Chapter Text
“What are you reading there, Dimitri?”
The low tremor, distinct in its authority and the way it traveled down the boy’s spine like an electrical spark. He slowly closed the storybook, the last image of the poor horse and the nobleman of Gautier fading back into the darkness as Dimitri craned his head up.
The immediate sight of the icy blue eyes of his uncle Rufus locked the boy in place—he froze up, shame creeping upon his pale face as though his uncle caught him with something he was not supposed to be looking at—it was just a storybook.
His father’s storybook.
“Oh,” Uncle Rufus remarked lightly; he knelt down with Dimitri on the floor and gingerly touched the cover, large fingers passing over the engravings. “Your father and I used to read this when we were children—A Lonely Life. But I see the version you have is called A Happy Life.”
“Father made his own version for me,” Dimitri murmured beneath his breath, eyes dropped to the insignia of a prancing horse—he did not dare raise his gaze to the source of the hot breath kissing the back of his neck.
There was a noise, something guttural and faintly human coming from Uncle Rufus’ throat—he had chuckled. And he leaned forward, flipping through the pages idly.
“I see he did not change much. Did he stick with the original ending?” Rufus asked absently.
Dimitri shook his head. “No—his ending had the horse live a happy life with the Gautier noble.”
Rufus stopped; he looked at the boy, suddenly concerned. “...you do know the original ending, right?”
“Yes, uncle. I do.”
“Oh. Well, good. I prayed your father would not shield you too hard. Honestly, I prefer the original ending—it’s more authentic that way.”
The true ending to the story was something Dimitri will never forget—the horse, after a lifetime of abuse, found solace at the hands of the northern butcher; its throat was slit, its skin was stripped off, and its bones were used as a den for a wolf and her cubs. It found life after death.
“Why do you like the original ending, uncle? Father always said it was too morbid—a story that is suffering for the sake of suffering,” Dimitri remarked, watching as an unreadable emotion passed over his uncle’s eyes—he almost seemed pleased with Dimitri’s question.
“That is the point. Your father chose to ignore the story’s philosophy—that life, itself, is brutish. Cruel and reigned by the law of beasts. Life by nature is suffering. And weak characters like the horse will always be taken advantage of.”
Rufus leaned in closer, eyes narrowed to thin blue slits. “The author saw the world for what it is: ruled by lions and occupied by lambs. Weakness does not grow into strength—it is snuffed out. Kindness does not come to victims who cannot help themselves...and your father is dangerous in his attempts to subvert this truth.”
Uncle Rufus was naturally intense—a good trait for a war hero-turned-politician, Dimitri thought to himself as he closed the storybook for good and stood up. He found it easier to agree with his uncle these days—his will was iron marked by an inherited stubbornness that made arguing with him impossible.
So Dimitri merely nodded as though he understood and Rufus finally stood up, his expression softened to something akin to affection. It was always hard for Rufus to be expressive even when his friends came over—but Dimitri was an exception.
And he knows this.
“You’re such a clever boy, Dimitri. Your father was nowhere near as smart when he was your age,” Rufus remarked in a very low voice, his gloved hand reaching up and cupping the young man’s cheek. The iciness of his perpetually intense gaze melted slightly upon Dimitri meeting him head on—he even smiled though, for Dimitri, it was genuinely hard to tell.
Dimitri stared into his uncle’s eyes. His father had those same eyes, but Rufus’ was different. There was an eerie coldness here as though the man knew no love or joy in his life. Hardened by an unspoken anger and marked with a keen obsession that Dimitri knew not of what.
In that moment, the boy stayed silent—his breath stuck at the base of his throat as his uncle’s gloved thumb delicately pressed in between his lips—Rufus’ cold gaze turned hot and something passed over his possessed expression.
After a minute, the spell broke. Rufus slowly pulled away and Dimitri could breathe again. But his uncle’s hand was still clutched onto his shoulder, fingers digging into the boy’s soft skin.
“You don’t have to worry anymore, son. I’ll take care of you.” A wolfish smile. “I promise.”
_______________
There was a warm hand resting on his thigh. Fingers squeezing into soft flesh as a man at the steering wheel hummed to a country song on the radio.
The passenger side window was open—Dimitri’s arm rested on the door as the wind blew through his hair; the Galatea plains, melding between barren fields and bountiful arches of harvest, as the blue skies spiraled blue with just the trails of white clouds blotting the canvas. Dimitri watched it all spiral past him, wondering how far they have gone since this morning.
Ten miles? Twenty miles? They did start much later since they needed to pick up Mr. Fox’s pick-up truck and stop for breakfast before leaving Charon, but it had been a while since they took off. From the moment they left the mechanic, Dimitri had found absolutely nothing to talk about. He merely nodded to Mr. Fox’s chatter until it all became white noise—the radio singing into the small space of the truck, the wind pushing through the window, and the hand that was squeezing on his thigh.
Dimitri watched the landscape rush past him; he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sleep was all he wanted to do since he did not sleep last night. He laid in bed that night with Mr. Fox’s arm slung across his chest and his breath kissing his neck, and Dimitri just stared at the ceiling until the morning light bled through the cracks of the blinds and the man stirred.
But even now, he could not sleep. Not because of all the noise or the break of bright blue day but because it was hard for him to feel. It was just a cold numbness as though Dimitri had been crying for hours and was undergoing the hollow after-feeling of despair except he hadn’t cried in years.
Dimitri could not even think. He just stared, eyes glazing over tragically clear blue skies and a distant airplane flying over the land. Mr. Fox’s hand, still so warm on his thigh, began to idly rap fingers against the flesh.
“What are you thinking of Mr. Rabbit, hm?” The redhead asked with his usual chuckle, side-eyeing the boy momentarily before looking back towards the highway. It was a busy commute this morning with nearly every lane packed with semi trucks plowing through on the right.
Dimitri did not have the will to look at his host and merely mumbled: “Nothing.” He then closed his eyes and moved his hand over Mr. Fox’s, desperately for his warmth. Warmth of any kind. “What is the plan today?”
“Hm, I want to see if I could make it through the Galatea-Fraldarius border. It probably won’t take the entire day, to be honest. Hey, we might even rest in Fraldarius. Gotta love that timing…”
“Fraldarius…”
“Ever been there before?” Mr. Fox inquired, arching his brow.
Dimitri nodded absently. “A friend of my father’s lives there. We used to visit him in the summer when it was not so cold. But it was such a long time ago…”
“Does this friend still live there anymore? We could stop by, visit him if we have the time.”
“No...no,” was all the boy could say before he returned to his post at the window and closed his eyes to the wind blowing in his face.
He could feel Mr. Fox’s eyes dig deep into his figure, earnest for answers and growing more impatient with Dimitri’s sudden bouts of selective silence by the day. His hand slowly moved from the boy’s thigh and instead clasped over the stick shift as though he needed something harder to squeeze.
Dimitri rested his hand on the windowsill; his head was moving in waves. A question has been bothering the poor boy since last night, since he ate the remnants of his strawberry danish and laid down to a sleepless night, trapped in Mr. Fox’s strong arms.
After this road trip, after the man showed Dimitri whatever he wanted and instilled some sort of philosophy in him about the ‘joys’ of life, what will happen after? This road trip was never going to last—that was the point of a trip. It had a destination.
And Mr. Fox’s destination was so close. But after that, what will he do? The man had no use for someone like Dimitri anymore—he would dump in the nearest city and drive off without a care in the world. And Dimitri would be alone again, a dead kid in a dead world.
There was no point to this; perhaps Mr. Fox’s destination really was not his own.
“Fox?”
“Hm?” The man shifted his gaze to Dimitri, curious and keenly elated that the boy was initiating conversation. An SUV bellowed past them with wind rushing suddenly into the small space of the truck—Mr. Fox pulled up Dimitri’s window until all the sound hushed and then nodded at the boy with a smile.
Dimitri looked at him before shifting towards the highway only to see that they were now on a freeway bending around a mountainous terrain. Just a few cars in front of them and nothing but the pleasant cool shadows of forests.
