Celestial Seductions: The Complete Series: An MM Gay Paranormal Mpreg Romance Collection

by Odin Nightshade

  “Nothing like fresh air.” Bryan said to himself, breathing in. Perhaps the exercise and the fresh air would be good for him, as well.

  The misty stillness of the garden soaked into him, filling his soul with much longed-for serenity. He had not stopped worrying about the events of the last week, but for the first time the concern seemed somehow unimportant.

  Bryan sighed, content. It really was lovely out there. The flowerbed around the big tree was a riot of orange nasturtiums, the russet and gold leaves making a beautiful backdrop. The air was hazy with autumn, and there was a sense of deep peace pervading everything.

  Bryan found himself humming under his breath and smiled, enjoying it.

  He felt a slight sweat breaking out under the raincoat as he worked, the feeling strangely satisfying. Most of the yard was clear of leaves, a vast pile beside the fence testimony to the day's work. Over on the other side of the wall he could hear the staccato taps of the old man next door clipping the hedge around his terrace.

  Bryan stood back and surveyed his work. Almost all the garden was clear now; only the section around the flowerbeds against the house remained untouched.

  “I'll just do those, and then go inside.” Bryan told himself out loud.

  It was cold outside, even with the extra warmth generated by work.

  He walked over to the flowerbeds, and looked down. He had planted Queen Anne's Lace, and some of the seedlings had been growing, last time he looked. They should be little plants by now, ready to flower at the end of the season.

  He inspected the bed more closely, smiling, content to see some bold seedlings seeming to enjoy the rain. He looked closer, noting that some of them were broken off. That was when he saw it.

  Footprints.

  At least some disturbance, roughly the size of footprints, under the window. His bedroom window. The same window that had been opened the night he could not remember anything about.

  “Cool it, Bryan.” He told himself aloud. He was shaking. “Get a grip...”

  This was strange. He looked again, not wanting to believe it. Maybe it was just an overactive imagination on his part? Maybe he really was going crazy? Perhaps he was seeing things. After all, he had hallucinated a blue man. What next? He sighed, closed his eyes, counted to ten, and decided to look again.

  When he looked again there was still something there—and it really looked like footprints. So, there were footprints in the garden, and he knew then that the window had been open.

  “Think.” He told himself. He put the rake down, and walked inside, feeling himself start to shake. Thinking right now was difficult. He felt so shaken. He reached the kitchen and made some coffee. That would help. No need to be hasty.

  “Be systematic Bryan.” He told himself. He felt strangely better. No need to get excited. Sitting at the table in his own kitchen, he felt more calm.

  “So.” He took a notebook out of his pocket, and started writing. “Be systematic.” He repeated it, then paused, tapping his pen against his bottom lip. He started writing what he knew, talking aloud.

  “Open window. Footprints. Nothing stolen.”

  He sat back. What could be connecting those things? Who would break in, look around, and take nothing?

  The part of his mind he was trying hard to ignore was reminding him about the memory lapse. Had someone put something in his food? That would explain how they could come in and walk around without his waking. Perhaps he was drugged.

  “Stop being imaginative, Bryan.” He told himself. “You're not seven years old.” He had always been an imaginative child, always spinning fantasies in which he had magical powers. He knew he must have made it all up in order to explain the sense of isolation he perpetually felt.

  There must be an explanation for this, he thought. He knew he had been working hard. He had probably blanked out so profoundly that night that he hadn't heard something perfectly logical. Maybe the old man—Mr. Halloran—from next door had noticed the open window and come across to check he was okay. It wouldn't surprise him. That would explain the footprints.

  That was it, he decided.

  A part of him refused to accept that simple explanation. If it was just that, why had it never been mentioned? Why had he left the window open in the first place? Why did he remember absolutely nothing about it?

  He also could not dismiss the dream. Somehow, the strange, vivid experience of the dream he had had two nights ago seemed to connect to the disturbance in the flowerbed and the loss of memory. He had had the same disoriented feeling after both occurrences.

