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

by Odin Nightshade

  Despite their moment of fun, though, Claire's face went serious again. “You'll be alright here on your own? You really won't call him?”

  “I won't,” he assured her. “You're right. I'm right. He has to work it out for himself.”

  “That's my boy,” she said, briefly cupping his face before she stood up. Usually, that was a playful gesture, but now he felt the affection from her in spades. Claire was an incredible friend to him, really. He really hoped she understood that. He'd have to tell her so, later. “We'll be back soon.”

  As the couple left the house, however, Cole reached for his phone with a slight trace of guilt. He hadn't lied outright. He wasn't going to answer his father's calls – but he did compose a text.

  Please stop calling. I'm not going to answer. I've made up my mind, and I don't care whether you're sorry or angry.

  At least that was closure. One thing that Cole had learned after losing his mother was that closure was extremely important. At her bedside, she had told him that hearing his plans for the rest of his life and having time to say goodbye made leaving him behind just that little bit easier. It hurt to think of that moment right now, especially considering how he was punishing his father – but he had to bring that lesson through the rest of his life, or it'd be an insult to her memory.

  Cole's father may have been an asshole, but he was still his father.

  Chapter Four

  Usually, Beck managed to smother the loneliness he felt on the farm. Sure, he could do with finding somebody new and exploring his sexuality, and that would probably be the healthiest thing for him to do – but he simply wasn't at a stage of his life where it was feasible, and he had come to terms with that.

  Did it mean he didn't have impulses? Of course not. They were a part of his life, and he dealt with them. It just usually didn't occupy a huge part of his day. After Cole Berry's announcement, however, he found himself unusually fixated on the subject. He couldn't stop thinking about the commitment on the young man's face as he had revealed his intentions, or the flushed, poorly-hidden pleasure on his face as he had enjoyed the town's mixed bag of reactions.

  He was undeniably a very good-looking kid – but he was exactly that. A kid. Not literally, maybe, but he was only 22 years old. He still delivered Beckett's groceries, for Christ’s sake. Despite Bella's more liberal assessment of the situation, Beck couldn't help but feel that to lust after Cole was... well, creepy. Beck was 30 years old, and that made for an eight-year age gap between them.

  To put that in more clear terms, when Beckett reached the age of majority, Cole was only 10 years old.

  Beckett was sure he wasn't the oldest man who was drawn toward the idea, but that didn't make it any better. Besides, he had already told himself – it wouldn't be worth the gossip that would inevitably follow him around the town forevermore afterward. This wasn't going to be a long-term thing, after all. When the sex was done with, Cole would leave town, and Beckett would have to deal with the consequences of his lust.

  If he was really beginning to need a new partner this badly, then he should start looking discreetly. Placing a bid on the pastor's son was not the way to go.

  Just as he was considering this, however, he heard the sound of tires on the gravel path. Somebody was driving up to his house – and with an unpleasant jolt in his stomach, he realized that it was grocery delivery day. Of course, this shouldn't be a problem, but part of him felt like his preoccupation with the concept of buying the boy's virginity would be obvious all over his face. He certainly didn't want Cole to know he'd been thinking of him that way. Besides, the last thing he needed right now was a reminder of how beautiful he was. Unfortunately, however, a glance up at the vehicle proved that was exactly what Beck was about to get. It was definitely Cole's truck.

  He cleaned his hands off with a rag he kept in his pocket, abandoning the machine he had been working on in order to greet the kid. Like always, Cole stepped out of his truck with a warm expression, his thin white t-shirt almost see-through in the bright sunlight. The kid had no muscle, but there was something about his slenderness and vulnerability that was immensely attractive. Equally, there was some extra bright thing about him that could not be suppressed; even the drama and whispering that was following him around after the town fair did not seem to dampen his spirit. It only made him more appealing.

