The Alchemist's Son - Ch. 12 - Declan (Patreon)

Sorry, forgot to hit schedule on this and never realized it didn't post on Saturday. I'm sorry. 

Chapter 12

Declan

“I’m bored.”

Declan glanced up at Ezra where he stood over him, feet planted on either side of his hips, wearing nothing but a pair of navy striped boxer briefs that hugged him just right. He looked gorgeous. If Declan hadn’t just promised to go get him breakfast, he might have stripped him down and bred him for a second time that morning.

He shook the thought away. “What?”

Ezra began to bounce, jostling Declan with each rebound. “I’m booooored,” he groaned. “We’ve been holed up in this hotel for days. When are we gonna do something? Like…merc my dad and steal all his money?”

It had been about a week since they’d pinpointed Abel’s location using the satellite phone. Declan had been certain that, once they got there, Abel would have been long gone, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to find that wasn’t the case. For reasons still unbeknownst to Declan, Abel was currently anchored about six miles off the coast of the Caymans and didn’t seem in any hurry to leave.

Abel didn’t do anything without a reason. He was clearly waiting on something. Perhaps a money transfer from a bank account he had there. The islands were notorious for their anonymous banking practices, which were excellent for hiding money from the US government, but made transferring money tricky sometimes. Especially large sums of money.

Abel had money hidden everywhere—that was why Declan had been so shocked to discover Abel had stolen from him. From all of them. Abel hadn’t needed the money. He hadn’t done it for the thrill either. Declan had never even tried to hide his finances from Abel. He’d trusted him. He’d trusted him like a father. He’d been an asshole, but somehow, Declan thought himself exempt from Abel’s deceit.

It was a forty-million-dollar mistake. But if Abel was moving money, there was a good chance it was Declan’s money. And he feared Abel was about to convert it all to cryptocurrency, and once that happened, it would be all but impossible to get it back. Abel would die before letting Declan have his money back, especially knowing he’d never let Abel live after stealing from him.

“Declan.”

Declan flicked his gaze upward, running his hands up Ezra’s perfectly defined calves as he bounced, feeling the muscles flex beneath his palms. “I bought you a new game yesterday.”

“Beat it,” Ezra said in a sing-song voice.

Already? He was too fucking smart for his own good. That was the thing about Ezra. He was like a golden retriever puppy. He had boundless energy and a brain that needed constant stimulation. Two things that were counterintuitive to being a hostage.

“Watch something on television.”

“We’re in the Caymans. I want to go to the beach. I’m so pasty. Look at me.” Ezra made a show of starfishing his arms.

Declan was looking all right. It was impossible not to look. Ezra wasn’t pale. Not even a little bit. His golden skin might be a shade or so lighter than it had been a month ago, but it in no way took away from how gorgeous he was. “I think you just like when I look at you.”

Ezra cast his gaze downward, then dropped onto Declan, who grunted as their hips collided. Christ. This boy was so fucking unpredictable.

He wiggled in Declan’s lap, their dicks grinding against each other. “Duh. Of course, I do. But that’s not the point.”

Declan smiled in spite of himself. “Then what is the point?”

Had Declan ever been this happy before Ezra? Was happy even something he’d been capable of? He’d gotten satisfaction from sex, from a good financial score, but happiness was something that had always seemed foreign to him, like a made-up condition people claimed to experience to convince themselves their lives had meaning.

Declan had spent his whole life bouncing from one shitty situation to another before Abel, and after Abel, he’d felt like at least he’d had a goal, a task, something to focus on other than just surviving. But now, he had Ezra. And Ezra made him smile. He made him laugh. He made him…horny. Now that he had Ezra, he got what people meant when they said they were happy.

And that scared the fuck out of him.

Ezra continued on, unaware of Declan’s sudden inner turmoil. “I’m like a houseplant, Dec. I need water and sunlight. Take me outside. I’m wilting.”