“What...what is your plan after this road trip?”
“You mean after the Tailtean Plains? Hm.” Mr. Fox sucked in his breath suddenly and leaned back with a deep look of concentration on his handsome face. His hand on the steering began to rap along methodically and he hummed. “Well, I didn’t actually think this far, you know? The plan was to dump the box but I actually don’t know what I will do after. Maybe I’ll go back home to Gautier—all these days of pure driving and bad sleep in dirty joints is killing me. I could use a proper bath and room.”
Dimitri wanted to ask ‘what about me’ but he already knew the answer. The boy nodded with a grim acceptance and did not even acknowledge the man’s shifting gaze to him. He was expecting Fox to ask many things next—about where he lived in Fhirdiad, if there was anyone who Dimitri could live with—questions to deal with an inconvenience so he could make their departure smoother.
What he said, instead, completely took Dimitri off guard.
“You should come with me.”
The boy snapped his head, eyes wide and mouth agape; he searched desperately for any semblance of humor on Mr. Fox’s face but all he found was a sincere solemnity. It almost sounded akin to a proposal.
“Are you serious?” Dimitri asked quietly.
“Of course! What? Did you think I left you back on the road?” The redhead suggested with a dark chuckle and a shake of his head.
The blonde shifted forward. “You only knew me for two days and three nights.”
“And yet, it feels like fate. Don’t you agree? Besides, I don’t feel right abandoning you considering...everything. With that serial killer running around and the possibility of you being picked up by some demented pervert, I think it’s better if you came back home with me.”
Home. Why did it all sound like some silly, far-away dream meant for children? Dimitri wanted to feel happy. He wanted to cry and hold Mr. Fox and be held by Mr. Fox and yet.
He felt nothing. Perhaps a bit of despair. One way or another, a killer had his eye on him and by tomorrow, all of this would have been a dream. So Dimitri forced a smile and nodded very slowly, earning a flash of teeth from Mr. Fox himself.
“So it’s a promise then!” The redhead happily stated, even going as far as to slap the steering wheel with a laugh. “At the end of this, you have to tell me your name.”
“I will,” Dimitri lied softly and brought his eyes back to the sprawling landscape.
Somewhere deep in his heart, everything was twisting. Something was breaking again and Dimitri knew it was his fault—he finally found something good. Someone to live for. And the Goddess was punishing his sins by taking it all away again.
The hunter was waiting for him and either he goes willingly or goes with an extra causality to his refusal.
Mr. Fox began to sing along to the radio, the most chipper Dimitri had seen from him. The boy watched his redhead host through half-lidded eyes before closing and taking in the fresh air of the Galatea plains.
He would take in all the pleasures of this final day. As much as he can.
_______________
Twenty miles later, Mr. Fox stopped for lunch at what appeared to be a public service farm. Dimitri had seen many of these outside of Fhirdiad—Farms that also operated as a rest stop and tourist point for families.
They had restaurants that served locally produced food; ice cream parlors that had plentiful flavors made from the cream of their own cows. There were always hayrides through fields of corn for the children, apple picking orchards for couples, and roadside produce sales for travelers who could not stay too long.
Dimitri has only been to such farms a handful of times in his life but the memories were always so pleasant. His father would make short road trips outside the city on the weekends. The pair would stop by this particular farm owned by a friendly elderly couple that often treated Dimitri to free scoops of vanilla bean ice cream. His father would get one of those fancy root beer floats and father-son would walk around the pastures, watching the cows graze peacefully with a winter sun peeking through the frosty-white clouds.
Times like those were so long ago yet Dimitri could not help himself but fall completely in nostalgia when Mr. Fox parked the truck out in the gravel-parking lot and the pair climbed out.
Blue skies, white clouds, and families happily chatting among themselves as they walked around the farm with cones of dripping ice cream. The cool wind kissed alongside the back of Dimitri’s neck and he shivered when a familiar warmth brush against his skin; he looked up and Mr. Fox had placed his hand gingerly around the back of his neck with an affectionate squeeze. He smiled like the sun and asked:
“So, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Personally I’m more of a rocky-road man myself but on days like this, I would kill for moose tracks,” Mr. Fox said as he led Dimitri over towards the red stall of the farm’s ice cream parlor. The sun was fully out today, illuminating the entire scene before him and Dimitri’s lips pulled up to a semi-smile.
“I used to eat a lot of vanilla bean when I was a child,” he said softly and the redhead nodded knowingly.
“Ah-hah, you look like a vanilla bean lover. Come—we’ll get some and take a nice walk around. It would be an utter waste to sit inside with weather as pretty as this.”
Dimitri felt his cheeks burn slightly when Mr. Fox gave a playful wink and the pair walked over to the service stall. The land all around them seemed so familiar yet Dimitri seldom stepped foot in Galatea. The farmlands stretched out into the blue horizon and he could hear herding dogs barking in the sheep fields somewhere far off. He waited for Mr. Fox to order by an empty bench close towards the parking lot and watched as the redhead chatted with the young woman over the stall.
He leaned forward with his chin resting on his hand; hip cocked out, his thumb hooked on the lining of his jeans as he grinned wolfishly at the blushing girl who giggled in her hands. It was though Dimitri was watching some wildlife documentary—the natural habit of an experienced hunter and its prey. His heart was pounding but not in a good way and the boy looked away and down at his dirtied boots.
You think he cares about you? Even loves you? The man hardly knows you. All you are is a hole for him to fill. Once he’s done with you, he’ll throw you out like a used up rag.
Dimitri froze; he had not heard his voice in a long time and prayed that it was just a headache. But the voice continued, cold and clinical.
No one can love you. No one has ever loved you. Not like me.
“Rabbit.”
The boy jolted suddenly and peered up to greet the quizzical yet warm gaze of Mr. Fox. In both of his hands were cones of ice cream; he handed the vanilla bean to Dimitri who took it with shaky hands and stood up.
“What are you thinking of? You were blanking out for a second there,” Mr. Fox said as the pair began to walk down the nature trail around the pasture.
“N-Nothing. Just disassociating,” Dimitri muttered, eyes lowered to his double scoop of vanilla bean. It smelled so rich that the boy almost felt like crying in joy had it not been for the terror of hearing his voice again.
Dimitri thought he was gone. Apparently not.
“Hm,” Mr. Fox hummed nonchalantly and licked the top of his ice cream. “You've been doing a lot of that lately. I hope this trip has been life changing for you,” he said in a sing-song tone to disguise the clear nervousness beneath his words.
Dimitri nodded but his expression was strangely neutral. “I’ve...been having fun,” he confessed, pink-cheeked. “Being with you these past few days, Mr. Fox.”
“...Really?”
“Really. I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. I...I am appreciative of our time together.”
The redhead gave a loud sigh. “Oh goddess, that’s such a fucking relief. Sometimes I don’t know if this entire venture was for naught.” He shook his head. “I can’t read your mind, sweetness, and you hardly say much. I wish you would let me open you up.”
The boy tilted his head with a small smile. “Figuratively speaking?”
“Figuratively…” Mr. Fox grinned, white-teethed and humored. “When did you get so funny?”
“Probably from you,” Dimitri replied back in kind as they stopped by the fencing perimeter of a cow pasture. “You’re always full of jokes.”
“One has to be in this world. What? Think I’m not funny?”
“Oh no, you’re the funniest person I ever met.”
He chose you after all.
And Mr. Fox smiled like a flower in blossom. “You’re just full of sweetness, aren’t you?”
“I…” The boy shook his head and turned away. “I’m just being nice. There’s nothing good about me.”
“Of course there is,” the man remarked back in kind.
“Like what? What could possibly even be good about a wretch like me?”
“Baby boy, you’re asking me.” Mr. Fox arched his brow. “It’s like asking the Devil how evil you are. No one out classed me.”
