MICKEY’S

DUKE

The Wilgrin Chronicles 1

Vicktor Alexander

When Michael "Mickey" Monroe arrived on the planet Wilgrin after escaping his home of Rodeiro, his
only plan had been to make just enough money to get enough fuel to fly to another planet. One where
no one knew him, where he could fade into the background. Where he didn't have to worry about
someone trying to beat him up at every turn.

However, working in the restaurant known as Durac, Mickey comes in contact with Carl Cavendish
and realizes that no matter where he goes, someone is going to want to beat the shit out of him.

Making a run for it, Mickey comes face to face with one of the most gorgeous carriages that he's ever
seen, with a real live duke inside. Accepting the stranger's offer of help, Mickey soon finds himself
naked and in the arms of Evander Cavendish, the gorgeous father of Carl Cavendish.

Before Mickey can blink he's married and dealing with a stepson who would rather see him dead than
at the dining room table, a husband who only seems to want him for his body, and a secret that he
doesn't know how to reveal to his new family, but one that he only has about nine months to share
before it makes an appearance all on its own.

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Cover Artist: Vicktor Alexander

Editor: Samantha Derr

Mickey’s Duke © 2012 Vicktor Alexander

ISBN # 978--1478142478

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express
written permission of the publisher. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is
being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a model.

PUBLISHER: Rooster & Pig Publishing

For Chipmunk

Chapter One_
_________________________________________________________________

ichael “Mickey” Monroe pressed his back against the brick wall he leaned against, his breath stuttering
out of his chest as the group of men ran past the M alley opening. That was close. He was sure they would
have caught him if he’d stayed on the street just a minute or two longer.

“Find that faggot freak! I want his head on a fucking platter,” Carl, the leader of the group of bandits,
yelled. Mickey shuddered at the sound of rage and disgust filling Carl’s words, the hatred rising up to
slam against Mickey’s chest before slithering down into his belly.

Mickey pressed a hand to his stomach, trying to hold back the nausea that threatened.

How the hell did he get himself into these situations? He’d only been on Wilgrin for a few months, his
shuttle having just enough fuel for him to land on the affluent planet, before he’d been cornered and
attacked by Carl and his band of goonies. Mickey felt a hot shiver wind its way down his spine and froze.
Someone was nearby and they were watching him.

Fuck. Had he missed Carl and his cronies returning? Where the hell was he going to go now? Pressing his
body firmly against the wall, Mickey’s eyes darted around the alley wildly. A noise at the opening of the
alley startled him. Turning his head slowly towards the noise, Mickey’s breath caught in his throat at the
appearance of a carriage. The sight of the vehicle filled his body with dread and Mickey’s hands scraped
along the brick walls of the building he hid beside. This was it. This was how he was going to die.

He’d escaped off Rodeiro with enough money and enough fuel to get off the tiny planet, but with no clear
destination in mind. Turning towards Wilgrin had been pure whimsy on his part, and when his shuttle had
been forced to land on the planet, Mickey had truly believed it had been for a reason. The last thing his
grandfather had told him before giving into the consumption had been the age-old idiom everything
happened for a reason. So when Mickey walked into the Durac fuelling station and restaurant on Wilgrin
and had been befriended by Clifton, he’d believed that maybe his being on the island was for a good
reason. When Clifton had informed him that he’d need to find a job to get enough money to live either on
Wilgrin or to be able to buy enough fuel and fly to another planet, Mickey had gladly accepted the job
offered to him. He actually hated waiting tables; it was a task he’d been forced to undertake when he’d
lived on Rodeiro by the Master, and it was a job he’d begrudgingly accepted from Clifton.

He’d been working in Durac for all of three hours the day Carl and his buddies had walked into the room.

“Hey, Clifton! When did you start hiring fairies?” Carl sneered in Mickey’s direction.

Looking up hesitantly, Mickey grimaced at the other men before he returned to wiping the table in front of
him.

“Don’t come in here starting trouble, Carl,” Clifton warned the other man, “I don’t care who your daddy
is, I’ll kick your ass out of here so fast your head will spin.”

“Aaww, Clifton. I’m just playing with the fairy,” Carl said with a thin smile.

Mickey turned and saw the gleam in the other boy’s eyes and felt his heart pound in fear.

Oh. Carl wanted to play with him alright, and it wasn’t the fun kind of playing Mickey usually got into. It
was the kind that would see Mickey dead on the side of the road there in Wilgrin, or hell, even back
home, in pieces. Mickey did not want to play with Carl. Even if the tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired,
blue-eyed man was beautiful. Turning back to the table, Mickey dried the surface before collecting his tub
of dirty dishes and quickly made his way to the back.

“Hey there, pretty man… where ya’ goin’?” Carl’s voice was mocking as he stepped into Mickey’s path,
staring down at him, his blue eyes hard glints of anger and fierceness.

“I’m just trying to do my job, sir. Please let me by,” Mickey asked, detesting the small note of trembling in
his tone. Gods, when the fuck had he become this simpering, whimpering mass of flesh?

Shoving away the image of his ex-boyfriend and the doctor who’d delivered the news that had inevitably
caused the former man to take off, Mickey returned his attention back to the present. He had to find some
kind of way to deal with Carl. Carl, who stood in front of him, closer now, the fabric of his brown shirt
grazing the back of Mickey’s hand where it lay holding up the tub of dirty dishes. Carl, who was currently
clenching and unclenching both of his fists as he looked down at Mickey with a sneer.

“I’ve got a job you can do, fairy,” Carl said, causing his friends to laugh as if the words were the funniest
ever said on the planet.

Mickey rolled his eyes and pushed past Carl without a word. He’d been dealing with bullies like Carl his
entire life. They thought they ran the world just because they were bigger, wealthier, and prettier than
everyone else. Mickey had been driven off his home planet because of bullies like Carl, so he knew how
to deal with them. Never let them see that they were having any type of impact on you.

Hearing the yelling and jeers coming from Carl and his buddies, Mickey swallowed thickly and continued
to move forward. He was determined not to let the other men get to him.

They wouldn’t break him. His father had tried, his older brothers had almost succeeded, and he’d been
close to shattering when his ex, Lance, had taken off, leaving Mickey stranded in the doctor’s office. But
he hadn’t broken. No matter how close he’d gotten, he’d never actually let someone break his spirit.

Mickey sniffled as he placed the tub of dirty dishes on the counter and wiped his cheeks.

He wouldn’t think about the tears streaming down his face or the ache in his gut that told him he was close
to breaking at that moment. He had a job to do; he could hurt later.

When he’d returned to the dining room, Carl and his cronies had disappeared and Mickey had been glad
for the reprieve. Smiling over at Clifton, Mickey headed towards the tables littered with dirty dishes, his
mind drifting over how much money he had in his lurel account. Just another two or three weeks of
working at Durac and he should have enough money to take his shuttle over to Medolc, a planet known for
being species-tolerant. Mickey just knew that whenever he got there, he would find a man who would
love him for who he was. All of him.

*

*

*

*

*

*

When his shift was over, Mickey waved goodbye to Clifton and promised to be safe getting back to his
quarters. Tired of sleeping in his shuttle, he’d rented a three-room living space after his first pay-out from
Durac. His quarters weren’t the best out there, but they were decent and usually by the end of his shift,
Mickey couldn’t wait to get home. Stepping outside of Durac, he pulled the collar of his coat up around
his ears and turned towards his building. He only had five blocks to go and the thought of eating a nice
helping of the bread pudding he’d made just the night before caused him to walk quicker.

He would always maintain it was the thought of bread pudding and a small glass of brandy that caused
him not to notice that Carl and his buddies were waiting for him and not the fact that the other men had
been so stealthy.

“Hey there, fairy. You sure it’s smart to be walking the streets all by yourself? What if someone steps on
you and yanks off your wings?” Carl sneered at him.

Mickey swallowed and squared his shoulders. He would not back down in the face of these idiots. “Look,
Carl, I won’t be on Wilgrin for long, so why don’t you just let me by?” He was very proud of himself for
how steady and sure his voice sounded.

“Look, Carl, I won’t be on Wilgrin for long,” Carl mocked him, making his voice higher and softer in an
attempt to replicate Mickey’s lilting tone. “I know you won’t be on Wilgrin for long. As a matter of fact,
I’m going to make sure you’re not even in the same atmosphere as Wilgrin ever again.” Gesturing to his
friends, Carl’s mouth pulled up into a thin smile.

Not waiting around to see what they had planned for him, Mickey yanked out the baton he always kept in
his bag and swung it out at the ones closest to him. Hearing them howl in pain, Mickey turned and started
to run as hard and as fast as he could, Clifton’s words resounding in his head. You stun the ones you can
and then run from the rest. Your life is more important than trying to prove how much of a man you
are. A real man knows when to run.

So he’d run, the shouts and jeers of Carl and the other three remaining men following behind him. Now he
was pressed against the wall, gasping for breath and hoping the person inside the carriage was friend and
not foe. He didn’t have any family left, no one who would really care if he lived or died. No one except
him, but if he was already dead, would he really care? Tearing his frantic mind away from its chaotic
ramblings, Mickey leaned forward just slightly and saw the black carriage with its large red and gold
crest of a lion holding a saber on the side of it still sitting in the middle of the street. Shit. Must be foe

then, he reasoned.

“Well, are you coming or not?” A voice called from inside the carriage, seconds before the door opened.
Mickey barely restrained the shiver trying to wrack his frame at the sound of the dark whiskey voice. Yes,
this was just what he needed, to get an erection while he was running for his life.

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” he called out in a trembling voice as he took a hesitant step
forward.

The stranger’s chuckle, powerful and rumbling like thunder in the distance, sounded from the distant seat.
Mickey found himself more and more intrigued by his knight in shining armour with each passing second.
Gods, he really hoped the other guy didn’t kill him because he would love to get to know him better.
Well, you know, if the other guy wasn’t some old, really fat guy with a really sexy voice. Mickey freely
admitted he was shallow on his best day, and while he would accept the other man’s help if he was
indeed an old, really fat guy with a sexy voice, Mickey would not try to get to know him better. At least
not in the purely sweaty, physical way he’d been considering seconds before.

“No, I’m not going to kill you. I give you my word, but from the sound of the men who were chasing you,
they cannot offer you the same promise,” the stranger pointed out wisely.

Remembering that he was running from Carl and the other members of the “Idiot Brigade”

Mickey raced towards the open carriage door, waving his hand at the driver who made a move to get
down to help him inside.

“I got it. Just go once I get inside okay?” he huffed out to the older man with a smile seconds before he
threw himself onto the plush, red-cushioned seat inside. He was glad he’d judged where his saviour was
sitting correctly. He would have hated to have thrown himself into the lap of the other man.

“Perhaps you would like to sit in the seat properly?” the amused voice of the other man wafted over
Mickey’s senses and he sat up with a smile. Turning to look at the man who’d stopped to help him,
Mickey gasped.

__________________________________________________________________Chapter Two oly
shit. Maybe he should have tried to jump into the other man’s lap after all.

His mysterious hero was all long limbs, muscles, and delicious gorgeousness H rolled into one. Oh,
Mickey had never seen himself as being lucky before, but he was definitely considering himself to be a
lucky boy right then. Happy Birthday to me.

The snort of laughter from the other man let Mickey know he’d spoken his thoughts aloud, and he blushed
fiercely. Great, first he looked like a weak, cowardly man in desperate need of rescuing, and then he had
to open his mouth and show how much of a simpering idiot he was. There went any chance he might have
had with the other man.

“So are you going to tell me what your name is?” the gorgeous man questioned him.

Swallowing thickly and cursing his cock, which had chosen that particular moment to thicken behind the
placket of his breeches, Mickey smiled widely before answering. He hoped against hope the other man
would focus on his face and pay no attention to the bulge he was desperately trying to hide. “My name is
Michael Monroe, but Clifton calls me Mickey,” he answered.

“Aaahhh. I know Clifton. Owner of Durac, correct?” the other man stated, the words sounding like more
of a statement than an actual question.

Though the question was obviously rhetorical, Mickey nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Yes, that’s him.” Looking around the luxurious vehicle, Mickey ran the tips of his fingertips over the
seat, his eyes taking in the opulence that surrounded him. “So what’s your name?” he asked shyly.

“I wondered how long it would take you to ask me,” the older man chuckled. “My name is Evander
Cavendish.”

Mickey gasped. Everyone knew Evander Cavendish, the Duke of Worthington. The man practically
owned Wilgrin. Mickey had heard stories about the duke’s kindness, but he’d never heard anyone say
anything about how gorgeous the duke was. Allowing his eyes to drift over Evander's features, Mickey
allowed himself to appreciate the beauty he sat across from.

There were a number of differences between Mickey and the duke. Evander’s hair was thick and brown,
tapered to his neck, whereas Mickey’s hair was blond. While still cut short, the strands fell forward on
his forehead. Evander’s eyes were a warm brown like polished copper whereas Mickey’s were blue.
Then there was, of course, Evander’s huge, tanned, hulking frame as compared to Mickey’s thin, short,
slender one. Evander’s legs stretched forward and almost touched the seat Mickey sat on.

“Fuck, you’re tall,” he breathed. He’d always had a thing for tall men. It made him feel protected, and
he’d spent enough of his life being threatened, beat up, and bullied that finding someone who made him
feel safe was a big deal.

“And you’re gorgeous,” Evander’s voice was a low growl and Mickey whimpered.

“Will you think me loose if I beg you to fuck me?” He asked Evander, hoping against hope he wasn’t
misreading the look in the duke’s eyes.

