Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1935171.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Once_Upon_a_Time_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Felix/Peter_Pan_|_Malcolm, Felix/Other(s)
  Character:
      Felix_(Once_Upon_a_Time), Peter_Pan_(Once_Upon_a_Time), Malcolm_(Once
      Upon_a_Time), Rumplestiltskin_|_Mr._Gold, Hans_(Frozen)
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Origin_Story, Explicit_Sexual_Content, From_Sex_to_Love,
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Sex_Toys, Forbidden_Love, Tragic_Romance, Love
      at_First_Sight, Dubious_Consent
  Series:
      Part 1 of A_Crooked_Path
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-11 Completed: 2014-07-14 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 65385
****** A Crooked Path ******
by z0mbieshake
Summary
     Felix is a teenage sex hustler who sees Malcolm as nothing more than
     a customer. Malcolm, on the other hand, falls head-over-heels in love
     with the boy at first sight. When Felix finds himself loving back,
     his already abysmal life takes a turn for the worse. After all, the
     romance between a town whore and a town scoundrel is nothing more
     than a tragedy.
     Spawned from the idea 'What if Felix met Malcolm first'?
Notes
     This fic was really born from how much I loved Stephen Lord as
     Malcolm. It then gave me the idea "What if Felix met Malcolm first?"
     and on top of that, what if they had a really tragic relationship
     because of their age gap? And so, here we are, possibly one of the
     first Felix/Malcolm fics out there.
     Special thanks to Sporklift for helping me get through this fic! This
     had been sitting on my laptop for at least a couple months. Really,
     without her help, I would've never gotten this complete. Thanks again
     for all your support! I wouldn't have been able to finish this fic
     without you!
***** Transaction *****
"Dad?" Rumple's shrill voice was always grating to Malcolm's ears no matter how
innocent the inquiry, "Are you going out again? You've been out every night."
Shutting the door behind him, Malcolm turned around and gave his son a wide,
reassuring smile, "Aye laddie, I've got work to do. I'll be back soon, I
promise," He disguised the gentle shove towards his son's room as a pat on
Rumple's shoulder, "See you in a bit, alright?"
Distrust, contempt, loneliness was written all over Rumple's face but the boy
still nodded and returned to his room. Malcolm left before his son even made it
to his bed, shutting the door and happily making his way to The Crooked Man.
Giddily, he counted the shillings in his hands, collected from a hard day's
work of swindling.
"Ten pieces," Malcolm declared, letting out a lazy giggle before dashing on
ahead to the pub.
As he expected, the lanky boy was waiting for him at the entrance, toying with
a small knife he always carried on him, his lovely, youthful features
accentuated by the moonlight. He snuck up behind Felix, blowing gently into his
ear to grab his attention before sliding the coins into his pocket and leading
him behind the bar.
 
Malcolm could still remember the first time he met Felix, sauntering into The
Crooked Man with boyish charms fitted to a mature allure. Malcolm was at his
barrel again, unceremoniously moved there by the bartender when he claimed
Malcolm was disturbing his customers. Unperturbed by the relocation, Malcolm
had his cards out already and had his fun swindling customers.
Malcolm wasn't ashamed to admit his almost slip up when Felix entered the bar,
dressed in the finest cloth a peasant's budget could buy, minus the curious
silk tunic he wore under his jacket, with the slightest whiff of cologne on
him. With eyes lined with just a bit of kohl and his bright golden locks
loosely brushed, it was obvious to see what he came here to do. Stalking around
the bar with a sharp look in his eyes, Malcolm knew he was hunting for a
customer and with how Felix slowly made his way towards the back, Malcolm knew
he'd eyed him for potential.
When the boy was close enough, Malcolm laid out his bait, raising his voice as
he shuffled his cards, "Swaying your hips like that, shooting me those looks.
If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me."
Felix's eyes locked with Malcolm's and he immediately reeled himself in. His
voice was low as he spoke, "And what if I was?"
His lusty voice and half-lidded eyes, the faintest blushed forced upon his
face, Malcolm easily recognized them as mere tools for any whore. For Felix
though, he purposely blinded himself and took his tricks at face value.
"How about a game, boy?" Malcolm asked, flipping over the middle card to reveal
the queen, "You find the lady, I'll give you two shillings. Otherwise, you...
give me a kiss."
Felix chuckled at the suggestion, rolling his eyes before looking back to
Malcolm and realizing that the scoundrel was dead serious about the game. His
eyes fell to the cards, his hands, his sleeves, and back to Malcolm's face.
Tilting his head back as he examined the man, Felix said, "Ten shillings."
"You're robbing me blind here," Malcolm replied, "Come on, I've got to eat too.
Twoshillings and a kiss in the stakes."
Felix scoffed, eyes narrowing as he folded his arms, seemingly un-amused by
Malcolm's insistence for the small price, "Two shillings and you get my name."
"A name, for two shillings?" Malcolm replied, brow quirking up in disbelief.
"I can take my business elsewhere..."
A smirk on Malcolm's face followed shortly after, as he flipped over the queen
and began shuffling the cards across the barrel, "Deal," As he shuffled,
showing off the queen every once in a while, he found himself unable to keep
his eyes off Felix. Every now and then, the lanky boy would lick his lips,
nibble on the bottom one, let out a breathy sigh, doing everything that would
have made Malcolm pause and gape if it weren't for the cards in his hands. It
was almost torture to concentrate on swapping out the queen and when he'd
finally done it, he hoped the relief on his face wasn't a dead giveaway.
"Take your pick," Malcolm announced, punctuating his declaration with a shy
giggle. Felix leaned forward, hands on the barrel as he bent over slightly to
examine the cards. Malcolm bit his lip to muffle a groan as Felix took a bit
too long examining those cards in that position, "Oh, you're doing that on
purpose, you little minx."
Felix maintained his position, flashing an arrogant smirk to the scoundrel with
those glistening lips reddened just slightly by his nibbling, "I know where to
look."
"As do I," Malcolm replied in a husky voice as Felix stood back up, meeting him
eye-to-eye.
Malcolm watched as Felix's hand ghosted over the cards on the barrel, going
over them several times before reaching to the left side of the barrel where
Malcolm leaned on for support. Dipping his fingers into his sleeve, he drew a
small circle on his wrist before pulling back and retrieving the queen from his
own pocket, waving it playfully in Malcolm's face.
"I believe that will be two shillings," Felix said, snapping down the card in
front of Malcolm's face.
Malcolm clicked his tongue, giving Felix a small bow in defeat and withdrew his
money pouch from his jacket, "A deal's a deal," He remarked, placing four coins
into Felix's hand, "So, how about we have a different kind of fun?"
Looking at the palsy amount in his hand, Felix watched Malcolm with contempt. A
smile stretched across his face when Malcolm placed three more coins onto his
palm without even a lick of hesitation, "What's the matter, boy? Don't like
me?"
"On the contrary," Felix replied, closing his palm and shoving the money into
his pockets, "I like you a lot now."
Somehow, either through the backdoor, the front door, or a window, Malcolm
found himself sitting on a crate in a back alley moaning uncontrollably with
Felix's head bobbing between his legs. He threaded his fingers through Felix's
hair, turning his evenly combed locks into a birds' nest. With his paltry
earnings from card hustling, it had been ages since Malcolm had been able to
properly buy a woman from a brothel. After so long of having no one for company
but his hand, Felix's blowjob felt incredible.
He spread his legs just a bit wider when Felix nudged at them, trying to get
both hands to his erection, one to stroke the shaft and the other to massage
his balls while he worked the tip with his agile tongue.
"The things you do with that tongue-oh god yes!" Malcolm groaned out, swinging
his head back and accidentally dazing himself when his skull met the wall.
Felix couldn't restrain the chuckle when Malcolm hissed in pain, pausing just a
moment to check on his customer, "So loud," He remarked as his hands continued
at a slower pace, "Are you alright?"
"Fine, fine," Malcolm replied, evening out his breathing, "Worried about me?"
"Worried about my investments," Felix replied with a smirk before taking
Malcolm deep into his mouth once more.
Malcolm moaned again, throwing his head back gently into the wall as he took a
fistful of Felix's hair and jerked his hips forward, "Snarky little minx,
aren't you? But I kind of like that..."
Given Felix's treatment and Malcolm's unwilling abstinence from pleasure, It
didn't take much for Malcolm to come, his eyes transfixed on Felix as he
suckled on his erection, swallowing everything and wiping it off his lips with
his fingers casually. Malcolm groaned at the sight, not ashamed to admit how
turned on he was at the gestures.
Felix fully expected the affair to end silently. He'd get off his knees, dust
himself off, and come back the next day to siphon more money off of him.
Instead, as he moved to leave, Malcolm called out to him, "How did you get the
card from me?" Felix paused and looked back, noticing that Malcolm had already
pulled his pants up and fastened his belt on. He still remained sitting on the
crate though, watching Felix with a curious look, "I might get caught but no
one ever steals a card off of me. I'm too fast for that."
"You were distracted. So I took it." Felix explained.
"When?"
"The whole time," Felix replied with a smirk in his eyes, "You were distracted
the moment you saw me."
Malcolm chuckled in a husky voice, "How unattractively vain of you."
"Could say the same thing to you."
Felix turned his back immediately, hoping that would deter the man from further
conversation. Instead, Malcolm leapt forward and followed beside him.
"How old are you, boy?" Malcolm asked, walking alongside the tall boy.
"Old enough," Felix replied coldly. He hated when customers questioned his age.
He'd handled himself long enough to know that he was old enough for his work,
"How old are you?" Felix snapped back.
"Too old." Malcolm replied with a huff, almost growling, "You like older men?"
Felix scoffed at the question, knowing Malcolm only meant it in jest. He looked
over his shoulder at the man, wondering how long Malcolm had been staring at
him as they walked, "For you, I'll make an exception."
"Lucky me..." Felix flinched when Malcolm grabbed his wrist, instinctively
reaching for his switchblade to fight him off.
"...what?" Felix said as Malcolm trumped his expectations and placed two more
coins into his hands, closing his fingers around them as he caressed the back
of his knuckles with his calloused fingers.
"Your name," Malcolm replied in a sing song voice, giggling lightly as
comprehension flashed over Felix's features.
Giving in to his kind gesture, Felix sighed heavily and replied, "Felix."
"Malcolm," Malcolm replied, holding out a hand to shake. He laughed when Felix
shot him an incredulous look and promptly withdrew his hand, parting ways when
Felix cut through another alleyway and disappeared.
Malcolm could only stand there and watched as Felix disappeared into the
twisting alleyways, a lazy smile on his lips, "Felix," He tested the name on
his lips and decided that he liked it a lot, "Felix, Felix, Felix," He
whispered again in a sing-song tune, lightly laughing as he made his way back
to the main street.
 
"Felix..."Malcolm moaned as he pressed his lips into Felix's sweat-soaked hair,
gripping onto his hips as he rutted into him erratically. He purred when he
felt Felix wrap his legs around him, pulling him in tighter as Malcolm fucked
him thoroughly.
Felix twisted his head away from Malcolm's lips but did not fight when Malcolm
lifted a hand from his hips to turn his head back, thrusting just a bit harder
to deter Felix from turning away. Felix glared at the scoundrel only to be
responded with a coy smirk and wink. Felix held his glare despite how it lost
all of its bite due to his very compromising position. He dug his fingers into
Malcolm's beard, twisting the hairs between his nails and scratching gentle
lines into his face.
Malcolm was by no means deterred. He loved it when Felix narrowed his eyes,
sharpening his features and highlighting his stunning silver eyes, "Has anyone
ever told you- oh...- how beautiful you are?" Malcolm remarked.
For just a moment, Felix looked surprised, eyes flickering with warmth before
he bucked his hips forward, circling his arms around Malcolm's shoulders so he
could better angle himself, "Just shut up and fuck me."
Malcolm chuckled at his crude language as he kept up his savage pace, "Naughty
boy,"
Felix took a handful of Malcolm's hair and pulled him close, cooing into his
ear with his most seductive voice, "Dirty old man."
He gasped as Malcolm's arms suddenly hooked around him, pulling him off the
wall and slamming him down onto a crate. He panicked for just a moment as
Malcolm lay over him, spreading his legs and staring down at him with a playful
grin and an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes, "You know I hate it when you call me
that," He growled before quickening his pace, watching lustfully as Felix
screamed because of him.
Felix came first. He always made sure Felix came first so he could ride out his
climax at the sight of Felix writhing in pleasure beneath him. And when they
were both done, Malcolm would always pull a handkerchief from his pocket and
wipe up the mess he made of Felix's lower torso. Felix would watch him, feel
the tenderness in his gestures, and hate every single moment of it.
"You don't have to," Felix said, voice breathy and still exhausted.
"I insist," Malcolm replied, balling up the handkerchief and wiping the inside
of Felix's thighs.
"I can clean myself up," Felix replied, sitting up slowly and wincing when
Malcolm pressed the cloth just inside of him.
"I paid for this." Malcolm replied, shutting down all of Felix's arguments.
If a customer pays then they have the right. Felix had that cruel fact hammered
into his head by the courtesans that had taught him everything he needed to
know. Every customer that cleaned him up or treated him tenderly was never
well. They always got possessive, abusive when they heard Felix had been
soliciting other men, thinking that they could have Felix for free since they
"owned" him. At best, Felix would have to find a new bar across town to avoid
the bastard. At worst,he'd almost been beaten to death. No one would be
searching for him if he disappeared. No one would have cared that his body was
in the streets.
Felix hadn't even noticed his breathing had become quick and shallow or that he
had begun glaring at the ground hatefully, running through all of the dreadful
scenarios Malcolm could lead him to. Malcolm noticed though and he immediately
paused, "Felix?" He said, jolting Felix out of his daze.
Felix said nothing when he locked eyes with Malcolm who watched on with an odd
innocence to his expression and that same unfamiliar, unpredictable gleam,
"Continue," Felix replied, nodding to the handkerchief in Malcolm's hand. He
was taken aback when Malcolm withdrew himself, stepping back to fix up his own
clothes before handing Felix's clothes to him.
Puzzling him again, when Malcolm tucked the soiled handkerchief into his
pocket, another creepy habit of certain customers that always made Felix
uneasy, and saw the twitch of disgust on Felix's expression, he promptly tossed
the handkerchief away.
"Aren't you cold?" Malcolm asked with a little chuckle as he gestured to the
pile of clothing before looking back at Felix's half-naked body. He laughed
again when Felix growled in his direction and quickly pulled his clothes on,
"You spaced out there for a moment. Something on your mind?"
Felix shook his head as he fixed his cloak, "Nope." He replied, already walking
away until Malcolm grabbed his arm.
"How about we go for drinks?" Malcolm asked with a bright smile, "The night's
still young."
Felix looked back at Malcolm, crinkling his nose as he replied, "It's past my
curfew."
He stiffened as Malcolm coiled an arm around his waist and pulled him close,
his smirk ghosting over Felix's lips, just a mere breath away from kissing him,
"Come on, it'll be fun! By the way, you're adorable when you crinkle your-" He
let out a short gasp as Felix shoved at his chest, pushing him back before
turning around and staring at him fearfully, "Felix?"
"Twenty pieces," Felix replied stoically, his calm demeanor quickly returning.
"For a drink? You better be buying some damn good drinks for me," Malcolm
shouted back, all smiles when he thought Felix was merely joking.
Felix scoffed again, staring at Malcolm with a deadpan look, "Five pieces for a
blowjob. Ten for sex. Twenty for everything else."
"...Everything else...?"A coy smirk lit up Malcolm's face and Felix almost
immediately regret his actions.
