they’d let him out someday.
—
“May have misjudged how long we were going to have this sandbar,” Franz said,
as the tide came in.
Boey nodded, stretching out his shoulders, chest rippling a little as he did.
“We should head back?”
“Yeah.” Franz started to stretch as well, preparing for the swim back to the
beach. When Dragon had gotten tired of frisbee and gone off for a nap, they’d
gone for a swim. Franz pointed to the beach, where Frederick and the two boys
his age he’d found, Derek and Todd, were having footraces. “He changed.”
“Peer pressure will do that,” Boey agreed. Frederick had brought a speedo but
been too shy to wear it before, but since meeting his new friends who weren’t
as modest as he was, suddenly he’d developed the confidence to dress in less.
“I’m just glad he’s making friends.”
“As his dad, I can see why you would be.”
“Hey! I’m allowed to be happy for him.”
Boey smiled. “I know. I’m glad he’s got friends his own age too. You’re a
terrible influence.”
Franz couldn’t argue that point. “Race you back?”
“Deal.” Boey raced into the water.
“Hey, wait, I wasn’t ready!” Franz charged after him, trying to mitigate Boey’s
headstart, but it was too late. By the time they got back to the beach, Boey
had a good lead over Franz, and Franz broke out of the surf, panting with
exertion, doubled over and trying to breathe.
“You lose,” Boey said, standing in front of Franz. Franz looked up at him,
about at eye level with Boey’s package, and saw Boey smirking down at him.
“Guess you pay the penalty?”
“What penalty? Who said anything about a penalty?”
Boey patted Franz’s head. “It was implied.”
Franz snorted. “Fine. What’s the penalty?”
Hopefully it was something fun.
“I don’t know.” Boey turned away, water dripping off his form, hips swaying as
he headed for their towels. “I’ll think of something and let you know.”
Franz looked forward to it.
—
“This is dumb,” Joey said, picking at his tiny, tiny bathing suit.
Travis sighed. “So I’ve heard. Take it off if you don’t like it.”
“You’re the one who made me wear it.”
“I made you wear something,” Travis corrected patiently. “You’re the one who
decided to wear the smallest piece of spandex you could lay your hands on.”
And for being so small, it did a masterful job of outlining in detail exactly
what little skin Joey wasn’t showing.
Joey scowled. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You should have worn something roomier.”
“I should have not worn anything. It’s an all-guys beach, bet nobody could
care.”
Travis took a look around the beach. There was one guy over there wearing a t-
shirt and some bulky shorts sitting in a group of guys and laughing at
something the guy beside him had said, another in a heavy sort of tank top in
addition to his trunks practicing some martial art, but other than the two of
them nearly every guy on the beach was wearing a suit of next to nothing.
Travis wasn’t sure he’d ever been around this many mostly-naked guys before.
“Probably not,” he decided, watching the way a few of the guys on the beach
were scoping each other out. “But still.”
Joey sighed dramatically. “I’ll keep it on.”
“Thank you.”
“For now.”
“Joey.”
“No promises, is all I’m saying.”
“Okay, okay.” Travis figured that was the best he was going to get. Joey only
ever half-promised to be dressed in public.
“Oh,” Joey said, straightening and pointed at some people on the beach. “Isn’t
that Cal? Are they looking for treasure?”
Travis glanced over and nodded. Cal was definitely there with a metal detector,
Wes and Mick following him, Sully at a short distance, looking miffed as usual.
“Yeah.” They seemed to have collected two other guys, a darkish guy with kind
of long hair and a lighter guy who was a bit bigger, but seemed to be holding
things for the first guy.
“Let’s go help them!” Joey said, jumping to his feet with a jiggle. “I want
treasure too!”
Travis laughed. “Okay,” he said, getting up and following Joey down to the
surf. “I’m coming.”
At least treasure would distract Joey from his hatred of clothes for a little
while.
—
“This is nice,” Cordelia said, leaning back in her chair and sipping a
cocktail.
“It is, isn’t it?” Isabella agreed, nodding. “Very quiet.”
“Convincing the boys to have their own beach was a good plan,” Natalie told
Cordelia, tilting her glass in salute. “They can stay over there and do God
knows what.” Beside her, Sharon chuckled.
“I don’t know,” Gabrielle said, swirling her drink. There were having a nice
cocktail hour. Isabella’s idea. “I wouldn’t mind a little eye candy. Some of us
like boys.”
“Hear, hear,” Holly muttered.
“Can’t relate,” Ariel said, grinning at Gabrielle. “Men are gross. Besides,
lots of eye candy right here.”
“If you happen to like women, I guess,” Gabrielle muttered, with a blush.
“You don’t like women?” Cleo asked her, giving Gabrielle an openly flirtatious
smile. Cordelia nearly laughed aloud. Young people were so funny.
“Women are just fine. I also like men is all.”
“I suppose we’ll allow that,” Cordelia conceded. “I mean, they’re right over
there if you want to go peek on them.”
Why anyone would want to watch men or boys when they were alone was beyond her.
But then, Cordelia understood (grudgingly) that not everyone was a lesbian.
“Be lying if I hadn’t thought about it,” Gabrielle said, pointing at Cordelia.
“Thing is, my brother’s over there and I’m worried if I did, I’d catch him
doing something I don’t want to know about with his boyfriend. Or, you know,
whoever else he managed to snare in his web.”
Isabella laughed. “Then I guess you’re stuck here with us ladies.”
“Not bad company,” Natalie said, shifting in a way that made Cordelia wonder
again how she fit into that bathing suit.