Dimitri’s eyes widened and he snapped his head over. “Are you kidding me? Mr. Fox, you didn’t have to waste so much time on me, but you did. You fed me, made sure I got good sleep, took me to see places, haven’t raped me yet—”
“Goddess. The bar is set really low for you, isn’t it?” The man asked breathlessly; he tilted his head and gave Dimitri a warm, sad smile. “Do you know what is so great about you? It’s that whenever you talk—even if it’s about the smallest things, you capture the entire world’s ears. I can’t stop listening to you.”
Heat flushed unnaturally across Dimitri’s skin like a fever and he shook his head. “Please don’t lie to me,” he murmured weakly.
“If I was lying, you know. I don’t lie about these sorts of things. Even though we only spent a few days and nights together, it feels like fate.” Mr. Fox closed his eyes. Contemplative. “Whenever you are near, my heart is...calm.”
“I…”
Dimitri’s heart was burning so he quickly stared off at a mother cow and her calf trotting along the field. The heat of his own skin flushed with the sudden cold that was sneaking down his hand—his ice cream was melting.
Dimitri then craned his head to the side—tongue out to catch the white trails of vanilla dripping down to his fingers. The boy lapped them up with the flat of his tongue and swallowed audibly, allowing the chilly sensation to shiver throughout his body.
When he finally looked up, he locked eyes with Mr. Fox who had been staring at him for an entire minute. The man’s gaze was eerily heated, dark and hot; he then blinked very slowly and licked his lips as he tapped on a spot near his mouth.
“You have something here,” Mr. Fox said in a far away voice.
“Here?” Dimitri wiped the side of his mouth but felt nothing. “Where exactly?”
“There.”
“Where—”
Dimitri was silent when a pair of lips met his own. Mr. Fox was leaning over, pressing his mouth to his in a breathless, smoldering kiss. The boy’s eyes widened with surprise before fluttering shut and he feverishly surrendered himself to the scorching will of his host.
A strong hand slinked around Dimitri’s waist and tugged him against a hardened chest; the hot tongue forced open his mouth and slinked inside, dancing and twisting hotly. Dimitri was shy yet a keen eagerness kept him still—he moaned openly and shuddered when he felt Mr. Fox’s hand wandered down to his ass, squeezing hungrily.
You see? He’s like everyone else—you’re nothing to him but a pretty toy. He’ll squeeze and rattle and shake you dry until there’s nothing left.
Mr. Fox pulled back but just an inch with his forehead against Dimitri’s; his eyes were dark like black holes, swirling in space and eating up everything to nothingness. His breath came out in panting motions and he closed his head, brows furrowed in concentration.
“D...Did you get it? The spot I mean?” Dimitri asked in just a whisper.
“Yeah, baby boy, I got it.” The redhead pressed another kiss to the boy’s waiting lips, shallow and hungry, and pulled back with the retrieve of someone who had been drowning underwater—gasping for air. “D-Do you want to get out here? W-We can look at the cows some more but—”
“There’s a motel at the next exit,” the boy replied too quickly.
Mr. Fox nodded desperately and began to quickly eat up the rest of his ice cream as he ushered Dimitri to do the same. Even with the wincing that came from the inevitable brain freeze, Dimitri could not help but give a low chuckle to the man’s clear impatience as he led Dimitri by the hand back to their truck.
But he was speaking again. Taunting him from beyond the grave.
I always knew you were a little whore. Always asking for it. Even now, your game hasn’t ended . Luring beasts like him into your web like you did to me. I hope that the man fucks you dead so you can join me here.
Dimitri .
_______________
Dimitri had never seen Mr. Fox drive faster in his life.
The man was zooming past in between lanes of traffic with the urgency of a man whose wife was close to giving birth. However, it was nothing as remotely important though the redhead could argue otherwise, and Dimitri was taken with a rare sense of lucid happiness when the truck breached miles up to 80 an hour and Mr. Fox began to laugh hysterically with the windows down—the wind violently bellowing inside.
Dimitri felt young again. Those days of his father’s crazy car chases down the highway at night provoked another sense of nostalgia in the boy and he let out a wide smile. He did not know why he was so happy.
Perhaps it was the hungry fervor of his host—a fox long neglected of its meal and needing to devour now lest it devolves into utter madness. Perhaps it was Dimitri’s acceptance—that today was to be his last day of absolute happiness before he would be stolen away by forces out of his control.
Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
He felt a hand reach over and clasp over his in an affectionate squeeze. Dimitri looked up and met with Mr. Fox’s side glance; the man gave a wolfish grin at him and the boy returned it with a shy one of his own. For the first time in a long time his heart was pounding in his ears—his emotions were bubbling out of control and Dimitri felt like a teenager in love.
Of course, it surprised him. He did not know he was capable of experiencing such young and innocent sensations again. Not that the redhead’s intentions for him were anymore pure.
The truck swerved a bit as Mr. Fox leered his head to the left, face scrunched up in irritation.
“Damn! Missed the exit.”
“There’s a truck stop a few miles ahead,” Dimitri said with a quickened pant, eyes riveting from the handsome man towards the traffic behind him—worried about police.
“What are you suggesting, sweetness? You want to have some fun in the parking lot?” Mr. Fox asked with a bitter laugh; his gaze was still dark and from the way his other hand had been gripping the steering wheel—knuckles marble white—Dimitri could say that the man’s patience was waning thin.
The boy gave a rare, teasing smile and slinked forward, his hand slipping over the hardening bulge in Mr. Fox’s jeans. The redhead’s breath hitched dangerously as Dimitri drew close and muttered brokenly in his ear:
“I don’t mind waiting another thirty miles for the next motel exit unless—”
“No, we’ll take the truck stop,” Mr. Fox hissed quickly. His eyes were straight on the road ahead and both hands were on the steering wheel in complete control.
Dimitri slinked back into his seat and could not help himself but smile the whole time. In most cases, the boy wouldn’t be so happy over the dangerous effect he bore over men. In his entire ‘death’ journey so far, Dimitri took on the carnal lusts of his hosts with an unhappy frown and a keen sense of defeat.
They eyed him from the driver’s seat; fat hand slinking forward and squeezing his thigh, climbing up his shirt, crawling along the back of his neck. Sometimes it became too much for them and they would swerve into the nearest rest stop or motel, parked half-haphazardly in the usually empty parking lot.
Beasts heaving at the wheel before they lurked over the quiet passenger, trapping him to his seat. Their mighty forms engulfed his, hot breaths of cigarette smoke and beef jerky kissing his chest and neck as a scorching tongue slowly tasted pockets of sweat trapped on along the side of his neck.
Dimitri closed his eyes and prayed for a tomorrow that would never come. He never delighted in these sessions no matter how hard they pounded him against the side door or filled him up until he started dripping onto the seat. But they never went as far as to kill him. Almost but never fully.
Your little lackadaisical attempt at suicide is pathetic. Your little friend is just ‘them’. He never cared for you. He just wants a pretty thing to fuck.
For the first time in Dimitri’s life, he stopped listening to ‘him’. His emotions were too frayed at the moment and all he wanted to do was to straddle Mr. Fox’s lap and kiss him until the voice went away and the killer stalking him from the shadows was just a mere illusion. He just wanted to forget everything for a single day.
Outside in the blurring landscape, the sun was setting, casting the sky in a vibrant yet thick blood with streams of purple and pink closer to the horizon point. The mountains and trees and farms in the distant were all ebony silhouettes now, jutting to the reddened sky, and the highway before them, strangely scarce with just a few trucks lumbering past with their low beams on.
Suddenly, Dimitri became scared—he forgot how quickly the day could pass alone.
“I see it up ahead,” Mr. Fox muttered darkly, eyes strained towards the flickering neon sign of the truck stop in the near distance.
Dimitri watched as it came to view—a fairly large rest area enough to house at least a few semi trucks for their overnights and then some. Only, in this case, most of the lot was empty save for three trucks parked at the far corner closer to the exit of the highway, and a single family van. There was a small, illuminated building with restrooms but that was all there was to it. Either way, Dimitri was familiar with such sights—none of his hosts were particularly romantic.