“Not at all. Will you think I’m taking advantage of you if I demand you come over to my side of the
carriage so I can fuck you?” Evander asked.

Not giving himself any more time to think things through and ignoring the trembling in his belly his doctor
had warned him of, Mickey crossed over to Evander’s side of the carriage, placing his knees on either
side of Evander’s waist.

“Hi,” he whispered, the feeling of Evander’s thick erection pressed against his ass yanking the power
from his voice.

“Hi back,” Evander whispered back before taking his hand and pressing it against the back of Mickey’s

head, bringing Mickey’s lips closer to his own.

At the first taste of the duke, Mickey’s mind melted and he tried to press as close as he could to Evander.
He heard the low groan rumbling up from Evander’s chest and he smiled in satisfaction even as his hands
fumbled with the buttons on Evander’s shirt. He wanted to cry out in happiness and satisfaction the
moment his hands pressed against the warm flesh of Evander’s chest. The muscles flexing and moving
beneath his fingers made Mickey wish they were in a bed somewhere rather than in a cramped carriage.
He pressed closer as he allowed Evander to plunder the deepest recesses of his mouth, even as his hands
fumbled with the button on the front of Mickey’s breeches. The cool air seeping in through the windows of
the carriage drifted over his exposed skin and Mickey shivered, the wind firing his desire hotter and
brighter than ever before.

“Damn. You taste delicious,” Evander stated. His husky voice sent shivers down Mickey’s spine even as
Evander pushed his hands down the back of Mickey’s pants. Mickey whimpered at the feel of Evander’s
wide fingers gripping the globes of his ass. He hissed in pleasure as Evander squeezed his cheeks. His
hiss turned into a groan as the tip of Evander’s fingers traced along the crease of Mickey’s buttocks, one
finger tracing the tightly puckered entrance of Mickey’s ass.

The sharp sting of Evander’s teeth on the skin of his neck caused Mickey to whimper as his fingers
squeezed on the hard pecs of Evander’s chest. Frantic with need, Mickey jerked off Evander’s shirt,
taking the black suit jacket off as well. He wanted to shout with elation the minute he felt those large
hands jerking his pants and underwear down and off. Mickey shimmied and stood in a hunched position as
he attempted to help Evander get him undressed.

Once he was fully unclothed, Mickey didn’t allow Evander to stop and admire him, instead taking the
initiative to yank down Evander’s pants. Mickey’s eyes widened as he took in the impressive size of the
Evander’s genitalia. From Evander’s long, thick cock to his large, low hanging balls, the duke was a study
of genital perfection. Added to his broad, muscled torso and long, tightly muscled thighs and calves, all
encased in gorgeous tan skin, and it took every ounce of Mickey’s self-restraint to not fall to his knees and
worship at his feet.

Although being on his knees might not have been such a bad idea. Actually, being in front of that long
piece of physical beauty, close enough to taste it, might have been the most brilliant idea Mickey had ever
had.

Running with the desire slamming against his ribcage, Mickey knelt in between Evander's knees and
wrapped his hand tightly around Evander’s hard cock. The feeling of velvet wrapped around steel caused
Mickey to join his moan with Evander’s as he gently squeezed the throbbing shaft in his hand. Leaning
forward, he swirled the tip of his tongue around the head of the leaking shaft.

“Fuck, Mickey,” Evander breathed and Mickey chuckled low in his throat before lifting his head.

“Promise?” he teased with a wink before he lowered his head back over Evander’s thick penis and
sucked the translucent fluids clinging to its slit into his mouth. The salty, but surprisingly sweet flavour of
the duke exploded over Mickey’s taste buds, and he groaned low in his throat. Fuck, Evander tasted
amazing, and Mickey could feel himself getting addicted to the taste of Evander’s seed on his tongue. He

could spend the rest of his life sucking that cock and never get bored.

The feeling of Evander’s wet finger on the guardian muscle of Mickey’s ass instantly made him amend his
earlier statement: while he would thoroughly enjoy sucking the duke’s cock for the rest of his life, he
would rather spend the rest of his life being fucked by it. Pulling his lips off of Evander’s cock, Mickey’s
head tilted back as he tried to fuck his ass on the two fingers Evander pressed deep inside his hole. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt someone’s fingers in his ass. Well, fingers that weren’t his own.
Even his ex-boyfriend, Lance, hadn’t gotten this far before…

Stopping that train of thought before it could take root in his mind, Mickey focused on sucking and
drooling saliva all over the hardened cock of his handsome saviour. He wanted to make sure that when
Evander started to pound his huge cock into Mickey’s ass the only thing he felt was that small pinch of
pain he lived for and the pleasure he would die for. Perhaps a little too dramatic, but still oh. So.
Delicious. Mickey hummed as Evander pressed three slick fingers into his ass and pressed back, wiggling
it slightly and hoping Evander caught his hint. When Evander began to pump his fingers in and out of
Mickey’s ass, he shivered in happiness. Oh yeah, that was what he’d wanted, right there.

“More.” The word was garbled as Mickey gagged on Evander’s cock as it pressed into the back of his
throat. He whimpered when Evander pulled his fingers free from Mickey’s ass and lifted him up from
Evander’s hard, delicious cock.

“No, mine,” Mickey whimpered, trying to take Evander’s dick back into his mouth.

Evander chuckled and Mickey lifted his head to look up at him. He stuck his tongue out at Evander and
moved back to straddle his lap. Lowering his head, Mickey took Evander’s lips with his own and sucked
his tongue into his mouth as he pressed his ass backwards. He trembled as the tip of Evander’s cock
pressed against the tightly clenched hole of his ass. He’d thought he could do it, but feeling the sheer size
of Evander’s cock against his hole caused Mickey’s ass to tense while he reconsidered his decision.

The feeling of Evander’s hands gliding up and down his skin, as if memorizing every small detail of
Mickey’s body, eliminated the trepidation running through his mind. Pressing his ass down, Mickey
exhaled and forced his body to relax, the burn radiating from his tightly stretched hole and through his
limbs. It was a delicious burn, one he’d been seeking for a long time. The bite of pain blossomed into
pleasure, and as Mickey took more of Evander’s cock into his chute, he groaned out in intense pleasure.
This was beyond his wildest dreams. Evander’s cock filled him completely, the large organ feeling as if it
were made to fill Mickey’s tight channel.

The doctor’s words, a proclamation that Mickey’s condition would come into fruition when he met up
with his genetic match, were a distant buzz in his head as he sank down fully onto Evander’s dick. As he
came to rest on his lap, Mickey sighed in satisfaction.

“Yes,” he breathed out, the feeling of rightness filling his chest.

“Time to ride,” Evander told him before grabbing onto Mickey’s waist and lifting him slightly before
slamming Mickey back down on his cock. The drag of Evander’s dick across his prostate as Mickey was
lifted up caused him to groan. The feeling sent a jolt of electric desire zinging through his body and

Mickey sighed as he was once again lowered onto Evander’s shaft.

Up and down Mickey moved, Evander’s dick slamming up into his ass quickly before withdrawing
slowly.

The rhythm of Evander’s thrusting into his ass caused Mickey to wail loudly within the confines of the
carriage in pleasure. The fire and tingles shooting through his every nerve ending, the lightning flashing
behind his eyelids, fried every neuron in Mickey’s brain. He wrapped his arms around Evander’s neck
and squeezed. His head fell back as pleasure swamped his senses as Evander began thrusting in and out of
his channel faster and harder. Mickey squeezed his eyes closed and opened his mouth as he wailed
Evander’s name. His body trembled as the nerves in his body sizzled and his pleasure exploded through
the top of his cock in a torrent of seed, splattering across their torsos.

It wasn’t long before Evander clutched Mickey close to his chest as his hips began thrusting faster and
faster before he yelled Mickey’s voice hoarsely. Mickey’s insides quivered as Evander’s sperm flooded
his channel. Mickey could feel the moment when Evander’s genetics mixed with his own and Evander’s
seed took root inside of his body.

Suddenly the doctor’s words came through with a shout of intense clarity and Mickey froze even as his
limbs continued to tremble. Holy fucking shit balls. Evander was his genetic match, which meant…

Mickey had just gotten pregnant from the duke.

Chapter
Three_________________________________________________________________

ickey’s body tensed and he pushed back from Evander’s chest where he’d been pressed. His eyes ran
over Evander’s attractive features while he tried to M come to grips with what he’d just done. He was
such a fucking idiot. Lance had broken up with him, deserted him at the doctor’s office, after they’d been
told they were not a genetic match and therefore would be unable to procreate.

Memories of the day he’d last seen his ex-boyfriend drifted through his mind and Mickey was helpless to
stop them.

*

*

*

*

*

*

Lance had really wanted to have children; Mickey had really wanted to have Lance.

Finding out they weren’t a match for each other had upset Mickey, but it had devastated Lance.

When the doctor left the room to give them time to talk, Lance, with his black hair, hazel brown eyes, and
slim frame had looked down at Mickey as if he were a bug stuck to the bottom of Lance's favourite
walking stick.

“You deceived me,” Lance spat at him.

Mickey blinked at him in shock. What the hell was Lance talking about? He must have been making
another joke. Lance loved to make jokes. He just never knew when to stop with the jokes, and perhaps
this was just a joke that didn’t have a punch-line. Unless the punch-line was that Mickey had deceived his
lover. Lance was always telling Mickey how honest he was, so for him to turn around and essentially call
Mickey a liar had to be a joke.

Coughing out a laugh, Mickey shook his head. “Funny, Lance. I know you’re upset about what the doctor
said, but what does he know? He could be wrong. We’re plenty compatible, and of course we’re a
genetic match. I’m glad we decided to wait to have sex so they can fix whatever is broken with us. I’ve
heard that male Rodeirons who can get pregnant usually get pregnant the first time they have sex with
whoever their genetic match is. So now they can fix whatever’s wrong so when we make love the first
time, we can get pregnant right then, instead of waiting.” Mickey was sure Lance was speaking out of
frustration, anger, and a little bit of fear.

“The doctor hasn’t made a mistake. You are not my genetic match, though you told me we were made for
each other,” Lance growled and Mickey slowly slid off the hospital bed. He backed up until his back
pressed against the wall as Lance advanced towards him. He’d never seen Lance like this before. He
looked and sounded… angry. What the hell was his problem?

Didn’t he know that Mickey felt like they were made for each other? He wasn’t a doctor or a scientist; he
didn’t know for sure they were matches. How could he?

“L-Lance,” he stammered out, hearing the fear trembling its way through his words.

Lance growled low before turning with an angry huff and walking away. Mickey stood there, plastered
against the wall while he waited for Lance to calm down and return to him, to apologize for getting so
angry. Lance never returned, however, and instead hours passed as Mickey sat in the doctor’s office,
waiting for a man who would never come back to him. The doctor finally asked him to leave, stating that
“the other gentleman” he was with had already left.

Mickey had felt beyond stupid and had, by sheer force of will, held back his tears until he’d arrived home
at Monroe Manor, affectionately called M & M by those within their community.

Walking into the door, feeling alone and so dejected he didn’t think he’d ever smile again, he’d overheard
a conversation between his father and three older brothers that had stopped his heart and made his blood
run cold.

“I got a pretty good price for him,” Royce Monroe had said with a hint of glee and disgust in his voice.

“Someone actually wants to buy the little fairy?” Grentin, Mickey’s eldest brother, sneered. Mickey
shivered at his brother’s words. Wait, his father was selling him? For what? To be a servant in
someone’s home or something?

“Yeah. Apparently they took one look at his picture and dreamed up an entire host of things they would
like to do to and with him. The guy practically begged me and offered to give me whatever I asked for,”
Royce sounded practically giddy while Mickey felt physically ill.

His father and brothers were selling him to some stranger to do whatever he wanted to do to Mickey?
What the hell had he done to deserve their contempt? Their disgust? What was so wrong with him? Was it
because he was gay? No, that couldn’t be it. His older brother, David, was gay and everyone knew it. So
why him? What made him so special—or so not special?

His mind screamed at him to go in the room and confront them all, that little piece of his inner giant that
told him he was both bigger and way stronger than what he actually was. For the first time in a while, he
ignored the loud, overbearing voice and instead listened to the soft voice that told him to pack up and
leave. Which was exactly what he’d done and how he’d wound up on Wilgrin and in the carriage with a
duke, naked, with cum splattered across his torso and some of it leaking out of his ass… pregnant with the
duke’s baby before he even got a chance to tell Evander that he was a Rodeiron breeder.

That conversation should go well, right?

Right?

*

*

*

*

*

*

Looking at Evander, Mickey opened his mouth to tell him that he was pretty sure they were going to be
having a baby in nine months when the man in question took his lips in a deeply passionate kiss. Mickey
melted. He could tell Evander later. They had nine months to get used to the idea, right? Mickey could use
one of those months to tell Evander that he was going to be a father in however many months they had left
by that point.

Feeling Evander’s hands on his ass, Mickey whimpered as he pressed closer before he realized that the
carriage had come to a halt. Tearing his mouth away from Evander’s, Mickey pushed aside the curtains in
the vehicle to see outside and gasped at the expanse of trees and the extremely large estate where they
currently sat. Looking back at Evander in surprise, Mickey turned to look back out of the window again,
not believing what he was seeing. Blinking rapidly a few times, he rubbed his eyes with the side of his
fingers before looking again.