  Honestly? Previously, Cole had been off Beckett's radar. His fair blond hair and plump pink lips were pretty, but his big blue eyes were full of innocence – and he was, after all, a pastor's son. He had seemed too pure and innocent for Beck, who was a little more rough-and-ready. With this salacious new offer on the table, however, it was clear that there had always been more to Cole than Beckett had given him credit for.

  “Hey!” said the boy himself, his tone light and easy. “You look busy today.”

  “I'm always busy,” Beck assured him, wiping his hands off again on his pant legs – which was useless, considering how dirty they were – and accepted the first bag of groceries from Cole. He hoped he didn't sound unfriendly. He was just a little naturally abrupt. It had never seemed to bother Cole before, though. Why would it bother him now? Beckett needed to calm down. “How about you? Busy day for deliveries?”

  “Well,” said Cole. “The Carters are having a small get-together next week, so they had two full loads to bring in – but that's about as exciting as it gets on a grocery route, I'm afraid.”

  “The simple life,” said Beck, paranoid about how condescending that might sound if interpreted the wrong way. “Can't complain about that.”

  “I guess not,” Cole agreed, his tone still bright. “That being said? My life has been anything but simple recently.”

  “So I've heard.”

  After all, there was no use in denying he knew about the auction. Everybody knew everything in this town, especially something as scandalous as this. Cole would know he was lying if he attempted it, and Beck had always been a largely honest person to begin with. What you saw was what you got.

  That made it even harder to keep from Cole how flustered he felt.

  “You want me to take another bag?” Beck offered. “I can take another – save you a second trip.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Cole, handing it over. “Thanks.”

  As friendly as their interaction was, it really only existed on the surface. The two men were always civil and pleasant with one another – but nor did they have a reason to dig deeper to develop a true friendship. Beckett had always assumed that was at least in part due to his beef with Cole's father, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Beck really was too standoffish? Or maybe it would just be weird to befriend a man you delivered groceries to, no matter the circumstances.

  He was over-thinking all of this, and now Cole was ready to leave. He was just heading out of the kitchen when Beckett spoke, pretty much before he had a chance to think. “Say – it's warm out. We're both working hard. You should stay for a cold drink before your next delivery.”

  Beck knew as soon as he started speaking that this offer was a mistake. The feeling only deepened as he saw Cole's brow furrow slightly – and then a little realization settle in.

  Shit.

  “Mr. Walsh,” said Cole, his tone almost disapproving. “I know why you're asking me this.”

  “I – I'm not...”

  “But you are,” said Cole. He wasn't argumentative, but his voice was relatively firm; Beck was surprised to see this side of him, though he supposed he needn't have been. He had seen the way Cole came after his father at the fair. Why wouldn't he be stern with a near-stranger? “Listen – I'm not trying to be unfriendly, but it's really just my virginity that's for sale. If you'd like to bid, then bid; otherwise, that's all I'm looking for around here. I'm sorry to be blunt.”

  Beck shook his head. “You shouldn't – I mean. I just thought you'd like a drink, maybe – with the hot day...”

  “You didn't,” Cole insisted. “You're thinking about the auction, and that's fine. It'll sta
y between us; I'm not going to tell anybody. But I suggest if you're interested, you make a bid. That's all I can tell you.”

  With that, he inclined his head at Beck politely, turning back to start walking out of the kitchen. Still a little flabbergasted, all Beckett could do was follow after him, silenced with surprise, and struggling to keep his eyes off the firm, delectable curve of his ass. Beck's ears were burning up with shame. He couldn't believe he had just betrayed all his decisions to be discreet and subtle. He'd lasted nearly two years, and now this young boy had undone his resolve with… well, a smile.

  A smile and a very special auction.

  “I'll see you next week, then,” said Cole, with only a hint of the rest of their conversation coloring his tone. A little dry smile curled the corner of his lips – and then he turned to climb into his truck.

  “Sure,” Beckett called after him. “Thanks, Mr. Berry.”