Felix pulled away quickly, fixing his cloak over his shoulders as he rushed out
of the alley. He could hear Malcolm follow after him but he begged in his mind
for him to just leave him be when he realized that he wasn't interested. By the
time he left the alley, he finally had the courage to chance a look back. He
peered down the alley over his cloaked shoulder noticing that Malcolm was no
longer following him, having took a different route through the alleys. Relief
took over Felix as he made his way back to another bar thankful that for once,
he wouldn't have to take a convoluted trip back just to avoid a stalking
customer.
 
"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"
Felix groaned as he rolled over in his cot, "Ugh, shut up," He mumbled into his
pillow as he opened his eyes, taking in his dingy surroundings. His 'home' was
nothing more than an old chicken pen, rented out to him by the farmer out of
pity. Felix eyed the feathers clinging to the ceiling and told himself to clean
it up later in the day, as he told himself everyday.
When he first moved in, Felix had little more than a cot and the clothes on his
back. Little by little, he gathered miscellaneous bits and pieces here and
there, half a desk (The other half was caught in a fire), a discarded chest
which most likely washed up from the sea, and an empty tomato crate containing
all of his belongings.
Felix grit his teeth as he sat up, hips sore from all the customers he had
serviced the night before. He rolled up his pant leg, examining the nasty
scrape he had taken to his knees when one of his customers, a grungy-looking
sailor, abruptly shoved him down, berating him for doing a poor job before
kicking the dirt in his face and storming off. Felix rolled his eyes at the
memory; he'd be back. He always came back.
As a favour from the farmer, every morning before tending his crops, he'd leave
a bucket of water by Felix's door so he could scrub away the faded kohl and the
stench of night so no one would know what he did to make ends meet.
After a thorough wash with pilfered soaps, Felix dressed himself up in a loose,
bland tunic and slacks, blending in perfectly with all the mundane villagers
with their mundane jobs. He hadn't even brushed his hair, leaving it in a pile
of twisting curls and crooked locks. Leaving the bucket at the well, Felix made
his way off the farm and into town to his day job: The bakery.
The baker was a stingy man, refusing to pay Felix more than a few coins a day
to knead the dough and set it for the oven. He knew Felix was desperate, knew
he was hungry, and took advantage of it, paying him not with money but with
baked goods that were unsuitable for retail. On the bright side though, Felix
would always have bread on hand making up the majority of Felix's meal outside
of the crops he'd miscellaneously receive from the farmer who housed him. At
noon, Felix would always sit in the back alley on his own, tearing up a slice
of bread and wolfing it down with a bit of fruit. The baker would want him
inside as soon as possible to maintain a continuous supply of fresh bread for
the public.
Felix was just about to enter till he heard a child's voice up front. He made
his way out of the alley to see little Rumple standing at the window with a
single loaf of bread in his hands.
"Please, this is all I have. I need more," Rumple begged, holding up a measly
handful of coins.
"Sorry kid," The baker replied, not bothering to clean off his hands before
patting Rumple on the head, "I've got a business to run. I can't be going
around giving out free loaves of bread to every kid who comes to my door."
Rumple shook his head, dusting off some of the flour from his cloak, "It's not
for me. It's for my father."
As expected, the baker rejected the little boy's request, spouting off excuse
after excuse about the economy or his reputation. Taking pity on the little
boy, Felix cut off a sizable portion of his own loaf, shoved it into a sack,
and pushed it into the boy's hands, "Here. Take mine," Felix's eyes drifted
over to the baker who promptly shut up and wandered back inside, disgustingly
pleased that he didn't end up losing profit.
Rumple nearly did a double-take before receiving the loaf. A smile flashed on
his face, pure and full of innocence, "Thank you," He said.
"No problem kid," Felix replied, watching the kid dash off gleefully like he'd
just received a gift for Christmas. Felix chortled at the sight, imagining how
close this child must've been to his father to be so pleased with just a loaf
of bread.
"FELIX! Get back inside! The lunch rush is coming!"
With a huff, his smile dying immediately, Felix returned to the oven in the
back, shoving the last slice of peach he had into his mouth before starting the
next batch.
During his delivery hours, Felix spent most of that time delivering fresh baked
goods to all of the baker's long time customers. More often than not, he'd run
into one of his own customers working the field with their friends or dining
with their family. He'd tuck his head down, drop the basket off, and run away
as soon as he could claiming that he had plenty more deliveries to make. If
word had gotten back to the baker that the town whore was working in his
bakery, Felix would be fired right away.
From each basket, Felix stashed a single muffin inside of his pouch. At the end
of his run, he had a fairly hefty collection which he always brought with him
to the pub. Given the time of day, the pub was near empty save for a few
stragglers in the back. Felix preferred this: No one to leer at him or solicit.
He could just sit back and snack away on his muffins.
The barmaid came up to him with a free drink, light rum in exchange for one of
his muffins. He relented one of his snacks, spiting the fact that she had
offered him a lighter drink just because he was still young. Nonetheless, he
used it to wash down his food and emptied the bottle in mere seconds.
"Thanks," Felix said, dropping the empty bottle beside him.
"Saw you with Malcolm again last night," The barmaid said, "What do you think
of him? A keeper?"
Felix scoffed at her words, accidentally spitting out a tiny piece of dough
from his mouth, "He's disgusting. Stinks of dirt and musk all the time. But he
pays well and he doesn't ask for much."
"Really?" She replied, tilting her head in inquiry as she continued polishing
the glass, "I thought he seemed like a nice guy."
"God no," Felix hissed, putting down his last muffin to sit up in his stool,
"He's always staring at me with this amusement in his eyes. Always giggling and
touching me, I know those types. They're the ones who get obsessive."
The barmaid shrugged lazily, "I dated an obsessive type once. He was a judge,
real stale fellow, enjoyed singing to his fireplace. I don't think Malcolm's
that type of guy. He doesn't look it."
Felix rolled his eyes and ended the conversation, nodding over to a few
customers who'd slinked out from the back and wanted her attention. He sat
alone, stewing in his own thoughts which were now focused on Malcolm. The way
he doted on him was unnatural and he knew it'd only end in misery. His were the
type to mistaken business for affection and eventually forget that the
relationship was nothing more than a transaction. They'd get clingy, jealous,
violent. Felix knew he had to get away but he needed the money so badly.
"Damn it," Felix hissed under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
A hand suddenly clasped itself onto his leg, landing on his knee before tracing
up his thigh. Felix shuddered and jerked back only to meet with a firm back and
the sour smell of dirt and musk. A wet pair of lips pressed against the side of
his head lovingly, pressing light kisses all along his hair. Short, scraggly
beard, just slightly thicker than stubble scraped against his cheek, making
Felix shudder involuntarily. Felix growled under his breath, knowing exactly
who was feeling him up right now.
"I missed yo- Oof!" Malcolm choked out when Felix elbowed him in the stomach.
He barely had time to recover when Felix leapt off the stool and shoved him
into the ground, "Ow. Felix! It's me!"
I know.Felix hissed only in his mind with his eyes narrowed and teeth bared. If
he had his way, he would've pounced on the man and beat him into the ground.
Instead, relying on the many years of experience from fooling others, Felix
calmed himself with a deep breath and sat back onto the stool.
"Sorry, I thought you were one of my blacklisted clients," Felix replied.
Standing back up with a jovial smile like nothing had happened at all, Malcolm
leapt onto the stool next to him, "I sure hope not. Anyway, it's pleasure to
see you. Always is," Malcolm said with a quirked brow and shrill giggle, "So,
I've got a-"
"I'm not soliciting right now," Felix cut him off, hands folded on the bar.
"Oh, I see," Malcolm said dumbly, "That explains the whole messy-hair look you
have going on. It suits you. I like it."
Felix rolled his eyes, leg twitching on the stool ready to ditch this scoundrel
at the bar.
"Actually, I think you look lovelier like this," Malcolm commented, smirking
madly when Felix turned to him, "Never fails to catch you attention when I
compliment your appearance."
Immediately Felix scowled at him and looked away. It took a truly meddlesome
man to rile up a boy like Felix who'd endured the worst company. Malcolm
laughed at his reaction which only made Felix seethe harder.
"Really though, you're much cuter like this without all that stuff around your
eyes and your hair all tidy," Malcolm added, watching a small quiver in Felix's
lip, "You look more like you," He let out a little chortle when the slightest
smile appeared on Felix's lips. He immediately reached towards the boy,
grabbing his shoulder like an old friend and shaking him playfully, "Admit it.
You love it when I compliment you."
Felix let out a small chuckle, let himself indulge in flattery just once, "Shut
up."
The two sat at the bar in silence for a while, Malcolm had been watching him
the entire time, giggling away at some joke in his mind. Felix kept himself
preoccupied with his final muffin, picking away pieces of it and popping them
into his mouth despite his appetite being soured by Malcolm's presence. Ugh,
why are you still here?
"So, twenty pieces for everything else. What does that entitle?" Malcolm said
as his lips twisted into a devilish smile.
"You can't afford it," Felix replied coldly.
"I'll work something out," Malcolm replied, scooting a bit closer on his stool,
"For you, I'd do anything," He let out a tiny grunt when Felix slid off his
stool and walked away, abandoning his muffin on the bar. Malcolm quickly got to
his feet, dashing after Felix, "Wait! Was it something I said?"
Felix pulled away when Malcolm reached for him, grimacing to disguise a slight
tremble of fear, "Just be here tonight. Then we'll do whatever you want." With
that, Felix stormed out of the pub, leaving Malcolm dumbfounded at the bar.
Never in Felix's life did he think that he'd be glad to return to the bakery.
When night fell, Felix didn't take Malcolm's advice, dressing up his hair and
painting his eyes with kohl as he always did. He slipped on his finer clothes,
a silk tunic covered by a thick, fraying jacket, leather leggings that hugged
to his body like a second skin, and a black, hooded cloak to shield himself
from the weather. He never bothered with belts, favouring sashes instead since
they were easy to remove.
The Crooked Man was always his first stop since he knew he'd always get a
customer there. However, since Malcolm became his regular, he became reluctant
to go there first. Something about him rubbed Felix the wrong way and Felix
just couldn't figure out what. Regardless, he swallowed the heavy feeling in
his gut and made his way to The Crooked Man, spying Malcolm leaning on the
doorframe with a small pouch of coins in his hands.
Before Felix could even react, Malcolm was already making his way over with a
goofy grin stretched across his face, "Pleasure seeing you again," He dropped
the pouch into Felix's hands. Felix noticed how twitchy Malcolm was, giddy as
he nearly skipped around Felix in a circle.
Felix feared for the worst, knowing that he may be enduring whatever Malcolm
had in mind if twenty coins slipped out from the pouch. To his surprise, only
ten fell out. He didn't pause to wonder why Malcolm was so excited. Instead, he
pocketed the coins and took Malcolm by the wrist, leading him to the back
alley.
"Wait," Malcolm said, pulling slightly to stop Felix from walking, "I got a bed
for us tonight."
Felix flinched at his words, immediately shaking his head, "I don't make house
calls."
Malcolm let out a little chuckle, "It's an inn. When I was little, I had a
friend who worked in the same job as you. Rule of thumb: Never go back to
someone's home."
It had been a long time since Felix had a proper bed. The closest he had was
his dingy cot and even then, he'd never had sex in it. After a quick analysis
of the situation and ruling it as harm-free, Felix nodded to Malcolm and
agreed. He gasped as Malcolm took him by the wrist and dragged him along, the
perfect image of a little boy dragging along his childhood crush.
Sneaking in through the backdoor of a bed-and-breakfast inn, Malcolm led Felix
into a room just at the back with a perfect view of the forest behind them. His
innocent, heartfelt expression when he looked to Felix made him smile
involuntarily.
"You like it?" Malcolm asked with a little chuckle, spreading his arms out,
"Thought you'd like the view."
Felix shut the door behind them, keeping his eyes focused to the ground as he
tried his best to stay unimpressed, "It's nice," He said flatly as he removed
his cloak, dropping it to the ground, "Shall we get started?"
Malcolm nodded eagerly, licking his lips as he sat on the bed, watching as
Felix stripped off his clothes. The jacket went first, Felix rolling it off his
shoulders and letting it slide down his arms and to the floor. Malcolm undid
the sash around his waist from where he sat, tugging it in one direction before
slowly slipping it off his body. He pressed a kiss to the cloth before putting
it aside, eyes beady and aroused as Felix lifted the tunic off his shoulders,
flexing his lanky but firm muscles. Kicking off his boots lazily, Felix stepped
forward till he was standing nearly between Malcolm's legs. He reached a thumb
into his leggings and jerked them down leaving him bare to the man before him.
Malcolm let out a throaty chuckle as he examined Felix up and down, eyes
dilated with lust. His eyes paused only at the bruises at his shoulders,
clicking his tongue in disapproval before patting the bed next to him,
prompting Felix to sit. Felix did as he was commanded, sitting beside him as he
filled his half-lidded eyes with desire, his most useful trick in pulling his
customers in.
Felix followed Malcolm's command as the older man spun his finger around.
Obediently, Felix turned so his back was to Malcolm. This left him staring out
the door while the starlight basked him from the left.
"I noticed a bit of bruising on your thighs and back last night," Malcolm
explained, just talking and not touching Felix in the slightest, "I thought a
bed would be kinder to your body. We can take our time here too."
That's exactlywhyI do it outside. Felix grumbled but said nothing else, "I've
got other customers."
"I know. I won't take much longer," Malcolm replied, sounding just slightly
peeved, "I heated this prior to meeting you at The Crooked Man. I hope it's
cooled off enough by now."
"Heated?" Felix pondered before flinching as Malcolm pushed him slightly
forward and dropped a dollop of warm oil onto his back, "You only paid ten!"
Felix blurted out, whipping his head around as Malcolm spread the oil over his
back.
"Don't worry. It's just a massage. Then we can get back to business," Malcolm
said with a coy smirk, one brow quirking upward as he spread the oil over his
shoulders.
Felix rolled his eyes, ready to shake off Malcolm's hands and demand that he
stop wasting his time till Malcolm clasped onto his shoulders and twisted his
thumbs inward just so making Felix groan with delight and forget everything
except for the delicious movement of Malcolm's hands.
Malcolm leaned over, his stubble brushing against Felix's cheek, "You were
going to say...?" Before Felix could respond, Malcolm twisted his thumbs again,
giggling as Felix mewled at the motion and reclined into him, "You're always so
tense. Thought you needed this," Malcolm explained as he continued rolling
Felix's muscles under his hands, pressing out the knots and sore spots
carefully.
Felix purred as Malcolm worked at the sore spot right at the base of his
shoulder blades. Ever since he'd let a customer take him on a table, his back
had been aching ever since. It felt too good to finally have that kink hammered
out. Unconsciously, Felix reached back to caress Malcolm's hand when it rested
on the junction between his neck and shoulders.
"No one's ever done this for me before," Felix said breathily. At most, he'd
rub out knots in his muscles himself with a hand tired from his day work and
his night work.
"Their loss," Malcolm replied in a sing-song voice as he patted Felix's back
gently, searching one last time for anymore knots before lowering the boy onto
the bed, "How are you feeling?"
Felix let out a tiny mewl as he came in contact with the bed. He'd endured
those aches in his muscles for so long, they ended up becoming a part of him.
With those sores finally gone, the feeling of a soft bed beneath him was almost
euphoric. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck as he purred, "Amazing,"
Pliant under his hands, Malcolm pressed kisses all over Felix's body,
concentrating mostly on his neck, chest, and thighs, especially his thighs. He
peppered the area with quick kisses before taking Felix into his mouth,
suckling just as gently as he kissed. Completely docile, Felix could do little
else but moan in a sweetly voice and writhe beneath him. All of his charms and
tricks were turned off for now but that didn't mean he was any less effective
against Malcolm.
Feeling Felix's thighs close around his head, Malcolm lifted his lips off
Felix's erection and grabbed onto his leg, suckling his inner thigh before
returning his full attention to Felix's leaking cock.