Nope. The house is still there. Actually, mausoleum would probably be a more apt description, Mickey
muttered to himself. Turning to look at Evander, he shook his head in amazement before lifting himself
slowly off Evander’s lap, groaning as Evander’s softened cock slipped from his ass. Pushing himself into
the corner of the other cushioned seat, Mickey took a few deep breaths in order to calm his racing heart.
Who slept with a man who probably had men and women throwing themselves at him all the time?
Someone with so much blunt in his pocket that he probably laughed at Mickey’s small pay check?

Apparently Mickey.

Wonderful. Now how in the world was he supposed to tell Evander he was pregnant? No doubt the duke
heard that many times, over and over again from many different people all looking to get something from
him. And while everyone knew that Rodeirons, both male and female, could get pregnant, the Rodeirons
were known for staying on their planet and procreating there so as to not freak out the inhabitants of other
planets when they saw a pregnant man walking around. More than that, everyone knew that while being
gay, dating gay, or even getting married gay was not illegal on Wilgrin, it was still very much frowned
upon by many of the more powerful members of the ton. Much like being a man able to get pregnant was
on Rodeiro.

While many thought it was a wonderful gift from the gods, giving the people of Rodeiro the opportunity to
always keep their planet populated, even if the entire planet turned gay, there were still many who looked

down on male breeders.

Mickey had been overlooked and abused and beaten up for being who he was. Thing was, he knew he had
to have some supernatural powers in addition to being able to get pregnant.

Wasn’t that the way it worked? That was the way it worked in all of the romance novels he and Clifton
read. And didn’t art imitate life?

Jerking his mind back to the matter at hand, Mickey grabbed his clothes from the floor and began to pull
them on hastily as he ignored Evander where he sat, slowly righting his own clothes as he watched
Mickey warily. He would talk toEvander as soon as he got his thoughts together. His mind was currently a
mass of frantic, jumbled images, words, and alarming truths of his own inadequacies that he could not
form one word to speak to the duke. While that may not have been bad to others, Mickey knew it meant
there was only a little bit of time until he would explode and say something completely stupid. His brain
would wade through all of the crazy and pull out the most random shit to transmit to his mouth. His mouth,
of course, would follow orders and spew out the ridiculous, asinine, idiotic words, and he would come
off looking like the world’s biggest idiot.

“You must have a lot of blunt to have a house this nice. So which of your parents had the money and
which one had the looks?” he burst out before covering his mouth in horror.

Yep. Just like that.

__________________________________________________________________Chapter Four ickey
squeaked and covered his mouth as he looked at Evander with wide eyes. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Could
a massive tornado just sweep through M and yank him out of the carriage to carry him off to some remote
planet where no one lived so that he could be a dumbass without witnesses? Please? No? Fine.

Mickey tried to frantically think of the correct way to apologize to a duke when Evander threw back his
head and laughed. Mickey’s hands dropped slowly as he stared at the prominently displayed Adam’s
apple as it bounced with the deep, rumbling sound of Evander’s laughter. The husky, erotic sound like the
rumble of carriage wheels over cobblestone. Evander’s eyes were squeezed closed as his mouth opened,
amusement spilling forth. Mickey was absolutely enchanted and totally hooked now as well. Just from
listening to him laugh. How such a big man could make such a beautiful sound was completely beyond
Mickey’s realm of imagination, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He could sit and listen to Evander
laugh all day. He could really do it if it meant he didn’t have to get out of the carriage and go into
Evander’s home.

Wait a minute; just why in the hell were they at Evander’s home anyway? It had to be Evander’s home; it
had his family crest on the walls on either side of the front door. The home also screamed opulence,
wealth and… nobility. What the fuck was he doing with Mickey?

Fucking him? Kissing him? Was the duke crazy? Mickey had never heard any rumours about his being
completely off his rocker. Then again, who in their right mind would say something against someone who
wielded such power among the galaxy? This would explain why Mickey had never heard any rumblings
about the duke being a sodomite or being into buggery of any kind. Who would dare say something like

that about the duke? No one. Not if they wanted to live.

Was that why Mickey had been brought to the duke’s home? Was he about to be permanently silenced? Oh
man, he really hadn’t planned on dying that day. Especially not now, when he might be pregnant. He had
something to live for and more than enough reasons to beg and plead for Evander to just send Mickey
away to another planet to hide his side from everyone.

“You are delightful,” Evander breathed once his chuckles ceased. “Yes, my parents were very well-off,
although they both came from money and I truly believe they were both quite attractive in their own
rights.” Mickey waited for Evander to chastise him for what he’d said about his parents’ home, but when
nothing came, he worried about what he’d admit to while asleep that night.

Holy shit. I’ve got to make sure I stay awake after he’s already asleep. Maybe I can get him to tell me
why he brought me here, because I’m sure he won’t do it while he’s awake.

So certain about his thoughts, Mickey narrowed his eyes at Evander and tried to make his voice as
persuasive as he possibly could. “So what the hell did you bring me here for?” he asked and then watched
as Evander’s shoulders stiffened slightly before he smiled slowly.

“I brought you to my home so you could see where you’d be living,” Evander stated matter-of-factly.

Mickey’s eyes widened as he stared at Evander in shock, doused with fear. Dammit! Not only had no one
told him the duke was into sodomy, but no one had told him that the duke was off his fucking rocker. Well,
that was just great. The duke, his genetic match, the only one whom Mickey could actually make a baby
with, was crazy. That was just how Mickey’s life worked out. Of course.

Sighing deeply, Mickey opened his mouth to explain to Evander how there was no way he was staying in
the home with him, at least not to live, when the door to the carriage opened.

Standing outside of the doors was an older man wearing the full livery of the duke’s staff: red jacket lined
with black, black breeches, a snow-white shirt with white cravat. The man looked up at Mickey as if his
very presence wasn’t a shock to him. It was apparently only Mickey’s hesitation to step from the carriage
that was annoying him.

“Your Grace?” the footman finally questioned hesitantly.

“Come now, Mickey, step out. I would like to show you to your new home,” Evander’s voice from behind
him was still filled with amusement, and Mickey had to squash the childish urge to turn around and stick
out his tongue. What the hell was going on? Why wasn’t anyone acting as if Mickey’s very presence was a
surprise to them? That Evander's bringing home a virtual stranger, a man, who no doubt looked like he’d
been completely and thoroughly fucked in the carriage, wasn’t a shock to them?

Perhaps it wasn’t a shock to them. Maybe Evander did this sort of thing all the time.

Maybe every man who worked in the duke’s home had been fucked more than once and brought to this
home to work for him. Did that mean Mickey would now start working for the very man whose cock he’d
just had in his mouth and ass? When would he be expected to start performing his duties? What about

when he got pregnant? What then? Mickey was pretty sure that he was the only one the duke had ever slept
with, outside of his deceased wife, who had ever been pregnant with Evander’s baby.

Narrowing his eyes at the footman, Mickey tried to determine if he’d had a relationship with Evander
when he felt the duke’s hand on his lower back. “You’re thinking too hard, pretty man. Why don’t we get
out of the carriage and you can ask me whatever you want to okay?”

Evander suggested, encouraging Mickey to step down from the carriage and come into the overly large
home.

Swallowing thickly, Mickey reminded himself not to only ask questions and demand answers from the
duke, but to offer some unknown information as well. It was the least he could do. After all, there was
nothing the duke was hiding that could be as big as what Mickey was currently hiding, right?

*

*

*

*

*

*

An hour later, Mickey followed Evander into a large bedroom filled with large, masculine furniture
composed of dark wood and dark blue fabrics. Mickey scratched his left arm lightly, disgust oozing its
way through his pores. Where was the colour? The light? Did Evander really sleep surrounded with such
absence of light? How hadn’t the man gone bloody insane yet?

Oh that’s right. He had.

“You look like you don’t like it,” Evander’s voice sounded closely behind him. Mickey swallowed as his
cock thickened in his pants. Oh, this was so the wrong time for his body to be reacting to the sound of
Evander’s voice. He’d listened to Evander for the last hour while he showed Mickey around his new
home, introducing him to the staff, and Mickey hadn’t had an iota of a sexual reaction to him. So why
now? His cock was so hard, Mickey felt as if he would be able balance on it.

He wasn’t going to test out that theory though.

“It’s very… masculine,” Mickey responded, hoping Evander would just let things drop.

He really should have known better.

“So you hate it?” Evander asked him.

Mickey nibbled on his bottom lip. What should he say? He’d always prided himself on his honesty, but he

had no idea where things stood between him and Evander. He had no idea why Evander had brought him
there. Why he was in Evander’s home when they’d only known each other for a few hours. It confused and
scared the hell out of him, and since he had no idea where they were in proximity to his suite of rooms,
Mickey had no idea how to get home if the duke should get upset and tell him to get out.

“Please be honest with me. You will be sharing this room with me. I would like for you to enjoy it,”
Evander’s eyes shone bright with honesty, flecks of gold catching in the light from the candles overhead.

“I will?” he asked in lieu of answering Evander’s question.

“Yes, you will,” Evander responded with a smile as he ran his fingers through Mickey’s hair.

“Why?” Mickey asked, the question dripping from his lips like the last few raindrops after a storm.

“You mean you don’t know yet? You couldn’t tell?” Evander sounded extremely shocked, and Mickey
was even more confused.

“Tell what? Know what? Evander, I need you to tell me what you know,” Mickey stated, his hands
reaching up to clutch Evander’s jacket lapels. If Evander already knew they were a genetic match, then
that meant he knew Mickey was Rodeiron and the probability of them having a child within the next nine
months was definite.

“That we were meant to be together. That we have a connection. Couldn’t you feel it when you got into the
carriage?” Evander’s words were deep and filled with certainty.

Mickey’s heart dropped and he swallowed thickly. Evander had felt their connection, which was a
definite good thing, but he didn’t know that Mickey was Rodeiron which meant they still had a major
hurdle to overcome. Dammit, why couldn’t things ever be easy for him?

“Well, yes, I did. I didn’t expect for you to bring me to your home, though. This is Wilgrin. Everyone
knows that---”

Evander placed his finger over Mickey’s lips and he stopped speaking. Well, that was just rude. Mickey
mentally huffed as he relaxed his surprisingly tense muscles and looked up at Evander, waiting for him to
say whatever it was that he wanted to say. Since he’d stopped Mickey from speaking and everything. If
Evander hadn’t been so goddamn gorgeous, Mickey would have kicked him in the shin for that, he’d done
a lot more to people for a lot less. But Evander was a duke, a sexy duke, and one just didn’t beat up on the
sexy. At least, not in Mickey’s world.

“Yes, this is Wilgrin, but the Wilgrin of the past, the Wilgrin that perhaps you learned about in university,
is not the Wilgrin of today,” Evander pointed out. “Yes, there are some who are against homosexuality,
who deem it to be a heinous act against the Great God, but for the most part, people are very accepting of
those whose lifestyle does not match up to their own.”

Mickey stared up at Evander in shock, feeling a little upset that the things he’d learned about in school
were archaic and incorrect. Then again, you would expect something like historical and foreign affairs
education to be swept under the rug on a planet where people were obsessed with the sciences. Mickey

had never been too good at the scientific stuff, not like his brothers or father. Perhaps that was why he
was one of the rare male breeders born on Rodeiro, because he would never live up to his potential to be
a man of math and science.

“Oh. So you’re saying that it’s okay for us to be… together… here?” Mickey asked hesitantly. He still
wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Evander wanted from him, but perhaps this was a good way to get
him to confess whatever it was that he planned to do to Mickey.

“I’m saying that not only is it okay for us to be together, but that we are going to be together,” Evander
stated, his voice firm. “I had every intention of bringing you back home when I saw you run into the alley,
but when I heard your voice and then saw your face completely…”

Evander took in a shuddering breath and Mickey was shocked by the need and yearning expressed in the
heated black depths of his eyes. “I knew that I had to have you. For more than just an hour or a day. I
needed to have you forever.” He nodded down at Mickey as if coming to a decision in his head. “And I
will,” those words, said in a tone so firm, so decided, brooked no argument, not from anyone.

Especially Mickey.

Mickey opened his mouth when there was a knock on the door. Evander walked over to the door to
answer it, his shirt thrown haphazardly on the bed, his white cravat hanging limply around his neck as he
opened it. Mickey looked through the cracked door and saw David, Evander’s valet.

“Your Grace, the vicar is here, as is your solicitor, who has procured the special license you asked for.
They await you in the green dining room,” David said before bowing to Evander and Mickey. Mickey
grinned broadly when the valet gave him a little wink before straightening to his full height, which wasn’t
much.

“Thank you, David,” Evander’s words were haughty, his tone almost disparaging, as if he were looking
down on David. Mickey thought that was just… rude for Evander to treat his valet that way and began a
mental list of things he needed to speak with Evander about. The first of which was the fact that he was
pretty certain he was pregnant.

Especially since Rodeirons knew within hours of conception whether there was a babe or not, and
Mickey definitely knew that he was carrying the duke’s baby.

“Come, Mickey. You heard: David, William, and Gregory are here. We’re going downstairs to get
married.”

Mickey’s ass clenched as Evander’s words swept over his senses. Holy fucking shit balls.

He was beyond screwed now.

Chapter
Five__________________________________________________________________

ickey looked around the room at the men present and knew he was going to vomit at any minute, and not
just because of the whole being-pregnant-with-M the-duke’s-baby shit either. No, he was going to vomit
because he was standing in a room with a duke, a vicar, and witnesses who were going to watch him
marry said duke. He was about to get married. To a duke. Someone he’d only met a few hours before.
Him.

Married. To a duke.

What the hell was he doing?

Mickey opened his mouth to tell the vicar he’d changed his mind when the words he was saying
penetrated the haze of his brain. “… vested unto me by the province of Worthington of the planet Wilgrin,
in alliance with the Intergalactical Council, I now pronounce you married.

