Owen was known by many names, but the one title he'd spent a long time avoiding was that of "Baby's mate". Having known who his mate was from Baby's birth, Owen had stayed hidden away from life, content to watch his mate through his Oracle stone, until more than a thousand years had past. When the destructive behavior he believed Baby was falling into got worse, Owen knew it was time to step in. Baby needed a fixer, and the Fates had given Owen the job.
But Baby didn't want to be fixed. In fact, he resented the very idea, which meant Owen needed to make a few attitude adjustments. As the two men bumbled along, struggling to find common ground with each other long enough to make a mating work, they weren't getting any support from Poseidon, Claude or Himeros. When Baby gets another shock, he seriously starts to think hiding in an isolated cave somewhere was a good idea. The question is - will he take Owen with him?
This is an MM MPREG story with some graphic scenes intended for readers over the age of consent in the country you reside in.
“Who… Who the hell are you? This is my brother’s house. No one has the right to be on this property except me. Artemas promised me.”
My mate is scared. Owen could sense it, just as he could sense the moment life left a cricket that had wandered too close to a hedgehog. He held his hands wide, away from his body, showing he meant no harm.
“My name is Owen. I came looking for you, because I wanted to talk to you.” Keeping his voice calm was difficult. Baby’s aura was startlingly bright, as if charged with electricity, and changing colors from one second to the next.
“You want to talk to me?” Baby hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. “That’s a new one. Fine. Talk. Tell me why you saw fit to bring your own light show.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by light show.” Owen stepped closer, but Baby’s aura flickered wildly, and he stopped. “I had hoped to sit on the edge of the porch so we could talk.”
“I’ve had a million men want to so-called talk to me, and the moment they get within touching distance, they don’t do anything with their mouths but give orders, or they’re using those same mouths to slobber all over me. I didn’t come onto you. I purposefully stayed here so no one could talk to me. But it’s fine. If you want to talk, we can talk but keep your distance.”
Oh, my poor mate. Owen clicked for his chair. He sat gingerly, not entirely sure that the four legs were squared on the uneven ground. But the chair didn’t topple over which was a positive.
“You’re a god,” Baby said bluntly.
“I am.” Owen never hid who he was from other gods.
“Not one I’ve seen before, so I’m guessing not Greek, Roman, Norse, or Egyptian. Owen is not a godly name I can recognize.”
“My true name is…” Owen’s mouth moved in the ancient forgotten language of his people, the syllables rolling off his tongue and weaving through the air.
“Wow. I can see why people call you Owen. So, you are…?”
“Very, very old. Beyond ancient.”
“With short bright white hair that glows under the freaky light you brought with you. Okay.” Baby sounded skeptical, but at least he wasn’t zapping away. In fact, his aura seemed to settle, and he moved so he was sitting cross legged on the porch. “What did you want to talk about?”
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