Declan rolled his eyes, even as he reached down and grabbed Ezra’s ass, dragging him against him until they both groaned at the friction. “You’re still a kidnapping victim.”

“Whose fault is that?” Ezra asked, planting his hands on either side of Declan’s head to loom over him. “Besides, who kidnaps someone and then takes them on an all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caymans? Nobody. You think any of these people know or care about some missing college kid? I’m not some pretty college girl whose smile lights up a room. I just look like every other frat douche on a beach.”

“You do not look like a frat douche,” Declan said, wondering what his life had become that he even had to utter those two words together. “And I can’t risk it.”

Ezra’s face was a storm cloud as he glowered at Declan. “If you would have just asked me, I would have helped you. You didn’t have to be all dramatic about it and fucking kidnap me.”

Ezra calling Declan dramatic was fucking rich. “I needed your dad to know I had you. That required media attention. Dramatics were necessary.”

This time, it was Ezra who rolled his eyes, his voice bitter. “The fact that you thought my dad would give a shit about me was your first mistake.” Before Declan could formulate some kind of sympathetic response, Ezra’s demeanor changed once more, like he was over it. He poked a finger into Declan’s chest. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that, as my kidnapper, you have a responsibility to keep me alive and I’m dying,” he said, collapsing on top of Declan.

“Now, who’s being dramatic?” he intoned.

“Me,” Ezra whined. “Because I’m soooo bored.”

He flailed on top of Declan like a fish out of water, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry you’re bored, but—again—I can’t risk it.”

“I’ll dye my hair,” Ezra muttered against his throat.

Declan shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll shave my head.”

“No.”

“Daddy.”

Declan’s cock stirred at Ezra’s whine. He never thought he’d be the type who liked that. Being the dominant in the relationship? Sure. That just came naturally to him. It made it easier to walk away when the scene was over with no hard feelings.

“Don’t you Daddy me, you little shit. We’re too close to the finish line. Any day now, we’re going to get your dad and our money, and then…” He trailed off.

This—this thing with Ezra—it felt like more. It felt like a responsibility. And Declan didn’t do responsibilities. But he had. He’d taken this on knowing what it meant, the weight of it…and it felt a little like it was crushing him.

“And then what?” Ezra asked, tone suddenly dull.

That was the fucking question, wasn’t it. And then what. “And then we disappear.”

“Disappear?” Ezra parroted, voice trembling slightly.

Declan nodded. “Yeah. We create new identities and live our lives somewhere off the grid without extradition.”

The way Ezra lay on top of him, chests pressed together, allowed Declan to feel how hard Ezra’s heart was pounding. “We?”

Declan nodded, dropping his hands from Ezra. “Me and the crew.”

Silence stretched for a long while before Ezra said, “But not me?”

There was no missing the hollowness in his words or the hot tears now rolling onto Declan’s chest. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say that.”

That felt like a cop out. He hadn’t said it, but he meant it. He’d meant it right up until the words left his mouth. He didn’t want to lose Ezra. He didn’t. But it was only a matter of time. Declan was twice his age. He’d been pulling jobs since he was in the fifth grade. He wanted to retire somewhere and sip fruity drinks on a beach. Ezra had his whole fucking life ahead of him. He was still young enough to have a career, get married, hell, have…babies.

Declan took a deep breath and let it out. “You’re twenty-two, Ezra. You have your whole life ahead of you…”

Ezra sat up, his face twisted in anger. “Oh, fuck you, Declan.”

“Ezra…”

“Don’t you Ezra me,” he mocked, throwing Declan’s words back at him. “Are you saying that, once you get your money, you’re just gonna ditch me here in the Caymans?”

How had this gone so off the rails so fucking quickly? They’d been having fun. This was fun. This wasn’t supposed to be forever. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we…need to have a conversation.”

Ezra’s brows knitted together. “What the fuck are we doing right now, Declan? This isn’t a goddamn sewing circle. We’re talking.”