"H-hurry up," Felix gasped out, loving and hating the gentleness to Malcolm's
movements and how such wispy movements could still bring him so much pleasure.
Malcolm chuckled, the vibrations of his throat traveling up Felix's cock making
the boy gasp in surprise, "As you wish," Malcolm said before sinking back in
and suckling hard making Felix yelp at the sudden change of pace. The
pleasurable scraping of Malcolm's beard against the inside of his thighs made
Felix's voice rise at just the sensation.
This wasn't the first time Felix had received a blowjob from a customer but it
was certainly the first time he'd been so surprised. There was desperation as
Malcolm sucked him off like he needed this. The way he gripped into Felix's
thighs while he blew him without any disgust or regret, suckling him with no
tact or finesse. It made Felix writhe helplessly in a way he'd never done
before.
Felix forced his hand over his mouth, muffling his moans as Malcolm continued
to devour him, "S-S-Stop! That's t-too hard!" He gasped out in-between breathy
moans and nonsensical babbling.
Malcolm chuckled again but the vibrations this time felt deeper, pushing Felix
right to the edge as Malcolm finished him off by dragging his tongue up the
quivering length. Felix cried out as he came harder than he'd ever had in a
very long time, toes curling, fingers convulsing. He swung his head to the
side, draping an arm over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the smug look on
Malcolm's face.
"First I'm too slow, then I'm too hard?" Malcolm said with a chuckle as he
wiped off the come on his lips. Felix immediately regret lifting his arm as he
saw Malcolm lick his fingers clean chuckling silently the whole time. He let
out a throaty groan and smacked Malcolm away playfully.
Felix rolled onto his knees, pushing Malcolm against the backboard as he leaned
forward and undid his belt, moving reflexively out of routine.
"What are you doing?" Malcolm asked as Felix threw the belt aside.
"Your turn?" Felix replied. Malcolm was no doubt still aroused; Felix could
feel the heat of his crotch from where he sat yet Malcolm looked completely
puzzled by his gesture.
Malcolm chuckled, pushing Felix's hands back, "This was meant for you. Not for
me."
"But..." Felix was utterly confused. He was shaking his head as if he was
rejecting Malcolm's proposal, "You're still..." He gestured to the front of
Malcolm's pants which only made Malcolm's eyes shine with more amusement.
"I've got a perfectly good hand for that," Malcolm replied, stroking his hand
through Felix's hair.
"You paid for me." Felix said firmly, still so confused.
"That I did. Five for my orgasm, ten for yours, and twenty for the kinky stuff,
right?" Malcolm recited Felix's prices with his own interpretation, "I've got
my payment. And if you don't mind, I'll be thinking back to this whenever I
have some 'downtime'."
Dumbfounded and defeated, all Felix could do was sit there in stupefied
silence. Not even his kindest customers would have paid full price to give
Felix a blowjob without reciprocal treatment. He wasn't anyone special. He
never found himself particularly attractive, all gangly limbs and narrow
features.
"Have a good night, Felix," Malcolm said as he moved to kiss Felix, lips just
ghosting over his before Felix flinched. Pausing first, Malcolm eventually
diverted and pressed a kiss to Felix's cheek. After adjusting his belt and
boots, Malcolm left Felix alone in the room, unlocked. Felix could have brought
any customer in, save himself the strain on his back, and Felix knew that was
Malcolm's intent. Felix couldn't find it in his heart to do it.
 
Every night he'd go out, get bruised and scraped up in some back alley behind
every bar and the next night, Malcolm would kiss those bruises better. He
always started with a massage, working Felix's body till he was malleable in
his arms. Then there would be sex as Felix was accustomed to.
After much time spent beneath Malcolm's body, Felix had come to the conclusion
that Malcolm wasn't very good. He could certainly make Felix scream in pleasure
and pain but he lacked any sort of finesse, relying only on raw force, grinding
away at Felix till his inevitable orgasm. There was something about Malcolm
though that kept drawing Felix in, a feral darkness in his eyes whenever he'd
take Felix to bed and spread his legs apart that so greatly contrasted his
jovial man-child tendencies. In that darkness reflected competency, power,
passion, and every time Malcolm held Felix in his arms, Felix would clutch his
face, gripping into his uneven beard, and stare into those fathomless depths
till all he could see was that enticing darkness.
"The blacksmith's wife used to say my eyes were my nicest feature," Malcolm
said with a little chortle as he pulled off Felix's boot. The boy was laying
across the bed, back to the pillows while Malcolm sat at the end with his feet
in his lap. With just a bit of oil, Malcolm rubbed his thumb in circles against
the balls of his feet, continuing harder when he felt Felix loosen up at the
touch.
With a little groan, Felix reclined into the pillows, watching lazily as
Malcolm continued massaging his feet, "Why are you bringing that up?"
"Whenever we make love, you keep staring at my eyes," Malcolm commented.
Felix scoffed a little at the term 'make love', he preferred cruder terms as
did most of his clients, "Only part of you worth looking at," Felix let out a
small playful groan when Malcolm smirked back at him and pinched his little
toe, "Really though, your eyes are pretty," When Malcolm looked back at him,
Felix could see that darkness in his eyes once more, always preceded by
arousal. Felix pulled his legs back as Malcolm approached, sliding up closer
while Felix reached out to hold his face, staring into that hypnotizing
darkness.
The two kept their eyes locked as they removed their clothing, starting out
slowly till both grew impatient and nearly ripped off their clothing. Felix
finished first, having substantially less buckles and buttons to deal with, and
he tackled Malcolm to the bed, tugging down his pants eagerly before letting
Malcolm kick off the rest.
Malcolm laughed at the change in position, Felix mounted above him pressing
both their cocks together with one hand, "What have I done to be rewarded like
this?"
Felix rolled his eyes as Malcolm bucked his hips upward, grinding their hips
together. The two panted in unison as Felix rubbed their hardening erections
against each other while jostling their hips together, creating a searing hot
friction between their bodies, "You're no good at sex."
Malcolm shot him an offended look, "Am not," He replied, unable to formulate a
better comeback with Felix mounted on top of him, grinding against him just so.
"Got no technique," Felix added, dropping a bit of oil into his hands as he
lubricated Malcolm's erection, digging in his nails just a bit to make Malcolm
squirm beneath him, "Just like a rutting dog."
The two exchanged feral smirks at one another as the darkness in Malcolm's eyes
only grew, "You watch your mouth boy or I'll have to punish you." He gasped as
Felix lined them up, the head of his cock just resting in his cleft.
"You first," Felix purred as he pressed Malcolm inside of him, throwing his
head back with a cry. Collecting himself, Felix planted his hands onto
Malcolm's chest, fingers weaving through the fine brown chest hair as he
squeezed Malcolm with his thighs. He lifted his hips carefully, both of them
groaning as Felix felt Malcolm slip out of him, before slamming back down
angling him just rightmaking Felix's voice rise in a way Malcolm had never
heard.
At the sound of that song-like voice, Malcolm gripped into Felix's hips and
thrust upward, punishing that one spot just so he could hear Felix cry out
again, "My god, Felix..." He moaned out, loving how Felix's muscles tensed all
around him. His fingers travelled all over Felix's lower torso, mapping out
every flexing muscle and angle.
Felix would slow the thrusts, dragging them out as he clenched around Malcolm
letting the heat from inside him do the work. He'd speed up the thrusts,
loosening his muscles to reduce the drag so he could build heat from the
repetitive friction. He'd roll his hips, conducting himself delicately and
guiding Malcolm's movements to match his own. Throughout it all, Malcolm
watched Felix attentively, recording everything into his head.
"You got it now?" Felix gasped out, maintaining a steady rhythm as he rode
Malcolm's cock. Eagerly, Malcolm nodded back with a goofy smile and pitch black
eyes, "Now, show me."
For the first time since he'd had sex with Malcolm, Felix was utterly pleased
with the outcome. As soon as Malcolm pulled out, Felix flopped onto his side to
savour his afterglow. The goofy smile on Felix's face could only be matched by
Malcolm's as the older man scooped Felix up into his arms, letting out a hum of
approval.
"How was I?" Malcolm asked, whispering into Felix's ear.
"Better," Felix replied, "Could use more practice."
"I agree," Malcolm cooed, pulling Felix's back flush against his chest,
spooning the boy in his grasp.
Peering over his shoulder, Felix looked out the window, gauging the time based
on the position of the moon. He'd spent far too long with Malcolm, already
skipping at least two potential customers. If he left now, he could possibly
make up for the loss with some quick blowjobs. Before he could even reach for
his clothes, Malcolm reached forward and grabbed his wrist, startling him.
"Stay for the night," Malcolm said, voice quiet but firm.
Felix almost complied without protest, a mysterious charisma in his voice
compelling him. He shook it off though, trying to pull his wrist away, "I've
got other customers."
"Then stay till I fall asleep?" Malcolm pleaded.
At the soft expression on Malcolm's face, Felix couldn't object. He slipped
back under the sheets, pressing himself firmly against Malcolm's body as he
felt arms coil around him, He let himself feel safe in Malcolm's arms, defying
every rule Felix had ever set up for himself, all except one. Felix wouldn't
stay; he couldn't, and as soon as Malcolm drifted away into sleep, Felix
slipped out of his grasp, got dressed, and left the room.
 
"Damn it," Felix muttered as he examined the throbbing bruise under his left
eye through his reflection in a bucket of water. Gingerly, he pressed at the
swollen flesh, confirming that it certainly looked far worse than it actually
was.
He'd tried to take a new client that night, a burly blacksmith with jet-black
hair, matching eyes, and a sour look on his face drinking himself under the
table as he barked slurs to the barmaid. All of Felix's alarms were going off
but the man had offered him twice the amount for just a blowjob. If he had just
spent less time with Malcolm, he wouldn't have had to make up for lost profit.
Not only had the blacksmith not paid, but he struck Felix across the face when
he demanded his payment, screaming another mouthful of slurs before wandering
back into the bar.
Grumbling, Felix opened the wooden chest and retrieved a satchel of cosmetics
he had received from miscellaneous women. With the little bit left in a bottle
of skin-coloured paste, Felix carefully painted over his bruise, trying to make
his flesh look as even as he could. No matter how much he painted, the worst of
the bruise still bled through. It was sufficient to get through his day,
however. At most, the baker might wonder where he got his injury but Felix
could quickly make up a story to cover up the truth. His customers wouldn't
care, expecting such harm in his seedy line of work. All of his customers...
except one.
"Malcolm," Felix groaned out his name. He could already see it, the scoundrel
doting over him like a puppy. If he was anyone else in any other situation,
Felix would have appreciated his kindness but in his pathetic life in such a
miserable situation, Felix treated all kindness, genuine or fabricated, with
spite.
It was all he could think about, how to handle Malcolm when he saw him tonight,
all throughout the day even as he worked in the bakery. It crossed his mind to
skip The Crooked Man tonight, make up his money elsewhere, but so far Malcolm
had paid consistently and Felix couldn't risk another run in with the
blacksmith.
The only thing that cut through Felix's storm of thoughts was a shrill voice
outside the bakery. Peering outside, Rumple had returned for another loaf of
bread. While he and the baker bickered on, trying to haggle on a second loaf,
Felix stuffed a batch of muffins into a sack followed by a deformed loaf he had
accidentally baked for too long.
Unable to haggle with the man, Rumple resigned himself to his single loaf of
bread and turned to leave till he heard a whistle in the alley. Curious, he
peeked in to see Felix waving him in with the sack of goods in hand.
"For you," Felix said, holding out the sack, "There's a loaf of bread and a
couple muffins as well."
Cautiously, Rumple took the bag, peering in and taking a deep breath of the
freshly baked goods. He leapt at Felix, hugging him around the knees tightly.
With a small laugh, Felix knelt down and ruffled Rumple's hair affectionately.
"How's your father doing? Is he still not eating?" Felix asked.
Rumple nodded quickly, "He's not buying any food for himself. He's always out
at night too. I'm worried."
"Well, make sure he eats. And if you need more, don't go to the baker. Come to
me first," Felix said, standing up and sweeping off his knees. Rumple nodded
back to him eagerly, smiling as he skipped away with the bread in hand. Felix
wished he could tell that child the truth. A father sneaking out at night, not
spending his money on the necessities, leaving his son all alone? There was no
scenario with those parameters that turned out well. Could be worse, could be a
lot worse.Felix thought before returning to the bakery.
The moment he dreaded most had finally come despite how slow the day moved.
Felix, dressed in his courtesan clothing with painted eyes and cheap cologne,
stood by The Crooked Man waiting for Malcolm. He kept his hood on, pulled far
over his head to hide his bruise in the shadows. Malcolm approached him from
the east at he always did, smiling like a fool as he dashed over. For the most
part, the hood did its work, hiding the bruise from his eyes.
Malcolm laughed lightly as he examined Felix, "What's with the hood? Can't see
your pretty face."
"It's cold tonight," Felix replied, hanging his head when Malcolm tried to peer
under the hood.
"Shall we, then?" Malcolm asked, gesturing down the path to the inn.
Felix turned from the path. If they were to use the room, Malcolm would no
doubt strip him down to nothing and see the bruise, "Not tonight. Let's just
use the back alley." Felix replied, already weaving down the alleyways before
Malcolm stopped him.
"Why? What happened?" Malcolm asked immediately, rushing in front of Felix to
stop him, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Felix replied quietly, "Can we just get this over with?" He
tried pushing past Malcolm only for the older man to grab his forearm to stop
him. Growing angry, Felix whipped around and glared at Malcolm, "Will you stop
that!" He shouted, freezing when he saw a new kind of darkness pooling in
Malcolm's stormy eyes.
When Felix had whipped his head around, he had inadvertently flashed the bruise
towards Malcolm. With a slow hand, Malcolm grabbed the back of Felix's hood and
jerked it down, revealing that just-concealed bruise under his eye. This was
unlike the rest of the bruises on his body, unintentional side effects of
Felix's service. This was a deliberate strike against Felix and it angered
Malcolm to no end.
"Who did this to you?" Malcolm asked in a low, dangerous voice unlike anything
Felix had ever heard before.
"It was just a client," Felix replied quickly, surprised when Malcolm refused
to let go of his arm even when he jerked it back.
"When I find him..." Malcolm growled under his breath, "Which bar did you meet
him?"
"Stop it," Felix muttered quickly.
Malcolm looked at him incredulously, "How can I? Someone hurt you and I'm not
just going to stand around and do nothing about it!"
"Yes. You will. Because this has nothing to do with you," Felix snapped back,
jerking his arm again trying to tear out of Malcolm's grasp.
"You're hurt!"
"You're not my lover!" Felix shouted back, "You're my client. You're a
customer. Anything we have between us is a transaction."
Felix's words clearly hit a sore spot in Malcolm. For a brief moment, the man
was silent, his eyes dull, his fire gone. Moments later, Malcolm shook off the
shock and released Felix's arm, reaching up to wipe away the skin paint and
reveal the bruise.
Enjoying the tenderness far more than he would have wanted to, Felix leaned
into the touch just a bit before stepping around Malcolm, "I don't want your
kindness," I can't handle it.
"Right," Malcolm said in a monotone voice. He walked beside Felix, gesturing
him out of the alley and back to the inn.
Malcolm was wordless throughout the trek, all of the bounce and joy gone from
him. A part of Felix missed the child-like joy; it was the same part that let
himself get tricked into staying with Malcolm till he fell asleep.
Stepping into their room, Felix silently stripped off his clothes, tossing
everything to the floor as he heard Malcolm sorting through the supply drawer
by the mirror.
Before Felix could even getting his leggings off, Malcolm suddenly tackled him
from behind, picking him up roughly and shoving him to the bed before climbing
on top of his chest. Felix scrambled in the bed, hands clawing at the sheets
and legs kicking at the backboard. Eyes full of fear, Felix stared at the tunic
containing his switchblade he had carelessly thrown to the ground. In the back
of his mind, he saw that foreign, vivid darkness fueled by rage, consuming him,
the phantom feeling of Malcolm's hands around his neck all because he couldn't
handle the situation better. Fearing the worst, Felix parted his eyes slowly
and looked up at Malcolm...
