Forever After
by

Dan is trying to live an ordinary life, well as ordinary as you can in the Kingdom. He has a good job working in the Library of Stories, even if his boss is a little flat—he is a magic mirror, after all. Then one day, Dan slips up and utters two little words—five tiny little letters—that are about to spin his story around and fill it with colour and laughter—and a Fairy Godmother. Who is a man. A man who sparkles. (M/M)





Genres: , , , ,
Collections: ,
Editor(s): Lon Sarver
Cover Designer(s): Siol na Tine
Cover Art Credits: Art by Siol na Tine.
Production Editor(s): Erika L. Firanc
Proofreader(s): Jae Knight
Length: Short Story (8,500 Words)
Chapter(s): 3
Publication Date: May 11, 2012
Serialization Date: November 8, 2015
Archive(d) on November 21, 2015
Tags: , , , , ,

Characters:
Sex:
BDSM

N/A

Story:
Misc
N/A


Click Here to Read An Excerpt

“Hi,” he chirps. “Yep, still here. You know you have the most amazing eyes. I can’t quite decide if they’re green or brown. Maybe they change with your mood. That would be so cool if they did.” He bounces up into a seated position and claps his hands together.

“What are you feeling right now? Then I need to change your mood. Do you like pancakes? I love pancakes. Would pancakes make you feel different?” The words come out in a blur and I just decide to ignore most of them.

I turn away, getting up and wandering into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind myself. Fifteen minutes, one shower and two bitten off wishes later, I re-emerge, feeling more human, but in dire need of coffee. Camael is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, flicking through ‘Birds and Their Roles and Associated Rituals in Modern and Historical Tales.’ His brow is ever so slightly furrowed, his tongue poking from between his soft, pink lips.

He looks up and blinks at me. “That’s what you’re wearing?” I look down at myself; plain black trousers today, as I’m not working, and a grey, fine-knit pullover.

“Yes?” I wonder why it came out with a question mark at the end. “Not all of us can dress like, like…” I don’t finish the sentence, knowing it is going to sound rude whatever I say. Still, my gaze lingers as he slides slowly off the bed; his slender legs are clad in warm red denim, a white belt matching his white and red high-tops. A red, short-sleeved t-shirt sits snugly over a white, long-sleeved undershirt. It should look stupidly festive, but instead it looks… I cut that thought off in a hurry.




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