Mr. Fox immediately turned into the entrance way and into the truck stop, bringing the truck to a crawl as his darkened gaze desperately searched for a secluded stop somewhere along the parking lot. His fingers rapped impatiently along the steering wheel, tongue clicking irritably, and he drove the truck around the building, finally parking in an empty spot in a patch of darkness.
The truck jerked a bit as it halted and Dimitri blinked in order to adjust to the growing darkness of a coming evening. He peered all along the empty parking lot—there really was no one here except a few semis parked further out. By now, the sun had completely submerged beneath the earth and he watched as the nearby highway blurred with the passing of blue and purple lights.
The song of crickets came, an all too familiar lullaby.
Something warm framed his chin and gently forced Dimitri to look up. A face of a predator leered back at him. Warm eyes swirling like pits of shadow and a mouth, usually curled up in a mischievous smile, was suddenly frowning. The fingers that pressed gently into the soft spots of Dimitri’s chin and throat were so frightfully hot that it made Dimitri realize how frightfully cold he was.
The boy trembled and Mr. Fox cooed sweetly.
“I waited for this for so long,” the man muttered in a quiet sort of mania. He licked his lips and drew close until their faces were mere inches apart. Mr. Fox smelled like moose tracks. “You’re so beautiful, rabbit. Since the day I saw you walking all alone on that dark road, I wanted you shivering beneath me. Goddess, even now, all I want to do is eat you up. Would you let me, Mr. Rabbit? Would you?”
Dimitri’s eyes fluttered with near tears and he nodded quickly in Mr. Fox’s loving grip, impatient and yearning. He practically crawled over on both hands and pressed a shy, almost child-like kiss to the redhead with a faint.
“Yes. Yes. Y-You can have me,” Dimitri repeated quickly and kissed Mr. Fox again. “You can have all of me.”
Almost immediately, the redhead lurched forward and pinned the boy down to his seat, wrists clasped above his head.. Dimitri opened his mouth to let out a weak yelp but was met with the hungry pair of lips smothering all sounds. Mr. Fox gave a heated groan, his tongue slipping through and tasting every inch of Dimitri with a possessed fervor.
Dimitri gasped when he felt the man’s hardened bulge jerk against his and he whimpered in between gasping pants. Everything was too hot. The space of Mr. Fox’s truck was too small—too claustrophobic and Dimitri could hardly move, especially with the much larger man trapping him to this corner of the vehicle. Fox pressed his hardened, muscular body against his, stole his breath away with his thirsty kisses, and reminded the poor boy of his pure strength alone with every squeeze of his hands around tiny wrists.
Fox growled in between sloppy, gasping kisses and jerked his hips once more, forcing a breathless squeal from Dimitri. The redhead immediately stopped and gawked at the boy with full-blown eyes, pupiless especially in the darkness of the parking lot. Bits of saliva dripped from an agape pair of reddened lips and, in the drunken fogginess of his mind, Dimitri leaned forward and licked it with an audible swallow.
Something snapped.
Mr. Fox immediately released Dimitri’s wrists—fingerprints burned into pale skin—and violently fumbled with the fly of his jeans. In the darkness, the redhead could hardly see anything and Dimitri watched as he, viciously frustrated, attempted to unbutton the fly and unlatch his leather belt.
Something hot stirred deep in the boy’s chest as the man finally got his jeans loose with a maddening laugh. Fox pulled down his boxers and his thick cock sprang free in between the dark space between them. The only light that poured in was from the distant moonlight peeking behind black clouds; silver rays slipped through the dirtied windshield and highlighted the single pearly bead of pre cum at a throbbing tip.
Mr. Fox’s muscular form was half-shadowed by the darkness of the night but Dimitri could feel his crazed gaze. It was burning holes into his skin in funny, pleasant ways that made him drunk with want.
Then his hand reached over and began to jerk his hardened length as his other gestured for Dimitri to open the glove box.
“Sweetness,” he muttered in a voice that was not his own. With a shaky hand, he pointed to the glove box. “There’s an emergency bottle of lube in there. Right under the handgun.”
Handgun?
The thought did not stay too long with Dimitri. Nearly everyone had a firearm with them these days, especially those from the north where firearm laws were looser. He nodded with half-lidded eyes and opened the box as Fox began to pant from his jerking motions.
Dimitri’s eyes strained against the shadows and his hand aimlessly searched, fingers passing through what felt like the truck’s registration, a couple of files, and, of course, a leather holster for a gun. Dimitri ignored the dread pounding against his throat and found the small bottle at the very back.
He brought it up and poured it on Mr. Fox’s open palm. A bottomless smile could be felt in the darkness and the man replaced his masturbating hand with the one covered in the sticky oil. A hot shudder passed through the predator’s body like a chill and Dimitri began to loosen his own pants, stripping them off his legs.
Practice, Dimitri, Practice. You still remember how, don’t you?
Dimitri poured the lube onto his fingers; he pulled his knees up to his chest and, with two oily fingers, began to spread himself right in front of Mr. Fox’s animalistic stare from the shadows. A voice from within laughed cruelly; it whispered hotly against his ear as though his lips were kissing him again.
Good boy.
“You’re such a prize, my beloved Rabbit,” Mr. Fox muttered like a sacred prayer. He smiled with white teeth, wolfish and manic, and quickened his hand with a guttural groan at the base of his throat. “And goddess, do I plan on keeping you around for a long, long time.”
I’m sorry, Dimitri wanted to say, it will all end tonight; you must go on without me.
But he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed down a pained sob and let out a shuddering moan as he pushed a third finger past the rim of his hole. His head was spinning—he needed clarity, to be grounded. To remind himself that this was not some twisted dream.
“Kiss me,” the boy said instead and felt tears trail down his cheek. “Kiss me, Fox.”
The redhead slipped out of the shadows and into the moonlight; his expression burned in Dimitri’s mind. This look of pure savagery and worship. His cheeks were flushed pink with strands of blood hair clinging to the sweat at the side of his face. His eyes were still shadowed, drugged even. The man that once joked on the brightened highway speeding down from province to province was replaced with a lurking, hungry predator, ready to devour him from head to toe.
He grinned and leaned forward, surprising Dimitri with a gentle, sincerely loving kiss. The boy’s eyes widened momentarily before fluttering shut; he melted against Fox with a sigh as his fingers slipped out of his gaping hole, trailing lube across the seat.
For a moment, their movements slowed and they stayed locked onto each other—desperate for each other like air as though they were submerged underwater and needed to breathe each other in.
Finally, Mr. Fox pulled away and the beast in his expression melted to adoration.
“Rabbit...c-can I put it in?” He asked in a whisper. His hand was still around his oiled cock and he blinked slowly. “I need to hear you say it. I want to make you feel good.”
Dimitri almost wanted to cry. He bit his bottom lip, tears swelling in his eyes, and nodded. “Yes. No one else but you. Please, take me!”
Fox smothered him with another kiss, more brutal, and took his hand off his cock. Something hot and bulbous pressed against the pink rim of Dimitri’s hole. A tongue forced its way into the boy’s gasping mouth and just like that, Fox snapped his hips in.
Dimitri saw stars.
“F-Fox!” He squealed out, arching back as his walls quivered around the man’s thick member.
Fox roughly grabbed Dimitri’s chin to keep him still as his hot tongue entered the boy’s mouth once more—as if to taste his cries. He started to set a short yet brutal pace, fucking deep into that tight, heat as Dimitri began to squeal against their pressed lips.
Dimitri’s legs spread out wide and inviting as Fox relentlessly pounded his ass, coiled around the man’s waist and locked him in place. The boy’s arms wrapped Fox, fingers digging into the back of his skin, and he fully lost himself to the sickening lust of it all.