  “Come on, Bryan.” he shook his head. “It's all your imagination.”

  The dream was probably a result of stress too, he told himself. There was nothing untoward happening, he decided. He was just stressed, and forgetful, and putting small incidents together in an illogical way because of it.

  “It'll all be fine.” He told himself.

  He walked to the sink and washed the coffee-cup. He was sure it would all be resolved soon, and then he could go back to his normal, uneventful, regimented life.

  4

  It was night, and Bryan awoke.

  The room was white again, and bare. Bryan rolled over, this time feeling no sense of surprise. The same white light filled his vision as he turned over, unsurprised but delighted to find the same body beside him in the bed.

  “You are finally awake?” A rich voice rolled over him, making his insides tremble with delight.

  “I am.” He smiled. He felt the strong, enfolding arms surround him and pressed his body close to the muscled chest against which he found himself held. In all his life, Bryan was sure he had never had such a deep sense of rightness. He breathed out.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” He replied, noticing with surprise and some satisfaction how breathy his response was, and correspondingly how aroused he felt. He moved closer. The body beside his was aroused as well. He moved his hand down to the hardness below, and was pleased to hear a gentle chuckle.

  “I want you, too.” The voice replied.

  “Good.” Bryan, emboldened, pressed against the form, which he held in his arms. He had his eyes closed, and felt the delicious sensation of the man's hands traveling down his back. He did the same, and was pleased to feel the man's response against him hardening further as he did so.

  He heard him make a deep sound in his chest, a sound of desire, and was surprised when he repeated it.

  The hands at his shoulders were gently turning him again, and this time Bryan felt a stab of anticipation deep within as they did. He pressed back, allowing his body to press against the one behind him, and slid himself back and forth, pleased with the response he was hearing from the man behind him.

  The man breathed in his ear as he stroked down, bending slightly to make ready to enter Bryan from behind.

  Bryan moved back and gasped explosively. The man filled him from behind, and Bryan was astonished by the pain and pleasure he felt, both mingling and mixing in a heady cocktail of wonder beyond belief.

  He cried out as the man moved back and thrust into him again, sliding into him so deeply he thought he might break. The man’s hands wrapped tightly around his torso, reaching for Bryan’s throbbing manhood and beginning to stroke him, first gently, then at a more frenzied pace. The man’s hands felt well-lubricated and slid erotically up and down the shaft, pausing on the tip to create sensuous circles before resuming an up and down massaging motion from tip to base. When Bryan thought his pleasure couldn’t possibly reach new heights, one hand found his testicles, gently cupping them and rolling them around between his fingers and palm, while the other hand continued to work his shaft into a throbbing missile, ready to explode.

  They moved together, both crying out as they thrust and moved and thrust and moved, deeper and more intensely until Bryan thought he could take no more. The man continued to work Bryan’s cock and balls while pounding him from behind until he heard a deep cry escape himself, his orgasm exploding forth
like he had never experienced before. A mere second later his cry was echoed from behind him, as the man moved more slowly, thrusting his hot seed deep inside him.

  “That was...amazing.” Bryan panted it, some time after they had both collapsed, waiting for their breath to return to normal.

  The man kissed his arm. His hands were wrapped round Bryan's waist, and he held him close. Bryan felt impossibly restful.

  They lay like that for a long time.

  Bryan felt himself stir, feeling sleepy. He rolled over, and found himself facing the man behind him. As before, he was astounded by how magnificent he was. Beauty—complete, flawless beauty that he would never have imagined before now.

  He felt bolder than before, and stroked a hand down the side of the man's face, lightly caressing the pale, fine-textured skin. The man smiled, and moved closer. He seemed to like the touch, and Bryan continued, stroking him slowly.

  The man moved closer, and his eyelids fluttered. Bryan felt his body tighten: he had never seen his eyes. The man's eyelids moved again, as if in deep sleep, and then he opened his eyes.