“No,” Gabrielle admitted, standing up to get another drink. “Not bad company.
It’s nice to get away from men and talk to real people for a while. Anyone want
more drinks?”
—
Any good day at the beach should end with an illegal bonfire. Squeezing upwards
to three dozen guys around one fire had proved challenging, but they’d managed
it by just making a really big fire and by having people creatively sit on each
other’s laps where necessary.
They roasted hot dogs and drank pop and talked a lot, arms around each other,
bodies pressed against each other, the fire cracking in between them all. Jokes
were thrown around. Casual touching was the norm. Less-than-casual touching
wasn’t uncommon either the longer the night went on and the longer they
breathed in each other, fed off each other.
Gavin sat in Owen’s lap and laughed while he told Hector about how Edwin had
eventually gotten fed up and demanded a rematch, which they’d let him win out
of pity. Knowing that his victory hadn’t been earned, Edwin had taken it as a
point of pride to keep getting Gavin drinks all day.
James compared treasures with Joey, endlessly frustrating Joey by refusing to
give up any of the seashells he’d found, until Joey’s eyes alighted on one that
he just obviously loved, the swirl pattern catching his eye, and James just
smiled at let him have it in exchange for a funny rock Joey had found.
Cal rubbed ointment on Sully, telling him all the while that he needed to be
more careful when wading into strange pools while Sully cussed him out and Mick
took pictures. Beside them, Wes was chatting with Nate about this strange
seabird he’d seen earlier with a pair of shorts in its talons.
Isaac had sat on Nicholas just to make him get all awkward and blushing, but
Nicholas had taken to it full force, putting his arms around Isaac and holding
him there to tease him. Isaac had given up on not getting too excited by the
proximity of all these sexy guys. Peter just sat beside them and grinned,
conspiring something with Skip and Boey.
Pax and Jacob were comparing stories at great length. Pax had been wearing one
of Nate’s t-shirts, but he’d taken it off earlier. Beside them was Garrett,
who’d come over because he’d felt kinship with Pax’s modesty but had stayed
because he was entranced by the speed at which the two were speaking.
Edwin was explaining to his friends in no uncertain terms exactly how much fun
he hadn’t had today, despite mounting evidence to the contrary in the way he
smiled when Gavin or Owen looked in his direction.
Sam was mostly just resisting the urge to push someone into the fire, figuring
he’d done what Henry wanted all day, he may as well keep doing it for a few
more hours. Besides, it wasn’t the worst thing ever to just sit and talk. He
hadn’t caught he name of whoever he ended up chatting with about politics, but
they knew their stuff even if they were an idiot.
Freed from his sand catacomb, Daniel was still a little itchy and looking
forward to the shower that the others had promised him. He sat between Marcus
and Hugh with Simon in his lap even though really Simon should be sitting on
Marcus, pointing out constellations to them and periodically stealing bits of
Marcus’s hot dogs.
Franz found out that he and Sam had exactly none of the same political views,
but hey, that made for good conversation. He kept casting glances at the three
younger boys, who had swapped phone numbers and were having a hot dog eating
contest over there. He had a feeling he’d be hosting a sleepover in the next
week or so.
Travis and Henry turned out to like the same baseball, football and soccer
teams, which gave them a lot to talk about until they found out they disagreed
on hockey, which gave them even more to talk about.
The night wore on, darkness fell properly, and the moon was full. The waves
crashed on the beach and the boys ate and were merry.
***** Owen/Gavin, Size Matters *****
Chapter Notes
     Obnoxious weapons! Wielded by obnoxious knights.
“Oh my God, Owen.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Owen said, grinning as he hefted his sword
over his shoulder.
“No.” Gavin pointed at him. “Put that down, get your regular sword.”
Owen looked at him innocently. “This is my regular sword. One of them, anyway.”
It was a two-handed broadsword that was as tall as he was. Franz had given it
to him as thanks for saving his dog.
“No. That was a joke sword. Franz didn’t really mean for you to fight with it.
If we go in there and try to fight orcs with it, you’re going to get killed.”
Gavin had his arms crossed, standing firmly.
“Gavin,” Owen said patiently, lifting the sword a little in one hand. “Swords
are all meant to be fought with, it’s just a matter of knowing how to use them.
I’ve been practicing.”
“I am not having you die on me because you wanted to prove your manliness,
Owen. No.”
“I’ve never died yet and I don’t plan to start.” Owen grinned. “And I don’t
need to prove anything. There are a lot of orcs. This is the most efficient
tool for the job.”
Owen mostly wanted to demonstrate that no sword was too big for him to handle,
no matter what Franz thought.
Gavin sighed. “You are so obnoxious. Fine. But at least wear your armour.”
“Nah.”
“Owen.”
Owen smiled again, set the sword down and took off his shirt. “Know your enemy,
right? Figured I’d go full orc for this one. They fight in their smallclothes,
don’t they?”
“Because those are their only clothes,” Gavin said, tapping his foot as he
watched Owen undress.
Owen shrugged, shucked off the rest of his clothes and hefted the sword again.
“Do we have any war paint?”
“I’m alerting the healers now that they’ll need to be ready for you.” Gavin
turned away, prepared to stalk off.
“I’ll be fine!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Gavin,” Owen called. “Don’t you want to hear what I call it?”
Gavin stopped, looked over his shoulder at Owen, at the huge weapon. He sighed.
“What?”
A toothy grin. “Little sword.”
