The Alchemist's Son - Ch. 8 - Declan (Patreon)

Declan woke before Ezra but found himself trapped. Sometime during the night, the boy had snuggled himself up under Declan’s arm, one leg thrown over both of his, his cheek resting over Declan’s heart, lips parted as he snored softly. Declan smiled. It sounded a little like a cat purring, which fit Ezra perfectly.

He looked like a cat, curled up and warm and without a single care in the world. In sleep, the difference in Ezra’s face was almost startling. When he was unconscious, the pinched expression he often wore disappeared, leaving behind a false innocence Declan found fascinating.

Ezra had lost his childhood too early. He’d been barely ten the first time someone had stolen him away and attempted to use him to manipulate Abel. The physical damage they’d inflicted had healed quickly, but the trauma Ezra had endured was clearly still there, buried deep down beneath layers of sarcasm and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Declan knew what that was like. He knew how it felt to not be able to trust the people who were supposed to keep him alive. He’d lost his innocence long before ten years old—his mother had seen to that. Maybe that was why Declan couldn’t bring himself to see Ezra as a pawn. They were kindred, both of them orphaned by one parent and tormented by another.

Declan studied Ezra’s face, his thumb tracing his full lips. Ezra was always beautiful, but in sleep, he was unreal, ethereal looking even, like some kind of supernatural creature. And he was Declan’s. All his.

He’d given himself to Declan in every conceivable way. Had begged for him. Hurt for him. Remembering the way he’d cried sent a shock of awareness straight to Declan’s dick just thinking about it. Ezra was the perfect submissive without even a hint of training. But it was so much more than that. This went so much deeper than that. So deep it scared him.

Still, looking down at the blissed out expression on Ezra’s face, Declan couldn’t stop himself from tilting Ezra’s chin up and brushing their lips together. Ezra responded immediately, a tiny whine escaping as he caught Declan’s bottom lip between his own, sucking on it gently. Fuck. The way Ezra responded so fully, even in sleep, had Declan throbbing.

When he slid his tongue into Ezra’s mouth, Ezra’s hand on his belly spasmed and he moaned, rubbing his half-hard cock against Declan’s thigh.

“Daddy,” he sighed into his mouth.

Fuck. Declan let his fingertips trace the skin of Ezra’s thigh, rumbling as he felt goosebumps erupt in anticipation of his touch. He found Ezra’s ass cheek and squeezed before letting his hand slide deeper, teasing at his hole, still wet from where his cum had leaked all night.

Declan growled against Ezra’s lips, then pushed two fingers inside, eyes rolling as the tight heat of his body sucked him deeper. Ezra drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flying open, meeting Declan’s gaze. Had he still been asleep? Declan examined his face as he worked him open, doing his best to gauge whether the shocky expression on his face was pleasure or pain.

After a moment, Declan pulled free, gently rolling him onto his back and crawling over him. When Ezra’s legs went around his waist, some primal part of Declan roared. Ezra already knew who he belonged to. Declan pressed the head of his cock against his entrance, hesitating only a moment before he pressed inside in one long slow stroke, not stopping until he was fully buried inside him.

Ezra’s nails dug into Declan’s back, and his breathing accelerated. When Declan went to move, Ezra tightened his arms and legs, clinging to him. “I-I need a minute.”

Declan searched his face. That tension was back—this time from pain. Declan was being careless with him. He liked making Ezra hurt but not like that. Not without his consent. Besides, Declan didn’t feel like playing games this morning. He’d just wanted to be inside him, to feel the tight grip of his body before he had to leave that room and go back to reality.

“We can stop,” Declan said, making to pull free of him.

Ezra’s eyes went wide and he clung harder, voice tinged with panic. “What? No. I just…I just need a second. Can’t I just have a second?”

Christ, Declan was bad at this. This was why he didn’t do relationships. It was why he stuck with what he knew. Pain. Domination. Scenes that had beginnings and endings where Declan’s prey could return to the real world, quickly forgotten.

But this was different. This was Ezra, which shouldn’t have made a difference, which Declan had promised himself wouldn’t make any difference when he’d come up with his fucked up plan to use Ezra to trap Abel. To use him just as every other person in his life had.

Fuck, what was wrong with him?

When he noticed Ezra staring up at him, his worry etched into the creases in his forehead and his pinched gaze, he leaned down and kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. Each time he pulled back to check in on Ezra, the tension receded a little more, until his lids were at half-mast and his hands were absently skimming over the muscles of Declan’s back.

“Daddy,” Ezra said on a sigh, shifting restlessly beneath him.

“Better now?” he asked against his ear.

Ezra nodded, his cheek brushing Declan’s. “Yes. Move…please?”

Declan was already surging forward, pleasure jolting through him at Ezra’s low moan against his skin. “Like that?” he asked.

“Mm,” Ezra whispered. “Do it again?”

Declan chuckled, repeating the motion once, then again and again, until neither of them were saying much of anything, the only sounds in the room the sounds of their bodies coming together and their breathing, which grew more ragged and frantic as each of them moved closer to tipping over the edge.

