Wand-Losing & Other Things You Shouldn't Be Doing

by Gabbo De la Parra

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Love’s Landscapes

  Wand-Losing & Other Things You Shouldn’t Be Doing - Information

  Wand-Losing & Other Things You Shouldn’t Be Doing

  1. CREATIVITY

  2. REWARDS

  3. AWARENESS

  4. INHERENT

  5. UNADORNED

  6. OFFERING

  7. EMBRACE

  8. PRICE

  9. BELIEVING

  10. FLOATING

  11. ESSENCE

  12. TRANSMUTATION

  13. BLOSSOMS

  14. HOPE

  15. BEGINNINGS

  Glossary

  Author Bio

  WAND-LOSING & OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T BE DOING

  The seven city-states of Aletta are facing their first encounter with an off-planet force. It’s up to Max Maitheas, governor of the city-state of Anatolia (closest city to the alien landing) to embark on a diplomatic journey to find out the intentions of the interlopers.

  Captain Rezzu Ki Muselet leads the first Colviri-Human mission since Nova Gaia, a human planet, became part of the Colviri system. A recognizance mission to a remote planet where they hope to discover signs of life.

  What Rezzu wasn’t prepared to discover was a thriving civilization and to become mesmerized by the eyes of the head diplomat in charge of receiving them. Green and wonderful like the sky of his home planet.

  Both Max and Rezzu have secrets, and in their ability to surpass their deceptions, they might also find love.

  Love’s Landscapes

  An M/M Romance series

  WAND-LOSING & OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T BE DOING.

  By Gabbo de la Parra

  Introduction

  The story you are about to read celebrates love, sex and romance between men. It is a product of the Love’s Landscapes promotion sponsored by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group and is published as a gift to you.

  What Is Love’s Landscapes?

  The Goodreads M/M Romance Group invited members to choose a photo and pen a letter asking for a short M/M romance story inspired by the image; authors from the group were encouraged to select a letter and write an original tale. The result was an outpouring of creativity that shone a spotlight on the special bond between M/M romance writers and the people who love what these authors do.

  A written description of the image that inspired this story is provided along with the original request letter. If you’d like to view the photo, please feel free to join the Goodreads M/M Romance Group and visit the discussion section: Love’s Landscapes.

  No matter if you are a long-time devotee to M/M Romance, just new to the genre or fall somewhere in between, you are in for a delicious treat.

  Words of Caution

  This story may contain sexually explicit content and is intended for adult readers. It may contain content that is disagreeable or distressing to some readers. The M/M Romance Group strongly recommends that each reader review the General Information section before each story for story tags as well as for content warnings.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  This eBook may be distributed freely in its entirety courtesy of the Goodreads M/M Romance Group. This eBook may not be sold, manipulated or reproduced in any format without the express written permission of the author.

  Wand-Losing & Other Things You Shouldn’t Be Doing,

  Copyright © 2014 Gabbo de la Parra

  Cover Art by Gabbo de la Parra

  This ebook is published by the M/M Romance Group and is not directly endorsed by or affiliated with Goodreads Inc.

  M/M Romance Group Publication

  WAND-LOSING & OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T BE DOING

  By Gabbo de la Parra

  Photo Description

  A painting of a handsome man in semi profile, part human part machine, looking at one of his hands. His machine parts and clothes are done in gold, copper and brass tones with clouds resembling cogs in different sizes surrounding him. He wears a top hat adorned with goggles and two feathers, one of a pheasant and the other of a peacock. He’s the embodiment of Steampunk imagery.

  Story Letter

  Dear Author,

  Hi. My name is Max. A few hundred years ago my ancestors had the bright idea to turn the barren rock this planet was into a garden. A group of scientists and technicians had a plan which would take generations to create a beautiful ecosystem. It was still just a rock in space back when my many times great-grandparents lost touch with the rest of the universe. I don’t know why the supply ships stopped coming, was it a war? Our stories tell how the technicians faced a future in a hostile place with no hope of returning home. They did what humans always do; they survived and changed both themselves and their environment.

  You may look at me and see something less than human. I look at myself and see a man. I have parents who love me, siblings and cousins who share my life. I have dreams for a future with a special man and maybe children of our own. So what difference does it make that I am as much technology as biology? Does that give these interlopers the right to come here claim our Eden as theirs? They say we are not men, I say we are and that we will fight for our home.

  And, Author, there is one particular man among the invaders… I can see a future with him. I imagine a life together, and one day, perhaps, children with his beautiful eyes.

  Dear Author, please, Help me— help us— find our happily ever after.

  Sincerely,

  Peggy

  Story Info

  Genre: science fiction

  Tags: steampunk-ish, magic users, screwball space opera, not-what-it-seems, spacemen/aliens, switch/versatile

  Content Warnings: robotic foreplay

  Word Count: 31,987

  A glossary of terms can be found at the end of the story

  WAND-LOSING & OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T BE DOING

  By Gabbo de la Parra

  Your first comes from the man

  Your second from your hands

  After that your wand would be

  From the trove of the land

  Until your last solution comes

  From your heart…

  ~Alettan Nursery Rhyme

  1. CREATIVITY

  “Lairdimax Trean Maitheas!”