Gavin looked at him for a second. Owen looked back. Gavin turned away. “You’re
sleeping outside tonight.”
“Wait, what? Gavin! It’s funny, come on!” Owen followed after him, fully
prepared to mow down orcs and fully prepared to convince Gavin of how great
this all was, one way or the other.
***** Daniel and the Golden Boys, Sixth Ranger *****
Chapter Notes
     So the prompt today was magical boys, and instead of writing a short
     drabble, instead I wrote part one of a three-part series, because why
     not. Introducing the Golden Boys.
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said, looking up at the boy trapped by the villain
they’d encountered. They’d just been going to a movie together, and suddenly
they’d been attacked by an evil concession stand employee who’d turned out to
have superpowers granted to him by the evil Puppetmaster, black threads flying
from his arms and legs as he was controlled from afar.
He’d taken a boy hostage and trapped him in a popcorn machine, slowly filling
up with popcorn as they battled the monster. Once the theater had been cleared
of screaming bystanders, Daniel, Hugh, Marcus, Trevor and Al had activated
their Power Gems and transformed into the Golden Boys, releasing their powers
to fight off evil, like they always did.
Clad now in their colour-coded ruffled V-necks, their white short shorts and
their pixie boots and ribbon collars of matching colour, they faced off against
the villain. But they were smeared with butter, roughed up from being pelted by
kernels and candies, and sticky from having diet pop poured on them. And they
were no closer to winning, and the popcorn machine was filling up, the hostage
now pounding on the ceiling to try and escape.
“Give up, Golden Boys!” the Concession Stander shouted, pointing dramatically
at them as if they weren’t the only people in the theatre. “You’ll never defeat
the power of overpriced snacks! Capitalism always wins—the day and the souls of
its labourers!”
“He’s right,” Hugh said, breathing heavy. Al was helping him stand. “I don’t
think we can beat the greed of the theatre industry alone!”
“Don’t give up!” Marcus told him, chest heaving under his red V-neck. “We’re
not alone, we have each other and the power of friendship! Let’s all charge at
him at once and save that boy!”
The all nodded, squaring up for their attack, Gems shining with the inner light
of friendship and justice. The five of them leapt, determined to rid the world
of evil and destruction.
A wall of sour candies blocked their path, and arrows of licorice rained down
on them. The Golden Boys fell back, unable to penetrate the sugared walls of
capitalist entertainment. The Concession Stander laughed maniacally. The boy in
the popcorn box cried out, and they all watched in despair as he was devoured
by the popcorn in a sea of butter and irony.
Then, hope. “What’s that?” Daniel asked, pointing at the now-full popcorn box.
In it, was a light.
A light of friendship and justice.
Brilliant yellow, it outshone the fake popcorn butter and the fluorescent
lights, it locked all their attention while the Concession Stander launched
into his speech about the triumph of the almighty dollar, and it shone brighter
and brighter. Cracks formed in the popcorn machine.
And the machine exploded outward, popcorn pelting everything. “What?” The
Concession Stander demanded, turning around.
“Look!” Hugh said, though they all were.
The boy in the stand was floating, a glowing light at neck. That light
enveloped him, casting his clothes away, a yellow patch growing outward from
his belly and forming into a shirt and matching briefs, white shorts
materializing from nothing and yellow pixie boots forming from a ribbon out of
nowhere. The ruffles on the V-neck formed last, and the ribbon around his neck,
housing a yellow gemstone. “That’s a Power Gem!” Daniel said, shocked.
“What?” The Concession Stander demanded, taking a step back. “Another Golden
Boy? There are only supposed to be five!”
The yellow Golden Boy opened his eyes, looked around. “What…”
“Attack!” Marcus said, hurried. “While he’s distracted, go!”
They went, launching attack after attack at the Concession Stander. Daniel
leapt over and landed beside the new boy, who was standing in a pile of
popcorn. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “We need your help.”
“But I’m not…you guys are the Golden Boys!”
“Yeah.” Daniel nodded. “And we need your help. Come on, focus your power and
think about friendship and justice!”
“How?”
“Just do it—the power is inside you!”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
But there was no time to explain as a stream of scalding butter substitute came
their way and they had to leap aside or be burnt.
Daniel coached the new boy through it the whole fight, and when it came time to
land the final blow, he was finally able to tap into his power, overwhelming
the power of the Concession Stander all on his own in a brilliant display of
lightning.
As the puppet strings faded away and the Concession Stander’s heart was
purified, the Golden Boys gathered around the new boy. “That was awesome!”
Marcus told him.
“We’re glad you’re okay,” Hugh said, taking his hand. “Are you hurt?”
“That move with the lightning was amazing,” Trevor told him, grinning as he
patted the new boy on the back.
“Welcome to our team,” Al said.
“What’s your name?” Daniel’s question cut through all of theirs, and he looked
the new boy in the eye.
“Uh…Simon.” The new boy smiled at him. “I’m Simon.”
“We should get out of here,” Marcus said, looking up at the sound of sirens.
“Come on, we’ll get pizza.”
“I want a shower,” Hugh complained, tugging at his sticky hair.
“Do you have stuff somewhere?” Daniel asked Simon as they trotted over to the
corner where they’d stowed their backpacks before transforming.
“I have my gym bag somewhere,” Simon said, looking around. “Oh, there it is.”
He ran over and got it, joining them as they were preparing to drop
transformation.
“Put your hand on the Gem,” Daniel instructed him, smiling. “And focus on your
power, push it down. Drops your transformation. Can’t exactly get lunch looking
like a Golden Boy.”