  Violet. Deep, aching wells of the deepest violet Bryan had ever seen.

  Bryan gasped. He was so beautiful. The man smiled.

  He looked at Bryan, his gaze warm and caring.

  “You are...”

  “What?” The man was smiling still, his whole face a picture of tenderness so lovely that it made Bryan want to weep, even as he stared into those mesmeric pools of blue-mauve that seemed lit from within with their own warmth.

  “Beautiful.” Bryan finished. He looked down, feeling silly for saying it almost, but unable to say or think anything else.

  “Thank you.” The man looked, if anything, relieved. He leaned in and they kissed again.

  Bryan felt himself immensely relaxed. He had never imagined something that felt so wonderful. His body felt as if every bone had been removed, and replaced with something pliant, so that he wrapped and molded to the form next to his.

  They lay like that a while.

  Bryan felt the man stir beside him, and his hands stroking his head. He moved closer, his arms tightening around the muscled chest as he repeated the movements with his own fingers.

  The man's hands moved down to his shoulders, and Bryan felt the fingers knead his muscles gently, even as they slowly, but insistently, turned him round again. Bryan felt his body tense once more.

  This time, he entered him with a tenderness and depth that made Bryan sigh explosively. It felt like nothing he had ever imagined.

  The man withdrew, and slid in again, pushing his hips right up against his back as he pressed so deep into him that Bryan cried out in ecstasy.

  The man moved back, and they moved together again. This time, the movement was going faster, more intensely, and Bryan felt his need growing urgent as he pressed back and back and back, the hardness inside him filling and pressing and moving and massaging each site of pleasure inside him with such expert intensity he felt himself sob.

  Again, the man’s hands reached around his melting body to find that aching stiffness that throbbed to be touched. And again, he worked his magic, his fingers and palms working the shaft, building up speed to a frenzied pace that made him feel drunk with pleasure.

  He climaxed, crying out an incoherent gasp of pleasure so intense he thought he might have died.

  The man moved in and out more insistently a few times, and then he came too, spraying his seed deep inside Bryan once again, his hot breath exploding out of him before he collapsed, silent, against him.

  “Ahhh...” the man groaned, his voice intense.

  Bryan felt the man’s sigh flow through him, setting his heart afire. He could not believe that the man had enjoyed it as much as he had.

  They lay together for a while.

  Bryan, feeling his body glow, rolled over. He was smiling. “Who are you?” He murmured, his hands stroking the beautiful head, the wide shoulders, the broad-muscled chest.

  The man smiled. He moved his hips so that his body pressed against Bryan as they lay there, locked in their entwined, enfolding embrasure.

  Bryan looked up at the beautiful, unmarked face as the man looked down at him through violet crystal eyes. Bryan stroked his hair, even as the face faded before him. He gasped.

  A moment later—he could not have said how long; it could have been hours or of the order of seconds—he woke, to find himself alone in his own bed at home.

  This time, he sighed. The aching head, the disorientation, the confusion—he was becoming accustomed to it, almost. This time, all that held him lying there, head whirling and body aching with the pleasure that he felt sure he had not imagined, was violet eyes.

  He shook his head. He did not understand it. Not a bit of it. But he knew one thing: He no longer wanted it to stop. He hoped it would continue unabated for the rest of his days.

  5

  Two days later, and it was the middle of the week. Bryan was at work, and the evening sunshine seeping in through the windows at Smith and Clark was warm. It fell directly into Bryan's office, pooling on the desk in an orange-red haze.

  “Bryan?”

  “Mmm?” Bryan, stiff and sore, lifted his head at the sound of his name.

  “Bryan?”

  He shook himself, surprised. Had he been asleep? He looked up into the concerned face of his colleague from across the hallway.

  “Jeff?” He asked. His head felt thick and stuffy, and he was not sure for a moment what had happened. Had he fallen asleep at work?

