Title: What I Really Want By: Nix Winter Rating: NC17, R Genre: Sci-fi, BDSM, menage M/F/M Buy Link: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-whatireallywant-728900-144.html Blurb: Satin thinks he knows what he wants. He's got the woman he's always loved and the man he's trusted and loved for just as long. He's got some kinks that he's afraid his lovers don't really share. He's about to get what he thinks he really wants when he finds out that Lily's pregnant and its not his. He thinks what he really wants is just for his lovers to be happy and for him to step back like the man he is. The man who loves him though thinks he knows what Satin really wants and he's happy to give it to him. If what he wanted was so easy, he'd know what it was already. Now there's a baby to think about and seeing the people he loves happy might be more important than what he really wants. Excerpt: Unbuttoning his cuffs, Hiro stepped closer to his lover. Satin didn't…
by Nix Winter
All Rights Reserved
Dedication: The Gardner, written for her birthday.
The Orion Palace sat central to the world, the heart of the world with whispers and dreams all swirled through the halls as if it were a great cocktail, intoxicating and probably not good for a person in the long run. Hosting the founding convention of the Civic , both blessing the endeavor and trimming it like a bonsai, President Orion saw to it that all the people whose input or approval she needed were present.
And so it was that for the first time since South Africa that Felix was both on Earth and near all the other pilots, the people he'd known in the war. Taller than he'd been then, his hair trimmed neater, his suit made of the finest wool, the finest designs, cut and tailored for his lean and demanding form alone, he felt as if he only barely had any stain from his actions during the war.
Trevor had smiled at him, and Felix had smiled back, a slight …
The God of Death 1/? by Pinkwhirlwind Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing Mud squished under Duo's boots. Rain and mud splashed as his knee hit. Torrential rains soaked his braid almost before he hit, turned his clothes into a cold echo of his hurt, but they hid his tears. He ran then, familiar ruin - he'd been running all his life, leaving misery where ever he stopped long enough to cast a shadow. Vaulting a wooden rail fence, he left his lover's farm, left his stupid ideas of acceptance and warmth, of being wanted.
The town surrounding the farm, streets and normal people between him and his ship, he ran past them, dodging and jumping, through traffic, around cars, a comfortable stride that took him into the space port. He'd left his id and travel bag at his lover's house, so it took him extra time to get through security. He half feared that his lover would block him from getting to his ship. No one stopped him though, just checked his identity and let him through…
Warnings: War time, Duo is hurt and depressed, kind and gentle Heero. These two might be in my Dangerous Valentines arc, so someday they become lovers, devoted lovers.
The parking lot was dark. Duo didn't care if there was ever sunlight again. He wasn't going to see it. Collar turned up on his coat, shoulders hunched, he limped from where the bus had let him off. One of his fingers was dislocated. He needed to fix it, but he didn't want to. He would and he knew it was only going to get worse the longer the swelling went on.
It could wait though. Making it up the stairs to the apartment he was sharing with Heero hurt. With every step, every ache, words came back to him.
He ought to be glad. The guards hadn't recognized him. They thought he was a whore, a street whore. They hadn't wanted him that way. He hadn't wanted them probably worse than they hadn't wanted him. What t…
Walking home from the bank today, I walked by a poor dead ratly. It reminded me of when I was religious (Wiccan) and how then I would have cared for his soul and tended the body. I had walked several paces... when I turned and went back. The soul had never been important. There is no soul. The shabby echo that the rat's life had left behind still required respect though. There had been life. The rat was my kin. Far in the past, our shared ancestor longed for life the same as that rat, the same as I. I nudged the fading echo of his life under the ivy, to the gentle whispers of transformation.
I realized then that I am kin to the sky, to the ocean, to the tall trees reaching high, their branches stealing light before it hits those lives below them. I am star dust with enough snark to love the sky and want to dance among the stars.