  Uh-oh

  People only yelled your entire name when they were ready to berate you. His oldest cousin and mentor, Pasdeotrom Ameri, entered the laboratory chamber, swatting the orange fumes (that were supposed to be blue) like someone having a fight with a swarm of short-circuited trackers.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to take or add anything to the sodding formulas?”

  Max swallowed hard. It wasn’t his fault he had a creative mind. He was only fifteen, but he’d already finished the AASS (Aealae Artes & Science School) and was ready to enter Diplomacy Center. That was what his parents wanted— for him to be a diplomat. Max wanted to be a Master Developer, to create new artifacts to advance their race and dominate the magic that flowed throughout their planet and was the source of their energy.

  Perhaps someday, he could find a way to travel to space and reconnect with the people of their ancestors. Although, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that because it was important to understand one’s past or just to slap the estranged fuckers for abandoning them. Shame that information had been destroyed two hundred ye
ars before, during a revolt. Well, nothing was perfect, right?

  “Daydreaming again? I swear to Universe, I don’t know how in the seven circles of Verju you finished top of your class and ahead by four years.”

  Poor Verju, it wasn’t his fault he died in the deepest mine of the planet.

  “It’s all in my genes,” Max unnecessarily answered. His mother always told him to inhale and exhale twice before answering and that not all questions needed a response; at least not the rhetorical ones.

  “You’re aware our mothers are sisters, right?”

  “Yes. I operate under the assumption that you, at least, have some smarts in you due to that, and my creativity comes from Father’s side.” Max slightly shrugged.

  “You insufferable bugger. The only thing saving you from a beating is that you’re my favorite cousin.”

  “And that if I do well, your program will catch and more pupils will come to your hands, and their parents’ moneys to your chests.”

  “This isn’t about profit. It’s about learning.” Trom shook his leonine mane. He was tall and broad; anyone would think he was a military man, not a Master Alchemist.

  Max had the suspicion there were concoctions involved in his cousin’s girth since he didn’t have any mechanical enhancements like many men who wanted to be bigger and more menacing. Trom had gone the subtle way, the biological way. One could totally change a couple of components on a healing formula and turn it into a growth serum; you just needed to do it the right way and KABOOM, you became a mountain of muscles.

  Trom snapped his fingers in Max’s face. “Hey, am I talking to myself here?”

  “Oh. No. What were you saying?”

  “Don’t add cyanide to my dispatching draught again or you’re gonna get dispatched next time.”

  Yeah, like he could afford to kill a Maitheas.

  Pain hit Max on his chest. It was Trom’s closed fist holding something. “Trago was running with this in its mouth. Pay attention where you leave your wand, you don’t need to lose another!”

  Shit.

  ****

  Five years later…

  Max skidded to a halt in front of the giant, ominous doors. He wasn’t that late; he still had an entire standard minute to spare. The two man-statues guarding the doors looked at him reprovingly, their mouths tight, obviously forcing themselves to conceal the reprimand ready to flourish on their lips.

  After four long terms, Max had finally done it. His Diplomat Certification awaited him behind these stupidly huge doors. He could have done it in three of the five normal years, but he and his big mouth went and told a teacher to shut it and shove it and gifted himself with a year of suspension. Good thing he didn’t smack the idiot— that would have meant expulsion, and the litany from his parents would have never ceased.

  One mechanical arm (just a little too much nitroglycerin in that formula), two boyfriends (it all started fine then the guys smothered him), and eight wands (people needed to watch where they stepped, right?) later, he was ready to go on his own with his certification and all the diplomatic knowledge of the world in one suitcase and a leather-bound book full of formulas and device blueprints in another.

  The council was sending him to Anatolia, one of the seven city-states of the planet and seemingly the furthest from their federal capital, Perselia. It didn’t matter to him, the longer the distance the better.

  Now, let’s politely nod at the mean muggin’, cardboard faces of the Granting Committee.

  Well, that— if he moved his behind and entered the chamber. He straightened his morning jacket, fixed his top hat. He inhaled and exhaled (twice), stepping on the right place. The troglodyte doors slid open with a bored hiss.

  Like everything in this place.

  “You are late.”

  That wasn’t an abnormal greeting, not by a long shot.

  “I apologize, your high—” Max cleared his throat, taking his hat off, “—Sir.”

  The four men exchanged glances. The Head of the Granting Committee spoke. Although they were almost close to the ceiling of the chamber, his booming voice didn’t need any amplification. “You are irreverent and a supreme pain in all our posteriors—”

  Your flabby, hanging asses, yeah, I know.

