Thread: Man Witch [Goody + Prince]

Quinn was giving the black-haired gal a tiny wave of his finger, loving the coy shit with her blushing and hiding her pretty smile, when Armie snagged his cig. He let her have it, barely pausing in smacking his lips in an air smooch at the innocent darling across the room - was she a virgin? He was giving her promises in his winks and air kisses that she acted like she had no idea what to do with and it was bloody lovely. He'd come to learn but he'd become a teacher - merely grunting in discomfort when Deidarmia wrenched her fingers through his hair. I don't get my ass handed to me, he whipped his head sideways to sneer insolently at her, even as she lounged on him casually. And yeah, he'd been about to ask for a keg of spiced ale. Well, sheet, he drawled lazily in chagrined amusement, rubbing a hand over his stubbled lips. Take all my fun away, why don't you? If not ale, then find me something else that's fun to drink. Whatever amounts to numbing oblivion around here. What do witches drink? Hard liquor? By the fucking Light, tell me they don't all stay dry. Just kill me right now. Only half-joking. He could barely survive a day without getting fucked on something going through whatever these witches had planned, especially what he'd already been through? Fuck if he wasn't thirsty. A loud snort left him over her pompous declarations, taking the cig back from her and giving it a light draw himself, breathing in blissful, burning cinnamon and tobacco, his lungs expanding with the toxic heat of it. Are you really betting? What you got, fucker? the affectionate namecalling was accompanied by a 'gimme' hand wave and raised eyebrow. He was pushing just a bit of bravado to hide not only the fact that he was drained but also to further hide his discomfort over Armie noticing that he was tired. Not that he didn't appreciate it but that wasn't what he liked her for and her concern, even teasing as it was, reminded him of the less than fun stuff going on at the moment. Taking another drag, Quinn huffed a laugh in his throat, shaking his head with an ironic twist of his lips, hating her and loving her for the way she ruthlessly teased. Yes. This is what my magic smells like, he said glibly, tipping his head away from her poking and pinching fingers in mild annoyance. Then with sudden aggressive violence, unmindful of her being a woman and any expectation of gentleness, Quinn grabbed her head and lifted the arm closest to her, shoving her face into the swampy, moist pit of his jacket. Ya like that brand? Ohhh yeah! Likin' it? Breathe deep! he chortled heartily as she struggled, smug as she was forced to suck in his suffocating odor. It's so magical! By the time he released her, painfully hissing through his teeth and rubbing his shin and his thigh from where she'd landed particularly brutal blows in retaliation, the red and gold doors had reopened. All fun and games were mostly swept to the side - okay, so, he gave her a quick couple of bruising jabs of his fingers into her side and her back, to get the final 'word' in - and he blinked expectantly at the doors and the matron who showed up to motion him back inside. Again...? Really? he muttered in complaint, fatigue lacing his voice, sharing a look with Deidarmia over her seeming prophetic choice of words. Frowning, Quinn dropped the cig on the marble floor, crushing it with a twist motion of his boot, before standing from the bench and heading back into the dark chamber. He did pause though, motioning the middle-aged witch to go first so that he could get a good eyeball on her soft, full backside. Standing before the long table again, light spilling over him from a couple of very tall windows, Quinn tried not to appear as exhausted and frustrated as he felt. Looking over the 4 witches, eventually joined by the fifth that had led him back inside, all of them older than 30, Quinn searched their faces for some sort of direction, some sort of decision. He tried to keep his eyes off of the ground, but eventually his gaze fell there, looking for the marks he'd created. Like protractor circles overlapping, thick, dark lines of violent, purple-black marred the marble under his feet, anxiety ripping through him as he gazed upon them with no recognition or possession, rejecting the cloak of guilt that kept wanting to drape over his shoulders. His eyes slowly drifted up to the statue sitting upon the pedestal nearby. A miniature of the one that stood facing the sea outside the city, this witch was carved from a polished smooth, deeply black stone, veins of electric, tropical blue gemstone feathered through it here and there. Something in the stone called to the shadowed depths of him, his fingers itching to stroke over her frozen, flowing robes. As terrified as he was of those shadowy, inky depths, there was freedom in releasing it, a freedom he craved even as he hated how undone he felt afterwards. Licking dry lips, rubbing itchy fingers together, Quinn stared at the statue with longing, pulling his gaze away with difficulty. Do you want me to touch the stone chick again? One of the matrons, a blonde woman with clear skin, eyes like a dove, and a maternal patience in her soothing voice, gave him a gentle smile. That won't be necessary, Quinn. It is clear to us now, from your previous reactions to the Stone of Awakening, that you have the gift. There are questions...that we may never know the answers to. But for now, we have decided to extend you the same courtesy of our blessed sisters. Quinn was still stuck on 'questions' already mentally hearing Deidarmia tease him about how since magic was supposedly female, he had a 'little bit of woman in him.' So, his eyes darted to the others at the table