“I guess not,” Simon said, with a chuckle, doing as Daniel told him. A moment
later, they were all engulfed in light, and then they were standing there in
nothing. Simon eeped, hand coming down to cover himself. “Um!”
“Yeah, oops,” Marcus said, laughing a little. “Forgot to mention that. The
clothes just kind of…go away when we transform. We haven’t figured that part
out yet.”
“Do you have a spare set in there?” Hugh asked him, already rooting through his
bag for his spares.
“I have my running clothes,” Simon choked, face flaming as he tried to hide
himself and dig through his bag all at once.
“You’ll get used to it,” Daniel told him, still smiling. “And make sure you
start carrying a change of clothes with you everywhere. You never know when
evil will rear its head and attack.”
“The worst is when we have to fight stuff more than once a day,” Trevor
complained, pulling on his shirt. “That’s always tricky.”
“You can always strip before you transform,” Al told Simon. “Just sometimes
there’s no time.”
“Shoes are the worst,” Hugh said. “They’re so expensive to replace all the
time. Always take off your shoes before using your powers.”
“I feel like I should write this down.” With gym shorts on now, Simon was
confident enough to talk at least.
“You’ll be fine,” Daniel said, patting Simon’s arm. “We’re here to help you.
That’s our power. The power of friendship.”
“I wish we could have the power of pants,” Simon muttered, and they all
laughed.
Five Golden Boys had come into the theatre. Six Golden Boys left, a new
teammate, a new power, a new friend in their midst.
***** The Golden Boys, Showdown *****
Chapter Notes
     Part two of the Golden Boys trilogy, featuring the villains and some
     others.
It was time for the final battle.
The Castle of Dark Despair had appeared right in the middle of the park
downtown, casting the whole town under clouds of depression and anxiety.
Monsters flew from its rooves, and assailed everyone, devouring the whole city
in the great maw of evil.
The Golden Boys had rushed to the castle, fighting all the way, and broken
through the front gates. “Okay, guys—one more battle and we can end the
Puppetmaster’s reign of terror forever!” Marcus said, pumping his fist in the
air as they paused outside the huge double doors that would lead to his throne
room.
“Let’s do it,” Hugh said, nodding. “For everyone out there.”
“Yeah.” Marcus grinned, and they did a team fist bump.
Marcus turned, pushed the doors to the throne room open with a bang, and the
six of them entered the darkened chamber, stopping when the doors shut behind
them. “Come out of the dark, Puppetmaster!” Marcus shouted. “Your days of
terrorizing innocent people are over! The Golden Boys are here to stop your
rampage!”
Silence, for a moment. And then laughter. A high cackle that filled the air,
reverberating all around them. “You’ve got bad information, Golden Boys,” a
voice sneered. “The Puppetmaster has never sat on the Throne of Despair.”
“What?” Marcus demanded, fire flickering to life in his hand but doing nothing
to light the room. “Who are you?”
A lone light appeared at the end of the room, illuminating two people. One was
standing from the throne, in an unbuttoned leather coat and heeled boots, a
whip at his side, and a black mask covering his whole face. And nothing else,
there was nothing under the coat but a thong. Beside him was a taller guy in
tight leather straps and not much else, looming and holding a sword. “Don’t
tell me you don’t know your history,” the one on the throne said, derision in
his voice.
“No games,” Marcus demanded, as Simon clung to Daniel’s arm. “We’re here to
stop you, whoever you are. You can’t beat the power of our friendship!”
“Ah.” The villain tilted his head. “Yes. The power of friendship. I hate the
power of friendship. But you know what? I’m not the only one. Turns out there
are a lot of us who hate it that you people gather together in your little
clubs to fight evil and right injustice. A lot of us who hate that we’re always
losing to groups of cute boys in tight pants. So.” The villain took a step down
from his throne, descending what looked like a dais. “We decided to try using
the hated power of friendship out for ourselves.”
Another light flickered beside him, illuminating the man Daniel knew was the
Puppetmaster, a man in a tailored military uniform, strings emerging from his
hands to the various naked figures crouched beside and around him. Behind him
stood a pale, ephemeral figure with no shirt, glowing without putting off any
light.
The villain took another step, and another light came on. Simon took in a
fearful breath, and Daniel stepped back. A tall woman with horns stood there,
black dress reaching the ground. The Lady of Fear, queen of hell.
Another step, another light. A villain Daniel didn’t recognize but who had to
be the Centipede, if only because of the centipedes crawling up and down his
arms. He was almost naked, dirty and surrounded by bugs.
Another step. Another villain Daniel didn’t know, not even by name. Clad in
nothing but bones that he hoped weren’t human, he looked down on them like a
king on his peasants.
The main villain took the last step, and more lights flickered on all around
him. Lady Death, the necromancer. The Scorpion, in his green body paint and
codpiece. The Birds of Prey with their feather pasties. The Turncoat. Villains
Daniel didn’t recognize. So many. Too many.
“How do you like being the ones outnumbered for once?” The unnamed villain
asked them, smirking behind his mask. He was wearing a crown, too.
“We’re not afraid of you!” Marcus shouted, despite the fact that they very much
were. “We’ll beat you, all of you! Evil can never triumph over the power of
justice!”
“And friendship, I know.” A snort, and the villain raised his hands. A power, a
wave started in them, spreading outward, assailing them before they could do
anything.
And in a flash of light that died like a sun collapsing into a black hole, the
power of the Power Gems vanished, their transformations leaving them, leaving
the six of them standing there, naked and defenceless.
