Gay Paranormal Romance: Mpreg Box Set (MM Shifter Mpreg) (Gay Paranormal Fantasy Romance)

by Sy Walker

  Brandon threw his head back and moaned, running his hands through Quinn's thick golden hair as he began to suck gently, sending tendrils of unbearable pleasure throughout Brandon's body. The raw masculine power of Brandon's body began to crave a takeover, and he shifted power into his own hands, tugging Quinn's shirt off and gently pulling away from the blissful pleasure of his lips to carefully remove the rest of his clothes. Brandon lifted Quinn off the couch, and carried him into a rustic bedroom, laying him gently onto his stomach on the bed and pressing the weight of his body on top of him. Quinn shuddered in anticipation as he felt the intensity of Brandon's longing pressing against his ass. Suddenly, Quinn's erection was in Brandon's hands as he continued pressing hard into him. Quinn came quickly with a blush, wetting Brandon's hands. Brandon grinned and used the semen as a lubricant, rubbing his member with it and sliding himself deep inside of Quinn.

  They both groaned in pleasure, and Brandon unleashed the animal inside, wildly making love to Quinn until they were both breathless and sweating. He tensed up, his muscles contracting with the intensity of his desire, until finally, Quinn shuddered with another powerful orgasm and Brandon couldn't help but join in his climax, an explosion of pure ecstasy flooding inside of Quinn, giving them both the most intense sexual encounter either had ever experienced.

  Brandon collapsed onto the bed beside Quinn, showering him with tender kisses and scooping him into his strong arms. Quinn sighed blissfully, his body buzzing with satisfaction. Is this what he had been so afraid of? He made a vow to himself never to be so scared of his own instincts again, and nuzzled his perfect, unique lover, who had already fallen asleep, and seemed to be dreaming about running on all fours. Quinn laughed softly. It would take some getting used to, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

  Epilogue

  Quinn had been nervous about meeting the pack for the first time, but since he and Brandon had been together for three months, Brandon had decided it was time. Plus, they had a special announcement to make. Quinn dressed nervously, settling on a sweater and jeans that made him feel like a laid back professor rather than a biologist. Either way, Brandon's pack wouldn't care how he dressed.

  “Are you ready?” Brandon asked, his handsome face recently shaven.

  “Yeah,” Quinn said finally, giving himself one last, nervous peek in the mirror.

  “You're going to be fine,” Brandon said, wrapping him up in his strong arms and kissing him warmly. It was reassuring, but it didn't fully settle Quinn's stomach.

  “We're going to be meeting in the forest,” Brandon said. “So wear the right shoes.”

  Quinn laughed. When other gay couples talked about wearing the right shoes, he was sure this wasn't what any of them had in mind.

  They finally made it to the area where Brandon's pack was staying, and Quinn stepped forward nervously. Some of them were in wolf form, while others were in their human form. Brandon shifted and stood in front of them all, a little protectively, to give them a sense of security. Quinn was surprised that he recognized a couple other people from the Forest Service, and he waved to them with a smile. They bowed their heads in greeting and suddenly, a woman was standing in front of him.

  “No way!” she exclaimed.

  “No way what?” Quinn asked, confused.

  “Pups,” she breathed to the rest of them. “They're having pups!”

  The crowd gathered around Quinn, sniffing and licking and tugging playfully at him. Brandon grinned proudly at his omega mate, and Quinn laughed as the crowd tickled and greeted him affectionately. He had known he was going to parent Brandon's pups for a while now, and now that everybody else knew it too, he was truly accepted as a member of the pack. He suddenly realized that this was the best way he could have ever found the wolves he was looking for. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

  The End

  WHITE WOLF

  Chapter 1

  “Bruce!”

  Bruce winced at the sound of his father’s harsh voice summoning him from the field. He lowered his sword and ran his hand through his long, tangled brown hair in exasperation.

  “You look like a damn woman, boy!” his father spat, marching toward his son. “You swing like this.”

