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

by Odin Nightshade

  His contractions were still far apart that he could speak somewhat. But he was still in so much pain, both physically and mentally. After a certain, point, Jesse lost consciousness.

  Around him, his friends began to panic. They had never dealt with something like this before. Fay explained that he would come-to shortly, and that there was nothing to worry about. She asked where the father was, and everyone around her shrugged. Outside, the storm continued to rage on. It was as if they had somehow angered the gods. Even Louis couldn’t figure it out, and he had tried to make peace with the sky by living like a nomad for a few weeks.

  Just as Jesse was coming to, there was a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Louis said.

  Fay was instructing the others to get cold water for Jesse. He was still lying on his side, whimpering in pain. His contractions were less than five minutes apart, and it as almost unbearable. What happened next felt as if it was occurring in slow motion. As his contractions grew to less than a minute apart, he heard a voice he had thought was gone for good. It belonged to Zayn. He had returned in time for his pregnancy. Zayn was wearing his leather jacket with the skull and crossbones. He wiped Jesse’s forehead with a washcloth, and whispered apologies into his ear.

  The scene that played out before him touched even Louis. Jesse was unable to respond, for he was in too much pain. Finally, when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, he felt the pain give way. He gave birth to three wolf pups, which came out crying, covered in blood. It reminded Jesse of the mess on his old hardwood floor, the salt, sand, and semen of the past month. Fay tended to and bathed the pups while Jesse lay on the floor. Before he knew it, he had passed out again.

  He came-to in his bedroom, covered with the comforter. In the corner of the room, Zayn was passed out on a black leather chair. Jesse looked around the room and saw that it was morning. The rain had finally broken. From downstairs, he heard a mixture of crying and howling. He wanted to go and tend to his children, but first, he wanted to wake Zayn.

  He crawled out of bed, tugging a bathrobe around his torso. He woke Zayn up by kissing him on the forehead.

  Zayn’s eyes fluttered open and he looked sleepily at Jesse. “Hi,” he said, stretching and yawning.

  “Hi back,” Jesse said, smiling. “I’m happy you came back.”

  “Me too,” Zayn said. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Jesse. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the warmth of Jesse’s shoulder. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Jesse said. “Now let’s go downstairs; I want to properly meet my children. Speaking of which, what should we name them?”

  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Zayn said. They walked out of the room arm in arm, dirty sunshine spilling on their backs. Downstairs, they were embraced by their friends and now, family. Jesse had never felt happier in his life. He sat back on the couch and watched as a new future blossomed around him.

  THE END

  Flip the page for Bonus 3, Into the Wild Wood by TC Calligari!

  Into the Wild Wood

  Little does Corwyn realize what awaits him when he boasts to Adam that he will be the greatest impersonation of Oberon, King of the Fairies, that ever was—his role in an upcoming production.

  Lost in the woods that he fears, he encounters the real Oberon, who will not release him until he gives up something dear.

  Corwyn gives and discovers the world of Alpha and Omega, but back in his own world he realizes that Adam wants him. Yet Corwyn is not free of the faerie realm’s touch and as the full moon nears he finds out that not just Oberon, but Adam, and Corwyn himself are much more than they appear.

  Into the Wild Wood

  Tanglewood, bruised green leaves, hanging mossy tatters. A dark wood holding darker secrets, musty knowledge better left unearthed. And sun; bright spears to stab into the moist live heart, did little to dispel Corwyn’s chill.

  I am Oberon, king of faeries, and Oberon would not fear a wood, no matter how gloomy.

  “Yeah, right,” Corwyn muttered and rubbed the chill from his arms. “More likely he’d just molder away.” He squinted through the park’s bloodspot blooms. Oberon he was not—yet—and fear lay burrowed in his heart, only raising its sightless head when threatened directly.

  Sitting on the manicured lawn, he did not see Adam come from the bicycle path. Warm arms like snaring branches grabbed his shoulders. Breath-warm words singed his ear. “Ah, bold Oberon, take me to Titania, her Bottom has shown. Show me the ways of faery, my wild king.”

  Corwyn pulled back and flushed. “Adam! Don’t do that. You scared me.” He hated being touched.