“Goddess, you’re so tight,” Fox growled in between breaths like a drowning man. He pulled his cock back out with just the tip still inside before brutally slamming back in and rocking the whole truck. “Your hole is eating me up, baby boy. So fucking greedy…”
He licked and nibbled the spaces in between Dimitri’s neck and shoulder and smiled against the skin. “I want you like this every goddamn day. Fucked crazy and filled with my seed. Make sure you belong to no one else but me.”
The talk was filthy. Pure filthy.
Dimitri heard this song and dance before. They whispered dark things in his ear. Desire bubbling beneath a smiling mask. They want him to be their pretty little wife—pretty, obedient thing. Take their fat cocks and make pretty sounds in the night. Dripping with their cum.
And yet, when it came out of Mr. Fox’s mouth, it sounded more like a promise than poison.
Dimitri tugged the man close, legs still locked around his back, and he panted in his ear with every brutal thrust into his clenching ass.
“I-It’s too big for me! It keeps getting deeper and deeper!” Dimitri sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as Mr. Fox’s thick length splitting him full. His pace was relentless and aggressive with the sort of rage that could come from sheer impatience.
Something hot flushed deep from within like a ball of fire spinning uncontrollably—lava pooling darkly at the pit of his loins. Mr. Fox had hit a spot and Dimitri suddenly went dead-still, eyes towards the ceiling of the truck.
Dark laughter filled his ears like mirth.
“Right there?” Mr. Fox asked with a cruel chuckle and violently snapped his hips once more, precise and hard right against that spot. “Right there, baby boy?”
“A...a….a…”
“You’re drooling, sweetness,” he growled, bemused, before turning his head and capturing some globs of saliva dripping from Dimitri’s open mouth.
Fox nibbled on the boy’s bottom lip playfully and smothered him in a silencing kiss once more. His cock was spreading his velvet walls open, pounding tight into that sweet heat and Dimitri’s eyes went white as a broken moan was ripped out of his throat.
He was seeing stars. He was seeing stars and moons and entire constellations and he wanted to scream but he couldn’t. The powerful body pressing him down was fucking him to oblivion and all Dimitri wanted to do is take everything Fox was to give him.
“H-Harder! Harder!” Dimitri gasped, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pulled back from Fox’s hungry lips and pressed desperate butterfly kisses all along the man’s face.
The boy squealed when he felt a familiar hand slip in between their pressed bodies and snake around his trapped cock. Mr. Fox laughed like a man gone mad and began to quickly jerk Dimitri’s cock in tandem with his thrusts.
“Naughty, Naughty little boy,” he uttered and practically knocked Dimitri’s ruined figure against the inner padding of the passenger door. Eyes dark, teeth bare, and a voice ill fit for a human. “Teasing me—keeping me waiting for so goddamn long. “You’re not leaving here until I soak every inch of you in white, do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Dimitri squealed shamelessly “F-Faster...FASTER—” and suddenly, lurched his back up with a scream when he released in Fox’s hand. Hot ropes of cum painted their chests with some even landing on the boy’s ruined face in globs.
Mr. Fox’s movements slowed momentarily, completely engulfed by the sight of sweat, tears, and cum on Dimitri’s nearly mind broken face; the boy gave a loose smile, even going as far as to lick the cum around his lips, and just like that, Fox broke.
He fucked that plight body hard, abandoning the once feverish brutality with something close to killing hatred. Dimitri shook his head in near hysteria and screamed uncontrollably at the violent pounding deep into his bruised guts.
“N-NO! It’s TOO much! TOO MUCH! I-I’m going to get pregnant! Pregnant!” Dimitri shrieked, half-choking on his own weeping as the top of his head struck the passenger door, shaking the whole truck.
And the cruel beast above him laughed. “That’s the point, sweetness. Now take it! Take my fucking cock!” he growled and chased after his pleasure selfishly, pumping his cock into that pale-colored sleeve like the end of the world.
The powerful rhythm began disjointed, he was close and all earlier technique was soon lost to pure animal instinct. Dimitri let out one final gasp as his eyes rolled at the back of his head and, just like that, something roared in the small space of the truck.
A warmth suddenly burst deep within Dimitri’s guts, spilling in a flood and making him go drunk from the sweet mirth alone. It filled the boy up so much that he trembled uncontrollably, limbs twitching as it slowly spilled out from the other end. A mouth placed over his own, a familiar tongue tasting his choking madness, and it was all silence for a minute.
Just some crickets outside. Boots against asphalt somewhere nearby. Did anyone hear them? Who wouldn’t?
Finally, Mr. Fox’s cock softened inside Dimitri, allowing some more of his seed to drip out onto the seat in a small puddle. But the man did not pull out. He continued softly kissing Dimitri, almost apologetically, and cupped the boy’s wet cheek with this thumb gently caressing the skin.
They stayed locked onto each other for a moment though it felt like an eternity than anything else. Mr. Fox slowly pulled away though just to breath and he stared at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. The man looked utterly devastated, broken and heads-over-heels in love.
Dimitri never felt so worshiped before as though he were some kind of God though that was far from the truth. Mr. Fox’s other hand snaked over and cupped the other side of Dimitri’s face. He pulled the boy in for another thirsty kiss and Dimitri was starting to wonder how many kisses would it take to quench this beast.
“P-Pull out…,” Dimitri whispered and closed his eyes, shaking.
“Goddess, I really don’t want to. You feel so good, Rabbit. Don’t mind staying inside of you like this for a while,” Fox joked with a breathy laugh and licked the boy’s wet lips. It was oddly affectionate despite how lewd it all felt; the boy grunted with his cheeks red and gently gestured for Fox to finally release him.
The man hummed and slowly slipped out; Dimitri threw his head back and let out a weakened gasp as the warmth gushed out in between his trembling legs and onto the seat below. He covered his face out of shame and felt himself practically burn when Mr. Fox gave an amused chuckle and reached over, clasping his hands around Dimitri’s wrists.
He pried the boy’s arms away to his sides and stared at him dead on. All swirling, terribly twisted and ugly feelings faded away to just the slow crawl of the two heartbeats. Dimitri had never seen such an oddly placid expression from him before—usually there was underlying tension, perhaps loathing behind a jovial smile. Mr. Fox hid his negative emotions too well but this time, it seemed like all had vanished.
“I-I’m sorry...for making a mess,” was all Dimitri could say in a whisper, half-memorized by the way Mr. Fox was looking at him.
The man smiled. “Hey, it's not your fault. I got too excited. It’s been a while since I had some real fun. Did you have fun?” The last part he added almost shyly and his eyes spoke of great and fragile mania.
“It felt really good,” Dimitri assured him quietly. He tried to sit up and give the man a kiss but he felt a dull pain throb on his ass and winced.
Mr. Fox’s warm laughter filled his ears and a gentle kiss followed afterwards. “Sorry. I promise, it won’t be rough like this all the time. I just got...too excited.”
“O-Okay…,” the boy nodded slowly. They stare at each other a bit through half-lidded eyes; the song of crickets filled the small space between them and then Mr. Fox jerked his thumb over to the rest stop they were facing and made a clicking sound with his mouth.
“Why don’t we freshen up? See if we could nab a few paper towels while we’re at it.”
Dimitri could only give a rosy-cheeked nod, burying the hateful voice hissing in his ears. But as the silence fell and all was done, it rang true and he suddenly remembered the life expectancy of happiness itself:
Whore. Whore. Whore.
_______________
It was a hot summer’s night.
The window was slightly ajar and the boy slept with his sheets off. Moonlight kissed pale skin beneath a hiked up shirt. The summer’s warm breeze drifted through, slipping beneath thin clothes with a flutter.
A creak.
The bed dipped ever so softly with the invasion of a new weight. Something hotter than the breeze hissed against the boy’s exposed neck. He stirred from his shallow dream with a groan and opened his eyes to the dim darkness.
The boy met the eyes of a hungry beast lurking above him. It smiled with the cruel face of familiarity. Hungry. Bottomless. Possessive.
A giant paw suddenly clasped over the boy’s mouth, stifling a weak sound.
And then the creature spoke with a voice that imitated humanity.