You may kiss your husband, Your Grace.”

Mickey let out a very unmanly squeak when Evander pulled him tightly into his arms and kissed him
deeply and passionately until Mickey’s knees buckled and his brain melted. Only when Mickey was
whimpering with need against his lips did Evander pull away from him, a smug grin of satisfaction
quirking the left side of mouth and his left eyebrow rising independently of the other as he looked down at
Mickey. Mickey rolled his eyes even as he attempted to stand on his own without collapsing into a puddle
of “Mickey-goo.” At Evander’s deep chuckle, Mickey pushed his husband away from him and brushed
his hands down the front of his borrowed suit jacket with a harrumph of agitation. Bastard. Why did he
have to go and marry someone so arrogant?

His mind came to a screeching halt. Holy fuck! He was married? Married? What the hell?

Hadn’t he been trying to stop the wedding? What the fuck had stopped him from protesting?

The delicious glide of Evander’s arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist, the soft press of his lips to
Mickey’s temple caused his heart to stutter in his chest. The rapid-fire questions grew silent and his cock
grew hard… again.

Oh yeah, that’s what stopped me.

“Would you gentlemen please join me and my new husband for drinks?” Evander addressed the room
with a smile. Mickey shook his head and placed a hand on his stomach. At a questioning look from
Gregory, by far the sexiest vicar Mickey had ever seen in his life, he merely shook his head and offered
him a small smile.

“None for me. I don’t really drink,” he lied, crossing the first and second fingers of his left hand in hopes
that the Great God would forgive him for the falsehood.

Mickey ignored the dual looks of shock from Evander and David and the speculative look from Gregory
as he turned towards William. William, Evander’s solicitor, was a gorgeous man, with his curly brown
hair, light green eyes, and an infectious smile. He stood with an almost relaxed grace and when he
laughed, it made everyone laugh. Mickey liked him immediately, and if the looks passing between
William and David were any indication, he wasn’t the only one.

There had to be a reason why William and David had not gotten together yet. Determined to get to the
bottom of things, because William deserved to be happy and because he was just extremely curious,
Mickey placed his hand lightly on William’s arm.

“So William, have you worked for His Grace long?” Mickey asked with a smile, Evander’s arm around
his waist a welcome heat against his side.

William was prevented from responding when the front door went crashing back against the door. Mickey
jumped slightly and turned to look at the entrance to the drawing room, his heart pounding in his chest. He
had a very bad feeling. Butterflies ran a marathon in his gut; his palms flowed with sweat like the Lurany
River, a disgusting river filled with the refuse of the province of Worthington, and a lump of vomit lodged
itself in his throat, causing his mouth to fill with saliva.

“Aaahhh and here comes the prodigal son,” Evander’s tone was hard and filled with disappointment.
“Late as always and probably reeking of booze and filled with indignation at his father’s ‘chosen’
lifestyle.”

Mickey turned to look up at Evander in shock. “The who?”

Looking completely sheepish, his shoulders hunching forward slightly, Evander grinned apologetically at
him. Mickey’s eyes narrowed at Evander’s gorgeous face—it totally got easier to believe every time—
and snapped his hands to his hips.

“Who. Is. Here. Evander?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh dear, Father, did you go and find another sodomite to marry? And you didn’t even invite your one and
only son until the last minute? I must say, I’m crushed,” a deep voice said from behind him, and Mickey
felt his stomach drop. The icy tendrils of fear traced their way up his spine and every muscle locked in
place. He knew that voice. He’d only heard that voice earlier that day; the last time had been when he’d
been running from the person the voice belonged to.

“You will not talk about my husband in such a way, Carl, is that understood? You may say whatever you
want to me, but you will not speak that way about someone who does not deserve your scorn,” Evander’s
voice was filled with steel and anger.

Mickey wanted to be touched by Evander’s concern and protective attitude, he really did, but the only
thing his mind could think of, be touched by, was the fact he’d just married into the family of the man
who’d tried to kill him earlier that day. Was it just his imagination, or could it be possible that the Great
God was pissed at him for some infraction Mickey had committed and was punishing him thoroughly?
Would it be sacrilegious for him to fall to his knees, tear his clothes, and pour ashes on his head in

repentance for whatever it was he’d done wrong?

Mickey was just trying to figure out exactly how much ash he had to pour on his head when Evander
touched his left cheek in a gentle caress. Mickey leaned into the touch and felt something within him sigh.
Warmth fell over him, like a warm coverlet, a feeling of peace settling into his bones, and Mickey knew
he would be okay.

Hopefully.

“Well then, let’s meet him, shall we? My new dad. The man trying to replace my mother,” Carl’s tone
was mocking and Mickey bristled, his hands clenching into fists as he thought about pounding Carl’s head
into the ground. You know, after Evander held Carl down for him. “Lookee here, Dad, looks like your
new husband is shy,” Carl spat the words and Mickey flinched before he took a deep breath and turned to
face new stepson.

Carl Cavendish, the heir to the dukedom, and Mickey’s tormentor. Absolutely fantastic.

Good work there, Great God. Got any more surprises up your sleeve for me? Perhaps a demon dog
who sleeps in the same room as Evander and hates Rodeirons?

“Bloody hell! Are you fucking kidding me? You had to go and marry the tosser from Durac? Are you daft?
You’ve gone and been gulled by this fop!” Carl’s voice rose with each word until he was yelling at
Evander, his face bright red, spittle flying from his lips. Mickey looked at Carl’s clenched fists and knew
that if Evander hadn’t been holding onto him, if Mickey had been in the room alone, Carl would not have
stopped until he’d killed Mickey.

That didn’t bode well for Mickey living in the house with him.

“Carl, I will not tell you again. You will not disrespect my husband in our home. Do you understand?
You’re acting extremely rag-mannered right now and we have guests. Now you will welcome your
stepfather into our family and then you and I will have a talk. Do I make myself clear?” Evander’s voice
was low, his tone firm and clear, and Mickey swallowed back the moan threatening to leap from his lips
at the sound. Gods, did being pregnant make you horny? It hadn’t even been a day, so maybe it wasn’t the
horniness so much as it was just Evander. The man oozed sexy and was the embodiment of every last one
of Mickey’s most graphic dreams.

So why the fuck did he have to have Carl for a son? Talk about completely ruining a fantasy. Mickey
barely restrained a sigh of exasperation and took a small step to the side to press himself even more
firmly into Evander’s side as Carl growled low in his throat before stepping forward. Mickey watched as
Carl took a few steps towards him and held out his hand for Mickey to shake. The reassuring squeeze of
Evander’s arm around his waist gave Mickey the courage to hold out his own hand without fear that Carl
had an invisible axe in his other hand, ready to chop it off. Mickey let out a squeal when Carl hauled him
close to his chest and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Mickey could hear Evander’s delight at
his son’s supposed, reluctant acceptance of his new stepparent, and barely managed to swallow back the
scream of terror trying to force its way up his throat and out of his mouth. The claws of fear embedded
themselves in his throat, forcing the vomit that had lodged itself there even higher than it had been earlier.

Evander turned back to finish his conversation with Gregory, William, and David speaking in frantic
tones over in the corner, leaving Mickey in Carl’s arms. A room full of men bigger than he and Mickey
was well-aware that if Carl really wanted to kill him, he could pull it off before anyone got to him.

“You listen to me, you light-skirted queer. Don’t get comfortable. You’re not staying.

I’m giving you two days to gather your shit and get out of my father’s house, out of Worthington, and off
Wilgrin. I would kill you now, but I have no plans on having my father turn me in to the authorities
because I killed his new husband. He knows I hate queers, but he doesn’t know just. How. Much. So you
leave and you never come back. Got me?” Carl’s voice was low and menacing, sending a shiver of dread
crawling up Mickey’s spine to wind itself around his muscles, bones and organs and embed itself into his
brain.

“G-gotcha,” Mickey stammered, wincing as Carl’s grip on him turned into an almost crushing one.

“Good.” Carl released Mickey and grinned down at him. Mickey could see the ill-intent, the promise of
stiff retribution if Mickey didn’t do exactly as he said, and the cold, dark menace lurking in his gorgeous
eyes. Eyes that beautiful were wasted on a psychopath. “I think we’re going to get along great, Dad,” Carl
reassured Evander, even as he smiled down at Mickey.

Mickey grinned thinly back and hoped Evander was a heavy sleeper because he didn’t put it past Carl not
to kill him if he saw him the next day for some reason. It would suck to abandon his husband, but as he felt
the faint stirrings of the child he’d created with Evander take root in his abdomen, Mickey knew he would
do whatever he had to do for his child.

___________________________________________________________________Chapter Six s
Evander and Mickey prepared for bed that night, Mickey’s mind moved over how quickly his life had
change in just under a day. He’d almost been killed, A had been rescued by a handsome stranger, found
out said stranger was a duke, had sex with the duke, married the duke, and become stepfather to the very
man who had earlier tried to kill him.

There was also the whole being pregnant thing, but Mickey didn’t want to think about that too much.

Shrugging off his inner musings, Mickey climbed between the sheets of the massive bed, sighing in
exhaustion and relief as his body began to relax. His eyes slid closed even as he felt the press of
Evander’s lips on his bare shoulder. He felt his body start to heat up even as exhaustion tried to pull him
down into slumber. It was very weird that, having his body react to stimulation by his husband while his
mind tried to get his body to sleep. Evander had kept a steady buzz of passion brewing beneath Mickey’s
skin all through drinks and dinner and the musical entertainment that had followed shortly after. He
always made sure some part of his body was touching some part of Mickey’s body, making Mickey
hyperaware of his husband, his every nerve programmed now to react every time Evander was near.

Right now was no different. Mickey groaned as his cock hardened, thickening from where it lay against
his left thigh until it lay against his stomach, oozing the fluid evidence of his arousal. While Evander
played his body like a violin, an instrument Mickey had found out his husband played quite well only that
evening, Mickey’s limbs grew heavy with sleep. His body was certainly amenable to the kisses, licks,

and gentle caresses he was receiving from Evander, but his mind was desperate for sleep. Groaning,
Mickey lifted a heavy hand to push at Evander’s chest, trying to push him away. He felt more than heard
Evander’s chuckle against his shoulder.

“Would you deny me on our honeymoon night, my husband?” Evander asked. Mickey’s head tilted back of
its own accord as Evander’s lips moved from his jaw and down the line of his neck.

“I don’t want to deny you, Evander, I’m just really tired,” he admitted, hoping Evander wouldn't be upset
by that news.

“That’s perfectly okay. I’ll just make love to you thoroughly in order to make sure you have a good night’s
rest,” Evander promised before gripping Mickey’s cock in his right hand and giving it a squeeze before
stroking it slowly. Mickey moaned low in his throat, lifting his heavy limb to press it against Evander’s
chest again to no avail.

“Do you want me to get closer?” Evander asked as he nuzzled against Mickey’s neck.

Mickey shook his head no even as his left hand reached out for Evander to bring him closer. He knew he
was giving Evander mixed signals, but he wasn’t doing it deliberately, since he didn’t really know what
he wanted in that moment either.

“Van, I want… I want… ” Mickey stammered out, his eyes still closed tightly, his breath shuddering in his
chest and his cock throbbing where it lay on his stomach.

“I know what you want, Baby,” Evander responded, his voice having dropped even lower than usual, like
the down beat on the most sensual song created. Mickey whined when Evander kissed his way down his
neck to his torso. Evander’s tongue flicked the tips of Mickey’s hardened nipples, his hand composing the
softest, gentlest song on Mickey’s skin as he skimmed and caressed Mickey’s skin. Evander’s tongue
drifted down Mickey’s torso, causing his body to tremble and break out with goose bumps.

Mickey thrust his hips up, begging without words for Evander to touch him there. His mind shied away
from the thought of staying awake long enough to have sex with Evander. But his body ached, needing to
feel the hard planes of his lover’s body. Mickey opened his eyes, looking up into Evander’s dark gaze and
felt himself falling in the desire he saw pooling there.

Reaching up a hand, Mickey ran his fingers through the dark strands of Evander’s hair and tightened his
fingers on the strands at the back of Evander’s head, pulling his head down. He opened his mouth under
Evander’s and submitted his lips to the onslaught of Evander’s tongue and teeth licking, biting, and kissing
his lips.

Mickey shivered and spread his legs in a silent invitation. Evander released his lips and kissed his way
back down Mickey’s body to his groin. Mickey ran the fingers of one hand through Evander’s hair while
his other hand reached down to grab his own balls. He squeezed and pulled on them as Evander swerved
his tongue around the head of Mickey’s cock. Looking down, Mickey groaned at the sight of Evander
taking the full length of his cock into his mouth.

The press of Evander’s finger at the tight hole of his entrance had Mickey’s eyes rolling back into his

head and pressing his hips upwards.

“Mmmm, yeah that’s right, Baby, let me in,” Evander’s words were husky pressed against the curls
surrounding Mickey’s hardened shaft. Mickey forced his muscles to relax as Evander pressed his finger
into his entrance while at the same time sucking Mickey’s cock back into his mouth. Mickey keened a wail
of pleasure at the top of his lungs, his fingers of one gripping the hair of his lover as the other hand
clutching the bedcovers.

The heat of passion tore its way through Mickey’s body leaving him a panting, stammering mess as
Evander pressed his knees back towards his ears before leaning over to press his tongue alongside his
invading digit. Mickey moaned low in the back of his throat as Evander pressed three fingers deep into
his ass, thrusting them in and out quickly.

