Bloodspell: An MM, BDSM High Fantasy Novella

by Samantha Calcott

  And Simon. Bloody Simon. The boy who had once given him a fat lip and a bloody nose for talking to Amy after class one day. The boy who had pantsed him at graduation. The man he was supposed to murder.

  The man he had had a crush on since he was sixteen.

  Tobias shoved his feelings back down to a hidden well in his heart, hating them as much as he had once hated Simon. He knew it was a bad idea to fall for the man, but he didn’t have as much control over his own heart as he had over his ex-lovers.

  He had left the village and travelled to study magic, yes, but it had been more than that. He had left to find himself, and he had, in a male succubus’ dungeon with a whip in his hand and a hard-on that wouldn’t go away.

  In that dungeon he had found the control he desired, and so much more. He had gotten a grasp on himself, his wants and needs and desires. It had made him a better mage, a better man, and it had centred his emotions in a way that he had been unable to before.

  What would Simon say if he knew the depth of Tobias’ feelings toward him? If he knew that his old victim wanted to shackle him, have him at his mercy, shag him senseless until he knew nothing but Tobias’ name?

  He leaned his head back against the high-backed chair, allowing his long hair to flow over his chest and sighed. Life was complicated enough without adding unrequited love into the mix. He couldn’t possibly kill Simon, but his sense of self-perseverance wouldn’t let him be murdered, either. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, as the old saying went.

  That was why he wanted to search for a clue to possibly circumvent the prophecy. To find a way to avoid death. And they needed to do it quickly, before Thornhill decided on another plan of attack.

  But now his eyes were heavy, and he needed to rest. He barely slept anymore, dreading the day that was now close in coming. Hating the nightmares of being buried alive, of being tortured to death, of losing his life or killing Simon.

  He stood up, marking his place in the book, and shook Simon’s shoulder to rouse him. The man mumbled in his sleep and turned over, revealing a long, tanned neck that Tobias would have given anything to mark with bruises from his kisses.

  “Well, he can’t sleep here,” he muttered to himself. He cast a levitation spell and brought Simon to an unused bedroom, casting a charm to clean it quickly before he lowered the mage down onto the mattress and gently tucked him in. He wished, for one brief moment, that he could climb into the bed beside him and curl up there, safe and secure without fear.

  He touched his chest, where a flame that was a twin to the one inside of Simon burnt softly, suffusing him with warmth.

  For he didn’t tell Simon one other way for the soul magic to be activated: to have close contact with your soul mate. Whether or not Simon wanted him as well, they were bound by a power far greater than theirs for eternity. Their Soul Flames had been activated, and neither man had any choice in the matter.

  * * *

  When Simon woke the next morning, he was beyond disoriented. He didn't recognise the bed he was in, or the room. It took a moment before the previous day came flooding back to him.

  He sighed deeply, staring at the stone ceiling. This was not the way he expected his life to go, to be slowly falling for his rival and now threatened by a false mage with stolen magic. He wished he was eleven again, where his biggest worry was if his mother would allow him to sleep over at Jake’s house instead of training his magic.

  Slowly, he got out of bed, seeing that he was still fully dressed except for his favourite leather boots, which were placed neatly at the foot of his bed.

  There was a desk, wardrobe, armchair, and vanity in the room. Placed on the desk was a note addressed to him.

  “Simon, you can use this room and adjacent loo while you remain my guest. There are clothes I believe will fit you in the armoire. I will await you in the library.

  “TB”

  His handwriting was just like him, Simon thought. Smooth, neat calligraphy with a sharp edge. He then wondered what that meant for his own chicken scratch.

  He put the note in his jacket pocket and then went to take a shower and dress for the day. The clothes in the wardrobe were finer than he liked. He preferred modern, human-made clothing, as did many of his friends. While Tobias dressed in a sleek, modern fashion, he still resembled the mages of old with his sweeping coats, laced boots, and high-necked shirts.