... smiling down innocently, "I got some ointment here from the last time I got
into a bar fight. For the record, I got him more than he got me," Malcolm said
with a brief chuckle, all of his jovial nature returning to him as he scooped a
generous amount into his hands.
Felix was confused, wondering exactly when did Malcolm's jolly nature return.
Given that he had the ointment in the drawer, Felix wondered if this was
Malcolm's intent all along and that eerie silence was to get him to comply,
"Didn't you hear me?" Felix said, trying to sound harsh. He struggled a bit,
arms pinned under Malcolm's knees as he straddled his chest, "I said I don't
want your kindness!"
"That's just too bad then," Malcolm replied, poking Felix's nose playfully,
"Because you're going to get it anyway."
Felix couldn't understand, or perhaps he didn't want to, fearing that if he
did, he'd never be able to escape Malcolm ever again, "Why are you so kind to
me? You're paying me for sex."
"That I am," Malcolm replied, warming the ointment between his fingers, "But
you're giving me so much more than that."
"Why?" How could anyone be so child-like in a life that made a million others
bitter and cruel?
Malcolm didn't answer, smiling down softly at Felix as he stroked his hair with
equal softness. With his other hand, he smeared the ointment over the bruised
skin, laughing a bit when Felix cringed at the sticky feeling.
"Ugh, gross," Felix said, his lips curling just a bit into a smile.
Climbing off Felix's chest, Malcolm laid himself beside him, caressing the
treated bruise with a light finger, "Feeling better now?" Felix refused to nod
despite the ache on his cheek dying down. He looked away instead, peering to
the window arrogantly. Malcolm understood and chuckled shrilly. He reached into
his pocket and dropped a pouch into Felix's hands, "So, I believe we have a
transaction to finish."
Felix would never admit that he had forgotten all about the money. If Malcolm
had taken him right there, he may have accidentally done it all for free and he
may not have ever regretted it. Pushing his thoughts aside, Felix twisted
around in the bed and pulled off Malcolm's scarf with his teeth. He climbed
onto Malcolm's body, straddling him as he crept down and proceeded to strip off
his pants the same way.
 
"No. That doesn't feel good," Felix muttered, shoving back Malcolm's head as
the older man nibbled on his neck.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Malcolm reclined against the backboard with an
irritated look before scanning Felix's naked body, straddling his lap with his
hands resting on his shoulders, "I thought this would be more fun."
"It would be if you knew what you were doing," Felix replied, smirking when
Malcolm's eyes narrowed. He shifted around in his lap, laying back so he rested
firmly against Malcolm's chest with his head propped on his shoulder. His arm
came around, gripping lightly onto Malcolm's hair and pushing his lips down
against his neck, "One more time. Less tongue and more force. And don't be so
worried. I won't break."
Felix could feel Malcolm's smirk against his skin, warm arms circling Felix's
waist and holding him tight as Malcolm pressed his lips to Felix's neck,
licking the supple flesh tentatively before drawing some into his mouth and
sinking his teeth in. Felix groaned, toes curling into the sheets as he drew
his legs close. Malcolm did exactly as Felix commanded, suckling harder,
drawing more skin into his mouth and biting deeper.
After one more nibble, Malcolm pulled away to admire the lovely scarlet mark he
had left on Felix's neck, "My, my, would you look at that," He murmured with a
chuckle as he suddenly found the urge to suckle marks all over Felix's body. He
lifted a finger and prodded at the raw, swollen flesh, massaging it with the
tip of his finger, "Do you feel that Felix? My mark on your flesh."
Felix groaned at the touch, slipping down the bed so he could rest his head on
Malcolm's chest, "It's a bit small, don't you think?"
A shrill chuckle came from Malcolm, "Always giving me sass," He said in a
scolding tone before weaving his hand through Felix's hair, "Your turn."
"Huh?" Felix replied, lifting his head off Malcolm's chest to stare at him
perplexingly.
"It's your turn," Malcolm repeated, brow quirking upward as he stretched his
head back to reveal his neck, "Can't imagine what you're confused by."
Felix swallowed as his eyes scanned the skin of Malcolm's neck, stretched as
Malcolm reclined his head, smiling down on Felix from his position. He swept
his fingers across the skin, unconsciously circling exactly where he should
leave his mark before pulling away, "It's disrespectful for the customer,"
Felix muttered in a low, shameful voice.
There was a time long ago when Felix had once made the terrible mistake of
marking a customer. He still remembered the beating he received, the shame from
the village when his family found the mark and punished him for seducing their
son. He had no one to blame but himself, letting the heat and passion take
control when he should've kept it clinical and transactional.
Malcolm woke him from the memory with a gentle stroke of his chin, lifting
Felix's head so their eyes could meet before swallowing slowly. Felix couldn't
stop himself from watching the smooth skin of his neck stretch and twist with
the subtle movement.
"Disrespect me, Felix, I want you to," Malcolm said in a low, husky voice,
seducing Felix with the command.
Felix couldn't stop himself as he leapt forward, letting his passion take
control once more as he latched onto Malcolm's neck and suckled the flesh raw.
He felt Malcolm writhe under him, groaning and flinching as Felix relentlessly
attacked his neck. He felt Malcolm's hands settle into his hair, cradling his
head. His fingers traced the treated bruise on Felix's face, distress twisting
in Malcolm's features before Felix finally understood: The man who struck him
left a mark on Felix, claiming him. Malcolm doesn't want to be that man and for
that, he needs Felix to lay claim onto him as well.
Felix gasped as he pulled away, taking in a deep breath like he'd been drowning
all this time, waiting for someone to save him. He reached for Malcolm's neck,
fingers tracing his beard before gliding down his neck to prod the angry red
mark he'd left behind, "Do you feel that?" Felix echoed, leaning forward to
rest his forehead against Malcolm's as the two laughed quietly.
Shifting down the mattress, Felix curled up on his side as Malcolm spooned him
from behind, draped an arm around his body, and pulled the blanket over them
both. A small groan slipped from his lips as he felt Malcolm breathing against
the mark he'd left on Felix's neck, lips just ghosting over it before settling
in Felix's hair.
"Are you happy like this, Felix?" Malcolm asked, voice slow with exhaustion.
Felix shrugged lazily in response, "I guess. It's not so bad serving
customers."
A short but sad chuckle came from Malcolm before he spoke again, "Do you really
want to do this for the rest of your life?" He could feel Felix stiffen in his
arms and feared that he offended him. Immediately, his hand came up to brush
against Felix's hair, trying to soothe him with the gesture.
This was the first time anyone had ever asked Felix that question. Not even he
ever questioned what he wanted in life. He had no goals, nothing to achieve
other than to make money, get by, and repeat, "What other choice do I have?"
Felix whispered, leaning into Malcolm's gentle petting, "This is all I'm good
at."
"We can run away together. Start a new life."
Felix scoffed at the ignorantly innocent idea, "No matter where we go, I'll
just go back to my old ways. It's all I've ever known."
"Depends on where we go," Malcolm mumbled, encircling Felix with both arms as
he leaned in.
"Where?"
Felix could feel a smile on Malcolm's lips, could hear his heartbeat picking
up. He tightened his grip on Felix, crushing their bodies together, "Nothing
would make me happier than taking you with me to Neverland."
"Neverland?" Felix murmured quietly, "What's..." He froze when he heard a
gentle snoring behind him. He whipped his head around, angry at the sight of
Malcolm falling asleep just when he had caught his attention. It took
everything in Felix to not bash him over the head out of frustration.
Instead, he laughed it off as he slipped out of Malcolm's grasp, dressing
himself quietly before examining the bruise on his face. The ointment had
certainly reduced the sting but the colour was still quite vivid. His eyes
drifted down lower, eyeing the mark Malcolm had left on his skin. He'd never
say that he enjoyed it, that Malcolm had done a ridiculously pleasurable job in
marring his flesh, but he knew he'd smile when he looked upon his neck.
His clients, on the other hand, might feel apprehension at the sight of the
mark. All of them knew he was 'shared goods' but no one wanted to acknowledge
it while he was serving them. Felix considered returning to his shack to paint
over the mark. The size and colour would've made it substantially easier to
cover up compared to the bruise on his face. Instead, he took Malcolm's scarf
off the floor, a rich, forest green that always brought out the stormy colour
of Malcolm's eyes, and wound it around his neck in a loose knot.
Felix collected his money, adjusted the scarf, left a kiss on Malcolm's brow,
and exited the inn.
 
Since the day he ran into Malcolm at his usual bar, Felix had been avoiding
that area. Today, however, he found himself seeking Malcolm. Despite years of
adhering to his guidelines of 'no contact with customers', he wanted to speak
with Malcolm outside of the context of a whore and his customer. He stepped
into the bar, immediately gravitating to the back where he knew Malcolm would
be, hustling cards with miscellaneous men. The smile on Felix's face as he saw
Malcolm immediately disappeared when a very familiar blacksmith grabbed Malcolm
by the collar and punched him across the jaw.
"You tricked me," The man clothed in heavy furs boomed as he scooped Malcolm
off the floor and shoved him against the wall, arm twisting his collar till the
cloth was taut against his throat, ready to beat the scoundrel into pieces.
"Hey, hey, whoa! Just because I keep cards in my sleeves doesn't mean I used
them to cheat you!" Malcolm spat out before the blacksmith delivered a heavy
strike to his stomach, knocking the breath out of him, "Worth a shot," Malcolm
choked out before cringing as his assaulter lifted his fist.
A switchblade was pressed to the blacksmith's throat as another hand gripped
his wrist and jerked his arm back, "Let him go."
Both of his customers stared at him disbelievingly when they spotted him,
"Felix?" Malcolm choked out, hacking and coughing when the blacksmith released
his hold on his collar and grabbed Felix's wrist instead, nearly crushing the
arm that held the knife.
"You're that whore from the bar," The blacksmith growled, examining Felix head
to toe till his eyes found the bruise he had left behind on his face.
Immediately the man reached forward, pressing his fingers into the healing mark
before placing a thumb over Felix's mouth.
Malcolm was already on his feet, ready to tackle the man down and most likely
get himself beaten into a pulp for his troubles. Felix shot him a glare though,
freezing him in place as he fearlessly stared down the burly man before him.
Knowing no other way to placate the man, Felix nipped at the thumb on his lips,
tongue peeking out, wetting the tip of his blackened nail. With eyes half-
lidded, he used his seasoned charm to seduce the blacksmith all over again,
feeling his rage against Malcolm simmer down and replace itself with a dull
lust.
"Let him go," Felix commanded again with a far softer voice.
The blacksmith dropped his hand, smiling down at Felix as he examined him again
with a far more lustful look. He moved to leave but not before shooting Malcolm
a harsh glare, "What kind of man needs a whore to defend him?" He snarled,
matching Malcolm's scowl before leaving the bar.
"I guess I owe you one now, don't I?" Malcolm asked, smiling as Felix looked to
him smugly, "He kept staring at your face," Malcolm muttered spitefully.
"So do you," Felix replied, making his way to a booth in the back.
"Not when you're turned around," Malcolm replied jovially, eyes aimed far lower
on Felix's body.
"Creep," Felix said with a chuckle as he slid into the booth, gesturing for
Malcolm to sit in front of him.
Felix rolled his eyes as Malcolm feigned surprise and sat before him. With the
shillings left behind by the blacksmith, Malcolm ordered drinks for the two of
them. However, in each other's company, the drinks were quickly forgotten.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Malcolm said, reaching out a hand under the
table to caress Felix's knee.
Felix promptly responded by kicking Malcolm in the stomach, using the cramped
booth and his long legs to his advantage, "You always waste so much of my time
talking at night, thought we should get it over with now."
"Right, right, and it's not at all because you missed me," Malcolm said with a
smile so arrogant and bright that Felix wanted to just smack it off his face,
"Or perhaps you've fallen for my dashing good looks and sparkling personality."
"I might be a whore but I have standards," Felix retorted, resting his chin on
his hand as he leaned against the table.
Malcolm reeled back, clutching at his heart playfully, "You wound me with your
harsh words. Either that, or I'm aroused. It's just so hard to tell when I'm
around you," Felix felt his hand come forward again, brushing at his knee.
Responding just as he did before, Felix delivered another swift kick to
Malcolm's stomach only for the scoundrel to catch his leg and hold it still,
"Look what I've got here."
Eyes glittering with mischief, Malcolm removed Felix's shoe and placed it
beside him, exposing Felix's bare foot to the cool air of the bar. Felix
urgently renewed his struggling as Malcolm began twiddling his fingers over his
sole, "Don't you dare," Felix growled before smacking a hand over his mouth to
hold in a fit of laughter as Malcolm dragged a finger up and down the arch of
his foot.
"Try me," Malcolm replied with a smirk, absently tickling his foot with his
fingers. He kept one hand secured on Felix's ankle, preventing him from pulling
away while the other scratched away at the sole of his feet.
Squirming in his seat, Felix fought hard against the urge to flat out burst
into laughter. His barely suppressed giggles had already called the attention
of a few curious customers, "Stop it," Felix gasped out in the middle of his
laughter, "Stop! I mean it!" He cried out a bit louder, covering his mouth when
Malcolm smiled back sinisterly and doubled the pace, loving it when Felix began
twisting around in his seat, "Malcolm!" He shouted a bit too loudly, nearly
everyone in the bar turning to them.
"Look what you did, Felix, now everyone's look at us," Malcolm said, enjoying
the tortured look on Felix's face as he twisted and turned in his seat, his leg
flailing around under the table just barely secured by Malcolm's hand. Despite
the disapproving statement, Malcolm didn't stop.
"No, no, no!" Felix cried out as Malcolm refused to relent. On the contrary,
his tickling only intensified at the sound of Felix begging. Unable to hold it
in, Felix lost himself in a fit of laughter, slumping in his seat when the
strength he used to endure left his body. Felix didn't care if everyone was
staring, he needed to concentrate all his strength into getting his leg free
because this was just cruel.
As soon as Felix squirmed out of Malcolm's grasp, he delivered a swift kick
right into Malcolm's crotch. Immediately, the scoundrel reeled in his seat and
slumped over the table, groaning in pain but still jovial in tone. Felix pulled
back in his seat, sitting up immediately and keeping his legs firmly against
his side of the booth. His breath was heavy and desperate as he smoothed out
his hair, a victorious look in his eyes as Malcolm lay against the table in
pain.
Malcolm wrinkled his nose as he looked up at Felix, not feeling a shred of
regret for what he did despite the ridiculously disproportionate attack Felix
inflicted upon him, "You left your shoe," Malcolm said with a strained chuckle,
lifting the shoe from the seat beside him.
After slipping his shoe back on and smoothing out his clothes, the two returned
their attention to the neglected drinks. Felix sipped at his gingerly, trying
to ignore the very blatantly lustful stares Malcolm was giving him, "What's
Neverland?" Felix asked, trying to distract Malcolm with small talk and
succeeding when he saw a flash of surprise overtake the lust in his eyes.
"You've been to Neverland?" Malcolm asked, completely clueless.
Felix let out a disgruntled huff as he rolled his eyes, "You were talking about
it last night?"
"Did I say that? I must've been rambling in my sleep," Malcolm replied, "What
did I say?"
Nothing would make me happier than taking you with me to Neverland. Felix
cleared his throat loudly, feeling his cheeks heat up at the kind words, "You
said you'd take me there."
A smile stretched across Malcolm's face whether at Felix's blushing face or the
mention of Neverland, "Did I?" He said, left brow quirking up, "You'd like
Neverland."
"What is it?"
