MM Goodness - Oneshots

— Shattered

The man’s eyes welcomed him, but Andrew knew as surely as the hostler did that any interaction between them, no matter how innocent, would cost Andrew his reputation and that hostler his job and perhaps his life. And Andrew couldn’t be innocent; two years ago he’d discovered that much and now the two never spoke a single word to each other as the horse passed between them.

He couldn’t live like his uncle who hid his nature behind a glass of gin and a mysterious smile. They would see how twisted he was. How much they had warped him. How far he was for being alive.

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— Mine, or Nine-tenths of the Law

Danson refuses to believe that dark and scrawny Justin is his brother, no matter what anyone says. Hey kid, where’d you just put your hand?

Justin’s body reacted, but not in good way. Danson wanted those eyes to be full of pleasure again. “You’re mine! Your body is mine!” He leaned over Justin, his words quieter, but no less forceful as he dragged his hands up Justin’s body. “Your legs are mine, your hips are mine. Your chest is mine. Your mouth is mine.”

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— Duty

Colin can’t let the chief think that he wants the man’s wife. But the only way to dissuade him is for Colin to flirt with that really tall Lochlanach. What if Arnvid takes him seriously? He’d have to follow through.

“If he didn’t allow Arnvid to kiss him, to touch him, to… if that’s what the giant wanted, then Colin would be worse off than he was now. The old man, at least, thought Colin was drawn to Arnvid. If Colin couldn’t respond to a man he was drawn to then he couldn’t respond to any man and he would lose his head. Or be forced to battle the chief, which would end the same way, but would take longer with more pain.

Colin hated pain.”

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— Of Fathers and Fertility Gods

Father Haisley worked hard to find just the right spell to call just the right Being to bring the once fertile valley back to life, but why had the Being referred to young Malachi as one of the virgins?

On the day Father Haisley brought his flock to this valley fifteen years ago, the fields were green with wild grass and this hill was covered in red, blue, and yellow flowers. And that night Mother Haisley gave birth to Malachi, the first perfect thing that worthless woman ever did. She died the next morning and after she was buried, the valley stopped blooming. She polluted this sacred ground with her foul blood.

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— A Means to an End

Hugh has to convince young Phillip not to marry that noblewoman and put himself in contention for the throne. Phillip knows that seducing Hugh will help him keep his head, but he mustn’t let on.

Phillip ran into the manor and Hugh went inside, followed by the others. At the stairs Hugh met the lad, color on his cheeks heightening his pale face. Phillip stopped a yard away, his breath fast and shallow, and raised his hand. Hugh stepped closer, until the gentle fingers rested on his cheek. “I missed you, lad.”

The lad’s color deepened and he looked down, then up through his golden lashes. “And I you.”

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— What You Did Last Night

Jordan has ever right to hate Tim after what he did. He should hate him. He needs to hate him. Tim hates himself. But that won’t keep him from doing it again if Jordan wants him to.

Tim wiped the foggy mirror and took a good look. He didn’t look that different. He didn’t look as different as he should. His eyes should be black as a demon’s. He wiped the mirror again and turned on the fan. No horns grew under his unruly hair, his tongue wasn’t forked, he had no tail. His eyes were the same blue, his hair the same dirty blond, his skin the same not quite tan, his ears still rounded.

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— The Prince and the Sorcerer

If the most powerful sorcerer in the land was after you and the only way to convince him not to kill you was physical persuasion, could you do what it takes to save your life and his soul? Prince Esteve must because if not for his birth, Ignasi would never have cause to go bad.

Esteve relaxed; he couldn’t let Ignasi know his fear. He fought to recall his brief glances of his handsome cousin and the too few times the older boy had caught his eye and smiled. Esteve was only five when Ignasi was driven out. Ignasi was seventeen. After that Ignasi learned how to twist magic to perform dark spells. But before, before Ignasi left, he would walk tall and proud though the castle corridors. One of Esteve’s nurses would often take Esteve for walks where they passed Ignasi. Sometimes Ignasi would rub Esteve’s head. Esteve treasured every smile, every pat.

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Stories in editing:

— Appeasing the Dragon

Tivadar was treated well in the village where he was fostered. And Tivadar, who had always been so weak and fragile, was stronger and healthier than ever. He ate well and dressed well and hardest day’s work he had was officiating at ceremonies with his foster father, the mayor. Tivadar thought he had it made, until he woke up ties to a rock.

Tivadar was cold. Where were his blankets? He was always allowed to sleep in. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, but found himself unable to move. His hands were tied just above his head to each edge of the stone slab he laid upon, his elbows even with his shoulders. His hair was spread across his arms and down his chest and all he did was pull it when he clinched his fists. He couldn’t move an inch. His feet were pulled up and tied just below his hips, again at the edges of the slab, so he could almost bring his knees together. The nightshirt covered his knees, but didn’t quite touch his feet. A gust of early morning wind blasted his privates. He shivered.

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— Bound Body, Brittle Heart [temporary title]

I wake inside a cage of a body that refuses to respond. My caretaker calls me by a name that I know isn’t mine. He looks like he needs more care than I do.

I can’t let him leave. If he gets up, will he come back? This body is a prison, the smallest prison of all. He pulls away as if my arms are paper. My greatest efforts are worthless. Tears leak from my eyes and a sob leaves my chest. The man comes back, the light still off, and kisses my tears away. He cuddles close holding me against his chest. He must be huge. Or maybe I’m small. What is wrong with my body? My arms against my chest are scrawny.

He reaches over and takes my hand. “I pretend we are here because we want to be away from everyone, because we want to be together. You are the strong, silent type and I can go to you and you always help me. I pretend you love me.”

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