Freckled Guys Novels & Stories

A lot. “Leo, is this your pack?” The big guy’s cheeks flushed, and then his gaze darted to Gabe and then Odis. “Yes.” He was wearing a green, ripped sleeveless shirt and I could clearly make out the hickies along his neck. They almost matched mine, but I had a sneaking suspicion he might have more. “What a small world,” I murmured.

While he was thinking there would be no risk if not for the amount of people wearing green clothes and berets and whose shaved heads are as big as Bane, but that was the minus of the interior. In front of him, while a man appeared with colourful clothes from the seventies and jeans, fishnet stockings and slippers he came with a carefree face and dark glasses and long tangled and loose hair was the brother Freak.

Zeedar finally responds. Ziason shrugs. “I am just being political.” “What do you think, brother?” Zeedar poses the question at Freck. He finds it strange that the latter has been carving on the table since the meeting began. To make him stop, he has to make him talk. Freck groans, leaning down briefly to blow air on his carving. “Honestly, I just want to fuck Heaven,” he mumbles. “I have no thoughts.” “Are you out of your mind, Zechariah?” Ziason barks, his gaze shooting daggers.

Cece sighed. "You mean you had a childhood crush on him," Gail calls out. I knit my brows, "what happened." Cece, from her death glare directed at Gail, turns to me, "puberty?" I can't help but laugh. "Up next is Marcus D'Froi," she points to a group where the said boy is evidently the one in the center, although he was paying no one else but his phone attention. He had brown skin and a buzz cut. I would say he too was cute, but if he's some sort of king too, I doubt he is any better than Javier. "He's French, thus his pack is called Un, or one in French."

It was very embarrassing. "So, April this is everyone." Marcus said then he pointed at a guy who was at the far end of the couch. He had a girl on his lap. The guy had a few strands of his hair dyed purple matching with the girl that was in his lap who had whole of her hair dyed purple. From a far I could spot a few facial piercings from both of them. They had a certain unique sense of fashion and they eluded a certain type energy. "That is Felix and his girlfriend Skyla. They have emo kind of vibe."Marcus whispered the last statement and I thought it made more sense now.

I wasn't able to notice his features, since it was all dark. He has a golden olive skin which is.. just beautiful. Thick brows that arch perfectly over his eyes, one of them slightly scarred. His eyes are the kindest green eyes I have ever set my gaze upon, if not the kindest pair of eyes I've ever seen. His nose is straight, and strong, with freckles over them. I've never seen a guy with freckles before, but this man.. his freckles sit nicely on him. A square, sculpted jaw frames his face, leading down to a subtle cleft in his chin, the faint shadow of stubble giving him a rugged, sexy even, untouchable vibe.

Apparently, they had trained elsewhere. “Hey sweetheart, how bout we have some fun after all this is over?” one of them snickers, his dark brown eyes roaming me from head to toe. I take an instant dislike towards him. He is tall, lean and sports a shaved head, unlike the rest of the men here who wear their crowning glory with pride. There is also a tattoo of a pup’s paw on his neck.

Shaking his fingers he chuckled, it was the least reaction she had expected from him. One time he is as angry and deadless as a viper,the other time he is as flirty and lively as a golden retriever. “You are lucky,I am not blessed with sharp teeth or else you would be missing two fingers right now”. Angela told him. “You are an interesting one Freckles, and I think we are going to get on just fine”. He smiled at her. “No we are not! I need to go home,get me out of here. What on earth made you think I wanna be with a man as shameless and arrogant as…”.

He picked a random video and tried to focus. There was a noticeable size difference between the two guys on screen, and Jamie found himself studying the bigger guy. Brown hair, muscular build, the confident way he moved. That part, at least, caught his attention. He tried to lean into it, to let his brain follow where it clearly wanted to go. Except. The guy didn’t have freckles. His face wasn’t nearly as handsome. But if Jamie squinted, just a little, he almost looked like— Jamie snapped the laptop shut.

My grip on his jacket tightened, “Alessandro, what she did to you—that wasn’t love. That was rape. You know that, right?” He laughed, and the sound of it—light and carefree. It wasn’t bitter or broken; it was like I had just said something absurd, like I was being dramatic. “Freckles, boys can't be raped. That’s not how it works.” I pulled back, staring at him like he’d just told me the sky was green. “You didn’t just fucking say that, did you?” I could hardly believe it.