  Bruce watched his father demonstrate scornfully, wishing the old brute would just leave him alone. Things had been hard on Bruce lately. His father, Lord Jameson, had been coming down hard on him for preferring what he considered to be feminine activities, such as liking to sit with the women as they cooked and learn about the way they fed the clan. Bruce loved to cook, and was an introvert and a sensitive soul, who always seemed eager to help anyone who came to him with a need.

  “I don’t want to swing,” Bruce said, setting his full lips into a thin, annoyed line. His father had always been adamant about turning him into the ultimate warrior, but he just couldn’t find a way to share the pointless passion of spilling blood. What was the point when delegation was just as often even more effective? If people focused more on ways they could agree, then these wars wouldn’t have to take place and so many good men wouldn’t have to die for no good reason.

  “War is in your blood, lad! Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to face it!” Lord Jameson spat. “There’s no use denying it. If you were fighting for your life you would be thanking me for taking time out of my life to instruct you! Everyone else is sick of trying. As it is you’re a useless excuse of a son of mine! Your sister is more man than you are. And she’s only six! There’s a lass I can be proud of.”

  Bruce sighed. He had heard it all before.

  “Where are you going?” Lord Jameson bellowed as Bruce turned on his heel and stalked toward the castle, away from the highland hills that he loved. If he was quick about it he could spend time with the cooks before dinner was served. He was dying for the secret to the stew he loved so much.

  “I’m tired,” Bruce said. He could feel his father’s eyes boring through him. Suddenly, he dodged out of the way as his father thrust his sword at Bruce. He avoided it without looking back. His father heaved a heavy sigh, but said nothing, content with Bruce’s display of masculinity. Even if he was more like a girl, at least he wouldn’t be stricken down from behind.

  Chapter 2

  The Jameson clan ate together that night at the large, rectangular table. Bruce had gotten home in time to help with the stew, which his father purposely avoided eating and instead opted for large wedges of meat and bread. Bruce sighed and avoided looking in his general direction. His sister was eating heartily as well, but he couldn’t find the motivation he needed to try to talk to her. He was feeling bitter that his father had compared him to her again. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but it still stung and made him feel withdrawn.

  “Bruce, there’s something we haven’t discussed yet,” his father said, chewing the tough meat pointedly. Bruce suddenly missed his mother more than he had in a while. It came as a crippling pang, one that warned him that his father was about to tread in waters he might have liked his mother’s soft consolation to recover from later.

  Bruce didn’t answer, instead lifting his bowl to his lips and slurping deeply.

  “You’re getting married, my boy! Congratulations.”

  Sophie, his little sister, looked startled and stared at her father, then at Bruce. She said nothing, but furrowed her eyebrows. She would miss Bruce if he left to marry. He was the gentler influence of their household.

  “What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, growing rigid in his seat.

  “We’ve been lucky enough to land a union with the McNeil clan. It’s the only way to forge peace in these tumultuous times. Since you don’t seem to care for warfare, I’m sure you can see how this might be the preferable choice.”

  “What I don’t care for is how you men in power like to make a fight out of everything! Conflicts that could easily be resolved immediately turn to bloodshed. It seems as if you enjoy spilling needless blood over nothing!”

  “Bite your tong
ue boy. You want an end to the bloodshed? You marry Aileen McNeil. This is your birthright. You can end the slaughter with just a single agreement. You understand, lad? This isn’t a choice for you. This is the only way to keep our clan safe. But you’re not going to have it easy. Aileen needs time to get to know you. She has made it very clear we have a chance to seal the deal with them, but it’s going to take effort on your part to man up and woo her. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, lad? You have to do this for your people. It’s your solemn duty. Or let the war that commences be on your own hands. I’ve done what I can to keep the peace. Let’s see you try it for once.”

  “Aileen…?” Bruce asked breathlessly. If there was a woman in all the land that Bruce couldn’t imagine tolerating, let alone spending every day of his life with, it was the cold and calculating Aileen McNeil. She was said to be a great beauty, but Bruce had never seen it for himself. They had met on a few occasions, but she was the spitting image of her brutish father, Lord McNeil, in both body and mind.