  Adam flashed a broad, guilt-free smile. His eyes sparkled, and he pushed a lock of wavy golden hair out of his eyes. “On such a glorious, sunny day, vermin of all sorts verily would scatter to the darkened corners of the earth at the first beam of light from your smile.”

  Corwyn rolled his eyes, stood and brushed the leaves from his shorts. “Method actor. Okay, let’s go.” He shuddered but suppressed it. If he didn’t need this part for his career, he would have never agreed to a play in the park. The woods were slimy, dark places with too many creepy things.

  Adam led, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Remember, Bottom is but a simple country bumpkin who would overdo his acting. But do you think you can pull off someone or something that’s not truly human and yet so powerful and seductive?”

  Corwyn pushed back the black fear coiled about his heart, and anger bubbled out. “I will be the best Oberon ever seen.” At Adam’s disbelieving laugh, Corwyn came back, “I will. They will forget that faeries are just tales. I will be the only Oberon, true king of faeries and everyone will see it that way. When I'm on stage they will forget it is just a play.”

  Adam shrugged gracefully. “Well, more power to you. The taste of the pudding’s in the eating,” and he gave Corwyn such a deep look that he wasn’t quite sure what Adam had actually meant.

  Shadow-dappled, nervous leaves danced on branches swaying low over a copse of fallen logs and soft moss. Petite daisies, wild gentian, bluebells and Indian paintbrush happily displayed their colors. Corwyn shuddered. Only plants, not alive or...thinking, and there’s certainly no bogies. Give me the city any day.

  Adam dropped his pack on the knobby ground. “Truly a brilliant idea to get a feel for the characters out here.”

  Corwyn shivered again. “I don’t really see the point.”

  Flipping his hair out of his eyes, Adam gave a mocking bow. “Well, then shall we find the point, oh faery king.” He grabbed Corwyn and tumbled him to the ground, and lay with his head in Corwyn's lap, blinking up at him. Corwyn braced himself on the spongy, almost fleshy moss, suppressing the creepy feeling.

  “Oh handsome Oberon, what is it we do while lolling in the grass?”

  “Get off me!” He pushed Adam out of his lap. “I'm not interested in guys.”

  Adam spun about, sitting cross-legged in front of Corwyn and leaning in. “Are you sure? I've never seen you with a woman.”

  “I...I've been too busy with my career.”

  Adam knelt and lunged forward pushing Corwyn down beneath him. “Time to find out then.”

  “Stop it!”

  Adam leaned close so that Corwyn could smell his minty breath. He turned his face to the side as Adam whispered in his ear. “Shakespeare in the rough,” he growled, sniffing. “Your Bottom is a rough and arrogant knave not given to courtly whims.”

  “Adam,” Corwyn gritted out. “Get—off—of—me!”

  “Of course, oh stalwart blossom, whose petals are reluctant to open.” He sat back, sighing.

  Corwyn stood up and glared at him. “I thought we came out here to get familiar with the characters. We’re supposed to be acting.”

  Adam draped his arms casually over his knees. “I thought that’s what we were doing. Are you sure you can do this, oh, no fun general?”

  “Of course I can,” he snapped. “I was chosen for the role, wasn
’t I?”

  Adam’s face had deepened in color. He stood up, stiff as a board. “Well, you have the imperious nature of a king down pat. Call me when you’re ready to lighten up.” With that he reached down, snapped up his pack and was gone.

  Corwyn sat back down on the log. Why had he tensed up?

  He knew though, tangle webs; too little space, too much touch. A tickle stroked his leg. Looking down he saw the shiny red shell of a ladybird beetle. He gasped. Hands swatting, Corwyn stood, patting, flapping at his clothes, sure that crawling things were in his shirt. It was as if the shadows swooped and dove. No, just wind-touched branches. Time to get away from the cloying wood, escape his thoughts and reluctance at Adam’s touch. Anyone’s touch. He shivered, then began to walk back.

  He looked down, ignoring trees and clingy branches that hung over his shoulders. Surely that was not rustling in the bushes. Just birds. Goosebumps rose to dance on his skin. Wind played gentle hide and seek in his hair, tussling his black curls.