“So f-f-full,” Mickey whispered. His hands scrambled to find something to hold on to, something to
anchor him. They found Evander’s hands, wrapped around his thighs and Mickey clutched them with his
own. Bliss rode his back, winding its way up and down his spine, pumping his heart and igniting his
senses. Mickey felt as if he were both flying and drowning simultaneously, his lungs struggling to expand,
his mind floating in a haze of lust and desire.

“You ready for me, Baby?” Evander’s words were whispered against Mickey’s puckered entrance and
Mickey gasped.

“Yes. Yes! Fuck me already!” Mickey commanded. He sighed with happiness and relief when Evander
rose up on his knees and placed his hard, leaking cock against Mickey’s hole.

Braced on his shoulders and head, Mickey placed his legs on Evander’s shoulders and pulled his
impressive length into his body even deeper than it had been before. Simultaneous groans filled the air,
and Mickey grit his teeth to hold back the orgasm that threatened. Forcing an image of himself having sex
with Mrs Woolkire, the housekeeper who was at least three hundred pounds and just as rude as she was
crude, Mickey forced back the passionate explosion luring so close to the surface.

The slow drag of Evander’s cock against Mickey’s prostate as he withdrew caused him to hiss as his eyes
slid closed again. Mickey was in heaven as Evander fucked him slow and deep, pressing his cock deep
into his hole so that his groin was flush against Mickey’s ass before pulling out slowly. The pace was
maddening to Mickey and he wanted to yell at Evander to go faster, to fuck him harder, but speech was
beyond him, his brain having melted out of his ears even as his body lit up as if set on fire. Evander
leaned over him then, pressing Mickey’s body practically in half as he began pounding his cock in and out
of Mickey’s hole faster and harder.

“Yes! Yes, yes, ye-ye-oh god, god, god. Fuck me, Evander! YES!” Mickey screamed as his orgasm
roared over him, its jaws clamping tightly around his penis and balls, squeezing, draining him dry. His
cum sprayed out from the head of his cock, splattering his face, hair, and neck. The muscles of his ass
squeezed Evander’s cock and it wasn’t long before Evander’s roar of completion joined Mickey’s softer
moans of satisfaction.

The only sounds in the room were the panting breaths the newlywed couple took as they lay in a mass of

sweaty limbs and sticky man sex. Mickey gasped as he felt the tell-tale fluttering of his unborn child
embedding itself in his womb. He opened his mouth to tell Evander the news only to be cut off when
Evander pulled his cock from the clenching muscles of Mickey’s ass.

Mickey’s legs fell to the bed as Evander walked towards the washroom, where the sound of running
water could be heard. Mickey watched as Evander returned to his side and wiped his face, hair, torso,
flaccid penis, and ass clean of all traces of their shared passion. Mickey turned his head to watch Evander
as he tossed the soiled washcloth in the corner of the room before climbing into bed. His limbs were even
heavier than they’d been before and as Evander settled in the bed, Mickey wondered exactly how to bring
up that they would be welcoming a child into their home in nine months.

“Tomorrow I would like for you to become familiar with the household so that you may be able to take
over the duties usually set aside for a Duchess.” Evander’s voice was matter of fact, all traces of desire
leeched completely from his tone. Mickey was a little stunned, but decided he didn’t really know how
Evander reacted after sex. They’d only been together the two times. Perhaps this was how he acted when
it was all over.

Or maybe it was because he’d actually gotten what he wanted from Mickey and now Evander had no
further use for him.

“Oh, okay, Evander. Where will you be while I am doing household… stuff?” Mickey questioned, trying
to curb his penchant for profanity.

“I must go and check out the different issues and difficulties the people of Worthington are experiencing. I
must also meet with my solicitor and I must bring Carl to task for how he spoke to you earlier this
evening.”

Mickey nodded his head at Evander’s words, knowing that everything he was doing was important.
Necessary even. He knew Evander was a duke, a very special and important duke; Mickey couldn’t get
mad at him for doing his job. Right?

Right.

“I understand, Evander. Perhaps we can have lunch together?” Mickey asked him, sighing in relief when
Evander pulled Mickey against his side.

“Perhaps,” Evander replied before kissing Mickey’s forehead. Mickey purred in happiness and
contentment at the action before laying his head on Evander's wide chest.

Tomorrow, when they had lunch together, Mickey would tell Evander about the baby. Tomorrow seemed
like a really good time to do it.

Chapter
Seven_________________________________________________________________

hree months. Three months had passed and Mickey still hadn’t told Evander about the baby. When he’d
started to get sick and nauseated six weeks into the T pregnancy, he’d merely told Evander he was
reacting to the richness of the foods.

This had, of course, led to Cook making foods with less flavour and seasonings. Which really was a
travesty, as the food on Wilgrin was already quite bland to start with. When he’d started to sleep in longer
every day, he’d told Evander it was because he wasn’t used to working more than eight hours a day on
any given day. This led to Evander's getting him a steward, from Rodeiro, another male breeder who had
taken one look at Mickey and known instantly that Mickey was expecting.

Ethan was a nice boy. He had shoulder length, brown curls and a perpetual twinkle in his light green eyes.
He was tall and thin and looked as if he hadn’t had a good meal in a few years.

With an infectious smile, a bubbly personality, and a musical laugh, Mickey had been shocked to learn
that the other man was unattached. He’d also been horribly jealous of the beautiful, thin man and had
spent three weeks keeping a close eye on his steward and his husband. Mickey had been just waiting to
see if there was any attraction between them, something that, according to Ethan, was common for
Rodeirons who were carrying. Mickey had attempted to tell Ethan he wasn’t pregnant, but the steward
hadn’t believed him and when another month passed and a small bump appeared where Mickey’s flat
stomach used to be, Mickey knew that he couldn’t hide it any more. He had to tell his husband.

This was, of course, when Carl, the stepson from hell, began to come around more and more often. He
would catch Mickey alone and threaten him, demanding that Mickey pack up and leave the next day. Each
time the threats got more and more violent, Carl’s face grimmer and angrier than before. Mickey spent his
days peeking around every corner for his aggressive stepson and trying to hide his growing belly from
everyone in the household. He was successful sometimes, but he knew it was only a matter of time before
his secret would be out, and he could only hope that he could tell Evander before he went into labour.

So, of course, it was at a dinner when the secret Mickey had kept clutched so close to his chest decided to
make itself known in a very public way.

*

*

*

*

*

*

“I say, Your Grace, you certainly chose well when you remarried,” the Earl of Durchester said as he
placed a large helping of stroganoff in his mouth. “The changes he has made not to only your home, but to
your cuisine are well above par.”

Mickey blushed under the praise given to him from the guests at the table and glanced up at his husband.
Evander sat at the opposite end of the table, his heated gaze trained on Mickey’s face. Mickey felt his
cock react instantly to Evander’s appreciative gaze and shifted in his seat.

His libido had certainly increased since becoming pregnant, which led to Mickey's attacking Evander at
all times of the day and night, practically begging Evander to fuck him hard.

Something Evander didn’t seem to mind in the least. Mickey wasn’t surprised by Evander’s acceptance
and support of his out of control sex drive. He was well aware that Evander found him physically
attractive, that Evander desired him. The problem was that was the only thing Evander seemed to need
Mickey for. Evander left early in the morning, always working on something and never talking to Mickey
about anything that was going on around the planet, with his holdings, even in his own life. The few times
Mickey had questioned him about the things he did during the day or any problems that may have arisen,
he’d been kissed on the forehead as if he were a child and told to not worry his “pretty little head” over
such things.

Carl might have wanted to kill him because Mickey was gay and he felt that Mickey had

“turned” Evander permanently gay, but at least he was open and upfront about the value of Mickey’s life.
Evander, on the other hand, was the worst kind of partner, husband, or lover. He filled Mickey’s head
with hope and thoughts of purpose and then killed it all by only using Mickey for his body. Mickey knew
that as long as he kept Evander sexually satisfied his husband would have need of him, but the minute that
he was unable to perform, unable to fulfil Evander’s desires, Mickey would be tossed aside for someone
who could. It was a sobering thought and Mickey swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze from Evander’s to
the plate being set in front of him by the footman… Neilson. The sight of Scotcht Collops caused his
stomach to roil within him and without thought, Mickey shoved back his chair and, without a word, raced
for the nearest washroom where he was violently ill. Minutes later, the press of a cool washcloth against
the back of his neck was nirvana to his overheated flesh and Mickey sighed where he lay on the floor.

Certain that it was Ethan who had chased after him, knowing that he would be ill, Mickey groaned in
despair.

“Gods Ethan, I have to tell His Grace that I’m Rodeiron and am expecting his child. After that display in
the dining room he’s going to be harping on my ass about being checked out by a doctor. That would be a
disaster because the doctor would just tell him what I could tell him, you know?” The sudden
disappearance of the cool washcloth had Mickey pushing up to sit on the floor, his eyes snapping open.
“Hey! What’d you take the washcloth for? I was starting to cool do---”

Standing in the middle of the bathroom, looming over him, an impenetrable look on his face, stood
Evander. Mickey swallowed thickly as he looked up into the eyes of his husband and recognized that he
was well and truly fucked, and not in a way Mickey liked to be fucked, either.

Evander had just found out that not only had Mickey been keeping a secret from him, but that someone else
had known before he did—and a servant at that. Well, shit. Put like that, Mickey sounded like a horrible,
horrible person. Seeing the small flicker of hurt shining in Evander’s dark gaze, Mickey knew the
assessment of his character wasn’t too far off the mark.

“How long?” Evander asked.

“How long what?” Mickey asked feigning innocence.

“How long have you known you were pregnant and been hiding it from me?”

Mickey swallowed before turning his head and mumbling under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Evander questioned him, his voice a low, rumbling growl of dissatisfaction.

Sighing heavily, Mickey turned to look back up at Evander with the feeling of guilt sitting heavy in the pit
of his stomach. The tense way Evander held himself as if Mickey’s words had the power to shatter him
caused Mickey’s heart to stutter in his chest. Holy fuck. What had he done?

“Four months,” he admitted, his voice a whisper.

Evander’s eyes closed as he exhaled slowly, his hands balling in fists at his side. As memories of his
father and older brothers punching him whenever he disappointed them flew through his mind, Mickey let
out a small squeak of fear and curled into a ball, covering his head and protecting his unborn child. He
heard Evander’s gasp and then a slight, choking sob.

“Bloody hell, do you really think… I would never hit you, Mick, you have to know that.

How could you even think I would---” Mickey looked up as Evander’s voice trailed off and the grief
reflected in his husband’s eyes caused his heart to break.

Standing to his feet, Mickey gave a harsh cry as he launched himself into Evander’s arms and pressed his
face against the older man’s cotton-clad chest. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he apologized profusely to
Evander, pressing himself as close as he could. Gods, he just kept screwing up. No matter what he did or
said, some kind of way he ended up hurting someone.

Maybe he should start keeping his mind closed. People would stop getting hurt and he would get to stop
apologizing to everyone he interacted with.

“Why? Just tell me why, Mickey, that’s all I ask,” Evander’s voice was hoarse, and Mickey turned his
head to press a small kiss over his husband’s heart. How he wished that he owned Evander’s heart. Every
night he found himself praying to the Great God for his husband to fall in love with him, but perhaps God
operated much like a genie and couldn’t interfere in matters of the heart, because if he could, wouldn’t he
have pushed Mickey to tell Evander a lot sooner than he had about the baby? His keeping that secret to
himself had obviously hurt Evander and wasn’t necessarily conducive to helping Mickey obtain his
affections.

He would ignore the fact that every day he’d felt the urging to tell Evander about the baby. That was
obviously his conscience and had absolutely nothing to do with God. Yep, that was his story and he was
sticking to it.

“The baby thing… I was scared of how you would take it. I wasn’t sure if you knew I was Rodeiron, and
then I wasn’t sure if you wanted more kids. Then I wasn’t sure you actually wanted a life with me. So I
kept putting it off until I felt a little more secure in our relationship, but as each day went by, it seemed as
if it wasn’t the right time. Then you were really busy with estate stuff and well… ” Mickey sighed. He
wasn’t explaining himself well, he knew that, but how was he supposed to tell this man that he hadn't told
him about the baby because he wasn’t exactly sure that Evander actually wanted him around long-term?
Shaking his head mentally, Mickey focused on Evander’s face and not the way his eyebrows drew down
in confusion.

Mickey realized then that Evander understood all of the things Mickey hadn’t been able to articulate
properly.

“As for the flinching… back home on Rodeiro, my father and brothers liked to play a game. It was called
‘Black and Blue.’ They would beat me until I was black and blue with bruises, and whoever dealt the
blow on my body that knocked me out from pain would win the pot. Whenever I see clenched fists I either
run or I cower,” Mickey admitted, unashamed of his flight response to violent situations. It had kept him
alive this long, and he was sure it would continue to do so.

Especially with Carl as a stepson.

Evander opened his mouth to no doubt respond to the horrific abuse Mickey had endured at the hands of
his family members when a tentative knock sounded on the door. Knowing almost instantly who stood at
the door, Mickey rubbed his face into Evander’s muscled chest, purring when Evander rubbed his back
lovingly.

“Yes?’ Evander called out.

“Your Graces? Are you going to be returning to dinner, or should we assist the guests with returning
home?” Jonathan, Evander’s steward, called out.

“Your Grace Mickey? I mean… Your Grace Michael? Are you quite all right in there?”

Ethan’s voice sounded then, hesitant, unsure, and nervous. Mickey’s eyebrows pulled down into a frown
of confusion as he wondered what had his steward so nervous.