  Simon found a pair of skin-hugging red pants, a loose, grey peasant shirt, and a long coat striped grey and black with frayed edges at the sleeves and hem. It figured Tobias would never wear those clothes: they were far too colourful for him.

  He walked through the drafty halls as he headed to the library, wondering how Tobias could possibly live here, it was so gloomy. The manor was beautiful but cold and lonely. It needed warmth, light, and happiness. Just like its current master.

  Once he was on the first floor, he made a wrong turn and came to a small, intricately carved door that radiated magic. He could break through the magical wards in time, but didn’t want to be caught being nosey. He’d have to be sneaky or be very persuasive in asking.

  In the library, Tobias was sitting in the same spot, but his hair was tied back into a long ponytail today, with two pieces obscuring his face. But now Simon could see the long, strong line of his jaw, his sharp cheekbones, and long, biteable neck.

  Okay, calm down, he chastised himself. You’re not here to fuck him … more’s the pity. He’s probably straight anyway.

  “Good morning, Simon,” Tobias said without looking up. He gestured toward a table where a covered plate sat. “I kept a warming charm on your breakfast.” He flipped a page in the book.

  “Thanks,” Simon said, sitting down and pouring himself a cup of tea. “It’s barely nine in the morning. What time do you get up?”

  “Around sunrise,” Tobias replied, still not looking at him.

  “Do you ever sleep?” Simon asked around a mouthful of boiled egg.

  “Occasionally.” He looked up at last, and Simon thought he did look awfully tired. “I’m taking a break for a few moments. My head feels like it’s been filled with rocks. I’ve had to translate many languages for all the prophecies here.”

  “I’ll pick up the slack,” he promised.

  Tobias scoffed, but he was smirking. “Well, there is a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

  “Git.”

  “Yes, I am, and I own it.” He stood up and stretched his legs. His coat was discarded, and he wore only a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. Simon noticed his nails were polished matte black. It was a nice touch … as was that gorgeous body.

  “Once we find the prophecy and see if there is a way to circumvent it, we need to figure out where Thornhill is hiding and eradicate the bastard from existence,” he said with more vehemence than Simon had ever heard from him. “We have spent hundreds of years fulfilling this prophecy, upholding the names of our houses and the standards at which mages have always been held and he — he — ” Tobias trailed off in a huff. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Control, control.”

  Simon stood up and walked behind Tobias. He placed a hand on his bony shoulder and said, “Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to kill him; we’ll make him pay for his crimes. I promise.”

  Tobias’ skin was warm beneath his shirt and Simon wanted to melt right into him, to hold him from behind and —

  Stop it, he scolded himself. For once my brain makes more sense than my body!

  Tobias stood straighter and turned, dislodging Simon’s hand from his shoulder and breaking the moment. “Forgive me. I am not often like this.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. This is a lot of pressure, mate,” Simon said. “We never really discussed it but … if there is no way to change the prophecy…”

  “Then one of us must kill the other. Yes, I am familiar with it,” Tobias snapped.

  “You don’t want to kill me?” Simon asked, confused. He always assumed that Tobias would relish the chance to kill
him and make it hurt after how he’d treated him when they were children.

  “No, despite my sour disposition, I am not a particular fan of murder,” he said. “And you? Were you relishing the idea of finally getting rid of the pesky little brat you used to knock over on the playground?”

  Simon felt sick. Had he really hurt Tobias so much that those beautiful black eyes were filling with moisture? “No… I — I’m sorry,” he said, head hanging. “I was a stupid kid. I never wanted to hurt you, not really. And I don’t want to kill you.”

  “Then let’s do what mages do best, shall we? Create a solution to a magical problem.”

  Tobias acted as though he hadn’t just been on the verge of some sort of breakdown as he gave Simon a translator and they began looking for the prophecy again.

  It wasn’t until late that night as Simon was starting to fall asleep that he heard Tobias exclaim, “I’ve got it!”