  “Yes, who else?” his father said, taking another generous bite of his meat. “You head out tomorrow morning. I expect you to have everything packed up and ready to go. Don’t take too much, there will be accommodations.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Bruce groaned, shoving his bowl to the table and standing up. He stormed out of the room as his father chuckled to himself.

  “Time to be a man, lad!” he exclaimed. Bruce growled to himself but knew it was going to be inevitable. He would do whatever it took to maintain peace. Still, he didn’t have to be happy about it, and remained apprehensive for the rest of the night.

  Chapter 3

  “Welcome, Jameson,” Lord McNeil said with a cold smile on his face. Standing beside him was the icy Aileen, who didn’t acknowledge him. She kept her gaze aloof, staring into the distance just behind Bruce. He had dressed his best for the occasion, wearing his favorite tartan and baring his prized musculature with a difficult pride. He didn’t want to impress her; in fact, he wanted nothing to do with her. But he knew he had to try. If he didn’t get to the point of making a formal proposal, they could forget about peace and blood would be shed at his own hands.

  He had the unpleasant feeling that his father might almost be rooting for him to fail. Certainly there could have been a better way to ensure peace than to send his failure of a son to impress the impassive Aileen. His father was a brute after all, and enjoyed any excuse for bloodshed. He protected his clan fiercely and if he had any possible reason to go to war, he took it. So many of the men glorified this senseless slaughter. Bruce would just never understand it.

  “You must be Lady Aileen,” he said with as warm a smile as he could muster. Her cold eyes flickered to his and briefly acknowledged him. She didn’t seem any keener on marrying him than he felt to woo her. Where would he even begin? He had never been particularly interested in women and spent most of his time by himself, fixated by his inner world more than most other young men his age. His father was always bragging about how at his age he’d learned more about women than he’d ever imagined.

  It just wasn’t in Bruce’s nature to throw himself at anybody else. In fact, he had never considered a relationship with anybody one way or another. Which made him think that he might as well be with her as with anyone else, since it had never really mattered that much to him who he ended up. He’d always been a loner, and none of the women in his clan had appealed to him.

  “Come join us for dinner, Bruce,” Lord McNeil said, patting his shoulder with a meaty hand. His eyes lingered on Aileen, who purposefully ignored him as he turned to follow her father inside. Bruce heaved a heavy sigh. What was he in for?

  Dinner was a local favorite; a dish that Bruce had never had before.

  “Wow, what’s the secret to this?” he asked one of the servants, forgetting his place and falling back on the habit he’d surrendered to back home that made his father so irate.

  “Uh,” the servant seemed flustered. “I don’t know; you would have to ask the chef.”

  “Right,” Bruce said, suddenly feeling embarrassed as the stern face of Lord McNeil gazed disapprovingly at him. Aileen snickered to herself as Bruce’s face reddened and he looked down at the meal, picking at it slowly.

  “Do you cook, Bruce?” Aileen asked, fixing her full attention uncomfortably on him.

  “I…not really,” Bruce said. He would have to maintain his masculinity if this was going to go well. If not, he would have to answer for the war that would follow. He would have to pretend to be his father if he really cared about it. “But I find the servants serve you better if they think you care.”

  He grinned and took a huge bite of his meat. He choked it down, staring at his plate as Lord McNeil seemed to soften. He had heard rumors about Bruce, but he had chalked it up to people who were bitter at Lord Jameson and wanted to say and do anything they could to ruin his name. Jameson was a man who made it difficult to get along with him, and he would just have to judge the boy for himself.

  Dinner resumed quietly, until everybody was finished and Bruce was led out of the dining hall by one of the servants. Lord McNeil and Aileen remained at the table together, watching him with their identical, cold eyes as he walked away from them.