Declan shook his head. Fuck. This was not what he needed. Panic was clawing at him. He didn’t want to lose Ezra but he didn’t want to keep him either. Keeping Ezra meant losing Ezra and Declan had spent his whole life losing shit that meant something to him. Everything that was ever his had been taken from him. By his family, the cops, and now Abel. Wanting things made you vulnerable. Needing things made you a target. Losing things you cared about crippled you.

But he didn’t say any of that. “I mean a real conversation. Not in bed. Preferably with our clothes on.”

“What? Why? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Do you think that, if we have more clothes on, I’ll think you’re less of an asshole for basically deciding that you get to say when this is over?”

“I always got to decide when this is over,” Declan snarled. “You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me. I fucking warned you.”

Ezra reacted like Declan had smacked him, physically recoiling from him before standing and looking around helplessly.

“Where are you going?” Declan asked.

Ezra swiped at the tears on his cheek. “I’m going to take a fucking shower. Where the fuck else can I go?”

“Ezra…”

“Fuck you,” Ezra said.

“Ezra—”

“You know what?” Ezra said, cutting him off. “You’re such a fucking coward. For all your huffing and puffing about being this tough guy, this killer, and criminal, you’re really fucking weak. You love me. I fucking know you do. You love me and you can’t fucking handle it, so you’re just shoving me away because you’re too fucking scared to just admit it.”

Declan’s heart twisted, panic and fury warring in him. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“I might not know the details because you keep all your shit to yourself, but I know someone damaged when I see them. You think I don’t have my own fucking baggage, too? Baggage you’re just making so much fucking worse, by the way. Every single person I ever trusted betrayed me. Even my mother. No matter how much she claimed to hate Abel, she took every check, and by doing so, literally kept that target on my back. You were supposed to be different.”

What were they doing? Why were they attacking each other? How had Declan let this happen? He wasn’t trying to run away from Ezra. Not really. Yes, taking off and leaving him was probably the right thing to do in the long run. There was a chance that Ezra could have a white picket fence life where things were normal for him, especially once the criminal underworld figured out that Abel was dead. And Declan would fucking kill him. That was a given.

But he didn’t want to lose Ezra. Not in reality. Keeping him was selfish and fucked up and they would probably fight like this forever. But Declan had never really done the right thing. Declan would never be the guy who brought home flowers or wanted to take long walks on beaches. He was going to be the one who wanted to fuck Ezra on the dining room table for their anniversary. That was just who he was.

He wasn’t the good guy. If Ezra was willing to accept Declan as he was, why the fuck was he fighting it? Fighting him? “Ezra—”

“I’m going to take a shower. You can go find me fucking breakfast.” When Declan opened his mouth, Ezra held up a hand. “Unless the next words out of your fucking mouth are an apology or a proposal, don’t fucking talk to me.”

Declan’s brows raised, but Ezra wasn’t done. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t even acknowledge my existence until you fucking pull your head out of your ass. Okay?”

Declan opened his mouth and closed it a few times before mumbling, “Okay.”

“That was a trick question. I said don’t fucking talk to me. You failed.”

With that, he was gone. When Declan heard the lock click into place, he smiled to himself. Ezra was just as crazy as he was. But he wasn’t writing Declan off. He could have made for the door. He could have thrown on his clothes and walked right out and Declan wouldn’t have stopped him. They both knew Declan wouldn’t stop him.

But Ezra hadn’t. He’d stayed. Because he wanted Declan as much as he wanted Ezra. He could still fix this. But first, he would go get him food. He would get him food and then he would apologize and make it right. Something unknotted inside Declan. Just knowing he still had time made him feel…lighter somehow.

He still had Ezra. Despite Declan’s own self-sabotage, he was still there. It would all be okay. He threw his clothes on, pocketed his wallet and the room key. He would find all of Ezra’s favorite foods and then he’d just…beg him to forgive him. It was that easy.

And that hard.