“Daniel…” Simon said, hiding behind him.
“Don’t be afraid,” Daniel said, taking a fighting stance. “It’ll be okay.”
“How?”
Daniel didn’t know, but he couldn’t let himself despair. Despair was the enemy
of a Golden Boy.
“Since the power of friendship is so strong,” the villain sneered, “let’s have
it help you now, hm?”
“Who are you?”
“You really don’t know? They don’t teach new heroes anything these days. I’m
the first bringer of despair, and the last. I’m the Throne of Darkness. I’m the
Destroyer of Empire. I’m the Black Hole. I’m the scion of devastation, the lord
of the apocalypse.”
Daniel felt his breath catch as he realized. The crown, the mask, the ominous
presence, the practiced evil speech. “You’re…you’re the King of Nothing.”
A cold silence fell over them as he said the name, a name spoken of only in
hushed tones even now, even now when he was supposed to be dead. And he wasn’t
dead.
“Gold star. Someone paid attention in history class. Yes, I’m the King of
Nothing. And now, Golden Boys, nothing is what you will be.” The King of
Nothing raised his hands, power crackling between them. And that power crackled
outward in a wave, one they couldn’t block, couldn’t escape. They had no power,
no shield, no way out, nothing to do but stand there and…
A gold shield erupted into being in front of them, and the crash of power was
blinding for a moment. When the light passed, six figures were standing there.
One in gold armour on his chest, with a flaming sword. Another with pointed
boots and a hat, tunic of gold thread. One with a golden staff, shimmering with
power. Another with a golden blade, from which emanated the shield. One with a
rapier, golden gloves on his hands. And one with no weapon, gold finery
protecting him. All six of them clad in shining gold brief-cut shorts with gems
on their belts.
“Oh, my God,’ Daniel whispered, as Simon clung to him so hard it hurt.
“You’re…you’re the Golden Boys.”
“What?” Marcus looked at Daniel, eyes wide. “You mean…”
“The original Golden Boys!” Daniel said, heart pounding.
The Gold Knight turned, smiled at them. “Sorry we’re late. Had to dig up the
old armour.”
“You guys have been doing a good job,” the Aegis said, letting down the shield.
“We didn’t want to step on your toes. But this might be a bit much for you
alone.”
“I didn’t expect them all to be here,” The Gold Witch muttered, staff moving.
“Good thing we came.”
“And you wanted to stay home.” The Golden Prince had a smile on his face.
“Can we focus on this and banter later?” The Gold Fencer asked.
“There’s time for both,” the Archer told them, stepping forward. “Hey there,
Sam. You look good for a dead guy. See you made some friends. You seem to have
missed the point of our whole big power of friendship speech from back in the
day. You need to hear it again?”
The King of Nothing cackled again. “Oh, it must be my birthday. A dozen Golden
Boys for the price of six. I should have known you idiots would charge right in
without checking how dangerous it was. You can’t beat all of us at once!”
He was right, Daniel saw. They’d lost their powers, but even if they hadn’t,
even if all twelve of them fought, they couldn’t beat these assembled villains.
It was impossible. Even the power of friendship couldn’t…
The Gold Archer just chuckled. “That’s my line, Sam.” And he nocked an arrow,
pointed it up. “I know you can’t see this, but you can probably get the gist.
Just imagine dramatic music in the background. Actually, Owen, play some
dramatic music on your phone.”
“My…” The Gold Knight shook his head. “Gavin, my phone is in my pants. At
home.”
“Oh.” The Gold Archer sighed, disappointed. “Okay. We’ll, everyone pretend
there’s some dramatic music now, okay?”
And he fired his arrow, up to the ceiling.
When it hit, it illuminated the throne room in vibrant light, and when his
vision cleared, Daniel saw that there were far more than twelve of them.
Against the left wall, the Treasure Team. Six guys in matching black and white
leotards, tight as skin, covered in pouches and pockets. Daniel nearly squealed
at that, because their leader, the One Who Comes Back, was his heroic idol, the
one whose existence had convinced Daniel he could be a good Golden Boy even
with his height deficiency. He saluted Daniel, and Daniel was going to remember
that until he died.
He forced himself to look away, up at the balcony above their heads, where the
Magical Six were standing in the flowing tunics that came halfway down the
thigh, forever feeding speculation about what they were wearing underneath, if
anything. They were led by a sprightly guy with a cocky grin, and he waved at
them.
Against the right wall were the Street Smart Gang, who’d led the charge to
fight small time crime and protect ordinary people. They already had their
weapons out, shirtless Cabin Boy and pantsless First Matey twirling knives
already, the four Alley Knights with swords aglow, armour stopping at the cup.
One team where there’d been two, once upon a time.
Every retired hero team in the city had come to fight the final battle with
them. Daniel was going to cry. He wondered if it was bad form to ask everyone
for their autographs at the end of the word.
“Hm.” The Gold Knight said, looking the six of them over. “We never did figure
out how to fix the whole problem with our clothes disappearing.” He smiled at
them, and Daniel was suddenly self-conscious. These guys were all so…heroic,
and he was just Daniel without his armour. “Guys? We’re going to need all the
help we can get.”
“Yeah.”
They raised weapons, the Golden Boys, the Treasure Team, the Magical Six and
the Street Smart Gang, and a warm light filled the air, power filled their
hearts. And their Power Gems glowed, and Daniel felt his powers coming back,
wrapping around him, stretching across his chest and between his legs, forming
his shirt and briefs, his shorts appearing from the air, ribbon wrapping around
his neck, his feet.