A mirthfulness that Felix had never seen before reflected in Malcolm's face. It
was like he was speaking to a child, expressions unrestrained, voice ecstatic
with glee, "Neverland is a place children visit in their dreams. It's filled
with the most magical things, fairies, mermaids, gnomes. All you have to do is
believe and you can have everything you want!"
Taking a napkin off the desk and a piece of charcoal from his pocket, Malcolm
began sketching a map of Neverland, tongue peeking out just from the corner of
his mouth, "Right here. This is the mermaid lagoon where the mermaids live.
Lovely creatures but they'll tear you apart if they had the chance," Malcolm
circled a niche on the left side of the island. His eyes would flicker to
Felix, shining with more excitement when Felix watched with intrigue, "And over
here, this is Dead Man's Peak. There's a real nasty plant there called
Dreamshade, deadliest plant on the island. One prick and you're done for. Got
scratched by it once, felt sick the entire dream," Malcolm said with a shrill
giggle, playing light what would have been a serious situation, "This is the
Echo Caves. Seems friendly enough till you step inside. It only lets you leave
if you tell it secrets and traps you further if you try to lie. Was never much
of a fan of the place."
"And over here's the Dark Hollow," Malcolm went over the mountains with the
charcoal, darkening them to accentuate the valley between them, "Frightening
place. Can't see the sky from the Dark Hollow, just red and shadows. Good place
for Hide-and-Seek though. Used to play there with the braver kids, everyone
else usually just got scared off. Just south of it," He quickly sketched a few
trees by the mountain, "Here was the best part. At the tops of these trees..."
He stretched out his sentence, taking his time to draw flowers at the tips of
the tree, "Were flowers containing pixie dust. They'd sit at the top of the
trees, absorbing all the moonlight. That's where they got their power. You see,
with pixie dust, you can fly. And there's no feeling in the world that's like
it."
A snicker. Malcolm looked up from his drawing, pouting when he saw Felix
snickering into his hand, "What's so funny?"
"You're crazy," Felix almost felt bad when Malcolm deflated at his words, all
the child-like excitement dissolving away.
"Am not!" Malcolm shouted back, looking even more like a child as he protested,
"Neverland is real. When I was a boy, I'd go there all the time in my dreams!"
He picked up the napkin in his hands, feeling nostalgia as he toured the island
mentally, "Neverland was all I had when I was a boy. Every day, I'd be slaving
in front of hot coals working for a blacksmith who bought me for a day's worth
of coin from my father," A seriousness settled over both of them as Malcolm
spoke. Felix could see sadness bleeding through Malcolm's composure and he
began regretting his ignorant dismissal of Neverland, "Every night, I'd say to
myself 'think lovely thoughts' and I'd be here, in Neverland," He ran a thumb
over the drawing, almost forgetting Felix was still there as he lost himself in
his memories. A sad smile stretched over his face as he spoke, "I had nothing,
nothing but my thoughts. But here, I could have everything I wanted," Malcolm
looked to Felix suddenly, startling him, "Neverland was everything to me."
"I'm sorry," Felix whispered, averting his eyes.
"It's alright," Malcolm said with a small chuckle, his jovialness returning
instantly, "I guess I must've sounded crazy to anyone," His eyes sparkled again
when Felix took the napkin from his hands, running over the charcoal lines with
his fingers, memorizing the map.
"Can I keep this?" Felix asked, already sure of Malcolm's answer as he folded
it up and pocketed the map.
All Malcolm could do was stare lovingly at Felix, fighting the urge to whisk
him into his arms and carry him to the closest chapel to get married. He
figured Felix might take exception to that. Instead, his eyes drifted down to
his neck where a familiar forest-green scarf was wound, "I was wondering where
that was," Malcolm commented, gesturing to the scarf with a nod, "That one's my
favourite."
"Looks better on me," Felix replied, crinkling his nose as he smirked at
Malcolm.
"I'd be offended if that wasn't true," Malcolm said, loosening the ratty,
yellow scarf he wore to reveal the bruise Felix had suckled onto his neck, now
taking on a hue of blue, "Saw it this morning. Lovely colour it's taken,"
Felix was amused by Malcolm's glee at a simple hickey. He unwound the scarf
around his neck, letting it fall to his lap as he revealed the mark Malcolm had
suckled onto his neck. Unlike the one Felix had made, the mark Malcolm made was
just barely scarlet and already healing. At most, it looked merely like a bad
mosquito bite.
"It's kind of small too," Felix commented, prodding at his own neck before
tying his scarf on with a nearly sinister smile on his face.
"I'll fix that tonight," Malcolm replied, restlessly drumming at the table with
his fingers as he finished his drink.
Felix didn't want to leave, didn't want to return to the bakery. He wanted
Malcolm to tell him more, wanted to see his eyes sparkle, hear his child-like
laugh but reality ensued and Felix had to comply, "I have to go. It was a nice
talk," He said as he stood from his seat.
Malcolm followed readily on his heels, abandoning the glasses on the table,
"Wait."
With a firm hand on Felix's shoulder, Malcolm turned the tall boy around,
wrapping his other arm around the small of his back as he pulled him in,
shutting his eyes as he closed the distance between their lips. The feeling of
Felix tensing in his arms was the only warning Malcolm had before Felix slapped
him across the face. An undignified sound slipped from his lips as Malcolm
reeled back, rubbing at his sore cheek while Felix stumbled backwards till his
back met a table.
Even with a broken look on his face, Malcolm still smiled, trying to make light
of what happened, "I'm starting to think you like leaving bruises on me. Not
that I'm complaining,"
"I..." Felix choked out, trying to slow down the harsh pitter-patter of his
heart. He hadn't felt this terrified in ages. Should he apologize for his
impulsive action, show that he meant no ill will? Or should he be harsh like he
always was and hope that Malcolm would laugh it off? "Don't... I-I," Nothing
could come out, Felix was lost.
"You don't like being kissed," Malcolm said, filling in the blanks, "I figured
that a while ago. Just wanted to chance it," He reached forward, ruffling
Felix's hair before caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers, "No harm
done, alright? You can stop pouting."
"It's not that." Felix said suddenly. Malcolm's brow lifted in confusion,
watching Felix carefully, "Kissing is...intimate. I'm not used to that."
"I'd say sex is pretty intimate too," Malcolm replied jokingly.
"It's different. Sex is pleasure; it's entertainment; it's business," Felix
explained, unable to meet Malcolm's eyes, "A kiss is romantic," Felix knew what
he was implying about Malcolm and he knew Malcolm agreed, "And I can't just
give that away to anyone." He'd sell his body to the world, let them wreck him
in every way they wanted, but he'd never sell his heart.
"... I'm stilljust anyone?"
"Of course, you're a customer." Felix said like it was the most obvious answer
in the world. What exactly did Malcolm think he was?
"Oh."
Felix could see through Malcolm's smile, his laugh, his jaunty movements, could
see the sadness of rejection and it pained him so. Malcolm had been good to him
and a part of him knew he deserved better. He couldn't understand at first why
he didn't run after him, catch him by the arm, and apologize. Only after
Malcolm was long gone from the bar, when the emotions fogging Felix's thoughts
cleared up, did Felix remember why he hadn't moved: Because we aren't lovers.
Felix knew something shifted when he saw Malcolm at the Crooked Man. He was all
smiles and childish giggles as he always was but eclipsed with the heavy stench
of alcohol. He had a hand around Felix's waist, fingers digging almost angrily
into his hips as he led him to the inn. They'd barely entered the room before
Malcolm grabbed Felix by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall, suckling at
his neck harder than he ever had the day before and nearly tearing apart
Felix's cloak.
"Malcolm...!" Felix gasped out, gripping at his shoulders and trying to force
him back. He muffled a frightened cry when Malcolm suddenly jerked back,
grabbing onto the front of Felix's shirt, and throwing him onto the bed. He
followed right after Felix, their contact unbroken even as Felix tumbled
through the air and onto the mattress.
"Get on your knees," Malcolm commanded in a dark, quiet voice as he climbed
over Felix's cowering form, "Hands on the backboard,"
All of his customers treated him like this, nothing more than a paid service,
but not Malcolm, never Malcolm. Felix couldn't protest though, staring up at
Malcolm guiltily as the man caged him under his limbs. Carefully, he rolled
onto his stomach and propped himself up, settling on his knees with his hands
gripping onto the wooden backboard.
Felix wished this was just a sick joke, that Malcolm would laugh at his silly
position before tackling him down and stripping away the rest of his clothes.
His hopes were dashed when he felt Malcolm's hands at his waist, rolling up his
tunic and jacket before unlacing the front of his leather tights.
Malcolm didn't even bother with removing his clothing, only pulling his
leggings down just enough to reveal Felix's bare ass. Felix groaned as
Malcolm's dry fingers pressed into him, stretching him in a frightfully
utilitarian way that Felix would have never expected from the frivolous,
carefree Malcolm. Felix cried out as Malcolm thrust into him with what seemed
to be just enough lubrication to slide in but not enough to make it
comfortable. His rhythm was harsh and heavy, completely disregarding the lesson
Felix had given him a few days ago, back to rutting into Felix like a dog,
grinding away till he came.
This is the way it has to be. Clinical. Transactional. Don't get involved.
Don't get attached. Felix sobbed at his own thoughts, hanging his head
shamefully as Malcolm, for the first time, usedhim. Bruises gripped into his
hips, teeth digging into his neck marking him like territory, brutal thrusts
tearing him apart from the inside, this was not how Felix wanted to remember
Malcolm.
He chanced a glance, turning his head around slowly to peer at Malcolm over his
shoulder. He could see desperation in Malcolm's eyes, something wild, angry,
and upset as he fucked Felix raw like he needed to prove something. Felix
watched him for a good minute until Malcolm's eyes locked onto his.
Immediately, Malcolm gripped into Felix's hair and turned him back, nearly
pressing his face right into the wood of the backboard. Felix groaned at the
harsh grip, trying desperately to shake it off and look back at Malcolm.
"Damn it," Felix hissed out. It was going so well. All he wanted to do was talk
to Malcolm about Neverland. Why did the idiot have to kiss him? Felix groaned
as Malcolm's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming violent as he was nearing his
climax. A whine slipped from his lips as Malcolm's arms wound around his lower
torso and jerked upward, burying himself all the way inside of Felix as he
came, filling up the deepest part of Felix he could reach.
With another pathetic whine, Felix collapsed to the bed when Malcolm let him
go, fingers scratching lines into the wood as his limp arms dropped to the bed.
This was by no means the harshest sex he's ever had. He'd taken plenty of
crueler customers in back alleys and bars. It was because this was Malcolm of
all people that made this ten times worse.
The gentle mark sucked onto his neck, Felix thought it was done out of
inexperience. Only now did he realize it was done out of kindness. Even without
ill intent, Malcolm didn't want to harm Felix.
Felix felt Malcolm's hands on him, caressing his body as he turned Felix onto
his back. Exposed to the open air, Felix was still hard and aching brought on
from raw stimulation over actual arousal. More often than usual, Felix would
always have to finish himself off. He'd stand in a corner, take his cock into
his hands, and jerk himself off, finishing the job his customers never bothered
with and leaving himself with just a hint of shame. Knowing that Malcolm would
not give him such a relief, Felix's hand already found its way down his
stomach. He let out a frustrated groan when Malcolm took his wrists and pinned
them to either side of his head, preventing him from relieving himself.
There they remained, Malcolm perched over Felix caging him in underneath his
body, their eyes locked onto each other. Felix wanted so badly to tear away but
found his body robbed of strength, his arousal aching from the inattention.
Malcolm was angry but he didn't know how to say it aloud so he took it out on
Felix in bed. Felix understood but he didn't know how to fix it, didn't know if
he should fix it. He wasn't wrong about Malcolm being the possessive type,
mistaking business for affection. He was just wrong about how he himself felt
about it. He had no time to think when Malcolm released Felix's wrists and
shifted over to the side of the bed, fixing his clothing and lacing up his
boots. If Malcolm left now, there'd be no going back.
Screw every single rule. Felix growled in his mind as he reached out and
grabbed a fistful of Malcolm's jacket, "Wait," His heart raced when Malcolm
ignored the grip and moved to stand. Felix threw himself forward, ignoring the
burn between his legs, and gripped onto Malcolm with both hands, "Don't go.
Please."
"I'm not in the mood right now," Malcolm muttered back coldly.
"I didn't mean it," Felix blurted out, relaxing when he felt Malcolm paused
where he sat, "You've been good to me. And you've never hurt me. And I
appreciate that," Felix wished he had rehearsed this on the way here. Now he
was reduced to babbling out his thoughts like a fool, "You aren't just anyone.
But, we're still..."
"Not lovers," Malcolm finished.
Felix nodded back, looking to the ground ashamed of himself for reasons he
wasn't sure of, "I wouldn't be a good lover."
Malcolm turned his head slightly, just barely able to see Felix from the corner
of his eyes, "Why do you think that?"
Felix looked baffled at his words, "Malcolm. I'm the town whore."
"...So?"
Shutting him up with a single word, Felix diverted his attention to the floor.
Absently, he tucked himself away and fixed his clothing, ignoring his half-hard
arousal. He heard Malcolm shift on the bed, turning to him completely and
breaking him down with his eyes.
"You're lying," Malcolm whispered, "You know how to be a lover. You want to be
one."
Felix rolled his eyes, holding a half-hearted glare towards Malcolm, "What are
you talking about?"
"Because if you didn't want to be my lover, you wouldn't have asked me about
Neverland," Malcolm finished, watching with a quiet happiness when the
slightest flush appeared over Felix's cheeks, "I said to you that I'd take you
to Neverland. You were so desperate to learn what it was, you sought me out in
the daytime. Because you want me to take you away."
Felix stopped shaking his head, stayed quiet and submissive as Malcolm spoke.
He had not the heart to reject nor the bravery to confirm, "This will never
work," Felix whispered as Malcolm moved in.
"I'm willing to try," Malcolm shrugged to him, smiling lazily as he leaned in
and pressed Felix's back to the sheets.
"I'm not," Felix whispered back, shaking his head as Malcolm leaned in and
kissed his neck.
"You will," Malcolm said with utmost confidence, "But for now, I can wait,"
Malcolm added, holding onto Felix's head gently as he pressed kisses all over
his face except for his mouth. Felix submitted to his touch, stretching his
neck back to give Malcolm better access as he nipped another mark on his neck,
"I'm sorry I was rough," Malcolm whispered into his ear as his hand glided down
Felix's chest and over his crotch, groping at the front of his pants, "Are you
hurt?" Felix shook his head weakly, letting out a tiny groan as he stretched
out over the bed.
Felix's breath hitched as Malcolm rubbed at his neglected erection. He gripped
into the sheets, letting Malcolm do all the work as he clenched his thighs
loosely around Malcolm's hand. Quiet gasps quickly shifted to loud panting and
breathy moans as Malcolm worked him hard and fast, the sound of Felix's heavy
breathing arousing all on its own.
"Mal..." Felix moaned repeatedly, inadvertently creating a pet name for
Malcolm.A shrill cry slipped from his lips as he came, creating a mess of the
insides of his leggings. Malcolm's eyes shone as he felt the slightest bit of
wetness bleeding through the skin tight leggings, "Mal, please,"Felix sighed,
goading Malcolm on. He continued groping the spot, massaging Felix right
through his climax till he slumped to the bed, relishing in the afterglow of
his long delayed orgasm.
Malcolm carefully stripped off Felix's clothes from his tired, pliant body,
hanging them neatly over the stool by the bed before pulling a handkerchief
from his pocket and wiping down Felix's lap. At the gentle motions, Felix could
only groan softly as the handkerchief pressed at his still sensitive flesh. He
allowed Malcolm to roll him onto his stomach, wiping away the excess that had
leaked onto his buttocks.
