PARANORMAL M/M ROMANCE
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It was only a week ago that William packed his bags for Oxford when a letter appeared in front of him in a blaze of purple fire before slowly descending like a feather riding the wind. He had plans to work in politics, to make the world a better place, to put all those top grades from high school to good use but none of that mattered to him anymore. William told everyone that he was off to Harvard instead, knowing that his British parents wouldn’t make the journey to visit him, and he headed for the portal disclosed to him in the letter.
Magic was real and William had a chance to spend the next three years studying it. He couldn’t let that opportunity pass him by, even if it meant giving up on what was surely a carved out future for the overachieving eighteen-year-old.
His fingers clutched the crumpled letter in his pocket as he began to tug, fighting the tightness of his jacket to free himself so that he could see which hall he belonged to. He yanked so hard that his hand flew back, ricocheting outwards until it met the person next to him.
“Sorry!” He called out in a panic, turning to apologize so fast that his glasses flung from his face and vanished into the crowd. “Dammit!” He added in a hiss of frustration, quickly tucking his wavy brown hair back behind his ears before it sprung free.
He was hardly the most graceful eighteen-year-old to have ever existed, nor did he do well in large groups that rushed around him. William preferred the quiet life, often opting for a cup of tea as he tucked himself into a blanket with his favorite book spread across his palm. He thought that Warlock Academy would be full of intellects like himself who would rather ingest wisdom than booze.
He was wrong.
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Jake glanced back at the absence of sound. He saw William breathless on the ground, trying to push himself up from the tarmac whilst clutching onto the scepter as if he was in the middle of a match and letting it go would cause him to lose. Without a hint of hesitation Jake bolted over, running around the stands and dragging William up with brute strength.
“You shouldn’t cast so much if you can’t handle it,” he said coldly as he balanced the apprehensive male in front of him. William stepped back skittishly, becoming increasingly aware that they were both almost a mile from the rest of civilization.
“What do you want?” His magic may have been drained but he had enough in him to swing the scepter a few times. Jake raised his hands like he was caught in the act of some crime. He slowly paced backwards, putting enough distance between the pair so that William felt a little more at ease.
“I wanted to practice with one of those things,” he replied, nodding towards the weapon in William’s hands. William looked down at the scepter, then back to Jake. He threw it across the gap between them, brushing passed Minkovski as he stormed across the tarmac.
“They didn’t expel me because of you!” Jake called out, turning with the scepter by his side. William halted where the arena met the grass, the tips of his trainers pressing down on the blades as his stomach curdled with a mixture of fear and anger.
“They told me you didn’t want me gone, or some shit like that. So, thanks,” Jake spoke to the back of William’s head, but his words seemed strong enough to turn the younger man around and reel him back in.
“Do not thank me!” William screamed in Jake’s face as his tensed his fists by his side. Seeing Jake again brought back the memories of not being able to move, of not being in control, of not being able to scream for help even though Logan was just a few feet away. William had always been a target, but he’d never been helpless like that before. He’d never felt so utterly powerless when faced with a bully and he didn’t ever want to feel like that again. In his short time at the academy he’d discovered a lot about himself. His feelings for men, his fondness for whisky, but most of all, his undeniable power. He may not have been the type of guy to wear his strength on his sleeve like Jake, or to emit confidence like Logan. However, William now knew that he didn’t have to be the young man that got pushed around.
“You gonna use those?” Jake asked, glancing down at William’s quaking knuckles.
“Go ahead, I deserve it.” Just like that, William’s rage diminished. It would’ve been so much easier to hate Jake if he saw the same man that pinned him against the wall or kicked him in his ribs, but like himself Jake was looking a little different. Whatever threat he once posed to William had vanished, whatever grudge he had against William had dispersed. There was nothing to fear from Jake anymore and William could see that clearly as he stared into his cloudy, grey eyes. Jake disagreed. He scoffed, dropped the scepter and grabbed William by his collar with both hands, shaking him violently as his own anger began to erupt.
“Hit me!” He roared, his grip tightening on William’s shirt.
“I deserve it, hit me!” The brown haired bookworm was a reminder of everything terrible thing Jake had done, every horrible deed he had gotten away with based on his family’s name or the fact he was a porter. He could live with what he’d done to so many, knowing that they hated him for it and that he’d eventually have to pay for his crimes. However, he couldn’t live with being forgiven by the one person he’d been thinking fondly of in years – even if those feelings were confusing him.
“No!” William tore himself away, prying Jake’s hands from his t-shirt before adjusting it back into place.
“Why?” Jake took a step forward; William took one back.
“That’s not how I deal with things. That’s not who I am.” “And that’s why I targeted you,” Jake exclaimed, getting closer to William again.
“That’s why from the minute I saw your fucking face I knew I could do what I wanted to you and get away with it.” Jake reached out for William’s collar again; he desperately wanted to antagonize the younger male into making him pay for what he’d done. His fingers grazed the lining of William’s shirt, tucking inside as he yanked William inwards until their noses were touching. His eyes gazing through the lenses sat on William’s face, his warm breath casting a shroud over them, his hands tightening as he lifted William to his tiptoes.
“You shouldn’t let people walk over you, bookworm,” Jake muttered as he felt himself losing control; being so close to the only person that had ever managed to plague his mind for more than a mere moment was more than he could deal with. With no restraint left in him, Jake planted his lips on William’s, pressing his face down harshly as his tongue tried to invade the shorter male’s mouth.
Born January 6th 1993, T. C. resides in the United Kingdom, living with his partner Peter Jones and their dog, Drake.
T. C. has had a passion for supernatural stories from a young age, often scribbling down his latest ideas instead of focusing on whatever task was at hand during the long school days. At the age of twelve, he penned his first romance story featuring himself and the boy he had feelings for set in a fantastical land full of werewolves and wizards. Ever since that day, T. C. has made it his mission to entwine his leading gay protagonists with epic paranormal adventures.
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