And when the light faded, Daniel and the other Golden Boys had their powers—and
costumes—back. “Yeah!” Marcus cheered. “Alright, now we’re in business!”
A loud snort from the King of Nothing. “It won’t help you. Call whoever you
want, share power with whoever you want. You can’t beat us. Not all of us. Not
all at once. If only I’d thought of this sooner.”
“Oh, shut up,” the Gold Archer told the King of Nothing. “You know, I rehearsed
that power of friendship speech? I rehearsed it for days, Sam.”
“He did rehearse it for days,” the Gold Knight confirmed.
“And I’m annoyed that it didn’t get through your thick skull. So this time
we’re going to give you a real practical demonstration.” The Gold Archer raised
his hand, pointed towards the assembled villains, who were readying to fight.
“Come on, guys. Let’s show them what we can do together!”
A cheer rose up from the assembled teams, and Daniel and the Golden boys joined
in. Together, they ran into the final battle, the final fight against evil.
Together, he knew they would win.
Because there was no force on earth stronger than the power of friendship.
***** The Golden Boys, The Power of Friendship *****
Chapter Notes
     The thrilling conclusion to the Golden Boys trilogy! This definitely
     ended up being my favourite part of Magic Meat March.
The battle raged. The world’s greatest heroes and most terrifying villains
faced off in an all out brawl in which, at long last, one or the other would
triumph once and for all. The fate of the world hung in the balance of their
battle today.
Daniel slid back under an assault from the Scorpion. His minions were on the
ground around him, disintegrating into motes of darkness, and now Daniel and
the other Golden Boys had him surrounded. But he was formidable, tail-whips
moving faster than they could see, and his defence was impenetrable.
“He’s only got two tails!” Marcus called out, breathing hard. “He can’t attack
all of us at once—surround him!”
The Golden Boys nodded, leaping into position in a circle around the Scorpion.
He laughed at them. “Fools, you think this will work?”
“Get him!” At Marcus’s command, all six of them leapt at the Scorpion, who
smirked and hunched forward.
In a slash, he span his tails around in a circle, striking all of them and
sending them to the ground.
“Ah…” Daniel said, rubbing his arm as he sat up. His shirt was disintegrating
into green particles. The Power Gems rendered the Golden Boys invincible, but
after enough abuse their armour started to take a beating.
“Try again,” Marcus said, as, shirtless as a team, they all stood. “That was
just a fluke. He…”
The Scorpion suddenly reared, struck with lightning bolts from above. “Get
him,” a voice said. “Quickly.”
The Golden Boys moved, leaping on him and grabbing him, one on each limb or
tail. Together, they unleashed their purifying power with the Scorpion in their
grip, and shone with the inner light of justice as they freed his heart from
evil.
As his scorpion gear vanished, they were left holding a naked and now not-evil
man, who they carefully moved over to the side of the room. Daniel looked up
and smiled as the leader of the Magical Six came over to them. Daniel wondered
if he used magic to let that shirt cover him without riding up in battle. There
was certainly a lot of thigh on display. “Don’t underestimate any of these
guys,” he said to them. “They’re dangerous.”
They nodded their agreement, and the battle picked up again. Daniel lost his
boots when he got in between Cabin Boy and the bone guy, who hit him with his
sceptre and had Daniel flying into Cabin Boy, who he was not planning on having
a face-to-loincloth meeting with, but there it was. “Sorry,” Daniel said as he
got up.
“No problem,” Cabin Boy smiled at him. “I’m Pax.”
“Daniel.”
Cabin Boy—Pax nodded, jiggling a lot between his legs. “Let’s get him.”
They did, working together with their knives flashing, managing to get the guy
into a corner with the help of the other Golden Boys. Daniel got to use a move
he’d practiced but never tried out for real—a horizontal spinning kick and he
took bone guy in the face with, knocking him into a pillar and following up by
tossing a knife into his crown, which cracked. “Was that…one of my moves?”
Cabin Boy asked.
Blushing a little, Daniel nodded. “When I got my powers, I…watched all of your
YouTube videos.” And all of…everyone’s YouTube videos. He’d been a bit nervous
that he wouldn’t live up and had wanted to do his best.
“Wow, that’s flattering. I’m flattered. In a platonic way. I’m taken. You
understand.”
“I wasn’t…” Daniel blushed crimson, and nodded. “I understand?”
The bone guy shouted and pushed them all back in an explosion of power that had
him crashing into Cabin Boy’s chest, his hand on a pec, which he squished by
accident. By accident!
But Cabin Boy just set him right and they went about fighting back the bone
guy, which eventually took the whole rest of the Street Smart Gang and the
other Golden Boys before they knocked him out.
“Who was that?” Daniel asked, wishing the floor wasn’t so cold.
“The Sea King,” First Matey told him, looking Cabin Boy over for injuries. “He
was never big news, and he was before your time.”
“Can we do the history lesson later?” One of the Alley Knights asked, shifting
uncomfortably, a few pieces of his armour missing and providing a window onto
his chest. “We’ve still got…oh, damn.”
The Lady of Fear was there, smiling cruelly at them. The twelve of them readied
weapons, and she raised her hands.
Daniel didn’t remember most of that part of the battle after, only that when it
was over, all six Golden Boys were down to their magic briefs, the Street Smart
Gang was mostly in tatters and the Treasure Team had come over to help too, and
the One Who Comes Back gave Daniel a hand to help him up, standing from his
position between Marcus’s legs. “You good?”
