First: M/m Keeper/Kept
He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that permission, but, after considering it, he decided to split his hour three ways and do the three things that Timaios had suggested.
Twenty minutes in the gym wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to feel a pleasant burn in his shoulders and chest. It was nice to not have to rush, to not be looking over his shoulder. He could be here. He had permission; his Owner had told him to do it. He could do anything here he wanted.
He spent the next twenty minutes lying on his back, down to his underwear (he had considered stripping naked and then, thinking of the number of people who worked for Timaios and decided not being naked was probably better). The sun was warm on his skin, and he wondered what his actual color looked like. Continue reading
After Addergoole West-Coast: a beginning.
Rosmarina’s father had gone very still. “Yes,” he said slowly. It sounded like the words were being dragged from him. “Pontius. Of course I remember you. You… yes.”
The man held up both hands. “Peace. We grew up. I grew up. You want to fight about it, we can do that later, one we’ve got Rosmarina settled and have you and Muirenn and your family all set.”
“Dad?” Rosmarina tugged on her father’s sleeve. “What’s he mean?”
“It’s a school, starfish. You’ll stay at the school, remember?” Continue reading
So Chanter-Greenie asked for a continuation of Under Water, and it turned out I already had 500+ words written on that, so voila!
Aelia screamed. The secretary screamed some more. The man gasped, screamed, and spat up water all at once.
“Call an ambulance,” Aelia repeated. Her voice at least sounded like her voice. “I’m Aelia Hartman. I know I look – funny, sure – but this is the guy who just tried to drown me. I fought back. He’s breathing but I’m worried about him. Please call 911.”
The secretary, staring, pulled out her phone and dialed 911. Once she had gotten through the phone call – full of shaky words and not a small amount of gibbering – she looked at Aelia again. “Are you really-”
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.” She poked the man in the chest. “You. Stay there. You need medical attention, and also, I think you’re a murderer.” Continue reading
Okay, this has been bugging me for a bit. Leander sort of magically gets collared on the drive. Oops!
So here’s his collaring scene. This happens in the middle-beginning of Chapter Five.
Mr. MacDiarmad led him out of the garage and through a long hallway that seemed to be there for the sole purpose of being a hallway. That led out into a wide living room – leather and brown-tones, wood and wide windows opening on a generously large yard.
“First things first. If you would kneel?” Continue reading
The next morning found the warlord’s staff moving around with warm drinks and warm pastries. Everyone had their share; the children had enough to be over-full, and they all found themselves awake and aware as they stepped into the Warlord’s audience chamber, ready for the first tale of the morning.
The chamber was tall, as tall as five or six men on each other’s shoulders, and at one point the ceiling had been painted magnificently. The paint had chipped and peeled, but you could still, if you peered, see the scenes that had outlasted the end of the world. Continue reading
Addergoole, sometime after year 9
“I don’t, uh…” He wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, something more like amused and a little awkward. “I mean. That is. Girls…?”
The last time this had come up, he’d gotten punched. Not by the girl; by her brother.
This woman – this girl? This Valkyrie with the horns curling out of her head and eyes like shadows themselves, she just smiled at him. “Conveniently, I don’t do guys.” Continue reading
First: Spoils of War I: Surrender
Previous: Rest Stop
The horses seemed to be in good shape, well-rested and well-fed, and were willing enough to be loaded up and mounted. Nikol did a final sweep of the building – someone might be able to tell the place had been occupied, if they looked closely, but they’d shoveled dirt over the coals and put most everything else back where they’d found it.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Aran was eyeing her sidelong. “I thought it was just, let’s get out of here, that sort of thing, but you’re really worried someone is going to come after you.”
“Us.” She rubbed her arms and looked off over the destroyed neighborhood. “Yeah. Yeah. I was fine fighting for money until, well. Until I saw what the Mountain did. Then I tried to turn in my banner and leave. Merc, you know. You fight when you want to. But they wouldn’t let me. So running, well. It’s the best option, but I still don’t really believe it will work.” Continue reading
First: Spoils of War I: Surrender
Aran came down from the upstairs bathroom scrubbed, looking like another person. He had even found a razor and cleaned up his scruffy beard to something that reminded her of a goatee. “Guessing they left in a hurry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Haven’t used anything like those soaps in a long time. I smell like a funeral.”
“You smell like flowers.” She stepped up close and sniffed his hair; he froze but didn’t complain. “Well, like the chemical equivalent, at least. Not bad.”
He leaned down and sniffed her hair. “You, too. Like one of those days in spring where everything is going crazy.” Continue reading
First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
They drank coffee together, smiling at each other and, at least in Mélanie’s case, thinking of how many ways the day could go. If he were like her earlier masters…. but he wasn’t.
She cleared her throat. “If there are things in the kitchen, I could cook breakfast,” she offered. “And then you can tell me what, specifically, you want me to do over the next couple days. I imagine,” she chuckled, a little nervously, but trying to still sound casual, “that you don’t want me to clean up the yard.”
“No, sadly, not that. I think she would like it better – but I think she understands the need for the mess, too. If you want to make breakfast, I won’t argue. The ‘fridge runs – you know what a ‘fridge is?” Continue reading