"All clean," Malcolm commented in a sing-song voice as he tossed the
handkerchief away, earning a tired glare from the laying boy.
Laying on the bed stripped down to nothing, Felix fully expected Malcolm to
stay with him. Instead, the older man stood from the bed as soon as he cleaned
Felix up and slipped his boots back on. Felix wondered if he was still angry,
still spiteful that Felix wouldn't return his affection. He cautioned a hand
outward, grasping onto Malcolm's arm and tugging him back to the bed.
"Stay for the night," Felix offered, pulling the blanket up shyly to cover his
hips.
The twinkle of mischief in Malcolm's eyes was not clouded by his sadness. He
half-smirked to Felix, tilting his head to the side as he spoke, "I've got
somewhere to be."
"Then stay with me till I fall asleep?"
An amused sigh came from Malcolm, his brow quirking up as his jovial mood
returned, "When you put it like that..." Malcolm chimed, shucking off his boots
eagerly and tossing his jacket to the floor. He'd barely even gotten his shirt
off before he flopped onto the bed beside Felix, coiling his arms around his
waist, "How could I say no?" This was the first time they'd lay together in bed
face to face. Their close proximity was definitely affecting both of them
although Felix was better at hiding it. Just the feel of Felix's breath against
his own made Malcolm shiver with want, "I promise I'll do my best to make sure
you stay awake the whole night."
Felix let out a tiny chortle at his words, leaning in to tuck his head under
Malcolm's chin. The two had lay there for at least an hour before Felix began
to shuffle, pressing himself closer to Malcolm so he could study his body. He
smirked at the feel of Malcolm's beard scraping at his forehead; so rarely did
he ever get to actually touch it outside of fleeting strokes during sex. He'd
never admit how much he loved the scratchy feel of Malcolm's uneven beard
against his skin or how upset he'd be if Malcolm shaved it all off.
Malcolm chuckled as Felix uncharacteristically nuzzled at his chin, "What are
you doing down there?"
"Enjoying myself," Felix replied, tilting his head upwards so he could press
his lips into the scraggly mess. His cheek eventually came in contact with a
balding patch on the side of his jaw spotted with angry, raw marks, "What's
this?" It looked like an animal had bitten him and taken off a chunk of his
beard.
Malcolm snorted as he peered down on Felix with a disbelieving look, "You don't
remember?"
"Remember what?" Felix snapped back, angry at the condescending look Malcolm
was giving him, one brow quirked upward, smirking.
"When we were making love a few nights ago," Malcolm started. Felix still
couldn't keep a straight face whenever Malcolm would call their carnal affair
such a frivolous term, "You kept touching my face and grabbing at my beard. To
be honest, I kind of enjoyed it till you tore off a piece."
"I did not," Felix lied, trying to save face since he knew he completely did.
"Everyone's looking at it now," Malcolm commented, running a hand over his
beard, "Maybe I should just shave off the whole thing."
"No!" Felix blurted out before he realized that he'd just divulged his guilty
pleasure to Malcolm.
Felix hoped the older man hadn't picked it up but at the sight of Malcolm's coy
expression, one brow quirked upward, a large toothy smile, and an urge to
laughed painted all over his features, Felix knew there was no such luck.
He gasped when Malcolm pressed his face close, nuzzling his chin against
Felix's forehead before sliding down and scraping the side of his face with his
bearded jaw. Felix fought at first, face flushed red and lips pursed,
pretending like he wasn't enjoying this. He cleared his throat to hide the
slightest mewl when Malcolm nuzzled into the sensitive flesh of his neck, "Oh
screw it," Felix muttered under his breath before gripping onto Malcolm's head
and nuzzling his cheek almost angrily, lips gliding over his uneven beard
memorizing the prickly feel.
Both of them knew how foolish they looked, nuzzling at each other's heads like
overenthusiastic cats, laughing along like fools, Felix nipping away at
Malcolm's jaw. It didn't matter though. Felix broke away first, laying against
his pillow with a goofy smile, fingers still tracing Malcolm's jaw. Malcolm
eventually stretched back as well, eyes lost in Felix's. All he could do was
sigh lovingly, thinking about how easily Felix had broken his heart and how
much easier it was for him to fix it.
"So, keeping the beard then?" Malcolm asked, punctuating his statement with a
shrill giggle.
"You better," Felix snapped in reply, tugging lightly at the stray hair on his
chin before withdrawing his arms to his sides. He yawned quietly, shifting in
Malcolm's grasp as he closed his eyes and curled up just the slightest.
Malcolm quickly followed suit, shutting his eyes and tucking Felix's head under
his chin, "Goodnight Felix,"
"Goodnight," Felix whispered back, letting the lovely thoughts of the man
cradling him put him to sleep.
 
Felix sputtered loudly as he emerged from the salty waves. His feet barely
found purchase on the sand as he dragged himself onto the beach and out of the
water. He scanned the world around him seeing nothing but nature and sky, not a
shred of civilization around him.
"Where am I?" Felix pondered. His clothes felt weightless despite the water
soaking right through them. He couldn't even feel the chill of a cool breeze
against wet skin. Contrary to everything, he felt warm, safe, at home.
Before he could survey his surroundings, his hood was suddenly thrown over his
eyes. He let out an ungraceful sound as he tripped over himself and fell into
the sand, "What was that for?" Felix growled as he whipped his head up, quickly
scrambling to his feet as he searched the world around him for his assailant.
When there was no one to be seen, Felix stepped into the forest, determined to
find the trickster and put him in his place. The snap of a branch came from
behind him, then from his left, then from the front, till suddenly a storm of
pixies emerged from the leaves beneath his feet and fluttered away. Felix took
a step back, admiring the sparkling creatures as they painted the sky like
stars.
"This is amazing," Felix said. If this was a dream, this was certainly the most
realistic one he'd ever had.
His thoughts were cut short as a rock sailed through the air and smacked him in
the shoulder. He growled as he rubbed the sore spot. It was certainly the most
pain he'd ever felt in a dream without waking up. He turned, eyeing a handsome
young boy clothed in green with stunning eyes and a rascally smile standing on
a log tossing a stone up and down.
Felix immediately walked towards the boy, showing off his imposing presence as
he approached, "What the hell was-" Another rock, smacking him lightly in the
chest, "Hey!"
The boy laughed, leaping off the log and dashing off to his right, "Come on
Felix!" He called out.
How did the boy know his name? Without delay, Felix took off after the boy,
running after him. Felix was sure he'd catch the boy, his legs were longer so
he had speed. The boy, on the other hand, weaved through the trees skillfully,
using finesse to increase the distance between them.
He must've been chasing the rascal for at least an hour. His body didn't feel
winded in the slightest though and even the worst tumbles he had never crippled
him with pain. The boy, however, disappeared as soon as Felix tore through the
bushes and into a clearing.
"Hey!" Felix cried out, circling the clearing and searching the trees with his
eyes, "Come out! Who are you?" No reply. Exasperated with his fruitless chase,
Felix flung himself backwards and collapsed onto a pile of leaves. He stared up
at the night sky, wondering where those pixies had flown off to or if they'd
become one with the stars.
Something else caught his eye though. At the tops of the trees, he could see
something glowing. It was a pale, mysterious light just eclipsed by the
branches. Felix stood immediately, eyes locked upon it as he closed in on the
tree, pressed right up against the bark as he stretched upward: Flowers.
Flowers at the tips of the trees shining with moonlight.
"Neverland..." Felix whispered. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, somehow
turning up the perfectly intact map Malcolm had drawn him in the bar. His
fingers traced the trees Malcolm had drawn with flowers right at the tops, "Oh
my god." He said, looking up at the flowers again. His eyes fell back to the
map, trying to figure out which direction he'd need to go to confirm everything
Malcolm said.
Before he could even take a step forward, a force from behind him tackled him
to the dirt floor. He tumbled to the ground, dropping the map and crumpling up
on his side, "What the..." It was that boy again, clothed in forest green,
sitting upon his chest with a sinister smile, "Get off me!" Felix struggled
when the boy grabbed his head, holding it still with a strength contrasting his
smaller body.
The boy laughed as he leaned in, nuzzling his smooth, downy cheek against
Felix's face, "Stop that!" Felix shouted, growling when the boy merely laughed
and continued nuzzling away. What was he trying to achieve? Nuzzling him like a
cat. Who did he think he... "...Malcolm?" Felix whispered, pulling away to
stare into the boy's eyes, stormy and sparkling with lustful darkness, quiet
fury, and innocent mirthfulness.
Gripping Felix's collar, the boy leaned in, both of them shutting their eyes as
he pressed his lips against Felix's. If this were any other world, Felix would
have fought, would have shuddered and screamed. He couldn't love, wouldn't ever
let himself fall in love, wouldn't ever let himself get tricked again.
But for now, in Neverland, withhim,it was alright.
Felix opened his eyes, staring up at the wooden rafters of the ceiling and not
at the handsome boy who stole a kiss from him. He frowned at the sunlight
breaking through the curtain meaning that he'd lost an entire night of
business. Although he had enough stored to pay off rent, it was certainly
disconcerting to know how easily a whole day's pay could vanish. The dawn was
just breaking which meant if he left now, he'd be able to wash himself off and
make it to the bakery.
Felix nearly sat up till he noticed the warmth radiating from the body beside
him. He turned his head finding himself face-to-face with Malcolm still
blissfully sleeping with Felix wrapped in his embrace. Smiling softly, Felix
reached forward to caress his face, tracing over his closed eyes and partly
open lips before moving down his neck and onto his chest, feeling that steady
and strong heartbeat under his fingers.
"Felix," Malcolm breathed his name like it was the more precious word in the
world to him. He rolled forward, tucking Felix partially underneath him as he
tightened his grip on the boy, clutching him right against his chest.
With no one to see him and no reputation to protect, Felix blushed at the
gesture. The side of his head was pushed flush against Malcolm's chest and the
metronome of his heart was soothing to say the least. As much as he wanted to
stay even for just a few more minutes to cherish the moment, Felix knew he had
to leave soon or else he'd be late for work.
Wrapping his arms around Malcolm, Felix thought just one embrace while he was
still asleep (And thus, unable to mock him) would have been enough till Felix
pressed his face into Malcolm's chest and took a deep breath, "Huh?" Felix
hummed as he backed away, arms still wrapped around Malcolm's body. When he had
first met Malcolm, he remembered the sour stench of a vagrant the scoundrel
carried on him. It was off-putting especially since Malcolm always clung to him
like an accessory but Felix always ignored it for the sake of business.
However, as he pressed in close again, taking in a gentle breath, Felix
couldn't smell anything. The soft smell of sweat and natural musk was to be
expected but other than that, Malcolm smelled clean. Felix hadn't noticed till
now, so distracted by everything else that had been happening.
Malcolm cleaned himself, for his sake? Sceptical to the conclusion, Felix
gripped onto Malcolm's shoulders and pressed his nose against his skin, taking
soft breaths here and there and finding nothing but a clean, natural scent. He
trailed up and down his neck, tracing his jaw, his shoulder, trying to find
something to disprove his theory. Felix shifted up where he lay, pressing his
nose to his cheek before his heart nearly leapt out of his chest as Malcolm
stared at him with very-awake, opened eyes.
How long had Malcolm been awake? How much did he see? Felix, completely caught
off guard, was sweating in panic as Malcolm continued to stare at him with a
puzzled yet interested look.
"What were you doing?" Malcolm asked, chuckling a bit, "Whatever it was. It's
kinky and I like it."
Felix responded with a quick chuckle before squeezing Malcolm's cheeks,
preventing him from talking, "Shut up," He said playfully as he sat up, "I need
to get going. I've got my day job."
"Right, right. I get it," Malcolm replied, sitting up beside him and
stretching, "Best sleep I've had in months,"
Felix wouldn't admit that he felt the same way and even if he did, he'd credit
the bed and not the company. He got dressed first, already lacing up his boots
while Malcolm still lay in bed with just his shirt and trousers on.
"For the record," Malcolm declared, drawing in Felix's attention, "I heard you
that day at the bar. You said I disgusted you and you hated the way I smelled.
So I saved up for some soap."
Of all the things Felix could have said, acknowledgements, apologies, all Felix
could strain out was a simple, "Oh,"
Malcolm was smiling like a goofball as he always was, hiding all of his true
feelings beneath his mask, "Do I still disgust you?" He asked in a quiet voice,
coaxing a reaction from Felix.
Words just wouldn't suffice. Felix swallowed his pride and approached Malcolm,
leaning in to press a kiss onto his brow. Malcolm let out a little sigh at the
contact, eyes meeting Felix's with that familiar enticing darkness before Felix
pulled away and exited the room, knowing that all his rules, his life,
everything has changed.
***** Southwest *****
Since that day Malcolm all but confessed to him, Felix's behaviour towards him
was utterly different. Malcolm still paid for sex, that was a given, but prior
to their affair, they'd hang around the bar a little longer. He'd watch Malcolm
swindle away coin with his cards, getting beat up more often than not when he
was caught. Malcolm would watch Felix seduce a couple drinks off a tired
patron, barely able to stop himself from pouncing on him and taking Felix then
and there. The bartender and barmaids grew accustomed to seeing the two
together, calling them partners-in-crime if they were less ineffectual in their
swindling.
Occasionally, someone would proposition Felix. Malcolm would never protest;
Felix would never reject. The customer would take Felix to the back and fulfil
whatever desire he had paid him for. Malcolm wouldn't ask what happened but
when they made it back to the inn, Malcolm always fucked him just a tad harder,
erasing whatever the customer had imprinted on Felix's body and Felix would
love it.
Even at his day job where he thought Malcolm would be farthest from his
thoughts, someone would always remark on how something had changed in him. He'd
see Rumple, that lost boy always looking after a deadbeat father who was never
around. He'd pack away a dozen muffins for him, couple loaves of deformed
bread, and when he presented the sack to the boy, Rumple would smile and say
that Felix looked different, looked happier.
Back in his shack, sitting on his cot with his cosmetics laid out at the end,
Felix smirked at Rumple's comment, "Happier," He repeated, carefully smearing
the kohl across the edges of his eyes with his pinky finger using a shard of
glass for a mirror.
Felix always thought he was satisfied with himself, thought he was living the
best life he could. Malcolm proved him wrong, proved to him how empty his life
was and how he was the most fitting to fill up that void. But deep down, Felix
knew it would never work. He may not have known how he felt about Malcolm but
he knew exactly how Malcolm felt about him. Even after all this time, Felix
still hadn't kissed him. Malcolm never tried again and Felix knew he'd still
reject him all the same if he did.
Finishing up the second eye, Felix tossed the small metal container of kohl
back into the chest. He reached for a bottle of oil, dipping his finger into
the opening and spreading it across his lips. It wasn't enough to be considered
lip rouge but it was just enough to moisten his lips and make them glisten.
With his routine almost complete, his inevitable meet-up with Malcolm was
approaching. He wished he could do something for Malcolm, something special to
prove that Felix really did care about his feelings for him. He may not have
been able to love him back but he still cherished those feelings all the same.
He'd nearly given up till he packed up his cosmetics and threw them back into
the chest, about to close it till he spotted a satchel in the back.
It'd been so long since someone had paid him for such a service, Felix had
forgotten all about it. He took the satchel into his hands, blushing madly
before he even peeked inside. If anything could show Malcolm that Felix
appreciated him, this would be it. Pumping himself up with a bit of rum he hid
under his bed, Felix took the satchel into his hands and left his shack.
Malcolm hadn't taken notice of the satchel, disregarding it as he waved to
Felix from outside The Crooked Man. As usual, the two sauntered in together,
ordering their drinks and occupying a table at the back so Malcolm could play
his games.
"Follow the lady. A shilling returns two," Malcolm announced for the umpteenth
time since they entered to another unsuspecting patron.
