14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Charon
Icy spray from the waterfall leaves a chill on my skin against the cold night air.
Hector sits on the edge of the deck quietly, cane resting beside him, shoulders hunched.
He hasn't spoken since I woke him up on his bench earlier, dark circles prominent beneath those emerald eyes he was so eager to lose.
Neither of us slept much, both tossing and turning most of the day.
I fought the urge to scoop him up, bring him to my bed, and never let him go.
What happened between us was influenced by red rain, I know that, and yet, after four days of him using me however he needed, I feel even more protective of him. My every instinct screams to keep him close, keep him alive .
But I've always struggled with protecting those I care for, so instead, I focus on the rhythm of my work. Drag a barrel across slick wood, fill it beneath the fall, let the water thunder in until the slosh grows heavy. Then I roll it to the far side of the boat to join the others.
Slowly, I ready them all, except for the one he'll hide in. That barrel, I leave for last.
When I look up, Hector is watching me closely, fists clenched tight in the folds of his sweater. He doesn’t flinch when I meet his gaze, and I wish with all my heart that he’d tell me to stop. Say that it’s too dangerous, that he changed his mind.
But all he does is stare. How I yearn to ask what he's thinking beneath those soft curls.
Once the barrel is half full, I peel off my shirt and beckon him closer. He hesitates only a moment before grabbing his cane, limping toward me with guarded features. Each step he takes fills me with dread, the thought of putting him in danger almost more than I can stand.
The water's chill soaks into my pants as I kneel down, and when he finally stops in front of me, I tug at the hem of his sweater tentatively.
Hector's eyes widen a fraction, breath catching, but he doesn’t stop me from lifting it slowly over his head. I toss the soaked fabric aside, revealing pale skin stretched thin over bruises and sharp, bony features. Far too thin, way too fragile.
My gaze lingers on his nipples before dropping down to a jagged scar across his side, and my fingers brush over the raised flesh as I furrow my brows questioningly. How ?
His delicate throat flexes with a swallow. “Soldiers attacked me when I was eleven. I beat them to death...but not before they carved a piece of me out first.”
My heart lurches at the thought of him needing to defend himself so young, how scared and alone he must have been. Where were his parents? Why wasn't anyone around to save him?
Yet here I am, sending him to his possible death inside a prison far worse than all of his darkest nightmares. How am I any different than his sister for leaving him behind? The thought of being like her makes me sick.
Touching the scar lightly, I lower my head and gently press my lips to it.
He shudders as he drops the cane, hands falling to my shoulders.
I let my mouth linger there, memorizing the shape of his hurt, honoring the place he bled and survived.
Then I trace his flesh with my tongue, moving up from his sternum to his nipples before stopping at the heart beating wildly in his chest. When I finally lift my head, his green eyes are dazed, jaw hanging slack.
"You don’t have to do this ,” I wish I could say. " You’ve already survived enough."
But I can't.
So instead, I stand and cup the back of his neck, my thumb brushing the hollow behind his ear as I touch my forehead to his. Our noses brush, breaths mingling. A choked noise claws its way out of Hector's throat when his grip on me tightens, and he leans up on his toes to press his mouth to mine.
The kiss is shaky, but there’s nothing hesitant about the way he melts for me. I kiss him back with everything I can’t say, our tongues dancing to some unknown yet familiar rhythm as I pull our bodies flush.
As soon as his chest meets mine, though, he jerks back so forcefully that he would have fallen had I not been holding him up.
"Fuck." His swollen lips part as he drops his dilated pupils down to his crotch—to the bulge tenting his pants. Sucking in a sharp breath, he twists around on one foot, hands moving to shield himself from my gaze in shame.
My heart aches, but I don’t let go.
Instead, I step in close enough that his back warms my front. When my hands slide over his chest, brushing over his nipples, he lets out a sob.
“Hector,” I whisper without sound, letting his name live inside my soul.
He goes absolutely still, and I lean forward to nip his ear as my own hard cock rests against his ass.
Don’t hide from me. Please.
Pressing my lips to the side of his throat, I let him feel my acceptance in the softness of my kiss.