  “—but you are also brilliant, with a quick mind when it can focus on something long enough.” Bobbing heads from the others expressed their approval of the Head’s words. “You are a promising young man, and we hope that your behavior as an adult grows parallel to your intellect. We know you will do great things for our beloved Alleta, helping us to deal with the turbulent currents of political dissention between the cities of this planet. Lairdimax Trean Maitheas, we hereby confer you the Diplomat Certification and assign you as chief assistant of Anatolia’s governor. Behave and make us proud.”

  To the left of the Head, the man with the least mean muggin’ face uttered the Alletan farewell. “May there always be water to slake your thirst, shade to protect your eyes, and nourishment to maintain your body.”

  Those words spoke of a time when Aletta was a desolate rock full of hidden resources, and their ancestors struggled to make it a garden, abandoned by the people that brought them here but willing to survive and thrive. Words that always sent a chill down Max’s spine. He would not let the city-states destroy each other and all they have accomplished as a race in the aftermath.

  “I’ll make this committee and Diplomacy Center proud. Thank you, my lords.” Max bowed. When he righted his body, he grinned to the man who had recited the farewell.

  Love you, Dad.

  The Head of the Granting Committee cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing, “By the way. Please, no more pet machines.”

  Ouch.

  ****

  And five more years later…

  “Don’t you look dapper?”

  Max groaned. His beautiful mother, Auspeggireh Maitheas (Peggy to her closest ones) fussed over him.

  “Oh, stop it. You’re the youngest governor ever appointed, and all that before you even reached your twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “Mom, the appointment was two days ago, and my birthday is today. You can hardly say it was before I was twenty-five.”

  “Now, now, dates are dates, and the record would say you were twenty-four, it doesn’t matter if you became older two days after.” She dusted his shoulders. “All right, everybody is waiting for you. Come on. Don’t be shy, Lord Governor.”

  All his loved ones were here amid politicians and outstanding citizens. Tanned and lanky Iontach, the oldest of his brothers, played with the ends of his handlebar mustache with one hand and grabbed his wife’s waist with the other. Stout Fiore, second brother and a savvy entrepreneur, didn’t have much luck with the ladies, but he didn’t seem to care. The twins Sasta and Amhara, older than Max by two standard years were incredible, strong defense teachers. He had endured a lot of training from them, but (in the end) it had been all worth it, he knew how to fight, especially dirty. His favorite cousin Meidhre, the woman every man fantasized about. His best friend Deas, the light to his darkness, blond like the sun and with a disarming smile that had made more than one girl lose her virtue. Even Trom was here, older but wide like a bull, still teaching Alchemy with great success.

  Maith Maitheas, his father, hugged him. “So proud of you, son, youngest governor ever and haven’t lost a wand in a standard year.”

  Max chuckled. It wasn’t like wand-losing was a joke, but it happened to him a lot, and his family playfully reminded him of it (at nearly every opportunity they had). He patted his pocket to be sure it was there. Master Esaw had told him that the next time he needed a wand the core must be something from his other half because all other possibilities had been exhausted after twenty wands.

  So I better be careful with this one. I’ve already exhausted the trove of the planet.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t need a replacement. An Alletan without his wand to wield the magic emanating from their planet was worse than a pariah. I
n his case, his political position and the honor of his family would be irreparably damaged if he couldn’t secure the Alletans’ only vehicle to conduit this fabulous power of their world. Yes, there were some like him who could control it with their bare hands, but this ability was publicly shunned and secretly feared. Thus, he was doing his best to pay attention and not lose this one. The story of a woman dismembered by an enraged mob when they discovered she could do magic without her wand had been knocking on his brain door of late, perhaps because he was at the end of his rope. Although it happened so long ago, it wasn’t worth the worry.

  Well, he could always say he was in love with Luddi, his pet peacock, and use one of his feathers like last time.

  And the magic will blow a raspberry in your face for being a ridiculous liar.

  True. He couldn’t just say that someone or something was his other half. The notion had to come from his heart, from his very essence for it to resonate with the magic and therefore the wand could become the perfect vehicle. Even as capable as Max was to control this power with exceptional success barehanded, he couldn’t be the ultimate conduit without that extension of his being a wand provided.

  “Still here, Governor? You have another two hundred guests to mingle with.” His father smacked him on the back, and the riotous laugh made several heads swivel their way.

  Another heavy hand struck Max almost immediately, making the gears of his spine whir noisily in protest. Fiore pulled him sideways to his corpulent, mechanical chest and shook him gleefully, “Dear little brother, youngest governor. What about that, huh? I knew you were going to rise fast, but this is pleasantly unexpected.” Turning Max to face him, Fiore did a flourish with his wand, and an outrageous gold necklace and medallion appeared below Max’s collar, resting heavily over his sternum where his lifelight was concealed by shirt and waistcoat. “There. Happy birthday!”

  It looked like something one would receive as an order of merit, truly gaudy and excessive, but that was Fiore for you. And now Max would have to wear the well-intended but not-fashionable-at-all gift through the night. “Why, thank you, brother. This is exactly what I needed to complement my ensemble. It’s exquisite.”