  “Join us again for breakfast in the morning, and from there we will see how things progress,” Lord McNeil called behind Bruce. Bruce sighed silently to himself and followed the servant to the room that had been set up for him. He was left alone there for the rest of the night, staring out the window and wondering what he was going to do if Aileen and Lord McNeil rejected him.

  Chapter 4

  “Good morning, Bruce,” Lord McNeil said, his cold eyes hard and his smile tight. Bruce nodded at him and took his place at the table. “I’ve given matters some thought. Come meet us outside after we eat. We have much to discuss.”

  “Of course, sir,” Bruce said, nodding eagerly, although his heart wasn’t in it at all.

  The meal crept along slowly, and it felt like years before they made it into the open air. Bruce immediately felt more relaxed there, and his eyes hungrily roamed the green highland hills. If only he could live there, out among the rebels and warriors rather than stuck in the tiresome elite.

  “Was there something you wanted to ask of me?” Lord McNeil asked, with Aileen standing sternly at his side.

  “It would be my pleasure to take your daughter as my wife and secure the peace between the McNeil and Jameson clans,” Bruce said as formally as he could muster. It wouldn’t be his pleasure. Not by a long shot. And it was clearly not going to be Aileen’s pleasure either. She probably had her eyes on some of the other men in her own clan.

  “Very well,” Lord McNeil said. “We accept. The wedding will be in three weeks’ time. We have festivities to prepare for the event. Aileen is my only daughter after all.”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  And like that, it was done.

  Lord McNeil and her father returned back indoors, and Bruce sighed heavily. He didn’t have any desire to return to the oppressive atmosphere of the McNeil castle, and instead decided to wander toward the hills where his eyes had been drawn. It would do him some good to commune with nature. He placed a palm over the trunk of one of the trees he passed as he entered into the foliage, and closed his eyes reverently. He would need to let the earth guide him now.

  “Are the spirits talking to you?” a teasing man’s voice asked. It was low but gentle, rumbling, as if it could be fierce but was choosing not to be. It sent a strange jolt through Bruce, and he opened his eyes, startled by the handsome man who was peering over at him. The man’s eyes were blue and he had a raw masculinity that might have made Bruce feel insecure if he hadn’t been so drawn to it.

  “Maybe,” Bruce teased back, surprised at himself for falling into the easy banter. He was normally much more guarded than this.

  “What are they saying?” the man asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

  “It’s a secret. But it’s d
efinitely about you. Awful things.”

  The man considered this for a moment, a serious, contemplative look on his face.

  “Well then I’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t I?”

  “Or maybe you’ll prove them right.”

  The man’s steady gaze looked Bruce up and down, and he felt suddenly self-conscious in a way he never had before. It was lucky he had chosen his favorite tartan once again, unsure if the formal occasion of the proposal would warrant anything less than the best.

  “Well I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that then,” the virile man said, making his way slowly toward Bruce. Bruce’s heart hammered in his chest as he watched the man come near, and he swallowed hard, confused by his physical reaction to the man’s presence.

  “My name is Jonas McNeil. I saw you arrive yesterday. Tell me, why have you come to my father’s castle?”

  “You’re Lord McNeil’s son?” Bruce asked, sincerely surprised. The man was so warm; so much different than Lord McNeil and Aileen.

  “Well…illegitimately,” Jonas said with a small smirk. “I don’t technically belong here.”

  “Wow…”

  Bruce stood back for a moment and took in the handsome man. He was wearing a black and grey tartan, and his shoulders were broad and powerful. He looked fierce, as if he could tear a man in two if the laughter left his eyes. His hair was long and a dirty golden color.

  “Do you live in the castle?”

  “No. I make my home out here, in the wilderness.”

  “Really…?”

  He was living the life Bruce had only dreamt of. How was this man making his life work in his favor when Bruce himself had been forced into marrying a woman he couldn’t stand and living in an unfamiliar place? Would it be possible to make himself comfortable out in the wilderness as well?

  “Of course. My father is ashamed of me because of who my mother is, but I like to keep these parts safe. I’ve been well-trained despite his refusal to acknowledge who I am.”