The Alchemist's Son - Ch. 9 Ezra (Patreon)

Ezra didn’t know how to feel. He spent his whole life in turmoil. There was a never-ending panic that lived deep within him—a quiet hum of adrenaline that kept him in constant fight or flight mode. He didn’t have to be a therapist to know it was PTSD, but identifying the problem never made it go away.

It was a persistent agitation, like hearing the buzz of the electricity humming in the walls. He could tune it out, but it was still there, still thriving, just waiting for the distractions to quiet before it flared to life once more. Like now. Right now, the hum was so loud. The panic was so loud.

He sat in the bathtub, fully clothed, hands clasped over his ears, terrified to close his eyes for fear the darkness would overwhelm him. He didn’t know why this was happening now. It had been two days since they killed Satar. Two days since they’d realized that fucking Abel had outsmarted all of them again. A-fucking-gain.

They hadn’t kept quiet about Satar and his proclivities. Salem had made sure the world knew what a piece of shit he was. He’d made sure the authorities contacted the families of the children he’d identified so they could get the help they needed.

None of them felt bad about not keeping their word to a pedophile. Ezra did feel bad for Satar’s wife and children, but he knew better than anybody that nobody existed in a vacuum and, sometimes, people had to sacrifice their comfort for the greater good. The world would quickly forget what Satar did and his family would likely have a fairly normal existence.

None of that had anything to do with why Ezra was cowering in a bathtub at two in the morning with Declan sleeping in the room next door. Ezra didn’t know what had triggered the episode. He hadn’t even fallen asleep. There was no bad dream, no repressed memory floating to the surface. Nothing.

One minute, he’d been snuggled against Declan’s side, the next, it was like someone had plunged him into ice water, his insides shaking, his nails digging into his own flesh, using the pain to drive away the terror clawing its way up his throat until he could do nothing else but flee to the bathroom and hide, hoping not to wake Declan.

He’d been choking back the tears for a while, afraid that if they started, they’d never stop and he wouldn’t be able to stifle the sound. He tried to focus on something, anything. The way Declan buried himself in his body. The floating fortress his father had created. Global warming. Political unrest. The mediocre last season of Game of Thrones…anything. Anything but being locked in the dark with nothing but his own thoughts and the sound of things scurrying in the dark, brushing against him, the screeching.

When his first sob broke free, he shoved the heel of his palm against his lips, biting down as hard as he could. But the pain wasn’t working. Nothing was working this time.

“Ezra?”

Ezra’s eyes went wide, his teeth sinking deeper into his flesh. Fuck. Had he locked the door? “I’m fine,” he called, voice wobbling and thick with tears.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The door handle jiggled like he was in a horror movie then stopped, and for the briefest of moments, Ezra’s panic shifted as he realized he did lock the door. His relief was short-lived as he watched the locking mechanism turn and then the door pop open.

Declan stood in his black boxer briefs, hair standing on end, eyes heavy from sleep, blinking at Ezra in confusion. He didn’t blame him. Ezra was sitting in an empty bathtub in pajama pants and a t-shirt, sobbing like a lunatic. Even without trying, Ezra was going to make Declan regret kidnapping him.

Declan frowned, then stalked forward, leaning down and sliding an arm under Ezra’s knees and another behind his shoulders. He had only a second to lock his hands behind Declan’s neck, then he was hauling him from the tub, carrying him to the bed like it was nothing.

He sat, placing Ezra firmly in his lap before asking, “Do you want to talk?” Ezra shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy. “Do you want me to distract you?”

Ezra nodded.

Declan studied his face, then his body, frowning when he saw the red trails left behind by Ezra’s nails, some with tiny dots of blood from where he’d cut himself with ragged nails. “Does that help?”

Ezra didn’t trust himself to speak so he just wiped at the silent tears still flowing down his cheeks as he nodded once more.

“Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach.”

Ezra’s stomach plummeted. If Declan wanted sex, Ezra wouldn’t refuse, but the idea of that much physical activity made him queasy. Still, he did as requested. That was their arrangement, after all. It was what Ezra had agreed to.