  Simon nearly fell out of his chair from the shock. He had never heard the reserved man shout so loudly. “W-what?”

  “The prophecy, you imbecile! I found it! And it’s already translated for us.”

  “Well? What’s it say?” Simon asked, going to stand at his side. He could feel the heat from his skin, smell an earthy shampoo that was just so … Tobias. It was enough to send his libido into overdrive as if he was a teenager again.

  “Here.” Tobias angled the book so that Simon could see.

  “Here we stand with mages uncountable, in the age where magic is new. They will create and make the future, spells all shall use. But one by one the houses must fall; as magic expands, they must recede. Until one day only one house name shall remain of the mighty mages, lasting for eternity in history. On the day that two remain, one must make the deciding blow and concede their name. Only one name can remain. The balance of magic must be maintained, and so it has been said, so shall it be.”

  Simon moved away and said, “Well, that’s pretty fucking straightforward to me.”

  “But it doesn’t say we have to kill each other. Why did everyone take it to mean murder?” Tobias wondered.

  “Because a mage is immortal unless and until they reproduce, which means their house and their magic still carries on,” Simon reminded him. “We can only die by a dark curse. It’s a natural assumption. And the mages formed the Honour Code, where we can’t kill babies or children. The mages must grow to be of legal duelling age. So, it’s not really murder, you know. It’s a duel to the death.”

  Tobias scoffed. “It still bothers me. I mean, what could happen if we didn’t fulfil the prophecy?”

  Simon shrugged. “Prophecies denied used to mean death and destruction, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, but… It sits badly with me, that’s all. In any case, we found it. I will ruminate upon it, but you should sleep. We begin our search for Thornhill tomorrow.” Tobias stood and said, “If I do not find a loophole, know that I will make your death swift after an honourable duel.”

  “… Gee, thanks,” Simon said sarcastically. “I’ll try to do the same.”

  * * *

  Tobias, as usual, wasn’t sleeping. Finding the prophecy hadn’t been the grand event he had thought it would be, and it only left him more discouraged. In many other circumstances, he’d easily be able to duel someone to the death, with the exception of two people: Amy Radella, the half-faerie, who had been a close friend, and now Simon. Bloody, cursed Simon Moonspell.

  Why did he have to fall for that damned mage? Why? It made no sense, he’d been a terror to him. But, deep down, Tobias had seen behind Simon’s armour. He had seen the small, kind, mischievous person hiding under all that posturing and attitude. And he had wanted to grasp that, to control that. To hold that close, keep it captive, because he was anything but kind. Simon’s golden heart could contrast his darkness so well. It would be a perfect balance.

  But to admit those feelings now would be emotionally devastating. To admit an attraction toward the man he was meant to kill would only cause them both pain. He’d had enough pain in his life to deliberately cause more on his own behalf. Better remain with the devil he knew than to invite in one that could be much worse.

  As he always did when he was feeling confused or frustrated, he turned to work. Usually he would go and brew a potion, but now they needed more than a beaker of liquid and herbs. They needed a tracking spell. While there were many readily available, they mightn’t work on Thornhill. The man was virtually unknown, except for the fact that he’d murdered hundreds of people in his quest for power. Since his magic was stolen and not inborn, Tobias was sure that he couldn’t track it. So, what now? What could he do?

  “I’m a mage,” he muttered to himself. “I can make up a new tracking spell.”

  He thought briefly of working up a sweat in his warded dungeon, but decided not to distract himself. He would have given anything to take Simon down there, give them both relief and gratification to clear their minds. And that was not what he needed to be thinking about right then.

  Like many nights, he wound up falling asleep before the fireplace, waking with a pain in his neck and a body that still craved rest.

  The only reason he woke was because someone was knocking at the magical door knocker at his front door, alerting him to a visitor.

  He stood up and walked to the front door, hoping Simon wouldn’t be roused too early.