“We will be along shortly, Jonathan, Ethan. Please inform our guests to continue with their meals and we
will join them,” Evander said, looking down into Mickey’s upturned face, his hand caressing the side of
Mickey’s face.

“We will go and finish our meal, but tomorrow is a new day, my love, and there are going to be a lot of
changes. Okay?”

Mickey nodded at Evander’s words and smiled broadly at the kiss placed on his forehead.

This time he could tell it was not an affectionate kiss of an adult to a child. It was the caring kiss from one
partner to another.

He could live with that.

_________________________________________________________________Chapter Eight

ickey walked beside Evander into the dining room, his hand clasped possessively in Evander’s much
larger one. He knew things between the two M of them weren’t completely solved. There were still things
that needed to be hammered out, but in this moment in time, Mickey was happy, he was satisfied… he was
looking into the glaring eyes of Carl. Mickey trembled slightly and pressed himself closer to Evander. He
felt every muscle in his body relax as Evander’s arm wrapped around his shoulder and warmth spread
over his body. He was safe as long as he was with Evander.

Looking around the room, Mickey smiled tremulously at all of the men and women present. The Earl and
Countess of Lockshire, two of the loudest, most rotund people Mickey had ever had the misfortune of
meeting. The two of them had made no secret of their disdain for the

“lifestyle choice” of Mickey and Evander and had then gone on to recite different passages from the Igble,
an archaic, oft mistranslated book that contained the words of the Great God. Mickey believed in the
Great God, but he also believed that the men who wrote the Igble were just as ignorant and narrow-
minded as the Lockshires. With that thought in mind, he’d kept his mouth shut and had not engaged the two
of them in much conversation.

There was then the Earl of Durchester, or Alexander, as he’d told Mickey to call him. A tall, gorgeous
black man whose skin looked like cinnamon and whose eyes twinkled like the stars. Alexander was as
broad-shouldered as Evander, though his muscles seemed to have given birth to more muscles, and the
even white teeth in his mouth were hidden behind the fullest pair of brown lips that Mickey had ever seen
in his life. He’d spent the entire evening trying to stop himself from pricking Alexander’s lips with a
needle to see if juice would spew out. Alexander’s hands were massively huge, and when Ethan had
walked into the room, the Earl’s hands had shaken as if he’d been frightened by something, his dark
brown eyes widened, and Mickey had been confused, but thoroughly enchanted by the reaction. It seemed
as if his steward had a crush on the Earl and those feelings seemed to be reciprocated.

William and Gregory sat side by side, both men seemingly in their own worlds. And then there were the
twins, Lydia and Lynette, both short, voluptuous young ladies with blonde hair and the most startling pair
of lavender eyes Mickey had ever seen. It was hard to tell the women apart, and Mickey had spent half an
hour trying to do just that, much to the amusement of the two women, when he’d finally noticed the
difference.

“Aha! Lydia, you have the smallest mole on your chin. It almost looks like a freckle it’s so tiny, but it’s
there,” he’d pointed out proudly.

“Well done, Your Grace!” Lydia had stated with a smile and a nod. Mickey had merely nodded his head
in her direction, quite proud of himself.

“It took our parents two years before they figured out that particular difference,” Lynette pointed out with
a smug grin. “Before that, they would merely dress us up in differing outfits and then keep up with who
was wearing what.”

“It was a good thing they noticed the mole, then because it wasn’t long before Lynette and I would switch
outfits and pretend to be the other one,” Lydia reminisced with a small smile curving her pink lips.

The entire dining table laughed and Mickey found himself completely enchanted with the two young
women and hoped they would become really good friends.

*

*

*

*

*

*

“Please forgive us for our abrupt departure, ladies and gentlemen, but there is a matter we were hoping to
share with you over dessert, however, it has demanded its time in the spotlight right now,” Evander was
saying and Mickey pulled his attention back to present, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the haze of
rumination and mental musings from them and looking up at his husband. Evander was making it seem as
if he’d always known about Mickey’s pregnancy when, in fact, he had only found out moments before. He
was so amazing, making sure Mickey’s reputation, and by extension his own, suffered no ill effects from a
hidden pregnancy.

“My husband, Michael, is Rodeiron and in about five months’ time, we will be expecting our first child
together. Our first of many.” Evander’s voice, filled with pride, joy, and such extreme affection, made
Mickey want to weep. He had denied his husband this. The opportunity to share in their joy, the wonder of
creating a new life together. He’d kept something so precious, special, and wonderful from a man he was
falling in lo… no, wait. It was way too soon for that.

He was no compromised virgin in some Regency romance, and Evander was not a reformed rake who had
gotten him in trouble, then married him, then fallen in love with him. This was real life, his life, and in
real life people did not fall in love with each other after four months. Especially when they barely saw
one another. It just wasn’t done.

Right?

The room was silent for only a moment before it exploded with applause and well-wishes. Mickey and
Evander were surrounded and hugged tightly, congratulations extended by all. Well, almost all. The
Lockshires stood to their feet and walked out in disgust, making sure their departure was as loud and
dramatic as their entrance when they had burst in the door with hugs and over-exuberance for the duke.

Carl, of course, was just as livid, just as disgusted, as the Lockshires were, though he hid it well. He
stood to his feet with a low growl, causing the room to fall silent as he stalked towards Mickey and
Evander. Stopping before his father, Cark shook his hand.

“Congratulations, Father. I know you always wanted a gaggle of kids and I was the only one you got from
mum, so I’m extremely happy that you’re finally going to have the opportunity to have the houseful of
children you always made sure Mum and I knew you wanted.” His words and his tone of voice sounded
sincere, but Mickey detected an air of menace in between the words and he trembled. Looking up into
Carl’s blue gaze, he knew he’d made the right decision to stay close to Evander’s side. There was more
to Carl’s animosity towards him than just the fact that Mickey was the man his father had married. There
was something a whole lot more complicated going on between father and son, something Mickey wasn’t
too sure his curiosity wanted to know about.

“And as for you,” Carl said with a small smile, stepping directly in front of Mickey.

Mickey felt as if his heart were in his throat, the organ trying desperately to beat its way out of his chest
and to safety. He gave Carl a small, hesitant smile, wary of exposing his difficulties with his stepson to
the rabid curiosity of the present company. As Evander’s hand squeezed Mickey’s shoulder where it lay,
Mickey knew he’d once again made the right choice.

“Yes Carl?” Mickey’s voice sounded shaky to his own ears, and he cleared his throat and pressed a hand
to his stomach as if he were trying to settle it. No one knew, outside of him, the Great God, and perhaps
Carl, who smirked at his actions, exactly how upset and fearful Mickey was of him.

“You make sure you take care of that baby and yourself. It would be absolutely horrible if anything were
to happen to the two of you,” he smiled at Mickey. It was the smile of revenge, retribution. The promise of
violence. Mickey felt it down deep in his bones, and he was scared.

No, scared wasn’t a proper indication of the way his bones quivered in trepidation, or of the way his skin
crawled at the thoughts of what Carl intended to do to him should he ever get the opportunity.

A good word would be petrified. Yes, petrified was an excellent word to use in this manner. Trembling,
Mickey pressed as closely as he could to Evander’s side and smiled thinly at his stepson. “I sure will. I
won’t let anything take me or this child from your father.” His words were a lot more bold and
courageous than how he really felt, but the look of surprise on Carl’s face was well worth it.

“Come, let us celebrate. All of us!” Evander exclaimed as he signalled the footmen to hand out
champagne flutes to everyone, offering Mickey a glass of white grape juice. Mickey smiled at Raymond,
the footman who handed him the glass, and raised his glass along with the others.

“To the Great God, who thought it not wrong to gift me with an amazing man who breathes life into my
soul every day, who thought it not vanity to give us a relationship grounded in truth and not in deceit, and
who took that truth and created a miracle: a child for me to share with my husband.” Evander’s words
filled Mickey’s body with the hot flush of guilt, and he wanted to fall to his knees and beg Evander for his
forgiveness. He didn’t, however; he instead pressed his lips to the side of Evander’s chest, nuzzling
tenderly. He could only hope Evander understood what he was trying to say. The slight squeeze reassured

him.

“To the Great God,” everyone stated, raising their glasses and saluting each other.

Mickey raised his glass along with everyone else, his eyes flicking towards Carl, who tilted his glass to
his lips and took a long swallow before lowering his glass and winking at Mickey with a devious grin.

Mickey swallowed against the nausea that threatened in that moment and took a deep swallow of his own
drink, praying in a way he’d never prayed before. He desperately needed the Great God’s intervention.
Not to keep Carl from hurting him, because he wasn’t afraid of being hurt, but to prevent Carl from hurting
him so that Evander wouldn’t kill his son. Because while Mickey wasn’t sure what Evander felt for him,
he was pretty sure Evander felt something and Mickey knew for a fact he already loved his unborn child.
Carl fucking with either of them would be nothing short of foolishness on his part.

Carl didn’t deserve the lavish lifestyle he was living; he didn’t deserve to have the father he had. His
actions pretty much showed that he was a spoiled brat in desperate need of having someone put him over
their lap and spank him until he changed his ways. Yet, while he didn’t deserve all the wonderful things
he’d been given, he also didn’t deserve to be killed by his own father. Evander also didn’t deserve to be
put in that position.

Mentally squaring his shoulders, Mickey knew it was up to him to deal with Carl on his own. Either
through standing up to him, getting him to back off, or getting him to go away for a long time. Hopefully
without having to involve the magistrate or the street runners. Mickey would spend time with his husband,
get to know the duke better, he would take good care of himself and prepare a room for his unborn child,
and he would get his extremely homophobic stepson to tolerate his presence in the family and in the home,
if not to like him. He could totally pull that off in the next five months.

Right?

Chapter
Nine__________________________________________________________________

nother two months passed, and though Carl showed up at the estate, he only ever stayed for dinner and
drinks before leaving, always reminding Mickey to stay A safe. Evander remarked to Mickey more than
once that his being pregnant had had a positive effect on Carl. Mickey always smiled at his husband, and
while he knew Evander was mistakenly hopeful that his son had, by some miracle, gotten over his hatred
of “queers”

Mickey knew Carl was just biding his time and was waiting to strike at the right moment. Carl was
considerate, pleasant, and helpful, offering to assist Mickey to his seat or from one room to another.
Others who were present saw Carl’s assistance as being a kind gesture and many remarked on it, but none
of them knew what Mickey knew.

They didn’t see the way Carl crushed Mickey’s arm where it rested on the inside of his elbow. None of
them saw the way Mickey winced whenever Carl would squeeze his shoulders to the point he feared that
his bones might break. Carl was very discreet with the way he exacted revenge on Mickey, very subtle
with the way he abused him. While the subsequent torture was horrific and ulcer-inducing, the worst part,
of course, was the fact Evander didn’t believe Mickey when he tried to tell him about what Carl was
doing. His husband would merely kiss Mickey’s nose, forehead, or the back of his hand and tell him
pregnancy was making him paranoid.

It was driving Mickey fucking insane.

Even the bruises that appeared on Mickey’s pale, usually flawless skin were shrugged off as being a
result of Mickey’s increased girth. If Mickey hadn’t been so sure that Evander was being deliberately
obtuse, he would’ve sworn both Carl and Evander were in on his mental torture. Because that was what
was happening to him, he was being tortured mentally. Between Carl’s physical assaults and Evander’s
patronizing smiles and words, Mickey was close to screaming his head off and leaving Wilgrin all on his
own.

Just for a moment of peace.

Waking up that morning, six months pregnant, the first thing Mickey noticed was how dark the room was.
His eyes moved around the room slowly, the large shadows of the bedroom furniture looking almost
menacing in the darkness. Sighing, he rolled over onto his back from his side and noticed he was alone in
bed. Grunting in agitation that Evander wasn’t lying in bed next to him at his beck and call, Mickey
opened his mouth to call out Evander’s name when his eyes caught sight of the large, round, bloated organ
resting above his groin.

Opening his mouth, Mickey let out a glass-shattering scream of terror as he pushed himself up into a
sitting position. His eyes felt too big for his face, his blood ran cold, and his lungs contracted painfully,
seeking air. The sound of pounding feet reached his ears distantly as he sat up in bed panting, his fingers
wrapped tightly in the gold duvet cover he’d finally talked Evander into purchasing. Evander had put his
foot down firmly against the red and purple duvet covers Mickey had originally chosen, but had

capitulated over the gold. Mickey yanked his mind back to his current predicament, his pulse racing as he
asked himself why in the world he was thinking about the colour of the duvet cover when he should have
been thinking about the fucking tumour that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere on in his stomach.

The sound of the door slamming open and ricocheting off the wall next to it snapped Mickey’s eyes to the
doorway with a squeak. Evander, William, David, Alexander, Ethan, Gregory, and Jonathan all ran into
the room. Each man was carrying some sort of “weapon” to fight off the unknown attacker. Mickey
wanted to laugh at the poker in Evander’s hand, the cue stick in William’s, and the books held by David,
Gregory, and Jonathan. His eyebrows rose when he saw the revolver in Alexander’s hand and the sword
held in Ethan’s, but it was the state of undress of both men that most intrigued him. Alexander stood
shirtless, wearing only a pair of black silk pyjama bottoms whereas Ethan wore a matching black silk top.
Mickey knew he would have to talk to his young steward about his dalliance with Alexander on another
day. One where he wasn’t completely brain dead of shock.