He sucked in a breath when Declan lifted his head and put a pillow beneath it, then left the bed to go to his closet. Ezra clenched his eyes shut, focusing on the sound of Declan’s movements. His footfalls were silent, but there was the closet door opening, the sound of a zipper, of metal on metal, then the door shutting once again.

The bed dipped and then Declan’s weight was pressing him down into the mattress as he sat on Ezra’s ass. Just the heavy weight of his body was enough to drive a little of the terror from him.

“Traffic light, remember?” Declan said.

“Yes,” Ezra managed. “Yes, Daddy,” he added hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about all that. Just focus on this.”

Ezra hissed as it felt like bee stings erupted along his shoulder, then rolled down his back, then disappeared. Declan’s tongue trailed in their wake, soothing the area. Then the fire was back, this time a thin line of pin prick-like sensations that caused goosebumps to erupt along his skin before disappearing. Declan’s tongue returned to trail over his skin.

“Color?”

Ezra blinked, struggling to figure out what he meant. Oh, right. “Green, Daddy.”

The cluster of needles was back, harder this time, pulling a distressed whine from him as it made its way down his spine. But the pain was somehow also pleasurable…addictive. He shifted beneath Declan’s heavy weight, his cock taking notice of the warring sensations.

Declan was hard, too. He could feel the heavy weight of him pressing into his ass. But he made no move to do anything more than what he did now. When he reached the bottom of Ezra’s spine, he changed direction, rolling back over the skin he’d already abused. Ezra’s hands spasmed in the sheets, rubbing his aching cock against the mattress. Why did that hurt so good?

When the tool disappeared, Ezra mourned the loss. But before he could think too much about it, Declan’s teeth sank into his shoulder hard enough to pull a cry from him. He whipped his head around to see Declan once more sooth the wound then suck on the flesh there.

Ezra’s brain struggled to keep up with the pain—pleasure—pain of Declan’s little game, especially when he placed a soft kiss against his ear and whispered, “Mine.”

Ezra’s eyes shut, more tears leaking at the possessive growl of just that one word. He was Declan’s. He always had been. For better or worse, the man owned a piece of his soul. And tonight, it seemed he was determined to leave his mark, forgoing the tools to bite-lick-suck his way down Ezra’s back until he was one big frayed nerve with no one thought lingering long enough to have any power over him.

Finally, when his back was raw and aching, Declan shifted, flipping him over and brushing their lips together. “You good?” he asked against his mouth.

Ezra was hard, aching, half-delirious, but the fear and panic had subsided somewhere along the way. He wasn’t good, though. He was frustrated. He shook his head, whimpering as he arched his hips against Declan’s so he could feel his problem.

“You need some help with that?” Declan teased, plunging his tongue into Ezra’s mouth briefly like he couldn’t help himself.

Ezra nodded.

“Use your words,” Declan admonished.

“Yes, please, Daddy,” Ezra said dutifully.

Declan smirked at him like he knew Ezra was mocking him, but then he was sliding lower to kneel between Ezra’s knees, yanking his pajama pants down just far enough to free his straining erection, before dipping his head.

Ezra couldn’t stop the sound that escaped when the wet heat of Declan’s mouth closed over him, sucking him from root to tip as his hips spasmed, forcing himself deeper. “Holy fuckin’ fuck.”

Declan pulled off just to give Ezra a grin before returning to his task with a purpose and expertise that left Ezra fucking dizzy. His hands fisted in Declan’s already messy hair as he put his heels to the mattress, unable to stop himself from fucking Declan’s mouth. He was so close. He needed this. He needed that release. He just needed it.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, letting go of Declan’s hair.

Declan didn’t relent, didn’t move. His hand curled possessively around one of Ezra’s thighs, then he swallowed around him. That was it. The tight squeeze of his throat was all it took for Ezra to flood Declan’s mouth.

Declan pulled free, climbing Ezra’s body to slant their mouths together, letting him taste himself on Declan’s tongue. Ezra could still feel how hard Declan was against his thigh. As they kissed, he slid his hand into Declan’s underwear but his hand gripped Ezra’s wrist, pulling it free.