  He watched the young boy reverse down the driveway, one arm stretched out over the back of his seat to get a better look. Beck imagined how that would tug his shirt up, revealing a thin line of bare skin above the waistband of his pants, and felt a bead of sweat drip down his forehead that was entirely unconnected to the weather. Despite the lighthearted disapproval Cole had displayed, Beckett had also seen a spark of fun in him – something that suggested he didn't mind that Beck was looking at him that way. After all, hadn't he said that he was welcome to make a bid?

  Beck waited for the sound of Cole's tires and his truck's tough old engine to fade out. A short second after the silence settled back in, he turned back to the house and headed for his computer.

  Welcome, Cowboy1. Please enter your bid.

  Chapter Five

  It had been a long and difficult day delivering groceries. The work itself hadn't been so bad, of course; Cole's job didn't really get any harder than lifting two paper bags at once. What made it troublesome was the way people were treating him now. Some seemed so desperate for him to know that they were open to his sexuality that they went overboard. Others barely spoke to him, flinching as they accidentally brushed up against him, and seeming unwilling to admit him into their homes.

  Slightly rarer were those men with a special kind of shyness. They seemed to want him to know that they were interested, but weren't quite bold enough to state it outright. Some of them were obvious; as Claire had guessed, the new math teacher at the high school had been far more friendly than usual when they bumped into one another outside the store. Others, however, were less predictable.

  Beckett Walsh, for example.

  The look in his eyes had been unmistakable. However gruff Beckett had seemed in the past, appearing to want to keep himself to himself, there had been an endearing desperation in his face today. There was an attraction there he couldn't express; he had tried, vainly, to get Cole to stay for a drink.

  Honestly, it had been tempting. The cowboy was handsome, no doubt – but if this auction was going to mean anything, he couldn't start melting into a puddle at the first handsome man who looked in his direction, especially not if he wanted to sell his virginity. This whole thing would rebound on him damned fast if he couldn't keep hold of his purity in order to sell it.

  In any case, he was glad to be making his way home to Claire's. At least there, nobody would—

  Ah.

  He had been about to think that nobody would stare at him, but even before he could get his keys in the door, Claire had pulled it open, fixing him with a deadpan expression of shock that Cole had gotten very familiar with over the past few hours. He saw it on people's faces everywhere. Assuming she was kidding, he sighed and slipped his keys into his pocket, trying to make his way past.

  “Yep, I'm auctioning off my virginity,” he said. “What you've heard is true.”

  “Okay,” said Claire, shutting the door and following after him, “but what did you do today? The bidding is at $25,000.”

  “What?”

  The figure hit Cole's chest like a brick, to the point where it really was almost painful. How on earth could the bidding possibly have gone so high? Last he'd checked, it was only a couple of hundred bucks over last night's $5,000. That amount of money was unthinkable – almost criminal. Was he really that appealing? A mix of confidence and unworthiness settled in the pit of his stomach, and he followed Claire to the computer to see her proof, numb.

  “There,” said Claire, tapping at the screen. “$25,000. See? Bid placed by Cowboy1. $25,000. God, I wish I'd sold mine.”

  “I just… I don't understand.”

  “Well,” said Claire, patting him on the shoulder playfully. “Did you deliver your groceries with your shirt off today?”

  “Everybody just seemed kind of wary of me,” he insisted, though he knew that wasn't true across the board. He just didn't think he'd seen anybody today who could drop $25,000 on a few minutes. Had he? “This must be a mistake.”

  “Until the last day, the website gives them the option to correct their bid for up to an hour after they place it,” she pointed out. “And besides, what else would they have meant to type? The $2,500 mark is long gone now.”

  Claire was right, of course. Barring a really stupid mistake, it seemed that this bid had to be genuine. Somehow, the craziest option was the true one. Cole flopped back into his seat, letting Claire lift the laptop away from both of them. There was no use staring at it, after all. That $25,000 bid dwarfed all the others; it was unlikely that anybody would improve upon it. Now, the question wasn't which bidder would win – but the identity of that new bidder.

  “What was the name of the bidder again?” said Cole, voice faint. “Cowboy?”

