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    “Prince Draco.” The sound of the guard’s voice sent a shiver through him.

    “You may speak,” Draco said carefully.

    “I apologise.” Potter’s voice had an aching edge of sincerity to it, none of the snark from before. “An Alpha isn’t able to control who… responds to his scent.”

    Anger flared in Draco’s chest. How dare this guard make some assumption about what Draco could sense? “Apologies are for equals. You’re less than nothing to me, guard,” Draco spat. “Don’t you dare assume otherwise. You’ll speak only when spoken to, or you’ll find yourself exiled from this kingdom without a sickle to your name.”

    “Yes, my prince.”

    My prince. His voice, rich and dark. His scent, musk and spice and loamy earth. It wasn't proper for a guard to smell that way. To make Draco's spine draw taut as a bowstring, to kick up sparks in the pit of his belly. Like a promise. Like a calling.

    Draco wondered if the guard could smell him. If he could feel Draco's body responding to his scent, wanton and ready. Slick.

    He cast the guard a final glance, chest tight and cheeks hot.

    Draco needed to rid himself of this guard. And soon.

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    15 Mar 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    When a new counselor gets hired on at Camp Lake Altea, Lance is almost positive he's seen the guy somewhere before; unfortunately, Lance is too busy wrangling unruly campers and pissing Keith off to figure out their past history.

    Well, what happens at camp stays at camp. Usually.

    (A Summer Camp counselor AU)

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    12/?
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    20 Nov 2024