Declan buried his face against Ezra’s neck, shoving his hands underneath him to hold him against him tightly as he tried his best to fuse his body to Ezra’s. No matter how deep he got, how hard he thrust, it just wasn’t enough to satisfy this weird primal need to make two bodies into one, no matter how insane it seemed.

All he could do was focus on the sharp sting of sweat as it pooled in the scratches left on his back as Ezra clawed at him, working himself against Declan until he finally cried out, spilling between them without Declan even touching him.

That was all it took for Declan to finally give in and let go, biting down on Ezra’s throat, a full body shiver rolling over him as he emptied himself inside him. “Fuck. You were so fucking good. So good for me.”

Ezra didn’t say anything, just tucked himself as close to Declan as he could, hot tears flowing against Declan’s neck.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Ezra nodded but still said nothing. “It’s normal, you know. The crying. It’s chemical. It’s a drop in adrenaline. Just so you know.”

“Okay,” Ezra said, sniffling.

Why was it so awkward with Ezra? Why did everything between them feel so intense and heavy? Like every word, every action had weight? Like it was life or death? In all his years on the planet, nothing had ever mattered to him like these moments with Ezra.

Jesus. Was this how easy it happened? He’d been inside him twice and, suddenly, he was absolutely fucking whipped. Abel would laugh in Declan’s face. Would tell him he was weak. But Abel had been weak once, too. He’d fallen for Ezra’s mother and had spent his whole life chasing her and ignoring their child.

Declan shook the thoughts off, freeing himself from Ezra and rolling onto his side of the bed, then to his feet. He went to the bathroom, cleaning up briefly, then went back to the bed with a wet washcloth to clean Ezra off.

When the tears stopped, Declan leaned into his space, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I’m going to go get you some food. Do not get out of this bed unless it’s to use the bathroom or take a shower. When I get back, we’re staying in bed until they get back with Satar. Got it?”

Ezra studied his expression. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Do you want me to be mean?”

“No. I just want you to be real with me. I’d rather you just stay mean if you’re going to eventually start treating me like shit again.”

That brought Declan up short. How did Ezra act so cold-blooded one moment, but then so tenderhearted the next? The same way Declan did, he supposed. They were both in majorly uncharted territory.

“When we’re in this room, you’re the most important thing in the world. But when we cross that threshold, things are different. They have to be. At least, until your father shows his face again. Got it?”

Declan hated the desolate look on Ezra’s face. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Declan sighed, gripping his chin and forcing Ezra to look at him. “Not whatever. Do you understand what I mean?”

Ezra was sulking, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

Ezra gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Daddy,” he said begrudgingly.

Good enough. “Good boy.”

Ezra bristled, but there was no doubt he liked the praise. Declan filed that away for later.

###

The metallic smell of copper pennies filled Declan’s nostrils. The brass knuckles on his hand were slick with blood, causing them to slip uncomfortably as he flexed his fist. The same blood that splattered across the dirty concrete floor along with several of Satar’s teeth.

The man’s face was barely recognizable. One eye was swollen shut, there was a huge gash on his cheek, and his jaw sat slightly askew, clearly broken. But still, the man said nothing, just as Ezra predicted.

When Declan, Coven, and Olivander first entered the room, there had been begging and excuses, bribes and bargaining, but once the blows had started, the man clammed up. Now, he sagged against the chains that held his arms over his head, his once pristine khakis and polo shirt covered in sweat, piss, vomit, and blood.

The door opened and Ezra entered, holding Satar’s phone. “Is it my turn yet?” he asked.

He spared a disinterested glance towards Satar, but seemed otherwise unfazed by the man’s grizzly appearance. His disinterest directly contradicted the soft boy Declan left in bed just hours ago. His ability to compartmentalize rivaled Declan’s and he’d be lying if he didn’t find that both hot and more than a bit troubling.

“Salem cracked the encryption on his phone,” Ezra said. “And I’m getting hungry.”

Olivander snorted. “You really think you can get him to talk? I’m starting to think this dude is one of those, whatchamacallits—” He snapped his fingers. “A sociopath.”

“I do now,” Ezra said, wiggling Satar’s phone. “He’s good. Like, I thought Salem was gonna come in here and kill him himself just to figure out his encryption skills, but he cracked it.”

Ezra grabbed the back of a metal chair and dragged it closer, making them all wince as the legs scraped loudly over the concrete. He spun the chair backwards just outside of the splash zone and sat facing the back, looking up at Satar’s mangled face.

“You’re a real sick fuck,” Ezra said casually. “I mean, I knew you would be. Didn’t I?”

Ezra looked to the others. Declan smiled when Olivander and Coven nodded dutifully. Barely seventy-two hours and he had the whole crew eating out of the palm of his hand. Baffling.

Satar spit in Ezra’s direction, but it landed on the dirty floor before him. “Fuck you,” he said, the words near mush in his mangled mouth.

“I do seem to be your type,” Ezra said, flipping through the man’s phone.

“Wait? This dude’s gay?” Olivander asked. “That’s his big secret?”