  “That's right,” she said. “Cowboy1. How many rich cowboys do we know?”

  Cole shook his head. They knew plenty – but as to how many of them could afford to spend $25,000 just like that? Well, he had no idea. In this town, you could certainly tell which families were well off and which were not if you squinted and thought about it, but the intricacies of everybody's finances were well under wraps. Nobody flaunted their income. It was seen as gauche and gaudy behavior. Besides, if everybody knew how wealthy you were, then you'd probably be fending off people's hints that they needed assistance for decades to come.

  That was Blue Mine for you. Normally, Cole was quite fond of the way everybody tried to play their cards close to their chests, but right now it was an obstacle for him. How was he supposed to guess? And if he couldn't guess, then how could he prepare?

  “Oh,” said Claire, dragging him out of his thoughts. “By the way. The pastor turned up here earlier.”

  “He did?” Cole moved to face her, mildly concerned. “He didn't bother you, did he? I'm so sorry.”

  “He was mostly interested in bothering you,” she assured him, giving him a lopsided smile. “I told him you didn't want to see him, and eventually he left. It's really not a big deal as far as I'm concerned. I just… figured you should know.”

  Cole sighed, closing his eyes. “Think he'll come back?”

  “You'll know better than I do.”

  So far, Pastor Berry's persistence seemed to be holding up, and that was entirely in character. If Cole knew his father, then he probably would turn up again. That being said, he couldn't honestly say he did know his father any more. The man he'd grown up respecting would never have cheated on Cole's dying mother.

  Claire squeezed his hand, standing up from the couch to head towards the kitchen. “Well, listen. It's totally fine. If he does, I'll just turn him away again. No problem. I'm not worried about it.”

  “You're the best friend I could possibly ask for,” Cole told her. It felt like a big departure from the way they usually expressed their love for each other, with fond bantering and sarcastic insults. In that respect, saying this made him feel quite exposed, but Claire leaned to give his forehead a soft kiss as she walked past. He smiled, fully aware of how lucky he was.

  Not everybody even had a friend who'd give them a bed to sleep on, especially not for an u
ndisclosed period of time – let alone a friend who'd go to bat for them when their estranged father came to the door. In fact, not everybody had a friend, full stop. His was just especially excellent.

  As the night wore on, however, it wasn't Claire he continued to think about, and nor was it Pastor “Can't Take a Hint” Berry. In fact, it wasn't anybody solid or concrete, because Cole didn't have a name or a face to put to his thoughts. All he had was a fairly bland epithet – Cowboy1.

  What would he look like, Cole wondered? Had they met before?

  Laying in Claire's guest room that night, it was these questions that chased him. Cowboy1 felt like a username that a younger man would chose – someone whose identity was still firmly attached to manual labor and the life of a farm worker. Cole closed his eyes, allowing himself to run away with the fantasy that the winning bidder would be a broad-shouldered, dark-haired and handsome man with strong arms and well-cut cheekbones.

  What then, he wondered?

  Would an attractive man really ever dream of paying $25,000 for sex? More likely it would be someone who couldn't go out to a bar and get laid for free, but he'd come to terms with that tomorrow. Right now, he was pleasantly carried away on the idea of this mysterious, rich rancher. He'd have rough hands from all that hard work. He'd have a dark tan from the sun.

  Cole's hand slipped beneath the blankets of the bed. He felt vaguely guilty for doing this in Claire's guest bed, but somehow he doubted she'd mind; she was quite open about sex and all related matters, and if this bidder really was as attractive as he was imagining? Well…

  He jerked himself off in slow, broad strokes, eyelids flickering with the fantasy of being held up against the outside wall of a barn, or in an old battered truck. He still couldn't quite imagine what it would be like to be fucked, but trying sent him crazy with desire. All he had was the image of a deep, desperate kiss, and the familiar friction of his own hand underneath his boxers. In fact, he could almost feel the sun boring down on the back of his neck, and hear the low, gruff chuckle of his mysterious partner's laugh.