“I’ve been thinking of you for so long,” it bemoaned as it drew close to the petrified child. It licked the side of his face with a maddening grin—unhinged and broken. “I can’t wait any longer. Be a good boy for me, won’t you?”
“Dimitri.”
_______________
The drive was quiet. It was not the sort of silence that came from a post-sex shame, which Dimitri had feared once they took off from the truck stop, but a natural, perhaps peaceful silence that lulled in between the low hum of Mr. Fox’s radio and made the boy extremely relaxed and sleepy.
But he couldn’t sleep—they were passing through a sea of white stars, riding down an empty highway with nothing but sleepy trees and the occasional lake with a pale moon reflecting above it.
Mr. Fox liked country music—a guitar was strumming gently into the warm space of the truck. Someone was singing but the volume was low enough where their voice merely merged with the instrument. Dimitri’s eyes were closed but he could not sleep. He was listening to Mr. Fox’s occasional tap on his steering wheel and the man’s habit of humming along to the radio.
His cheek was pressed against the window, colder than the rest of his body as the rush of the wind distantly kissed his ear. They were going for a few miles now yet it felt like an eternity – a nice kind, of course. For the first time in Dimitri’s life, he actually felt...relaxed. Safe. He almost wanted to laugh. But instead, he spoke.
And he spoke of the memory that haunted his mind for so many years:
“I killed my uncle.”
The truck slowed. Mr. Fox said nothing but Dimitri could feel the man’s eyes on him. And the boy continued, still eerily soft and wistful.
“He was in his study as usual. He called for me and asked me to bring him some tea. So I went downstairs to make him some...along with an extra additive. My uncle never tasted the difference. After an hour, he was dead at his table.” Dimitri closed his eyes. “Everyone thought it was a heart attack. He was buried next to my father and...and, well that’s when I started walking.”
“Huh,” was all Mr. Fox said.
“Yeah,” was all Dimitri could say back.
Suddenly, the song on the radio—the wind outside and gentle hum of the tires on asphalt no longer sounded so peaceful. The walls were all closing in on him and the voice came back in a cruel, dark laugh.
Look what you did, boy. He hates you. Murderer. Whore. Slut.
The redhead’s breath suddenly sucked in harshly, the sound alone akin to a sharp knife stab into Dimitri’s icy skin, peeling everything back until all the ugliness throbbed to the outside world. And then, Mr. Fox spoke in this frightfully neutral tone.
“Your uncle...you mentioned him once. Tell me about him. I need to hear about him,” he said in a voice that closed off any negotiations on switching the subject.
Mr. Fox was staring right ahead, hands clutched white on the steering wheel, and jaw clenched. The shadows of the night shielded his expression but the occasional passing headlight revealed a glimpse of something akin to an abyss.
Bottomless. Nothing but pitch blackness with a frightful hollowness that could make even the bravest of men flinch at the sight.
Dimitri started, a bit more softer.
“I...I went to live with him ever since I lost my father. My uncle was very gracious and took me in despite everything. He took care of me, fed me, and sent me to a really good school. I...I was thankful to have him even though I know he would rather deal with other things than an orphan living in his house.” The boy’s eyes dropped down to his hands, clasped over each other in his lip. The voice came back—killer, killer, killer—and he bit his lip. “And I ruined it. I ruined everything.”
Silence; the white noise of the radio. The slumber of a lonely, solitary night.
“My uncle was a good man. He always took care of me without complaining until he was...drawn in. Seduced and became sick because of me. I-I didn’t know how to make it stop but he started to lose himself—he always wanted me near him. His hands were on me. His mouth on my skin. I couldn’t even sleep at night without luring him into my room. My uncle was infected by me—he wasn’t himself anymore and it was all because I could not stop being a...a…”
Little slut.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. I murdered the only other person who cared for me after I drove him to madness. My father is dead—now he is dead. There’s nothing left for me now other than what awaits at the end of this long, long road.” Dimitri then peered over to Mr. Fox’s shadowed figure and produced a broken, far-away. “They warn people not to pick up hitchhikers in the case that they could be killers. What are the chances that you found one?”
Still silent. Not even the hint of breathing. It was as though Dimitri was traveling in between spaces of time and space. He was not here and neither was Mr. Fox. They were nothing but empty boxes inside empty boxes inside of empty boxes. And Dimitri had already accepted his beloved host’s disgust. Might as well prevent the only good thing he experienced so far from being corrupted like his uncle.
But then the redhead spoke and the white-hot anger came out very slowly in a sort of slow drawl that forced Dimitri to listen to every crushing word. But what surprised him was what Mr. Fox had said next.
“I wish I was there. So I can kill the bastard myself. I would choke the life of his eyes and watch him slip away,” he uttered. His hands clenched harder around the steering wheel’s leather and his breath came out in a visceral hiss. “I would do anything to get my hands on him—even bring him back from the dead if I have to. That rat...”
“No, Fox, you can’t say that! I just told you that it was all my fault—”
“All your fault? All your fault?!” Mr. Fox’s voice was rising in octaves and the truck began to stir on the road. The man’s gaze was still centered straight ahead but it was clearly out of self-restraint at this point. “You were a fucking child, rabbit. A child! You had absolutely no say! He was the one who decided to rape his own nephew—”
“It wasn’t rape!” Dimitri suddenly hollered
“Oh?! It wasn’t rape?” Mr. Fox was looking at him this time. His expression was white-hot like a dead star. Absolutely livid. “Did you ask him to fuck you raw? To sneak into your room at night, huh?”
“N-No...but I was asking for it,” he added quietly.
And Mr. Fox laughed while shaking his head. Sardonic and cruel. “Right. You, a child, was asking to be raped. Is that the shit that rat whispered in your ear at night while he was pumping you full? A grown man five times your size, three times older justifies his twisted, perverted tastes by brainwashing you. I...Fuck...FUCK!”
He suddenly bashed his fist against the truck’s console, shaking the whole vehicle and swerving for just a moment, uncontrollably on the empty, dark highway. Dimitri held on for dear life as he gawked at his host, fear and despair blooming deep in his heart.
Mr. Fox was heaving at this point, loose strands of red hair shadowing his face as he sat, hunched over the steering wheel. There was a moment between now and then, from murderous rage to something Dimitri deeply recognized—the edge of a broken, bitter sorrow. Perhaps even self-loathing.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mr. Fox muttered, almost too inaudibly as though he were talking to himself. He shook his head and gripped the wheel. “Yes, it doesn’t matter...you’re with me now. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I won’t become like him.”
Him being his uncle? And yet, the tone alone made Dimitri realize that Fox was talking about someone else completely different. But he was too scared to ask for Mr. Fox had devolved into a sort of manic mumbling, semi-lucid.
“I’m sorry,” was all Dimitri could say and sunk in his seat—he had ruined their good mood. “I just wanted to...open up to you. To be honest.”
“Rabbit. I.”
The truck slowed once more, finally under some semblance of control, and Mr. Fox was watching him. All the earlier rage had shimmered, leaving only an expression Dimitri could compare to that of an open wound – exposed, ebbing, and festering. The man then reached out and cupped the boy’s cheek and Dimitri realized that he had been crying.
“I appreciate you finally opening up. Truly. I want you to always be honest with me as I will be with you. And while I can’t fix what your uncle has done to you right away, we can at least...heal together.”
“Heal...together?”
“We’re kindred spirits, you and I,” Mr. Fox started, echoing the fated words Dimitri once heard emerge from a killer’s smiling mouth. Except less twisted and manic—more like a promised whisper. “And to hold up my end of the bargain, I’ll tell you everything about me...soon. That is an oath.”
Dimitri nodded, knowing that such a day will never come. The night was already here and somewhere far off, he was following them. His heart was breaking from the tragedy all over again, the knowledge that he would be forcibly ripped away from his place of sanctuary.
And he finally met Mr. Fox’s loving gaze and forced a smile. At least this person will be able to move on from him and onto a better future. That was what was most important on their journey.
That was quickly coming to an end.