Olivander sounded as disappointed as Declan felt. Was being gay enough to force a confession from a guy who had just taken the beating of a lifetime? It was clear he was involved in his church and had a wife and kids, but was the fear of losing face with them enough to convince him to betray a client? Especially one as dangerous as Abel?

“How old is this boy?” Ezra asked, turning the camera towards Satar.

Declan stepped closer, stomach churning at the picture of a shirtless boy in a locker room. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

“Or him?” Ezra asked, flashing another image of a boy with a hollow-eyed stare.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Satar wheezed, blood drooling from his mouth to his shirt.

Ezra scoffed, flipping through photo after photo. “Does his shirt say Fairmont Middle School?”

“He’s a pedophile?” Coven said, looking the man up and down with disgust.

“A hebophile,” Satar managed. “I don’t date little kids. That’s disgusting.”

“You’re taking photos of middle-schoolers,” Ezra said, lip curling as he showed Satar another shirtless boy on his phone. “These were the only pics I could stomach looking at a second time.”

“Oh, please. You’re a man. You know what we’re like. Are you saying you didn’t think about anything but sex when you were that age? They’re old enough to know what they’re doing,” Satar said. “They consented.”

“They can’t consent, you piece of shit,” Ezra spit back, furious.

“You trying to say you didn’t know what you wanted as a teen? There are no victims here. It’s not a big deal,” Satar said, shaking his head like he couldn’t figure out why they didn’t get it.

Declan felt sick. He was used to killers, thieves, gun runners, drug dealers…all manner of criminals. But there was a special place in hell for people who harmed children. This man would die tonight. That was a given.

“If it’s not a big deal, why the encryption software?” Ezra countered. “Why go to church every day of the week? Why not tell your wife? It’s not a big deal, right?”

“You know the world doesn’t understand. It’s not socially acceptable. But we’re all men here. You get it.”

“Can we just kill this piece of shit?” Coven said, pulling his gun from the holster beneath his arm and pointing it towards the dead center of Satar’s forehead.

Ezra held up a hand. “Not yet. Satar is going to tell us where my father is first. Aren’t you?”

Satar let his head drop, refusing to look at them. “How sympathetic do you think the world will be to your wife and kids when it turns out that the youth pastor of a small church has been using his position to abuse young boys? Do you think they’ll have an easy time of it?

“You can’t do that,” Satar said. “That’s not right. They’re innocent.”

“Wow. The level of cognitive dissonance you have to have to say something like that is fucking wild, dude,” Coven said. “You’re using your position to find victims. What if someone did that to your girls?”

Satar’s head snapped up. “That’s different. Boys are different. We’re…designed to want sex. To want to breed and conquer.”

“If this guy uses the word breed again, I’m going to need someone to shoot me, too. Sick fuck,” Olivander muttered.

“Look, this can go one of two ways,” Ezra said. “One: you tell us where my father is and how to infiltrate his panic room, and we put a bullet in your head and your wife and children mourn you as a hero who died in a tragic assault.”

Satar’s head snapped up at that. “You’re going to kill me? Seriously?”

Ezra ignored the man’s panicked cry. “Or two: you keep fucking around, we make sure your sick predilections become public fodder, and you die with the world knowing what a disgusting piece of shit you are. Your kids grow up with a permanent stain on their lives and a past they’ll never be able to outrun.”

Satar’s head lulled on his shoulders. “You can’t do that. Don’t you care at all what you’re doing to my family?”

Ezra shrugged, his voice frigid. “We’re not doing anything, man. You are. You’re dead either way. You decide the legacy you want to leave behind.”

Declan couldn’t remember ever feeling as weirdly proud of someone as he did Ezra.

“I can’t help you,” Satar said. When Declan advanced on him, he began to thrash around. “Wait! I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I said I can’t. I can’t. I physically can’t. I don’t have the information you want.”

They all looked at each other. Unless Satar was an Oscar-winning actor, he meant what he said, but it didn’t make any sense. Even if he didn’t have the information stored in his memory, there had to be a way for him to access it remotely.

“You don’t know how to breach your own panic room?” Coven asked. “Do we look fucking stupid to you?”

Satar gave him a flat stare that seemed like an answer to Coven’s question, then finally said, “I can tell you the mechanics, show you the blueprints, but you’ll never make it past the biomechanics or the encryption.”

“Let us worry about that,” Olivander said. “You just tell us where the asshole lives and the system specifications.”

Satar sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He doesn’t live anywhere. We didn’t install his panic room in a house.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped to Declan, then back to Satar. “What?”

Satar gave a sad shake of his head. “We didn’t install the panic room in a house. We installed it on his yacht. The whole fucking boat is a panic room. Do you get it now? Fuck.”

Fuck was right. In every conceivable scenario Declan had run through his head, this one had never occurred to him. A fucking yacht? He could be anywhere in the fucking world and they’d never know it.

Declan looked to Olivander. “Cut him down and take him to Salem.” To Satar, he said, “You’re going to give us everything you fucking can or I swear to God, what I’ve done to you so far will seem like a fucking spa day.”

Goddammit.