His entire body shivers, but this time, he doesn’t pull away.
The trembling slows when my mouth drifts lower, skimming along the curve of his spine.
I trace the edge of his shoulder blade with my tongue, taste the salt on his skin, feel the goosebumps bloom beneath my touch. And still, he doesn't stop me.
His hands clench at his sides, but when I reach around to grip his length, he gasps and grabs my wrist, moving my palm up and down. I cup his jaw just enough to see the anxiety there, but I kiss it away, swallowing every noise he makes .
He feels so good in my arms, and it's been so long since I've touched anyone this way, ten years spent alone on this boat with only Nyx and the soldiers forcing me to take them across the river. Most people are cruel or terrified of me.
Hector used to be terrified. But he's not anymore.
I lower us down to the deck carefully, laying his body beneath mine. Curls stick to his forehead, chest heaving, but he spreads his legs for me. When I settle between them, pressing our bodies together, he arches up instinctively with a desperate sound that goes straight to my bones.
“Charon,” he breathes, voice ragged.
I answer with a searing kiss as his hands roam my back, fingertips dragging through water still clinging to my skin. His hips rock up against me greedily, and I sigh into his mouth, grinding my cock against him.
My lips trail over his jaw, his throat, down to his collarbone, where his pulse thrums wildly against my tongue. As I sink my teeth in, he arches again, grabbing the back of my head to keep me in place.
"Oh, gods, that feels...harder. Please."
I almost come at his mumbled plea, biting down more forcefully to suck a bruise into his flesh. He slips a hand beneath the waistband of his trousers to stroke himself as I lick away the sting of the bite. Then I do it again, and again, until his delicate throat blooms with my marks.
A collar to show the world who he belongs to.
"Help me," Hector groans, tugging down the hem of his pants. I assist him along, trailing my lips down his chest as I slide them below his hips. When his cock springs free, flushed and beautiful, I pause at his naval to look up into his heated gaze.
“Okay?” I mouth, palming my own aching length.
He nods slowly, licking his lips. “Yes. Touch me.”
Those two words break something open inside my heart.
Part of me wonders if anyone has touched him this way before, but another part doesn't care, because he's here now . Death may wait for us tomorrow, but at this moment, he's writhing in pleasure beneath me and it’s all I can offer.
Starting slow, I lightly lick around his swollen tip. Bitter salt bursts on my tongue, and Hector whimpers as his fingers tangle into my hair.
“Fuck,” he hisses, hips stuttering upward.
I steady him with my hands on his thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles when I take him deeper, his cock hot and pulsing against my tongue.
With a deep moan, he throws his head back, neck arched, mouth parted in wordless surrender.
His lashes flutter against flushed cheeks, curls plastered to his forehead, and the image sears itself into my memory.
He's so beautiful that I have to look away, focusing on running my tongue up his length instead.
“I…” he starts, voice hoarse. “I’m close.”
Tugging on my hair, he pulls me off with a soft pop, and I crawl up his trembling frame to kiss a trail from stomach to throat.
All it takes is three more strokes before his whole body bows off the ground with a strangled cry, thick ropes of cum shooting onto his chest. I hold him through it, kissing his jaw, his temple, whispering nothing and everything all at once.
By the time his orgasm ends, he’s a boneless tangle in my arms. I shift us gently, tucking him against my chest before curling my arms around him, holding tight.
My own cock strains uncomfortably against my trousers, but I ignore it, content to feel Hector relax for the first time since the soldiers dragged him onto my boat.
I hate what they've done to him, then and now. What they've done to us . I wish I could’ve spared him from all of it—that scar, the pain, the weight he carries even in sleep. But I can’t change the past.
All I can do is hold him now, let his breath warm my chest, and promise without words that I'm here if he needs me. He doesn't have to face the world alone anymore.
Even if he leaves when this is all over, when he finds his sister and they head out for a better life, I’ll remember this forever.
In a world built to ruin people like us, moments like these are too few. Not once in all my life have I ever felt something like this. Like him.
So I'll cling to it for as long as I can.