“We’re okay,” Daniel panted, smiling at his hero. “Thanks.”
“It’s a good thing she got bored,” he said, looking at the spot where the Lady
of Fear had disappeared. “Or else we might have been screwed. Or at least so
says Sully,” he added, pointing to one of his team. “I think we could have
taken her.”
“I think you’re a dumbass,” Sully pointed out.
“Hey…” Simon tugged on Daniel’s arm, looking worried. “What…happens if we get
hit hard enough like this? We don’t have much…armour left.”
“Um…”
“We’ve never…gotten that far,” Marcus admitted, looking down. “So let’s just
try not to get hit hard enough, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hello, Golden Boys. Nice to finally meet you in person.”
Daniel froze, and they all turned to face their archenemy, the Puppetmaster.
“You!” Marcus shouted, pointing. “You’re going down. Right now!”
“I should like to see your attempt.” He was an attractive, tall man with regal
features and long hands.
“They won’t be attempting alone,” the One Who Comes Back said, and all around
the Puppetmaster, weapons were drawn.
The Puppetmaster smirked, and raised his hands, a dozen puppets appearing,
ghosts of past villains the Golden Boys had fought together. “Very well.”
“We just have to take him down and then it’s the King of Nothing,” Marcus said,
looking over to where the original six Golden Boys were fighting the King of
Nothing and his partner on the dias, power flashing through the room. As they
watched, the Aegis stood, thigh muscles rippling as he faced down an onslaught.
The Golden Witch was distracted duelling Lady Death. The Fencer and the Golden
Prince were tied up by the King’s partner—literally. His leather straps had
them both bound in an X, struggling to break free. “Let’s get it done so we can
help them.”
The fight with the Puppetmaster was just as harrowing as Daniel had always
feared it would be, leaving all of them in nothing but scraps of armour, but
between them all they managed to cut the strings on all his puppets, leaving
him alone, backing him into a corner. “Please,” he said. “Spare me…”
The leader of the Alley Knights cut his head off, and the Puppetmaster fell to
the ground.
“Whoa!” Marcus said, stepping forward. The Golden Boys didn’t kill. “You didn’t
have to…”
The Alley Knight, left in just his cup, nodded down at the body, which was
disintegrating into darkness. “He was never really here. Just a puppet like the
rest. Did you notice his friend disappear before? His real body is probably
deeper in the castle somewhere. Once we’re done here, we’ll…”
On the dais, the King of Nothing snarled in frustration suddenly, leaping into
the air and staying there, his coat flaring out. He was shrouded in a veil of
darkness, and in what looked to Daniel like the same process that transformed
them into the Golden Boys, his clothes flew away and the dark formed into a
short top, connected to short shorts by suspenders, and leather boots. He
seemed to have found makeup, and he vibrated with a power that kept him
hovering in the air. “Congratulations,” he said, sneering. “You’ve the
privilege of meeting my true power!”
“Well, shit,” the Golden Archer said, putting his hand out. “Careful,
everyone!”
There was no time to be careful. Power lashed out from the King of Nothing, and
all six of the original Golden Boys fell to the ground, armour shattering.
“We have to help!” Marcus said, starting towards them.
“You can’t!” the leader of the Magical Six said, reaching out to stop him.
“Helping the defenceless is what Golden Boys do!” Marcus shouted. “Come on!”
Marcus was right, and the Golden Boys went, leaping in front of their fallen
predecessors without a thought for anything but protecting good from evil. They
held hands in front of the King of Nothing’s attack, forming a golden shield in
front of their new friends, because no power on earth was stronger than the
power of friendship.
But the shield cracked, and with it so did the Golden Boys’ armour, and all six
of them were blown back, landing in a pile with the others, stripped of
everything. And their Power Gems shattered, leaving them as…nothing.
“And this is where your power of friendship gets you,” The King of Nothing
sneered, approaching them at a slow walk. “In a pile in front of me, where you
belong. Now, I will extinguish you from the world, rid myself of your menace,
and usher in a new ear of despair!”
“No,” Marcus said, disentangling himself from the naked Gold Knight and
standing, shaky, to oppose the evil king. “We won’t let you.”
“And how will you stop me?” The King of Nothing laughed. “You have nothing. No
power, no armour, nothing.”
“We have our friends,” Marcus said. “We have each other.”
“He’s right,” Daniel said, standing as well. One by one, all of them did,
facing down the king no matter what they had. “We’ll never give up. And we’ll
never lose to you!”
“Someone like you will never defeat us!” Hugh agreed, shaking.
“Not as long as we’re together,” Al said.
“Not as long as we have our friends,” Trevor added.
“Because…” Simon didn’t sound as nervous as usual, and he didn’t stand behind
Daniel this time. “Because we’re the Golden Boys! And you’re nothing!”
“I’m your king,” The King of Nothing said, stepping closer and raising his
hands. “And your executioner.”
“Get out of his way!” the Gold Archer shouted from behind them. “Without your
armour…”
“We’re not backing down!” Marcus called, the King of Nothing’s power rising to
a shout in the throne room. “We’re the Golden Boys—we stand up to evil no
matter what!”
“No matter what!” The rest of them shouted along.
The King of Nothing smirked. “Henry.”
Leather straps came out of nowhere, tying them all up, lifting them into the
air. The king’s partner stepped forward, silent as they struggled to free
themselves from the grip of his power, held in place by the merciless straps.