  “You fell asleep.” Jeff explained, noticing his apparent confusion.

  “I did?” Bryan felt shocked, despite himself. He had never done something like this before, not ever.

  “Hey,” Jeff smiled, as Bryan grabbed his things, looking wildly around him at the work he had strewn all over his desk, “no worries.”

  “But...”

  “No worries.” Jeff repeated, smiling. “We've all fallen asleep at work before.”

  “We have?” Bryan was surprised. Careful and dedicated, he had never done something so out-of-character before. And it wasn't just the sudden sleeping episodes. Together with the other symptoms, he felt it pointed to something dire. He wanted to articulate that, but all that came out was, “You think so?”

  “Sure.” Jeff smiled. “Even the boss probably does.” He smiled again. “Hell, it's really not that exciting around here.”

  “No.” Bryan replied, sounding unsure.

  Jeff was grinning again. “Not at all.” He was laughing. “If you only just noticed that now, well, I'm going to wonder if you're human after all.” He smiled.

  Bryan blinked. He was beginning to wonder that himself lately. “Thanks for waking me, though.” Bryan replied. “Imagine if the boss had seen me?”

  “He'd be a real hypocrite if he complained,” Jeff replied, “since it's his fault we're all bored stiff around here.”

  “I don't find it boring.” Bryan offered with a chuckle. He didn't. Not usually.

  “Don't scare me, man.” Jeff grinned. “Corporate tax laws? Debts and credits and taxable returns? It is so boring I sometimes wonder how I don’t perish right at my desk.” He shook his head and was silent a while, considering. “I know...because I have fun outside the office. You want to join me this week?” He continued. He nodded his head to the window outside. “A few of us are going hiking.”

  “Uh...” Bryan was not sure. The thought of hiking, while normally something pleasant he would enjoy, suddenly filled him with uncertainty. He felt rather devoid of energy as of late. He had been feeling listless all week, a circumstance only alleviated by eating. His appetite was raging for some reason, leaving him feeling weak and shaky without regularly raising his blood sugar throughout the day.

  “Thanks.” Bryan grinned weakly. “I can't, though...” He indicated the piles of books on his desk. It was not that he had a lot of work—the things he had to do, he would normally have finished in a few days, if he was not feeling so
under-supplied—but he hoped Jeff would assume he did, and allow him to avoid explaining.

  “Sure.” He agreed, amiably. “See you around then.” He looked slightly panicked as he looked at his watch. “I should finish my work today. Or I'll be stuck with it this weekend, and I want to hike.”

  “See you.” Bryan agreed, nodding affably.

  When Jeff was gone he sat back, head reeling. He felt sick. He felt disorientated, and hungry, and tired. Besides all of that, however, he was scared.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  He was having strange dreams, he had a strange unexplained moment of unconsciousness, and now he felt hungry and weak and sleepy? He could not understand it. What was wrong with him? He sighed and determinedly, doggedly, returned to his work. He worked on until dark fell, until the other employees had all left to take some well-deserved time off. He could not let himself rest with these thoughts weighing on him, so he distracted himself with work. When he felt himself dozing, he finally left, heading home reluctantly with a head still restless with unanswered, incomprehensible things.

  6

  The light shone gently on the silver of the bathroom mirror, cooling the last of the evening to a dark silvery glow where Bryan stood, staring into it at his reflection.

  He reached behind him and switched on the light. He smiled.

  The mirror showed him a man of average height, compactly-muscled build and sandy hair warm in the glow of the overhead lamp. He was dressed for going out in a tweed jacket and russet trousers, a cream shirt completing the rugged look.

  Bryan felt content with his appearance. The reddish brown of the tweed brought out the gold of his eyes and matched his hair, and everything about it toned in with his ruggedly good-looking face.

  He smoothed his hands down over his waist. He had been surprised that his evening trousers had had a little trouble closing. He hadn't worn them for almost a year, since the last office party, but he knew he hadn't put on much weight.