  Standing on the other side of the door was Amy. When he had sided with Thornhill, he’d lost his only friend. Now he had had two visits in four days. If anything good could come of all this, perhaps he’d gain his friend back.

  “Amelia,” he said as warmly as he could when he opened the door. “Come in.”

  “Thank you,” she said, stepping into the chilly hallway. She looked out of place there with her fiery hair and bright yellow dress. “I can’t stay. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “If it’s because of Thornhill, I had hoped you’d see by now that I’m not on his side and —”

  “No, no,” she interrupted, smiling sweetly. “It’s got nothing to do with that, love. Some predictions are supposed to remain a secret. The Fae Council forbids us to interfere too much with humans … even mages. But I’m not a full faerie, so I think I can break the rules this once.” She paused and took a breath. “The prediction came to me as words, not images. And it said, ‘love will be the escape’. Now, I don’t know if it means falling in love, admitting to being in love, or, you know, performing the act of love but…” She trailed off, blushing,

  “You think that our victory somehow hinges on Simon and I … having sex?” Tobias asked, dumbfounded. “Were you drinking when you had this prediction?”

  She giggled. “Don’t get cute, Toby.” Only she was ever allowed to call him that. “All I know is what I’ve told you. What you do with the information is up to you.” She reached out and wrapped her old friend in a quick hug. “Trust your heart for once.”

  And she was gone as quick as she’d come, leaving Tobias a blushing, confused mess in his foyer.

  He felt his chest glowing brighter, the fire sending a pleasant warmth throughout his body.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he asked aloud to the empty room.

  * * *

  When Simon woke up, he felt the heat in his chest increasing. But it wasn’t unpleasant; he found he rather liked it. He just wished it wasn’t there because he owed a bloody life debt to Tobias Bloodworth.

  He dressed and went into the library, where he found the mage in question standing before a high table that hadn’t been there before, books open and scattered all over its surface.

  “What’s up?” he asked, checking for the breakfast that had been left for him once again. He made a mental note to try and do some of the housework while he was staying at the manor. It was only polite.

  “Trying to make a hybrid spell to track Thornhill,” Tobias replied. “Come, and try not to get in the way.”

  Simon hid a smirk. He was growing to l
ike the taller man’s sarcasm and occasionally rude comments. It was a part of him, and sort of made him more likable than the silent teen he’d once known.

  “I’ll have you know that I have created a good many spells and hexes,” Simon said, munching a piece of bacon as he stood at Tobias’ side. “You know, once upon a time, mages created stronger spells by working together. So maybe try to work with me instead of insulting me?”

  “Hm,” Tobias grunted. “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “Arse,” Simon snipped.

  “Nice of you to notice.” He flipped a page in the book he was reading and didn’t look up. Simon took the time to appreciate how sexy he was, serious and lost in concentration.

  He wondered how he’d be in bed: stoic and in control like this? Would Simon even like being controlled? He thought of Tobias’ imposing stance, deep voice, and icy glare and thought that yes, he most certainly would.

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” he asked a few minutes later. “There’s a door warded on this floor. What’s in there? Your porno collection?”

  “Vulgar as always, Moonspell,” Tobias said. “It is private, however, so quit nosing around.”

  “Yes, sir,” Simon said loftily, wondering what Tobias would do.

  He visibly stilled, a soft breath escaping from between his lips, and then went on reading as if he hadn’t been affected whatsoever. Meanwhile, Simon’s chest had flared up, and he wondered if there wasn’t something more to the flame burning there than he had been told.

  Half an hour of silence ensued before Tobias spoke again, “I won’t keep secrets from you. After all, I do require your trust in me. The room is for … personal use. Very personal.” His voice dripped with meaning, but it took Simon a moment to catch on.

  “You mean it’s for sex. Like … a dungeon?” His heart was racing so hard, he was surprised that Tobias couldn’t hear it.