“What is it darling? Where is the knave who would dare to break into the home of the Duke of
Worthington and threaten his partner?” Evander growled as he stalked towards the bed.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Evander’s phrasing, a small hysterical giggle escaping his lips. “Knave?
Really?” he teased with a chuckle, rolling his eyes as the other men looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“There was no burglar so you can all put down your weapons and return to your rooms or whatever it was
you were doing.”

Though the men relaxed, none of them left, which confused Mickey greatly until he looked up at Evander
with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. “What?” he asked with a slight growl to his voice.

“We heard you screaming,” Evander pointed out with an exasperated tone.

Mickey waved away his words. “Of course I screamed. I woke up and it looked as if I’d swallowed the
entire planet of Scarliar! If you woke up with this huge… thing where your stomach was supposed to be,
you’d scream too.”

When the other men just looked at him in confusion and slight annoyance, Mickey growled angrily and
dropped the cover he’d been holding up in front of his body. Jeez, what was he now, some stereotypical
woman in a play pointing the hero to the place where the villain laid waiting? The gasps that came from
the men made him feel slightly justified in his dismay at the strange turn of events.

“I know!” Mickey turned narrowed eyes towards Evander and pointed directly at the older man’s chest.
“You realize this is all your fault right?”

The hasty retreat of the other men would have made Mickey laugh at any other time; this time he barely
paid them any attention, his focus squarely on his husband. “And where in bloody hell were you anyway?
I woke up and you weren’t here and then I saw this monstrosity that used to be my stomach and I-I--”
Mickey let out a choking sob as he covered his face with his hands and wept. Great. Now he was sobbing
without the least provocation? Oh yeah, being pregnant just kept getting better and better.

“B-Baby?” Evander sounded afraid, which almost made Mickey laugh. Almost. He turned as the bed
dipped on one side and looked up at Evander. Evander’s dark eyes were filled with confusion and slight

trepidation as he crawled towards Mickey.

“I’m pregnant,” Mickey offered as way of explanation. Evander nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, Baby, you’re going to have a baby,” he commiserated.

“And I’m huge,” Mickey sniffled.

Evander coughed and Mickey thought he might have been trying to cover up a laugh.

Narrowing his eyes at him, Mickey waited for an explanation.

“Sorry about that. I swallowed when I should have breathed,” Evander apologized.

“You’re not huge,” he said, in an obvious attempt to change the topic. Mickey was on to him and any other
time he would have called Evander out on it, but he decided to let it slide this time.

“You’re pregnant. You’re this big because the baby is growing healthy. If you weren’t as…

healthy as you are now then there would be something wrong with the baby. You don’t want there to be
anything wrong with our baby, do you?”

Mickey shook his head no. Evander was right. He didn’t want anything to be wrong with the baby. He
wanted the baby to be healthy and strong. So maybe it was a good thing he was so bi… stop the fucking
train.

“You do think I’m fat!” he screeched at Evander. Mickey wanted to run and hide until the baby was born.
His throat filled with tears, his heart stuttered in his chest and an icy heat swamped his soul. If Evander
thought he was fat then he would have no further need for Mickey to be in his life and he would go and
find someone else. Then where would Mickey be? Where would he go and how would he support a baby?
What the fuck was he supposed to do?

“Hey, now. Whatever it is you’re thinking, you need to just stop it right now,” Evander cautioned him,
pulling Mickey’s face around to stare into his eyes. Mickey looked into the dazzling brown depths of his
husband’s gaze and felt himself drowning. He wished that, for once, Evander could look at him and see
more than just a pretty face and a hot body (even if he was currently huge) and see the man inside and
really love him.

“What makes you think I don’t love you already?” Evander’s words were low and husky with emotion. It
was only as his words penetrated the haze in Mickey’s brain that he realized he’d spoken his thoughts
aloud.

“I—uh—I—“ Mickey stammered before bursting into tears again.

“It’s okay, Baby,” Evander consoled him, pulling Mickey into his arms. “I think you’re gorgeous and
funny and fascinating and my god, I can’t get enough of you. That’s not your body, that’s you.” Mickey
looked up at Evander through eyes wet with tears as Evander shook his head as if completely exasperated

with him.

“How could you not tell how I felt about you? I bend over backwards to give you whatever your heart
desires. I go above and beyond for you. Do I find you physically attractive?

Of course I do.”

“Even now?” Mickey interrupted. Evander smiled down softly and sweetly at him, and Mickey felt his
heart stutter in his chest again, it was a feeling he was getting quite used when he was with his husband.

“Even now,” Evander assured him. “You, love, are deliciously tantalizing. Your soul glows and fills
whatever room you’re in. Your spirit permeates the air, filling it with honeysuckle and jasmine. I wish I
could breathe you in all day, every day, but just one taste of you, one touch from you and my entire being
is infused with a wondrous heat that makes me feel like I can do anything. That’s you. That’s not your hot
ass, beautiful cock, or gorgeous mouth.

That’s your amazing spirit. How could I not have fallen in love with you?”

Mickey’s mouth hung open as he stared at Evander in surprise. He had no idea his duke was so eloquent,
that he could speak words so beautiful they pierced the heart and made it bleed.

How had he missed this?

“You know I love you too, right?” Mickey asked desperately, his hands grabbing the sides of Evander’s
face in a firmly loving grip. He stared into Evander’s dark gaze and felt a warmth fill his body as he
identified the darkness that seemed to always linger in his man’s eyes.

It was love. All this time he’d been thinking his husband didn’t love him, and the whole time Evander had
been trying not to explode with it.

“I’d certainly hoped so,” Evander said, sighing with what Mickey could only guess was relief. He
snuggled into Evander’s arms as he basked in the heat of their shared loved. The steady rhythm of
Evander’s heartbeat relaxed him, lulling Mickey into a light doze. He thought over the way he’d met
Evander, the man who owned him body, heart, and mind, the man who possessed his soul and infused his
soul and smiled happily.

The pressure against his stomach as the child within him stretched made Mickey smile even wider. Their
unborn child may not have been created in love, but he (or she) would definitely grow up surrounded by
it.

Evander’s hand rubbing lovingly over Mickey’s stomach filled him with both happiness and grief.

“I’m still fat!” he cried out. Evander’s hearty laughter did not ease his mind, but only served to make him
cry harder. It took quite a while before Evander was able to convince him that he was not fat, he was
pregnant, but more than that he was loved, which Mickey had to agree was a pretty special thing.

___________________________________________________________________Chapter Ten

ickey should have known all hell was about to break loose. Things had been going too well in his life. His
husband loved him. He loved his husband. They M were expecting their first child. The household was
running like a well-oiled machine, and they’d even begun setting up the nursery for the impending arrival
of the duke’s second child. With all of the happy-happy going on around him, Mickey should have been
sleeping with one eye open, prepared for the inevitable arrival of… well, hell.

He hadn’t been expecting it, though, so he wasn’t ready when Evander kissed him goodbye three months
later with the promise to be home the next morning as he went to survey the lands owned by one of the
families in town that afternoon. While he had expected Evander’s trip, even his admonishment to not have
the baby before he returned, Mickey hadn’t expected the person who stepped in the house as Evander
moved to leave it.

“C-Carl?” Mickey’s voice was breathless with fear, his hands trembling, his eyes widening as he looked
back and forth between his husband and his stepson.

“Hey there, Stepdad,” Carl’s voice was a hiss of thinly veiled disgust and anger. Mickey wondered how
he seemed to be the only one to hear it.

“W-what are you doing here?” Mickey cursed the quiver of fear in his voice.

Evander smiled down at him, happiness and pride making his eyes look almost golden.

He hugged Mickey to him quickly and tightly before turning to Carl and shaking his hand.

“Thanks for doing this son. I must admit, had this been five months ago I would never have considered it.
You seem to have turned over a new leaf since you found out Mickey was pregnant with your younger
sibling. It’s a very good turn. One I’m very happy you made,” he said with a grin before turning back to
Mickey. “Carl agreed to stay here with you to keep an eye on things and to offer you any help if you
needed it while I’m gone.”

Mickey gasped as his eyes swung towards Carl, who was suddenly standing much too close to him. What
the fuck was wrong with Evander? Was the man completely daft? Why the hell would he leave his
pregnant, much younger husband with his homophobic, older, much stronger, not pregnant, and therefore
not waddling, and unstable son? Apparently all of the time Evander spent on a horse had robbed him of
all common sense. It was too bad Mickey wouldn’t get a chance to try and help him wise up to things
regular people already knew. You know, since he’d be dead by the time Evander returned.

“Oh no, that’s okay Carl. I appreciate you offering to stay and sit with me, but I have Ethan here for that,
and I think Alexander may be coming over later to see him, and they both asked me to teach them how to
play whist,” Mickey hedged, trying to figure out a way to keep Carl away from the estate while Evander
wasn’t there.

Carl nodded solemnly, his blue eyes flashing with a dangerous, feral gleam as he looked at Mickey. “I
understand, Stepfather, but don’t you need four people to play whist? Perhaps you and I could teach them
together, since I am quite the skilled strategist. I know all about making sure that I play the right… card at
exactly the right time. Patience and watching your opponent carefully, those are the things that make for an

expert whist player,” Carl stated. “You understand all about opportunity don’t you, Stepfather? ”

Mickey glared at Carl. The swift kick from his unborn child caused him to rub his distended belly
lovingly. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding his loins, Mickey smiled at his stepson. Since
Evander had to leave and there were no definite plans to teach Alexander and Ethan how to play whist,
Mickey knew it was up to him to keep himself and his unborn child alive and safe. Even if that meant
standing up for himself for the first time in his life. He could do it. He didn’t really have a choice.

*

*

*

*

*

*

“Thank you so much for coming by, Alexander. I know Ethan appreciated your coming by,” Mickey said
with a grin at his young steward, who blushed profusely at the accurate assumption.

“Quite alright, Your Grace. If you’re sure you will be okay here, I will take my leave of you. I must return
home and make preparations for a very important question I need to ask the special person in my life,”
Alexander hinted, his gaze trained on Ethan, and Mickey sighed with satisfaction and happiness. He was
certainly glad for the two men. They were perfect for each other, much like him and Evander. He was
looking forward to spending the rest of his life with the duke.

If he survived the night.

Looking over at Carl, where he stood inspecting a knife on the mantle, Mickey nodded. It ended tonight.
No matter what happened, it would end tonight. Mickey refused to continue living in fear. Not when he
was about to give birth to a child. Turning back to Alexander, Mickey saw the speculative look in his
gaze.

“Is everything alright, Your Grace?” he whispered to Mickey. Mickey was sorely tempted to tell the Earl
everything: his suspicions about Carl trying to kill him that night, how afraid he was to be alone with his
stepson, and the very real fear he had of not being alive to kiss Evander one last time.

He didn’t, however. Instead, he smiled and shook his head. “No, my lord, everything is fine here. You
enjoy your preparations. I trust you will keep His Grace in mind when you receive a positive response to
your question?”

Alexander’s eyebrows lowered, his eyes flicking over every inch of Mickey’s face and form as if
expecting to see the truth written on his pale skin. After a while, Alexander stood to his full height and
smiled down at Mickey. “Do you really think the answer will be a positive one?” he asked nervously.

Mickey gave a small laugh. Nodding his head he gestured Ethan over. “Trust me. I know it will be.”
Turning to Ethan, Mickey watched as the two men stared at each other, love shining brightly in their eyes,
wide grins on their faces even as their bodies tilted slightly towards each other. They were unbelievably
cute together and Mickey was very happy for them. “Ethan, will you please see the Earl to the door?” He
knew that would give the two of them a chance to say goodbye to each other properly.

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Ethan said with a secretive smile at Mickey before holding out his hand for
Alexander to follow him to the front door.

Mickey watched them walk away before turning to find Carl watching him intently.

“Well fairy. Looks like it’s just you and me now.” The disgust Carl felt for him came through loud and
clear in the distinctive way he spat in Mickey’s direction.

“Looks like it,” Mickey agreed, stepping around the white, foamy puddle of spittle on the wood
floorboards.

“Why aren’t you running?” Carl asked, his head tilting to the side slightly. “You ran the first time, and you
didn’t have as much to lose as you do this time.” Carl grunted in annoyance.

“It’s so much more fun if you run.”

Mickey rolled his eyes as he stepped closer to the desk where the letter opener lay. “I’m sure you’re
aware I can’t run Carl. I’m pregnant, or have you forgotten. Your younger brother or sister makes me a lot
slower than what I am usually.”

“HALF-BROTHER OR HALF-SISTER!”

Mickey jumped slightly at Carl’s yell. His hands went up in a sign of surrender. Carl’s eyes had widened
by this point and an unholy, gleaming light shone in his eyes. Mickey took another slow step toward the
desk, hoping Carl didn’t notice.

“Do you know what it feels like to be me?” Carl questioned him. “My father told me a year ago he was a
fucking sodomite and while he and my mother had created me the old-fashioned way, they both lived
separate lives. My mother had another lover and my father had a slew of them. Their relationship was
never real, just a façade for reputation’s sake and for my sake.”

“I think that’s very admirable, Carl. They gave up the chance for their own happiness so they could give
you a steady home life. That’s what I want for—”

“Shut up,” Carl growled at Mickey. Mickey’s mouth snapped closed, and he began to pant in fear and
uncertainty. His heart pounded in his chest as Carl’s narrowed eyes watched him. “He comes out as a
fucking sodomite and then he finds you. You’re not just a man, you’re young and a fucking Rodeiron,
which means that you’ll give birth to more fucking Rodeiron fairies. Before long, the whole fucking
galaxy will be filled with men who only want to fuck other men and abandon their wives and kids.”