  His head snapped up, and he warily looked left and right, listening hard enough to hurt his ears. There was, and had been for a while now, no city sound. Rather, bird calls, insect chirrups, rustles and creaky rubbings of trees intensified, but cars, the call of child to parent, dogs barking, all white noise of city life had faded away.

  Damn this phobia. Damn these spaces. Corwyn fervently wished for the comfortable anonymity of the city streets again and started walking at a near run. The trail trickled to a deer run, then hid itself in wild bracken, clutching moss, dancing limbs and laughing shadows. A mossy mound like a body tossed for the green to grow over rose softly in front of him. Deer-bewildered, Corwyn stopped, hearing the whimpers of some animal. Was that a howl? In broad daylight, in a city park? It couldn't be. Just shadows, someone's lost dog. He spun around; the leaves and bark and birds moved in. Corwyn backed up only to be met by a tree, a stump, a clotted bunch of rotting leaf and fern.

  Squatting down, he hugged himself into a tight ball. “I just lost the trail, I just lost the trail. It’s here somewhere, somewhere, somewhere....” But nowhere to be seen. Corwyn hiccupped; his breath grew shallow, sharp intakes, trying to stem the panic. It all closed in, but how? This was a park, walked by hundreds every day. Cedar trees loomed large, growing taller, leaning in to gaze at him. Bright eyes blinked at him from the shadows. Something brushed with pressure against Corwyn’s arm. He turned and ran, looking back at what was following him. He smacked into a tree, and fell, fear and darkness swallowing him as he faded away.

  *

  “A braggart, dare I say, not so brave now that he’s in a wood as natural as the day.”

  “Ah, sweet king and master, perhaps it is your beauty and the moment that has stunned him the bonny shade of lily and leaf, or is that grief twitching across his face?”

  Giggles, titters more like twigs clacking, and bark rubbing wood, the shrill and trill of birds. Something cool scratchy ran along his side, caressing up to his ears, sliding along his thigh. A warmth, little suns blossoming along his leg, moving closer to belly, cooler air touching toward his cock.

  Corwyn shrieked, sitting up and batting at the insect feel that creeped his body. More twiggy bird giggles as he brushed himself free. The touches didn’t stop. A whisper, here another warming wind in his ear.

  “He wakes, he wakes.”

  Then something as repulsively soft as a caterpillar kissed his lips. Something flower-bright and earthy brown. Corwyn gagged then sputtered, wiped and scrubbed his mouth. Then he actually looked around.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, his terror threatening to vibrate him to nothing. The woods nearly shimmered with green verdure, colors unnaturally bright for all the shadows seemed alive and dark as a murderer’s heart. Twiggy things, carbuncled bark and mossy faces, loamy flesh and the smell of fresh turned earth, flowers and something darker, musky. They looked pressed, stretched and pulled, not quite twig-thin but willowy still, and green-or brown-hued skin. People−creatures, almost as tall as he, not little things hiding under mushrooms at all.

  Corwyn’s mouth worked as he gasped for air, trying to remember the feel of words.

  “Look you, is he fish or mortal?” one leaf-covered thing tittered.

  “Oh mortal, certainly. Only they can cower lower than worm under leaf.”

  “Th-this can’t be real. A joke. Adam?”

  “Your Adam is not here at all. Like the first he has left this Eden and wanders where he will.”

  Hair that moved of its own accord rustled with all the colors of leaves from Autumn’s palette. Her eyes were round like a cat’s, vertically slit and golden, while her face in whole had a deer like cast, and indeed, small antlers seemed to sprout between her lively hair.

  So intent on studying this faery queen, Corwyn blotted out all the other creatures, his surroundings, himself. He was only thought and eyes. The creature before him had a mouth too full and berry ripe for the long slim lines of her body. Her hips were narrow but she had full breasts and four of them, two below the others. Her skin was the color of rich brown earth.

  “Ah, what have we here? A mortal, yes, for play or plight, or perhaps my lord's delight?”