Felix watched from where he stood, reclined languidly against a pillar behind
Malcolm. He wondered how such clumsy hands could swap out cards so adeptly. As
Malcolm shuffled away, Felix caught the patron's eye. Extending his neck back,
rolling his shoulders, and licking his lips till they glistened in the light,
the patron was utterly entranced and completely distracted as Malcolm swapped
out the card with little effort.
Malcolm cleared his throat loudly, calling back the patron's attention. There
was no way he would've picked the correct card regardless of whether Malcolm
swapped it out. Another easy shilling made, Malcolm shot a quick wink to Felix
before turning back to entertain the next patron.
"You going to let your girlfriend do all the work?" The remark came from an odd
looking patron wrapped in ragged clothing and burlap clothes. At careful
inspection, Felix noticed an elaborate embroidery just peeking out from the
patron's sleeves and the slightest bit of Makassar oil at the edges of his
scalp. His auburn hair, his innocent but powerful eyes, his kingly posture, did
not match the character the man was trying to portray.
Malcolm picked up none of the cues, chuckling along as he shuffled his cards,
"If only I were so lucky."
"I wasn't talking to you," The man said, nodding towards Felix, "I was talking
to him," Felix could barely contain the snicker, glancing over to Malcolm who
silently seethed at the patron. He extended a hand to Felix; almost
immediately, Felix noticed the intricate golden ring on his thumb, far beyond
the salary of any common patron, "I'm West," He introduced.
"West," Felix repeated under his breath, rolling the name around on his tongue.
After a bit of contemplation, Felix took his hand, giving it a firm shake,
"Felix," He feigned a stretch, rolling one shoulder forward and tilting his
head back, actually turning so he could look to Malcolm who watched on with
blatant disapproval, completely disregarding the cards he laid on his barrel
and the patrons standing in line. Felix took note: Jealous Malcolm was
adorable.
At the contact, West let out a breathy sigh, smiling like a fool as his eyes
traveled down Felix's body before moving back up to his face, "You are just as
they say,"
Felix and Malcolm both cocked a brow at the remark, "And what's that?" Felix
asked, folding his arms in front of him.
"The fairest in all the land," West answered, eyes sparkling with a sincerity
and innocence Felix thought only Malcolm was capable of.
Felix laughed mockingly at the remark. It was sarcasm, it had to be. And if it
wasn't, whoever his comrades happened to be, they must've been one of the many
desperate drunks he'd taken into the back alley, "I charge ten shillings."
"No, no, no," West replied quickly, lifting his hands in supplication, "Oh god
no. That wasn't a pickup line. If it was, I'd be the cheesiest idiot in
existence," He laughed dumbly to himself, snorting a bit with a shy, dorky look
on his face, "I just wanted to see who you were."
"A whore in a bar swindling people with a card hustler?" Felix joked.
"A young man whose charms go beyond what he thinks of himself."
Felix could only stare back dumbly. What else could he do? He'd never met
someone so invested in him that didn'twant his services.
Merely seconds of silence passed before West spoke up again. He was evidently
the type who couldn't stand an awkward moment, "I should return home. I hope I
can see you again, Felix," The way he said his name, almost purring it, made
him sound just like Malcolm for just a moment. West stumbled out of the bar
quickly. Felix and Malcolm stood there and watched for a brief moment,
carefully taking note of the several cloaked patrons who followed on his heels
once they were sure no one was tailing him.
"What was that?" Malcolm asked, collecting the cards into his hands.
"Bodyguards I thi-"
"-The way he came up to you. And the way he spoke, he was flirting," Malcolm
finished his inquiry, "I didn't like the way he was staring at you either. Be
careful around him." Felix said nothing as he stared at Malcolm like he was the
most adorable creature in the world. He bit his lip to contain his grin as
Malcolm rambled on, condemning the odd patron till his eyes fell upon Felix
once more, "What are you smirking about?"
Felix grabbed him by the forearm, "Come on. Let's go to the inn," With his
other hand, he picked up the satchel he'd left at Malcolm's feet and swung it
over his shoulder, "I've got something special planned today."
"Special?" Malcolm muttered, still grumbling over West's introduction. Felix
didn't mind though, finding it so endearing to see Malcolm so flustered out of
jealousy. On their way to the inn, Felix knew Malcolm wouldn't have been able
to keep his mouth shut about the mysterious man, "You didn't shake my hand when
we first met. Why was that?"
"Simple," Felix replied, grinning so wildly that his cheeks began to hurt, "You
weren't wearing this," He reached into his pocket, withdrawing an intricate
golden ring. Malcolm marveled at the design; it was nothing he'd ever seen
before in his life.
Malcolm took the ring, rolling it around in his palm before fitting it over his
thumb, "My god. How did you get this off him without him knowing?"
"He was distracted," Felix explained, taking the ring out of Malcolm's hands
and slipping it back into his pocket. He flinched a bit when Malcolm's hand
came around his waist, resting at the small of his back possessively. He shot a
puzzled look at Malcolm, "Really?"
Malcolm smiled back innocently, "You looked cold. Thought I'd warm you up."
With his forefinger and thumb, Felix plucked Malcolm's hand off his back and
dropped it to his side as if he were a piece of refuse, "Uh-huh," Felix
replied, pressing a finger to the dimple on Malcolm's chin whenever the man
pouted, "He's just another customer," Felix said, trying to reassure him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Malcolm replied haughtily, trekking
just a bit to the right to create distance between them, "For the record,"
Malcolm announced as the two entered the inn from the backdoor and made their
way up the stairs, "I can be just as much of a gentleman as he."
Tossing the satchel onto the bed, Felix whipped around suddenly and grabbed
Malcolm by the collar, pulling him in close till their breaths mingled, "I
don't want you to be a gentleman," He cooed, eyes shining with lust, lips
glistening as he ran a tongue over them slowly, "Now shut up about West and get
on the bed."
"Yes sir," Malcolm growled in reply, scooping up Felix into his arms and
tossing both of them onto the bed. At the jostling movements, the satchel fell
over, contents spilling out and over the side of the bed. Malcolm pinned Felix
to the bed, grinding their hips together despite the layers of clothing dulling
the sensations. He stopped, however, when he spotted the open satchel filled
with all manner of sex toys.
"Surprise?" Felix murmured, waving his palms at Malcolm, "...Mal?"
It took a good minute and a good slap before Malcolm began responding again.
Sheepishly, Felix spread the toys across the bed, both of them kneeling at the
end examining them all. For the first time, Malcolm actually looked completely
embarrassed as he examined the toys. Felix wondered if he'd ever even used one
in his life.
"My god, what is this thing? Where does it even go?"
"You fill it with water and you- just put that down," Felix replied, snatching
it from his hands.
Immediately Malcolm's hands came to another toy, a riding crop that Felix had
picked up a long time ago. Felix hadn't noticed Malcolm yet, busy sorting
through what appeared to be blindfolds and various assortments of rope, "I'll
have to teach you a bit of this. But I think you'll probably enjoy- AH!" Felix
cried out, nearly flying off the bed as Malcolm whipped him right in the side.
Felix turned his head, staring at him with an incredulous expression wrought
with offense, "Give that to me before you hurt yourself!" He snapped, snatching
the crop away before playfully smacking Malcolm on the cheek with it when the
scoundrel continued to giggle at Felix's reaction.
Malcolm loosened his scarf and jacket, tossing it aside as his entire body
flushed with embarrassment. His eyes merely flickered to the set of toys on the
left before turning away, unable to watch them without his face glowing red,
"What are those?" Malcolm muttered, stuttering over his words, "Sex toys or
torture instruments?"
"Both, if you think about it," Felix replied, holding in a laugh as Malcolm
groaned. Malcolm may have been older but his mindset reminded Felix of an
immature teenager.
"Where did you even get so many?"
"Here and there, the customer generally didn't want to keep it so I held onto
them," Felix explained, "It's been a while since anyone's paid for this
service. Consider it a special for you, half price, and you get to use whatever
you want."
Malcolm let out a huff as he examined the toys all over again, "Where to
start?" He said, half chuckling.
"We can start simple and move our way up slowly," Felix picked up what appeared
to be a gag from the right side of his collection. He shivered when he felt
Malcolm breathing against the side of his neck, unaware that the man had gotten
so close.
His voice was sickly sweet as he spoke, "So, Felix, which one is your
favourite?"
"Mal..." Felix said sternly.
"Tell me Felix, I want to know," Malcolm groaned the words, pressing in close
so Felix could feel the heat of his entire body against him, "Which one will
make you scream the loudest? Which one will make you beg?" He panted into his
ear, groping at Felix's thigh with one hand as he nuzzled Felix's face with his
jaw, loving how Felix shuddered at the scrape of his beard, "When you're all
alone and there's no one to give you pleasure, which one do you use to
pleaseyourself?" Felix stifled a moan, eyes burning with lust as Malcolm
continued to seduce him.
Unwilling to be outdone, with the last shred of lucidity in him, Felix twisted
around and tackled Malcolm to the backboard, grinding down on his hips hard,
the heat between them obscene. Malcolm let out an animalistic growl as Felix
pressed him to the wood, trapping him between his arms, "What's the fun in
telling you?" Felix purred, grinding down on Malcolm at every syllable, "Why
don't you try them all and find out yourself?"
Felix gasped when a blindfold was pulled over his eyes, secured tightly by
Malcolm's deceptively adept hands, "You're going to regret saying that,"
Malcolm cooed before shoving Felix to the bed and crushing him under his
weight.
 
The sheets beneath Felix had become damp with sweat. The leather cuffs binding
Felix's wrists together no longer cut into his skin, having grown accustomed to
the bondage. On his hands and knees with his head tucked into his arms, Felix
could have been mistaken for a subject bowing to his king if not for the erotic
tremble of his naked hips and the angry, red marks littered all over his back.
"Hips, Felix," Malcolm's voice cut through the darkness. The blindfold filtered
everything out except for Malcolm's voice and his burning touches that always
left a pleasant ache on his skin. A harsh slap came down on Felix's ass making
the boy gasp in shock, "They're dropping. And spread your legs wider. I want to
see."
Felix tilted his head towards the direction he assumed Malcolm was, shooting a
smirk into the darkness before doing as Malcolm commanded, spreading his legs
apart and raising his hips, putting himself on full display. Playfully, Felix
wiggled his hips in the air seductively, smiling when Malcolm let out an amused
chuckle. He yelped as the riding crop came down on the tender flesh of his
inner thigh right before the swell of his buttocks.
Malcolm stretched out over Felix's hunched form, body pressed right against the
smarting bruises from the crop, "Did I say you could do that?" He teased,
cooing into his ear before taking the shell of it into his mouth, working at it
with his teeth and tongue.
With one hand, Malcolm gripped onto Felix's head, holding him in place, before
devouringhis ear, assaulting it with a gnashing teeth and a penetrating tongue.
Felix nuzzled into the sensation, voice rising as Malcolm's attack became more
rigorous. When it was clear Felix wouldn't fight, the hand gripping his head
slipped down his neck, caressing his skin before latching onto his chest,
taking a nipple and massaging it under the pads of his fingers. Felix suddenly
threw his head back, whole body stiffening as he cried out in surprise. Testing
his ground, Malcolm continued rolling the nub under his fingers, pinching at it
to see Felix's sudden writhing and yelps.
Pleased with the response, Malcolm closed in on Felix's ear again, "Looks like
I've found the spot."
Felix's wrists flexed in their restraints at the whisper, "Shut up," His voice
was a shuddering gasp and lost any sort of edge he would have had if he weren't
so undone.
And then Malcolm pulled away, leaving Felix hot, bothered, and already missing
the touch. He figured he must've been getting the crop again to punish him for
talking back. He could hear him sorting through the satchel, humming jovially
like this was just another typical chore. Felix fought the urge to shiver when
he heard footsteps approaching. Expecting the burning ache of a whip, Felix was
completely caught off guard when he felt something cold and wet press to his
back, leaving a trail of oil as Malcolm rolled it down his back.
"Can you tell what it is?" Malcolm asked, giggling as he pressed it into the
base of his spine, leaving a row of round imprints into his flesh: A chain of
beads.
Felix whined as Malcolm pressed him into the mattress, forcing his hips up
higher as he pressed the first bead into his opening, "I'll be gentle," Malcolm
cooed, slowly pressing in the first bead and impressed with how easily they
slid in. Almost casually, Malcolm continued to squeeze each bead inside. Felix,
on the other hand, was writhing under Malcolm's hand, panting hard and crying
out whenever he felt another bead stretch him open and plunge in deeper.
"Look at that, you're just swallowing them up," Malcolm commented, pushing in a
bead with his thumb when he felt a bit of resistance.
"Enough with your-" Felix was cut off with a shrill cry, tossing his head back
when Malcolm gripped the chain and yanked it harshly, pulling out a length of
beads in quick succession. Malcolm was grinning wildly at the obscene pop they
made as they exited Felix.
One by one, Malcolm pressed each bead inside of him and with each sizeable
length Malcolm yanked out of him, Felix's composure crumbled piece by piece,
his whole body shuddering with pleasure till he was no longer coherent with
words, encouragement, sass, and moans slurring together into one.
"Hips, Felix!" Malcolm declared in a sing-song voice, pressing the final bead
inside of Felix before releasing the chain and spanking him hard. Felix
flinched in the bed, throwing his head up and crying out. He was sprawled out
over the bed, trying so hard to grind his leaking erection against the sheets
only for the slightest movement of his hips jarring the slicked beads inside
him. He yelped again when another harsh slap came down on his ass, leaving a
scarlet handprint bright upon his pale skin.
Felix shuddered when he felt Malcolm's hand on the chain once more, giving it a
tentative tug with a smirk Felix knew was plastered on his face. He braced
himself, knowing what was coming but still screaming when Malcolm pulled out
the entire chain all at once, hips jerking erratically and uncontrollably in
the tiny moment. His cock twitched as each bead sent burning pleasure all
throughout his groin. He was so close to his climax but it was just not enough.
Felix growled in frustration, grinding his hips forward into the blanket only
for Malcolm to scoop him up in his arms
"No!" Felix moaned, so desperate for his release, thrusting into the air in an
attempt to find somecontact.
He felt Malcolm take his bound wrists, guiding them over his head so Felix
would be forced to embrace him. He tucked Felix's head over his shoulder,
guided his legs on either side of him, and plunged his fingers into his ass.
The other hand held his hips down, preventing him from pressing his erection
against Malcolm's body for release.
"My fingers alone, or not at all," Malcolm growled the command, letting out a
pleasing hum when Felix stopped bucking his hips and clenched around Malcolm's
searching fingers. Finding a sensitive bundle of nerves, Malcolm proceeded to
torture it with his fingers, relishing the sound of Felix mewling in his arms,
"Has anyone else ever seen you like this? Helpless, begging for release. How
many clients have toyed with your body the way I'm toying with it now?"
Felix groaned, nipping into Malcolm's shoulder, "When you're twisting your
fingers like that inside my body, I could care less about whoever else I've
fucked."
Malcolm hummed with agreement, his fingers become more vigorous with their
assault until Felix could no longer control himself, bucking into Malcolm's
body wildly. Malcolm relented, allowing him to grind his erection against the
front of his pants, staining it with pre-come. With just a single touch to the
head of his erection, almost a feathery stroke, Felix cried out and came all
over Malcolm's lap, clenching and twitching around Malcolm's fingers as they
continued to wring out Felix's orgasm.
Shuddering in his arms and lost in a euphoric haze, Felix didn't make a sound
as Malcolm unceremoniously untangled himself from him and dropped him onto the
bed. His blindfold slipped off just a bit, allowing him to peer at Malcolm with
just one eye. He felt the heat rise to his face as Malcolm undid the front of
his pants, took out his erection, already hot and throbbing, and stroked it
enthusiastically. Malcolm's eyes were locked onto Felix's glistening form,
flushed from the afterglow, and utterly his.