Mickey knew Carl’s logic was flawed, not every Rodeiron was gay. There were quite a few who were,

but there were quite a few who weren’t as well. Mickey also knew he couldn’t tell Carl that piece of
information at that moment. Carl’s reasoning had flown out the window the minute his father had
announced that he was gay. Being introduced to someone who, at least to Carl’s fevered brain,
represented the very thing his father was going to become by choice, and being told that the person in
question was to marry his father had pushed Carl over the edge.

Mickey should have felt sympathy for him. A part of him did feel sympathy for Carl, but the rest of him
was focused solely on protecting the innocent life inside of him. Mickey understood that Carl was
Evander’s child, but so was the unborn babe inside of him, and Mickey had vowed to protect his child, no
matter the cost.

“Not every man abandons his wife and kids because he’s gay, Carl. Your father didn’t abandon you. He
decided to live his truth and your mother encouraged him to do so if she continued to live as his wife,
even knowing he would never love her the way she wanted to be or even deserved to be loved. You can’t
fault your father for being born gay, just as you can’t blame me for being the person he fell in love with,”
Mickey tried to reason with Carl as his fingers wrapped around the handle of the silver letter opener. Carl
would have to get pretty close to him before he’d be able to use it, Mickey knew that. He could only hope
that he could talk Carl down off the crazy tree before he did something they both would regret.

Carl put that hope to rest when he let out a bloodcurdling scream and pulled out his revolver and charged
at Mickey, the gun never wavering as he came closer. Mickey walked backwards until he pressed up
against the wall behind him, the silver cufflinks Evander had given him tapping against it with a soft clink.
It was the clink of the cufflinks, a gift from Evander when Mickey hit his ninth month of conception, that
cleared the haze that had overtaken this mind. Raising his right arm back, his right hand clenching the
letter opener in a firm grasp, Mickey closed his eyes and brought his arm forward with a slicing
movement. Mickey heard the grunt and gurgle spew up from Carl’s lips before he heard the loud bang of
the revolver’s bullet… embedding itself in the wall.

The shouts and footsteps running back towards the library were distant sounds as Mickey watched the life
drain from Carl’s eyes. Looking up, he stared into the shocked gaze of Ethan, Alexander… and Evander.
Slowly letting go of the letter opener as Carl’s lifeless body fell to the ground at his feet, Mickey opened
his mouth to apologize, his lower lip trembling.

“I’m s-s-so sorry Evander,” he stammered. Mickey watched as Evander’s eyes closed slowly and his
shoulders heaved with a small sob. Evander lifted his head and Mickey gasped at the clash of grief, love,
and anger he saw swirling in the depths of his husband’s eyes.

“Don’t apologize, love,” Evander said, tears clogging his throat, moisture filling his eyes.

“We were running this way when we heard him screaming. We could all tell he was coming after you.”

Mickey nodded silently, frozen in shock as he watched Evander walk towards the body of his first born
son. Evander knelt at Carl’s side and muttered a soft prayer over him before closing Carl’s unseeing eyes.
Mickey continued watching Evander, waiting for him to yell at him for killing his son. Instead, Evander
stood and held his hand out towards Mickey. Mickey noticed the tears streaming down his face again and
felt guilt slam into his chest. Maybe he should have tried to stab Carl in the arm, or the leg or even the

side. He had killed his husband’s son. He felt like the worst being to ever walk the galaxies. Evander’s
short gasps of breaths only served to make Mickey feel worse.

“Come, sweetheart, let’s go and get you some tea before the magistrate arrives.”

Mickey nodded in Evander’s direction, tears filling his own eyes. Five steps away from Carl’s body,
Mickey felt a sharp, breath-stealing pain in his back and stomach like a band wrapping around his middle.
An intense pressure in his stomach, near his abdomen had him looking down as a flow of hot fluids rushed
from his body onto the floor. Looking up with wide eyes at Evander, Mickey began to giggle hysterically.

“Van, my water just broke.”

Epilogue______________________________________________________________________

OU BLOODY MOTHER FUCKER! DON’T YOU EVER PUT YOUR

GODDAMN HANDS ON ME EVER AGAIN, GOT IT?” Mickey yelled

“Y as another extreme pain ripped through his body. With one hand he pushed Evander away only to pull
him back seconds later when the pain eased. “Oh god, Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Forgive me?” he
cried.

“Of course, love. There’s nothing to forgive,” Evander reassured him, tears still falling down his cheeks.

“Not for what I said just now. I totally mean that. I mean for killing Carl,” Mickey babbled, pressing his
sweaty brow into Evander’s chest. “He was a horrible man and he was always threatening me. And he
tried to kill me. But he was still your son and I killed him. So I’m sorry.” Mickey panted as another
intense contraction wracked his frame. Pushing his stomach muscles as hard as he could, Mickey opened
his mouth and screamed loudly as he felt the head of his child finally press its way through the birthing slit
that had appeared right below his balls.

Its appearance alerted them that the baby was about to make its appearance. The doctor, unfortunately,
was still on his way to them. Thankfully, Mrs Woolkire had assisted in a number of Rodeiron births and
knew exactly what to do. She’d assured both Evander and Mickey the pain and the fluctuating mood
swings were quite normal.

Especially the mood swings.

“Just one more push, Yer Grace, and yer sweet babe will be here,” she encouraged him, and had Mickey
not been so… preoccupied at the moment, he would have been surprised at her gentle tone. As it was, he
only nodded quickly, took in a great big gulp of air and pushed with all his might as he felt the easing of
pressure in his body as the baby slid the rest of the way out and into the waiting arms of Mrs Woolkire.

Mickey gave a great sigh of relief and collapsed back onto the bed where he’d been carried shortly after
his water had broken. He listened to the sound of his new born child crying and smiled. His body felt
drained and completely worn through. Hearing Evander’s voice as if through a fog, Mickey turned his
head to look at his husband.

“It’s a boy. It’s a beautiful little boy,” Evander panted out. Mickey smiled and opened his mouth to name
his child before snapping it closed as he felt painful pressure again. Turning to Mrs Woolkire in surprise,
he saw her eyes widen as she looked up at him.

“I think you better take yer son, Yer Grace. Looks like we got ourselves another baby comin’” she said
with a hearty chuckle.

Mickey wanted to deny her claim. He opened his mouth to do just that when a very high-pitched scream
burst out instead. Holy fucking shit balls. Why hadn’t he known he was having twins? Wasn’t that
something he should have known? Why hadn’t the doctor told him? Why did this baby hurt less than the

one before? Why the fuck was Evander crying?

“YOU DON’T GET TO FUCKING CRY,” Mickey yelled at him. “I’M THE ONE

GIVING BIRTH TO TWINS. YOU DON’T GET TO CRY.”

Evander nodded at him quickly as Mickey pressed down once again as the baby—the second, completely
unexpected one—came sliding through the reopened slit.

“And it’s a girl. Congratulations, Yer Graces. Looks like the Great God sought to bless ye with one of
each,” Mrs Woolkire said with a grin.

Mickey felt a pain in his chest. Not an entirely unwelcome one, but the sharp pain of a happiness so
strong, so all-encompassing, that it stole his breath. Letting out a small cry, he held out his arms for his
children. The blood and goop covered (it looked like melted cheese to Mickey), but still extremely
beautiful babies: his daughter, with bright blue eyes and a small tuft of what appeared to be brown hair,
and his son, with brown eyes and hair so blond it appeared invisible, looked up at him and stopped
crying.

“Hello. I’m your Daddy Mickey,” Mickey whispered through a throat clogged with tears.

He smiled at Evander as he sat next to him, looking over his shoulder at their children. “This is your other
daddy. He’s Daddy Evander. Can you say Daddy Evander?” Mickey shook his head at his foolishness.
“Of course you can’t. You’re just discovering the outside, aren’t you?”

He swallowed and looked up into the glistening eyes of his husband, the love he felt in his own heart
being reflected back at him from Evander’s eyes. He knew they would have to deal with the fallout of
Carl’s death. Though the other man was horrible, he was still Evander’s firstborn son, but Mickey knew
they would stand together through it all. His eyes slid closed as Evander pressed a kiss to his forehead
before turning to look back down at the babies before him.

They were so beautiful, so precious. So… real. They were really there. His children, to raise with
Evander and to love forever. To never abuse, mistreat, cast aside, or throw out. The fruits of his love for
Evander.

“We’re so glad you’re here. We’ve been waiting for you for a very long time,” he told the twins who
were falling asleep, their eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion of being born pulled them down under
onto the cloud of Dreamland. “We love you very much,” he whispered to them.

“I love you very much,” Evander told him, kissing his shoulder softly.

“And I love you, my duke. So very much,” Mickey responded, pressing his lips against Evander’s, the
man who had saved him, married him, given him a better life, and best of all, loved him unconditionally.

*

*

*

*

*

*

They had the funeral for Carl a week later. Evander’s sobs had ripped Mickey’s heart to shreds and he’d
spent days apologizing to his emotional husband. They had decided not to name their son Carl, in memory
of his older brother, much to the shock of many members of the ton.

The name had never truly been considered by either of them, holding too much pain for them to want to
spend the rest of their lives calling their son by such a name. Mickey stood next to Evander, holding his
hand and sniffling as Carl’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Their new born children, Klayton and
Kylie, slept peacefully in their stroller in front of them, in spite of the wails of agony coming from their
father.

Mickey had been questioned again and again by the magistrate, with Evander sitting next to him in a
gesture of silent support, tears filling his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks the entire time. Mickey
was sure it was a mixture of his son’s dying and finding out exactly how said son had been torturing
Mickey. Mickey wanted to take away Evander’s pain, but he wasn’t sure how. Besides, how was he, the
very man who had taken Evander’s son away from him, supposed to offer comfort for that loss?

Hours after the funeral was over and the last guest had been forcefully, but politely, ushered out the door,
Mickey wandered through the large house, looking for Evander. He followed the sound of the deep,
rumbling voice into the nursery and froze.

There, Evander sat in a rocking chair, holding both children in his lap and singing softly to them. Mickey
felt his heart squeeze in his chest and the air in his lungs stuttered. As the last notes of Fire Enisia, an
ancient Rodeiron lullaby, faded away, Evander began to speak.

“You are loved. Never forget that. No matter what decisions I or your Daddy Mickey makes, you are
always loved. We will never forget you, abandon you, or toss you to the side. We will support you,
encourage you, and we will always, always, love you. No matter what. Your older brother Carl, we went
to his funeral today, he forgot that. He thought I couldn’t love both him and your Daddy Mickey at the
same time. He thought that because I’m gay that meant I was going to choose other men over him. But it
wasn’t true. It was never true. The same goes for you two. Your daddy and I? We will always choose
you. You are our children, and you are so very, very loved.”

Mickey felt a huge chunk of his heart break then, and he realized, more than he ever had before, that he
loved his husband. He also realized how completely blessed he was in that moment. Running out of fuel
and having to stop on Wilgrin was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

Mickey stepped into the room and smiled at Evander, those green eyes that he loved so much gleaming
with love and tears. Mickey would help his husband grieve and mourn the son he had lost. He would also
help Evander enjoy the children the Great God had given them.

“You are loved, too, you know,” Mickey whispered as he pressed a kiss to Evander’s temple, sitting
down on the arm of the rocking chair.

“Yeah I know. I love you, too,” Evander whispered back, his words unbroken and his tone firm. “No
matter what.”

Mickey nodded and looked down at their sleeping twins, the press of Evander’s shoulder on his side and
the weight of Evander’s head on his shoulder welcome and comforting. He wouldn’t trade this for
anything in the galaxy. He had two beautiful children, a gorgeous house, friends who accepted and
supported him, and he had Evander. Evander, the man who loved Mickey with all his flaws and despite
all his mistakes.

Evander, Mickey’s duke.

THE END

Vicktor loves to hear from his readers. You may contact him at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VicktorAlexander

You can also find him chattering away on social media sites and teasing readers (in the most deliciously,
viral way possible) on his websites:

www.Vicktoralexander.com

www.Twitter.com/VVeeB

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About the Author

Vicktor Alexander “Vic” wrote his first story at the age of 10 about his youngest sister and her destruction
of the world…with her breath. Vic now enjoys writing about shifters, humanoids, cowboys, firemen, rent
boys, fairies, elves, dancers, doctors, Doms, Subs, and anything else that catches his fancy, all sexy men
falling in love with each other and having lots of naughty, dirty, man-on-man sex. Bestselling author of
The Tate Pack Series, Vic has his eyes on the stories that erase the lines of tradition and focuses instead
on love, in all its many forms. A huge fan of the

“happily-ever-after” ending, his characters all ride off into the proverbial sunset, sexually satisfied and in
love, all bearing the scars of fighting for that love, just like in real life. No consistent fluff writer here,
Vic’s stories can be slightly gritty, dark and hard hitting, but the reason for that is, to Vic, love is sweeter
when it’s been fought for and won. Never satisfied with only one genre, every book that Vic writes falls
into more than one category and has each main character experiencing more than one orgasm, which is
something Vic is very used to hearing in his real life.

Out and proud, Vic does not believe that love only comes in one form, one race, one gender and that not
only is gender fluid, by sexuality as well. Vic loves to make people laugh and when he’s not writing, or
rather, procrastinating in writing, he’s reading, playing the Sims 3, hanging out with his very supportive
adopted family, talking to his adopted daughter, whom he affectionately calls “Chipmunk”, about how
she’s going to help him change the world or being distracted from his writing by pictures of John
Barrowman, Scott Hoying and Shemar Moore.

The Rooster & The Pig Publishing

Where Fluff Meets Rough

http://roosterandpigpublishing.com