before narrowing on the blonde, and smirking with a shrug. What does that mean? What courtesy? He'd fully expected them to send him home. He was a man! They weren't seriously saying-- We will enlist you in the same magic courses as the other witches-- --by the fucking Light! That's exactly what they were saying! They were enrolling him in the women's school where all the womens were! Women all the time everywhere and his the only cock within reach! Automatically, he began singing a song about a meat lollipop inside his head and almost missed the rest of what the blonde said. --And train you to control your powers. Quinn huffed a laugh, crinkling his nose in amusement as he gave them all a quick, derisive sweep, expecting them to reveal the punchline somewhere. Okay. I guess that's a solution, he shrugged, more than happy to go along with it. What's the expectation here? Do you want me to get all A's on my magic tests? Am I gonna have to foster a skill and become some small town's augur? Mockingly, he gasped, eyes widening and slumping his shoulders in sudden realization and tolerant defeat. Am I gonna have to prance around in pretty little skirts too? To be fair...I might enjoy that more than you all will. Illustratively, he waved a hand at his crotch and admitted, Gotta let the boys breathe. Keeps 'em healthy. Skirt won't change that situation. The blonde matron blushed and cleared her throat, widening Quinn's grin. The expectation, Quinn, is that you will learn to control your powers or we will find a way to control them for you. His eyes swiveled to the left end of the table where a dark-skinned matron glared at him from her seat. His smile vanished with her words, dread filling him as she went on. The fact of the matter is, enrolling you in training IS a souldammed courtesy. And if I were you, I'd be a bit more fricking grateful. Because the alternative is, we drive a spike through your brain, just enough to shut off where the seat of power has you turned on, and send you to a mountain cottage where you can drool and shit on yourself for the rest of your days, while being cared for by our allies. Gloomily, Quinn muttered, Sounds cozy. We don't want to do that, dove-eyes said, her blue gaze filled with empathy and understanding. In fact...it occurs to us, there might be more men out there like you. We just don't know about them. Maybe the ages of feminine magic are over? Maybe men of your and younger generations will receive the blessing? We'd hate to start off on the wrong foot by lobotomizing the first discovered male witch. If there are others like you then they cannot be left alone out there, out of control and fearful. We want all to feel welcome to come to us for help. ...so I'm the test study, Quinn murmured with a grim smile, understanding it now but not liking it any better. You, the dark skinned witch said with a deliberate gravity. Are here to prove it's worth it to invest in male witches at all. Exiting the chamber again, Quinn's mood was dour and thoughtful. They said...the stone statue wasn't supposed to make an explosion of power burst out of enrollees. It was a barrier breaker. New students had their first, controlled and safe experience with magic when they touched it, and pre-graduates felt peace and a tranquil openness within when reuniting with the stone. The fact that he'd had such a violent reaction meant that those walls inside him were the only thing that kept him from lashing out and killing everyone with the power within. And his lack of memory of the events, each time they made him touch the stone statue, said that he wasn't even consciously present when the walls were lowered, which spelled trouble for him learning how to control the amount of energy that filled him. And that one on the end of the table, Viv, as she was called, made more dire threats that not even the sweetheart blonde dared refute. He had a year to make progress with touching the Stone of Awakening. If he failed to do so...they'd need to make new decisions on how to move forward. It felt like Viv had a personal gripe against him simply for having a penis and daring to be cursed with magic. Like, she was just itching to condemn him with her metal spike to the brain and wash her hands clean of the matter. However, they did offer him a way out, having already sent out a call for one of their best and brightest to train him. Some chick named Alluna. At least that was a comfort. If the stakes were gonna be fucking high, he'd prefer they work just as hard to make his chances the best they could be. He'd hate for Viv'sand any who empathized with her disdain to be...you know, transparent, or anything. As he crossed the hall again towards Deidarmia, Quinn did what he was known best for deflection, repression, and distraction. By the time he was within a couple feet of her, he was smiling like nothing was wrong, and began to sway in the middle of the floor, gyrating his hips in soft rolling motions , circling his arms in tight motions with shimmying shoulders, pure sex garbage in his sweat dried shirt and old travel clothes. Guess who's in the ladies school, he said in a smug, sing-song voice, as if it was what he wanted all along. Apparently, I'm gifted or some shit and they wanna keep me here for closer study. Never seen a cock as big as mine. Or any. At first, they asked me why I held my wand so low. Rest of this school is gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel. Glancing over his shoulder, he was disappointed to discover that the raven haired witch had left while he'd been in his meeting but he cast it out of mind as he turned back to Armie with a devil may care smirk and clap of his hands. You owe me a fuckin' drink, asshole, Quinn said with a snarky grin.