“Uh-uh,” Declan said. “None of that. This was about you. Are you okay now?”

Ezra blinked. Was he? The panic had long since subsided, leaving a bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. “I’m sleepy.”

“I bet,” Declan said without a hint of sarcasm.

He kissed Ezra’s forehead then rose, walking to the small fridge in the corner and grabbing a bottle of water and an apple, bringing it to Ezra like offerings. “Drink it. All of it. And eat at least half the apple, then you can sleep. You need the sugar.”

Ezra drained the bottle in three heavy swallows, then ate half the apple before handing it back to him. “Can I sleep now?”

Declan nodded, rising to toss the apple and turn on the bathroom light, before plunging the rest of the room into darkness. Back in bed, he gathered Ezra to him. “Can I ask what triggered that?”

“You can ask,” Ezra said, grateful to be little spoon. At least he didn’t have to look Declan in the eye. “I don’t know what triggered it. Maybe nothing. Maybe a sound, a smell, a shift in the time space continuum. I don’t know. Sometimes, it just…happens.”

“Next time it happens, you wake me up. Understand? You don’t go scurry off by yourself. If you need pain, I’ll give it to you. If you need comfort, I’ll give it to you. Whatever you need, it’s my job to give it to you. Do you understand?”

“Your job?” Ezra said, heart plummeting to his shoes.

Declan sighed. “Yes, my job? Duty? Obligation? Responsibility? Whatever word you like.”

“How romantic,” Ezra muttered.

“I gave myself this job. I can quit anytime I like. You’re my responsibility, Ezra. You have been as long as I can remember. If you need something, I want to be the one who gives it to you. No matter what it is. Okay?”

Ezra nodded, not sure Declan could even see it in the dim light of the bathroom spilling through the cracked door.

“What are we going to do about my father?” Ezra finally asked.

“We’ll find him. He’ll make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll have a plan for infiltrating his floating fortress. We have the specs. That’s half the battle.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Ezra asked, half-worried Declan was going to tell him he was sending Ezra home.

“We pull another job. We’re running out of cash.”

Ezra froze…waiting a full minute before wiggling enough to loosen Declan’s grip, turning in his arms to face him. “What kind of job?”

It was a dumb question honestly. It didn’t really matter either way. All jobs were dangerous. All jobs put them at risk of exposure. The idea of Declan and the others pulling another job both excited and alarmed him in equal measure.

Declan shrugged. “Not sure. Something quick and dirty but lucrative. Maybe a jewelry store smash and grab. Maybe a couple of smaller casinos. It will be harder without Abel. He was our safecracker. But I’m not bad. I could get in using demolition. We might just have to take the safe with us.”

Ezra took a deep breath and let it out. “I could do it.”

There was a moment of silence before Declan asked, “Do what?”

Ezra met his gaze in the shadows. “I could crack their safe. Any safe, really.”

“You crack safes?” Declan asked, sounding amused, almost like he was waiting for the punchline.

“Yeah, Miles taught me.”

“Randall Miles?”

Ezra nodded.

“How?” Declan asked. “When…?”

Randall Miles was one of the best safecrackers in the world. But unlike Abel, Miles worked for the good guys, teaching safe companies how to improve their security measures to beat men like Ezra’s father. Somewhere along the way, Miles had befriended Ezra’s mother, probably through Abel.

Still, Ezra simply said, “How? Spite. When? Since I was old enough to realize what my father was. I wanted to know him. Hell, once upon a time, I wanted to be him. Now, I just want to beat him. ”

Declan shook his head. “You can’t petty your way into a skill set like safecracking,” Declan said.

Ezra grinned at him. “You’d be shocked at what petty can accomplish. If you don’t believe me, test me.”

Declan studied his face. “Are you serious right now?”

“As a heart attack,” Ezra answered.

Declan shook his head like he was rejecting the words even as he spoke them. “Are you telling me you’re a safecracker like Abel?”

Ezra came up on one elbow so they were eye to eye. “No. I’m telling you I’m a better safecracker than Abel. And I can prove it.”