_______________
“Dimitri.”
That tone. Somewhat drunk though the man hated alcohol and acutely possessed with a sinister coolness that can only come from a man of complete authority. He was calling from the front door like he has done every evening he came home from work. Even if Dimitri sat at the far end of the house, he would still stiffen upon hearing the unnatural sing-song voice drift through old wood.
To avoid having him call out again, which never failed to irritate the man, Dimitri stood up from his desk and made his way downstairs. There, waiting for him at the bottom, cloaked like death itself was his uncle. The man slowly peered up, expression muted with loose strands of golden hair over his cold, eerily loveless blue eyes.
Dimitri held his breath as the man lifted a single hand and gestured with two fingers for the boy to approach. It took a minute; every step felt like a deeper descent in a greater hell and when Dimitri finally reached the bottom, face-to-face with his towering guardian, he swallowed down the need to vomit when his uncle reached over to cup his cheek.
His glove felt cold against his skin.
“Good evening,” Uncle Rufus greeted simply as his thumb began to caress Dimitri’s bottom lip idly. Cold eyes marking him.
“Good evening,” Dimitri muttered back.
“What did you do today?”
“I studied sir.”
“What were you studying?”
“Fódlan medieval history for class tomorrow. Then I finished some algebra homework and read for a while. Sir.”
“Did you talk to anyone today?”
“No sir.”
Dimitri knew this to be the right answer for the corner of Rufus’ mouth twitched and he gave a low hum at the base of his throat. He drew close, smelling like his secretary's awful perfume with faint red stains marked right below his uniform’s collar.
And Dimitri stayed perfectly still—remembering the last time he denied his uncle. The swelling in his left cheek took nearly a week to go away.
“I’m really tired today, Dimitri,” Rufus started as he hovered just inches from the terrified boy.
The man’s breath was flushed with his favorite arctic mints and the distinct sharpness of it alone made Dimitri dizzy—all he wanted to do was run upstairs and hide but then he felt his uncle’s strong arm coil around his waist. Rufus buried his face in the space between the boy’s neck and shoulder, breathing in Dimitri’s scent with a shudder.
“Go upstairs and get ready for me.” Those fated words. Every night, a beast comes slinking back to its den and wants to descend into its carnal desires.
Dimitri’s eyes watered and he opened his mouth to say no. But the word never came. Rufus had tortured it out of him a long time ago, around the time he became infected with Dimitri’s sinful presence. A squeeze of the hips, the tug of the lips, and Dimitri could only mutter.
“Yes, sir.”
“A-hah,” Rufus corrected gently and the ends of his teeth scraped along Dimitri’s frantically beating pulse in warning.
Dimitri swallowed down the rock in his throat. “Yes...daddy.”
“Good boy. Good boy…”
Then Rufus released Dimitri who slowly took off upstairs—he could not go so fast or Rufus might think he was enthusiastic and keep him around even longer tonight.
But the boy still wanted to be as far away from his uncle as possible. When he reached the top of the stairs, he flinched upon hearing his name called out again in that voice.
Dimitri reluctantly turned around and met with his uncle’s chilly, possessed gaze watching him from the bottom of the stairs. The man gestured to his body.
“Wear what I got you last week. Do you understand me?”
“...yes, daddy.”
_______________
Look at you, crying on daddy’s cock. Take it you little slut. Take it.
I will make you wish you could have babies. I’m going to fill this slutty body so much that you will be dripping .
Why are you looking at me like this? It’s all your fault after all. Seducing me in my own home. There’s no one else to blame but yourself.
No one could love you. Your father is dead, you know. No one else in the world could ever love a broken little thing. Except me.
That’s why you’ll always be mine.
_______________
Dimitri woke up in a cold sweat.
He gasped and grasped his throat as though he was drowning underwater. The first thing that struck his eyes was the unbearable darkness of an unknown motel room save for the silvers of pale moonlight coming in from the blinds of a dusty window. The boy heaved quietly with tears in his eyes and peered all around the room desperately to get a sense for his surroundings.
At the far end of the room was a classic boxed television, which was a usual staple for these run-down motels. The wallpaper whose patterns were shielded in the dark were clearing peeling, curling up at the corners. On Dimitri’s side of the bed was a nightstand alongside an all too familiar book he often had to read on Sunday school—a useless object for a loveless place like this.
This was definitely a motel. It even had that musty smell that accompanied the last few. Just as Dimitri was to get up, he heard a low murmur next to him and suddenly realized that a heavy arm was slung over his chest. He looked to his left and saw that Mr. Fox was sleeping right next to him.
Half of the man’s face was buried in the pillow, red hair ruffled out and messy. His arm curled with an unconscious protectiveness, tugging Dimitri closer to his side. The sound of soft breathing somewhat calmed the boy and he stayed there, watching Mr. Fox sleep.
Outside was the low rumble of cars passing by on a distant highway. But otherwise, that was all.
Either way, he’ll leave you, Dimitri heard him speak once more. You’re nothing more than a burden and you know it.
‘That’s not true,’ Dimitri wanted to say back, ‘he cares about me.’
After three days and four nights? No. You know it and I know it. He only wanted a good fuck—it was why he even picked you up in the first place. And once you’re all used up, he’ll throw you out back onto the streets.
‘You know nothing about him.’
I don’t have to. I recognize a beast when I see one.
‘He’s not you. He’ll never be like you.’
Not that it matters anyway. A whole other creature is coming to take you away. For good.
A sharp rap at the window; a dark silhouette of a man stands against the cold moonlight. Dimitri’s heart dropped.
There comes your reaper now. I’ll be waiting for you, Dimitri.
Dimitri stayed very still even though he knew it was useless. The man knocked once more, more sharply this time, and there came the most frightfully inhuman sound the boy has ever heard in his life—a ghost trying to intimate a creature of flesh and blood:
“I know you’re in there. I can see you~”
The boy’s breathing came out in choking pants; he blinked rapidly in order to avoid crying and, without waking Mr. Fox, slipped out of the warm sanctuary of his bed. He could see him there—the pale-haired demon with those cold eyes. The killer was watching him through the blinds with a manic gaze and even gave a slow, mechanical wave when Dimitri finally faced him.
Dimitri knew he was not leaving this day in happiness. That was why he wanted to spend it as long as he could with Mr. Fox. He had already made his decision so at least one of them could live on.
Wiping his eyes with his shirt, the boy slowly put on his boots as quietly as possible and went on to meet his fate. When he opened the door, there was the man: the Lost Boy killer. A tower figure of lean, monstrously pale muscle and a neutral expression sharper than any cold blade. He smiled though it lacked any warmth—just an uncanny intimation of the real thing, and he slinked forward.
Dimitri flinched when icy hands cupped his flushed cheeks and tilted his head up fully so he could meet the man’s eyes.
They reminded him of Rufus’.
“I knew you would come to me. I apologize for keeping you waiting,” the killer murmured like a prayer and licked his lips. “Did you notice today? I kept clean—just for you.”
Dimitri did notice a lack of state-of-emergency radio announcements today and when he gave a controlled nod, the man gave a low, mechanical laugh—as though he was not used to laughing itself. He slowly shook his head and surprised Dimitri when he pressed his lips to his.
They were cold. So bitterly cold. And Dimitri stood there, frozen by both fear and shock. They stood there for just a few seconds before the man pulled away, his expression even more elated.
“I’m glad I found you. I knew you were the one the moment I laid my eyes on you in the bathroom. Now we can both be free together,” he muttered darkly, his thumb gently playing with Dimitri’s bottom lip. “Have you made your decision?”
‘I don’t want to go with you,’ Dimitri wanted to say; he wanted to push him away and lock the door. ‘I want to stay with Mr. Fox. Go find some other boy to torment!’
But then he saw the hilt of a silver knife struck by the moonlight at the man’s back pocket. And he remembered the sleeping redhead in the other room.
“I’ll go with you,” Dimitri stated very quietly, despair flushed through his blood. The feeling that once overtook him three days ago was back—feelings that could only belong to a lifeless husk.