“Let us go!”
“No,” The King of Nothing said, raising his hand, a black smoke appearing,
swirling around, growing larger. “I shall devour you in darkness and despair,
and make you mine.”
“No!” Marcus shouted, but there was nothing they could do, the mist grew and
grew, the others were out of commission, and there was nothing to stop it get
closer, and closer and heavier, and stronger and darker and…
And it stopped at a golden light, roiling back. “What?” the king demanded.
That was a good question, Daniel thought, looking around for the source of the
light. “There!” Simon said, pointing up.
Above them, above each of them, was a glowing source of light, a golden gem.
“But…I destroyed them!” the King of Nothing shouted, taking a step back.
The gems floated down, one to each Golden Boy, and as it passed by Daniel’s
face he saw himself reflected in it, in his armour, smiling. The gems proceeded
lower, stopping between their legs. Where, with an eruption of power, the
Golden Boys were enveloped in radiant light, lifted up, the leather melting
away as if it wasn’t there. Daniel felt warm power flow over him, inside him,
cascading across his body in waves of iridescent justice. From the new Power
Gem emerged streamers of light that wrapped around his waist and between his
legs, forming a large green bow that then burst into a million raindrops of
light, leaving Daniel in a pair of tight golden briefs with a green waistband,
the Power Gem set into the front.
His new armour.
Daniel felt ten times as powerful as he had before as he landed, awash in a
gold glow, and saw his friends in their new uniforms as well. They smiled at
each other. “This is awesome,” Daniel said.
“Yeah!” Marcus agreed, but he turned to face the King of Nothing. “But there’s
no time to celebrate—let’s get to work.”
All six Golden Boys turned, faced their enemy, who sneered at them. “You think
some new power is going to stop me from annihilating you?” he demanded, raising
his hands again. Pure darkness formed there, prepared to strike.
“You’ll never defeat us!” Marcus shouted, and he leapt at the King of Nothing,
the others following suit. They fought him, hit him, pushed him back, until he
staggered, his top ripped, one suspender snapped, his shorts sagging. “Get him,
guys!”
“I don’t think so,” the King of Nothing snarled, darkness and shadow dripping
from his fingers. He was covered in dark, and is threatened to drown out
everything. “I will destroy you. I will destroy everything!”
“No darkness can stand against the light of friendship!” Marcus told him, and
he released his power, the others following suit, until the room was a duel
between the King of Nothing’s dark and the Golden Boys light, pressing against
each other, fighting for supremacy.
It wasn’t enough—the King of Nothing’s power started to exceed theirs, pushing
them back.
Until Daniel heard a voice. “Come on, guys! We’ve got to give them our
power—the Golden Boys are our only hope!”
Daniel chanced a look over his shoulder, and he saw all of them, all the
original Golden Boys, the Treasure Team, the Street Smart Gang and the Magical
Six, linking arms, power floating around them in waves of light, and directing
those towards the six of them, towards Daniel and his friends.
Daniel reached out and grabbed Simon’s arm on one side, Marcus’s on the other,
knowing instinctively what to do. The Golden Boys grabbed hands, making a
chain, amplifying their power.
Daniel had never felt this way. He felt so warm, so connected to his friends,
so powerful. He was going to explode with all the power and friendship that was
entering into him from behind as the others all gave over what was left of
their power to the Golden Boys, making them their last hope. The power that was
flowing into the six of them surged, pushing them all to their very limits,
until, all at once, it exploded out, the gems on the front of their armour
shining brilliantly and sending out six pulses of white light. The Golden Boys
were overcome with the feelings of friendship and love that the power gave them
and they cried out as a collective as the six beans of light coalesced into
one, firing into the King of Nothing, searing his darkness, slashing through
his despair.
The King of Nothing screamed, Henry hurrying to his side—but to no avail.
Nothing could stand against the power of friendship given radiant form. With
twin shouts, both of them succumbed to the light, disintegrating into motes of
blackness that were purified and became golden. The whole castle suffered the
King’s fate, collapsing around them in cascades of light and hope.
When it was all said and done the castle evaporated, and they were left
standing there in the park, all of them together, the veil of darkness lifting
from over the town. All the other boys were stark naked, giving up the last of
their power having taken away their remaining armour. But it didn’t matter,
because evil was vanquished.
Exertion catching up with them, the Golden Boys transformations dropped all at
once, their new Power Gems falling to the ground and leaving them just as
skyclad as their new friends. “We…we did it!” Marcus shouted.
They cheered, all of them, and Daniel hugged Simon and Marcus hugged Daniel and
Hugh hugged Marcus and Trevor and all hugged all of them. The other guys were
all hugging and cheering and laughing too, and the hugs got closer and merged
together until all of them were hugging each other in one big hugging pile,
pressed up against each other, laughing, collectively unconcerned with what was
touching what as they celebrated their victory. There were no boundaries among
friends. There was no hesitation among friends. And currently there were no
clothes among friends, and that was okay with them. They’d rid the world of
evil today; pants could come later.
Exhaustion started to catch up with them and they ended up laying and sitting
in the grass, leaning on each other or in each other’s laps or laying right on
top of one another or holding hands, just laughing and enjoying life and
looking up at the clear blue sky, and at the light of hope that was shining
down on them all.
Daniel had never felt more at home, more powerful or more loved, than he did
that afternoon. And he had never been more certain, laying there, surrounded by
friends in a world free from despair, of the one thing he knew for absolute
certain.
There was no power on earth stronger than the power of friendship.
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