  He heard before he focused on the soft rumble of sound, like waterfalls on rocks and the distant echoing thunder of hoof beats. It permeated the haze of Corwyn's fear as something moved out of the shadows to stand by the female. “Bring him here so that I might see one who thinks to impostor and so impose on me.”

  It was as if a wind whirled leaf, twig, branch and flowers, and in turn pushed him along. These animate organic things whistled in around his ears, up under his shorts, caressing buttocks, pinching his nipples so that by the time Corwyn reached the other end of the mound he was gasping and swatting blindly. He suppressed the gagging at their touch, swallowed back the gorge that rose.

  “Well met by sunlight, gracious queen.” Someone moved to her side. Tall as she was, more animal to her floral being, stood a man, or a close resemblance to one. He stood on legs but fashioned like a stag’s hindquarters, dappled and tawny in the shadow light. Skin lighter than Titania’s and a face both deer and cougar; the mouth the split-lipped form of the cat. His hair was more a ferny green and antlers sprouted on his brow. His broad chest was well muscled and as naked as the rest of him.

  “What is this, Oberon, another human with which to play your games? You were always too fond of the softer touch of mortals, such as Tam Lin and that changeling boy who never had a name.”

  “Surely, Titania, these years do not still hold ill will at what has passed so long ago. Look you, share in this game as you will. A gift to use. There are treasures hidden within if you chose to make them known.”

  Corwyn saw his arm as if from a distance and did not know it was his until his fingers touched the hard plane of the faery king's chest. A rush of warmth and cool ice flowed up his arm and into the pit of his stomach, causing an uncomfortable stir in his groin. His knees wobbled, as if he were melting. What was this burning within? What had he done?

  As soon as his finger touched the faery king there were shrieks, hisses, creaky groans. “The king, the king. Oh this meaty mortal has touched Oberon, a fate, a foul that must be punished. What punishment, oh king, what, what--”

  They pulled Corwyn down onto his knees. It was only then that he realized he was bare but for his sandaled feet. Somehow, they had managed to unbutton his shorts and pull down his underwear. His confusion warred with his indignation. “But, my clothes—what—they said Oberon!”

  “Yes, our Will, he did surmise the correct form and name of some things for all his being not of the wise.”

  A fungus-shaped thing, whose soft spongy fingers held his arm, chirped, “A surprise a surprise, if we had but opened his eyes.”

  “A surprise, a surprise,” they all chittered.

  Something ferny stroked Corwyn’s back, while brook-cool tongues lapped along his flanks and thighs. He shivered; control slithering out of his reach. Sweat broke out
on his flushed skin and he gasped, “Look, just let me go. I don’t mean any harm. Just let me get back to the city.” He struggled to be free, but for all their thin looks their strength held him.

  Something hissed at him and Corwyn looked down. He realized for all their strange and wild woody look these “faeries” were endowed with genitals too close to human. And too aroused from what he could tell. “Please,” he nearly whimpered. “Let me go.”

  The queen—Titania—looked upon him with her alien eyes. Her smile’s feral glint showed shiny little teeth against her lips. “Truly, one who is the only Oberon, true king of faeries would have no trouble leaving as he would. If your boast is true, then naught can hold you.”

  Titania closed her eyes a moment; a signal, and the green horde pulled Corwyn down and laid him out on the ground. Titania's laughed chimed through the glade. “I think you have this well in hand, a price to make the mortal pay. I leave you now, my gift to you for your dalliance through the day.” Titania moved into the trees and disappeared.

  “Wait! I’m sorry. Look, it was just a way of building confidence. For acting, that’s all. I didn’t’ think I would be the king of faeries. I didn’t even believe. Please, just let me go.” Against his will he started crying. Something colored like a tiger lily, orange with darker spots, and round mouse eyes cooed at him and wiped his tears with a piece of moss.

  “An insult to the king of faerie is never lightly taken. A punishment is meted, but to your land you can return if you give us something in trade.”

  Corwyn thought desperately, distracted by the cool touches of petal and bark and fleshy things against his bare body. Vines and flowers twined his wrists, stronger saplings pulled his ankles till his legs formed a V. He pulled and rolled but could not move.