Another kiss. It was cold. And the boy was still.
“I knew it. I knew it,” the killer hissed happily inches away from his lips. His pale blue eyes were shimmering and the twisted elation alone nearly made Dimitri very sick. “You’re different from the others. They were all fakes, all impostors. They screamed and begged for their lives. Brought up their families. They didn’t understand the mercy I was giving them—but you do. You are the one. You are mine.”
“May I...may I grab my things from the room first before we go?” Dimitri asked in a whisper; he was trying not to cry but everything was getting blurry and even the killer’s looming figure was smudged across his vision.
A squeeze on his arm; a warning. “Of course. I’ll be right here, waiting. Now hurry, dear rabbit.”
Dimitri flinched but tried not to let the fear show on his face as he slipped back inside the musty yet warm sanctuary of the motel room. Serenaded by Mr. Fox’s soft breathing.
The boy could feel the killer’s eyes bore holes into his back, watching his every movement as he slowly made his way to the bedside and searched aimlessly beneath for his backpack.
Dimitri refused to turn around. He couldn’t. Because the only thing he ever wanted to fill his sight was Mr. Fox’s sleeping form.
Fox’s expression was so peaceful; there was a soft, wistful half-smile on his face and his arm, which was once coiled around Dimitri’s form, unconsciously searched the missing space for that body. He mumbled something with a lucid laugh.
He sounded happy.
At that point, Dimitri did not care if his soon-to-be-captor was watching him. He crawled on all fours onto the bed and loomed over Fox’s sleeping figure, captivated by the man’s face. Then he slowly reached over, hand trembling as he touched Fox’s cheek.
It was wet.
Dimitri blinked out of confusion only to realize that soft tears were trailing down his eyes, dripping onto his host’s perfect face. In fact, everything started to break down; Dimitri’s body was trembling and his entire psyche was breathing down bit by bit. And just like that, the tears flowed more naturally and Dimitri smothered his mouth from making an audible sob.
This was it. The end of their journey, ended without even a goodbye.
“I’m s-sorry, Fox,” Dimitri stuttered quietly, his breath released in terrified gasps. He could no longer see the man’s face on account of his weeping but he continued. “I have to l-leave now. T-Thank you for e-everything...being with you these few days was the h-happiest I have ever felt. I w-wish I could go back with you. But...this is where me must part. Goodbye…”
And Dimitri pressed his lips to Mr. Fox’s. Warm. He tasted like the sun.
The boy stayed there, desperately marking the memory of his host’s lips in his mind, before finally pulling away when he could feel the heat of the killer’s eyes leering into his skin in warning. With one final look, Dimitri slipped off the bed, picked up his backpack, and left a hastily written note on the nightstand before slipping back into the realm of unloving moonlight.
By morning, this would all be over.
When Dimitri closed the door behind him, he was immediately assaulted by his captor’s lips against his. The poor boy was fiercely slammed against the concrete wall that separated one room to another—eyes widened, breath choked out, as the man’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. Dimitri’s wrists were pinned on both sides of his head and the killer’s larger, more dominating body was pressed against his, grinding harshly.
All consuming. Terrifyingly maddening. And possessed.
The man finally pulled away with a growl and grabbed Dimitri’s drool-covered face with a single hand, keeping him in place. His eyes were glowing, leering deep into him like a million knives being individually pressed through his skin and out the other end. This was no man. Not even a killer of boys. A monster true and true, lacking in its humanity and sure of its territory.
“That man’s scent is on you,” the killer murmured darkly with a hiss. “I need to clean every inch of you when we go home. Wash away the filth.”
He then grabbed Dimitri’s arm with a painfully tight grip. Dimitri had seen men spiral out of control before but this man’s expression, barely thinned of its mania, was fully embracing his insanity with a murderous glint. The killer mumbled something beneath his breath and dragged the boy away from the room and towards the stairs leading to the parking lot on the lower floor.
Dimitri tried his best to keep up, even if the man’s grip felt like fire right upon his flesh and just as they reached the top railing, a voice—quiet in its rage and violence—called out somewhere behind them.
No.
Dimitri’s heart pounded viciously against his chest as he and his captor slowly turned around.
Please no.
There, standing in the room, was the hulking figure of Mr. Fox. He was propped against the concrete wall with one arm—hand clenched into a tight ball, while the other arm hung loose on his side. He glared at Dimitri’s captor through the loose strands of red hair—eyes bloodshot from a premature awakening.
He slammed his fist against the wall and pointed right at the other man, teeth bared.
“Let him go,” Mr. Fox demanded in a voice that was not his.
The killer’s grip around Dimitri’s wrist squeezed. And a loose, almost mocking smile ghosted across pale lips; the phantom emerged seamlessly with a broken, far-away laugh.
“What nonsense are you spouting? My pet chose to be with me. Now leave us lest you irritate me further.”
“Chose you? I know a kidnapping when I see one…,” Mr. Fox trailed off, his complexion paling in an instant. He gawked at the man, mouth agape, and then just like that, he uttered a devastating revelation. “You. I remembered you. You were there when my truck broke down three days ago.”
“I just came by to pick up a delayed package.” The killer lifted Dimitri’s clearly marked wrist up in the air and flashed a white-toothed smile. “Now, we must take our leave. Have a good night.”
“Don’t you dare take him!” Mr. Fox roared like thunder and dashed forward.
Dimitri opened his mouth, ready to scream for Mr. Fox to stop before he was violently shoved to the side. The world spun all around him as his head struck the concrete floor and all he could hear around him was the thundering of footsteps alongside voices bellowing into the night.
The fury of a struggle; someone was struck with a painful grunt and hit the back wall. Boots scraping against concrete. There was a metal sheen singing in the air so sweetly and then something hard hitting the floor.
Silence.
Dimitri blinked rapidly, trying to recover his vision. The world slowly locked in place, images coming back into focus and color returned to his sight once more. But it might as well didn’t for what he saw next stole the poor boy’s breath away and made him scream.
“FOX!”
Laying right beside him was the paling figure of his redhead. Mr. Fox, clutching onto his abdomen where a red stain began to slowly spread out across his white shirt like a drop of color in a clear basin. The breaths leaving open lips were frightfully shallow, gasping desperately for air that would not come; Fox heaved and opened his clouded eyes, meeting with Dimitri’s terrified gaze. The man opened his mouth to speak but could only manage three words before the blood came:
“D-Don’t...leave...me…”
“Fox…” Dimitri wanted to say more but the sudden shadow that blanketed their forms forced his attention up. The lost boy killer, a demon of blue eyes and pale hair lurked over them. In his right hand, the silver knife coated in the sheen of dark-red blood, which dripped down to the floor in audible drops.
A smile, loose and mad.
“I warned you, did I not? You could have left us alone, but no. You chose this fate. Now lie there and die slowly.”
Before Dimitri could call for Mr. Fox, he was suddenly yanked onto his feet. His captor gripped his arm, fierce and tight, and dragged him away even as the coming screams left the boy’s throat in a painful ripple.
“No! No! No! Please don’t let him die! Don’t let him die!” Dimitri hollered wildly, breaking down and crying as he pulled back towards Mr. Fox’s wounded body; a red puddle was forming around the man’s paling body and he yanked back against his warden, weeping uncontrollably.
“Please don’t let him die! I don’t want him to die!”
“Oh, my sweet child,” the pale man cooed as if Dimitri was not pulling a full on resistance against him.
He even smiled, amused, and without much effort, pulled him back and grabbed the back of his head with a single hand. He forced Dimitri to look at him, wet eyes and all, and reassured in a deceptively kind tone: “He’s already infected you. But worry not—I’ll make sure you are cleansed when we finally get home. Now, it’s time to stay quiet.”
“FOX—”
Dimitri’s frantic words failed when the grip of his smiling warden tightened and he was slammed right against the concrete wall in one brutal motion. A ringing filled the boy’s ears and after that.
Nothing but white spaces.