Indulging him, Felix tilted his head back and spread his legs, hearing
Malcolm's breathing quicken as he jerked himself harder, "Mal," Felix moaned,
purposely making his voice rise, "I want you so badly. I want you to wreck me."
A growl slipped from Malcolm's lips as Felix's lusty voice pushed him over the
edge. Felix flinched as Malcolm came, splattering his body with hot come. He
groaned when Malcolm reached forward, collecting the milky fluid into his
fingers and forcing it into Felix's mouth. Obediently, Felix opened his mouth
and welcomed Malcolm's fingers, licking them clean.
Chuckling lazily, Malcolm removed the blindfold from Felix's head and undid the
leather binds on his wrists. For just a while, they remained where they were,
Malcolm towering over Felix with his arms on either side of his head while
Felix lay on his back, limbs sprawled all over. Both were panting heavily,
flushed and undone by the other.
Malcolm watched Felix with such enthusiasm, eyes shining when Felix's gaze met
his. Felix could see it in his expression, begging for approval from Felix. Was
I good?
As much as Felix wanted to give him sass, he knew Malcolm deserved the truth.
He'd certainly had better sessions but Malcolm was the only one to ever be so
cheerful in his presence. Everyone was always ashamed of themselves, frowning
upon their feral desires to utterly dominate Felix. Not Malcolm, never Malcolm.
Felix smiled airily to him, Yes, you were good. He reached up and pulled
Malcolm's head down, pressing a warm kiss to his brow, their substitute for an
actual kiss.
Felix was caught off guard as Malcolm scooped him up once more into an embrace,
hugging onto him the way a comforting lover would. It was such a contrast to
their previous activities, Felix wasn't sure how to react. Lost in the
metronome of Malcolm's heartbeat and the pleasant warmth of his body, Felix
shut his eyes and returned the embrace, the two sitting on the bed silent and
happy.
 
"Felix! What's taking you so long?" The baker shouted, "You're supposed to be
out doing deliveries half an hour ago!"
"I will," Felix grunted back, crouching on the ground with his hands on a large
basket of baked goods. One...Two... Felix forced himself up and scrunched right
back down when an aching muscle in his backside screamed at the exertion, "I
hate you Mal," Felix growled under his breath with a smile. He glared at the
baskets, wishing someone could just make his life easier and leave them on the
table next time instead of the floor.
Thanks to Malcolm, he knew he wouldn't be able to service most of his
customers. However, with the ring he'd stolen off the mysterious patron West,
he'd be able to skip at least a few nights of work. When he had finally gotten
the baskets into the air, Felix made quick work of his deliveries, nearly
tossing them to his customers just to speed up the process so he could find a
bar and rest his sore ass.
Just barely comfortable on a stool, Felix took the ring from his pocket: Solid
gold with masterwork on the spindly designs. Most puzzling of all was the
insignia engraved on the inside. Felix fully suspected West to be in disguise.
He just hadn't expected his true identity to be so spectacular.
"If you really wanted the ring, you could've just asked me," That smooth voice
could only belong to one man.
Felix flinched, twisting around to see West, still thinly-disguised in rags,
taking a seat beside him, "Are you stalking me?" Felix growled.
"Of course not," West replied, passing on an order to the bartender, "I'm just
here for a snack. Just a coincidence that we ran into each other," He turned
away from Felix briefly, giving the bartender a friendly smile as the man
deposited a simple sandwich in front of him.
Felix scoffed at the boring snack, shooting West an unimpressed look, "I
thought this place would be beneath your tastes."
"What makes you say that?" West replied, intrigued but more concerned with the
sandwich in his hand over Felix's correct suspicions.
"West," Felix said his name aloud, "As in, The Royal Westerguard Family of the
Southern Isles," West looked surprised but Felix was not amused, "I might be a
whore but I'm not a moron," He lifted the ring, snapping it down onto the bar
between them, "I recognized the insignia on your ring. That's why I couldn't
pawn it. Everyone would know that I stole it from a royal family."
West chuckled, giving a short, half-sincere, half-sarcastic applause before
extending his hand, "Hans."
"West is fine," Felix replied, ignoring the hand. It felt wrong to refer to a
prince by his name given the massive gap in their social standing.
West could tell that Felix was in a bad mood. The two stewed in silence for
just a short while before West spoke up, trying to fix whatever he may have
broken, "That whole 'fairest in all the land' thing," West cautioned, "I didn't
mean anything by it. It was something my guards were passing around as a joke.
I just wanted to break the ice," Still no response outside of an annoyed look,
"And that remark about your friend. I thought he was annoying you so I wanted
to drive him off. But he's your lover, isn't he?"
Felix choked at the words, whole body flinching at he looked to West, "That's
none of your business." Felix growled. West looked back at him... with complete
obliviousness to his contempt. Felix wasn't sure how to react and quickly
retracted, "Just what do you want?" He asked calmly.
West shrugged in reply, "Nothing. I just wanted to chat. When I saw you last
night, you were like no one I've ever seen before."
"There's an alley in the back. Can we just get this over with?" Felix snapped,
aggravated with this man's kindness. He hated customers who'd pad their
proposition with sickly sweet words.
"No! I don't want that! Honestly." West shouted back, "I'm just so bored back
at the castle. After being surrounded by nothing but my brothers' guards, I'm
glad that there's someone closer to my age to talk to."
Scanning through his words over and over, Felix couldn't sense a shred of
insincerity in them. Either this man was telling the truth or he was just that
good at deception, "Alright," Felix muttered absently, "So you just want to
talk?"
"Yes. Finally," West replied, chuckling a bit, "I also meant no offense with
that last remark. It's not that you're off-putting or anything, I'm just not
interested in soliciting sex."
Felix smirked at his words, earning a small smile from West, "So, what made you
think Malcolm and I were lovers?" West shot him a perplexed look. One that
clearly said 'isn't it obvious?', "Don't give me that," Felix snapped.
West chuckled lightly at the response, "Well, you two kept looking out for each
other. Whenever someone threatening came up to play, you'd be watching them
like a hawk."
"Do not," Felix mumbled.
"Seriously?" West shot back, "Did you see how many times you nearly leapt off
the wall?"
"Exactly how long were you watching me before you decided to chime in?" Felix
replied, brow quirking upward, "I'm starting to think your nice-guy-persona is
just a facade and you really do want my services."
West sputtered as he shrugged, smiling as mock innocently as he could, "I'm
still a man. I get my urges."
Earning a laugh from each other, the two chuckled away at the bar, the
awkwardness in the air no longer as apparent. Felix was surprised when West
stood from his seat first, finishing his sandwich and dropping a few shillings
onto the bar, "I should leave before I ruin the moment."
"I've got work," Felix added, smirking as he slid off the stool, stiffening
when his heavy landing sent a jolt up his leg. He suppressed the grunt,
swallowing as he kept his eyes off of West, hoping he hadn't caught that. Felix
quickly made his way to the door, walking right past West.
"Wait!" West shouted. He took his ring off the bar, slipping it into his pocket
before handing Felix another one, "I think you'll prefer this one more," Felix
examined it. It had the same level of craftsmanship as the other ring, all
twisting tendrils and intricate details minus the telltale insignia, "Brings
out the colour of your hair," West added with a snarky tone.
Felix huffed as he pocketed the ring, "I'd prefer if you just gave me the
money."
"Giving someone money has bad connotations," West explained.
"Giving someone a ring has some pretty bad connotations as well," Felix
retorted.
"Oh please, I'm not going to marry someone I just met. I'm not a moron," West
replied, mirroring Felix's smile. Keeping hold of the ring, Felix made his way
to the door, "It was a good chat!" West shouted, appreciating the silent wave
Felix returned on his goodbye.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Felix had a simple conversation
with someone closer to his age that hadn't ended with his shady line of work.
He didn't want to admit it but he certainly enjoyed it a lot more than he
thought he would. As much as he enjoyed Malcolm's companionship, there was
always a sexual undertone that kept reminding Felix of what he was. This was on
his mind even when night had fallen and he'd returned to The Crooked Man. He
begged Malcolm wouldn't catch this but the scoundrel was deceptively
perceptive.
"Something happen?" Malcolm asked, leaning against the wall beside Felix as he
shuffled his cards absently, "You look like you're thinking"
"Something new for you, I'm sure," Felix replied, smirking a bit when Malcolm
playfully nudged at his cheek with his fist.
"Come on, tell me the truth. What happened?" Malcolm asked.
The last thing he wanted was for Malcolm to know. Sure, it was cute seeing
Malcolm jealous but he really didn't want to pull Malcolm into the first normal
friendship he may ever have, "Just thinking about what we're going to do
tonight," He gestured to the satchel stuffed beneath the barrel.
Easily distracted by lust, Malcolm giggled at the sight and put his cards
aside, "I got an idea, actually."
"Go on," Felix said, arching his back and tossing his head back seductively to
further encourage the man.
"It's a surprise. But I promise you'll be begging," Malcolm replied, smirking
as he closed in.
Seeing no other reason to stay, Felix took Malcolm's arm and led him out. Felix
let his curiosity take control. He'd never tell Malcolm that he faked most of
his begging, knowing that it turned him on to think that he had power over
Felix. If Malcolm honestly thought he could make him beg, Felix was either
going to be utterly terrified or utterly aroused. It's just so hard to tell
when I'm around you.
 
"STOP! No more! MAL!" Felix cried out, tugging hard at his wrists, bound
tightly around the backboard. The blindfold made everything ten times worse as
Malcolm's fingers dug themselves into Felix's underarms, tickling him
relentlessly.
The man was sitting on his hips, rendering all struggling moot. It didn't stop
Felix from trying though, flailing on the bed desperately trying to get away as
his laughter bounced throughout the room. He tried kicking Malcolm off,
smacking at Malcolm's ribs with his knee only to have his leg caught in place.
He renewed his struggling when he felt Malcolm's fingers skitter up his legs,
turning into his shoulder to muffle a squeal.
Malcolm was nearly tossed off by Felix's struggling but he refused to relent,
digging his fingers into his armpits once more and relishing the bright
laughter bouncing around the room.
"It hasn't even been ten minutes yet," Malcolm commented, lightly tickling him
so Felix could at least hear his voice, "We've still got the rest of the
night," Malcolm snickered as Felix groaned, folding his arms over his face as
he squirmed under his fingers. Freeing one hand, Malcolm untied the blindfold,
letting it slip off the pillow and onto the bed. Malcolm's eyes shone as he
closed in, thumb dipping into the slightest streaks of black that fell from his
eyes, "My god, are those tears?"
Felix immediately glared at him, suddenly bucking his hips to try and throw off
Malcolm. Punishing him, Malcolm relentlessly scratched at his sides, smirking
when Felix nearly tore out of his bonds in a hysterical fit.
Groaning loudly, Felix twisted his body to the side and screamed, "Yes! Those
are tears! Now stop!"
Obeying, Malcolm lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers in the air playfully as
Felix's body relaxed onto the bed. He took deep panting breaths, his chest
heaving as he so desperately tried to catch his breath. His eyes were shut,
unable to meet Malcolm's triumphant gaze. He flinched when he felt a gentle
brush against his chest, his body hot and sensitive to the touch.
"This is new," Malcolm remarked, smirking as he curled a lock of golden hair
around his fingers, "I've never gotten you to submit like this before. I think
I kind of like this," Malcolm let out a breathy moan when Felix couldn't even
find the strength to glare at him, afraid of the consequences, "Oh, I really
like this."
Felix shook his head in response, his breathing slowing down when he had
finally calmed himself, "I can't stand it, Mal. Don't be cruel, please," Felix
panted out.
Malcolm couldn't deny the heat brewing inside him when Felix pleaded for his
mercy. He released the lock of hair he'd twisted between his fingers, smoothing
out Felix's hair with his hand soothingly, "Fine, fine. Haven't even gotten to
your stomach yet," Malcolm mused, merely wiggling his fingers above his stomach
and flinching when Felix burst into laughter without a single point of contact.
Felix froze when Malcolm lifted his hands away, both of their eyes locking onto
each other. He shuddered when a smile began stretching across Malcolm's face,
so pleased that he'd found Felix's weakness, "No, no, no.Come on Mal, be
reasonable. No... no, no, no!" Felix screamed at the first touch before losing
himself in a hysterical fit of laughter. The bed shook from his struggling,
forcing Malcolm to sit on the sheets to avoid being bucked off. The leather
straps holding his arms in place nearly snapped from his intense thrashing.
Malcolm refused to relent, smirking wildly when Felix opened his eyes, his face
blanching as Malcolm leaned into his stomach, lips puckered to blow a raspberry
over the sensitive flesh. In one final desperate tug, Felix jerked at his
wrists and broke free.
"Uh oh," Malcolm muttered shortly before being tackled onto the bed by a very
vengeful Felix.
An undignified yelp slipped from Malcolm's lips as he felt Felix's arms coil
around him, fingers digging into his sides to give him a taste of his own
medicine. Malcolm immediately scuttled back, trying so hard to hold in his
laughter, snickers and chuckles slipping through. As soon as he'd found
purchase on the bed, Malcolm reached forward and tickled back, loving how Felix
squirmed and fought under his grip.
Using his size and Felix's sensitivity to his advantage, Malcolm eventually
took control of the tickle fight, pinning Felix onto the bed facedown with his
arms tightly pressed to his sides. Malcolm snickered as Felix struggled beneath
him, shooting an angry glare with a goofy smile on his face, "Got you," Malcolm
taunted in a sing-song voice.
"Next time, I'm tying you up and we'll see how much you enjoy it," Felix cooed,
giggling when he felt Malcolm's hand slip between him and the mattress to prod
at his stomach. He groaned at the touch, legs curling in as he muffled his
voice into the mattress. His squirming and laughter renewed when Malcolm's
twitching hands became more aggressive, digging into his soft, sensitive belly
and forcing laughter to bubble out of Felix.
Pinned with nowhere to go till Malcolm grew tired, Felix could do little else
than endure his punishment. Felix's eyes snapped opened when Malcolm's fingers
dipped into his navel and he screamed. He thrashed under Malcolm's grasp,
laughing hysterically as Malcolm continued to exploit that traitorous spot.
Malcolm wasn't sure if he should indulge Felix. He was enjoying himself quite a
bit, breaking down Felix's haughty personality, punishing him for all those
snarky remarks. He leaned in, pressing a tongue to Felix's ear, "Give me a
kiss. And I'll stop," Felix could barely respond with a growl in-between his
barking laughter. Malcolm shrugged, continuing to torture him and loving it
when Felix's breath began to come out with a whine, "Felix," Malcolm purred,
"If you want me to stop..."
"Yes! Yes! I'll give you a kiss! Now stop!" Felix screamed, whole body slumping
onto the bed as Malcolm pulled his hand away. He took deep, heaving breaths
where he lay, barely able to move.
Malcolm was on top again, caging Felix in with his limbs smiling down foolishly
as Felix caught his breath. He pressed face into his hair, snickering into it,
enjoying the natural perfume of Felix's body. He pulled back just a bit to let
Felix roll over, licking his lips as Felix stared up at him helpless and
undone. Malcolm caressed the side of his face, sweeping back his strands of
sweaty hair that stuck to his skin.
Felix puckered his lips, staring at Malcolm through his lashes as a lovely
flush appeared on his face. Biting back a groan, Malcolm leaned in, pressing
his body flush against Felix's, their noses touching as their lips ghosted over
each other's.
"Is this alright?" Malcolm asked, lips touching Felix as he spoke. He nuzzled
Felix's hand when it rested on the side of his face, playing with the greying
hair under his ear. Shutting his eyes, Malcolm leaned in, heart racing at the
thought of finally tasting Felix's lips. He was completely unaware of Felix's
other hand, sneaking across the sheets until Malcolm found himself smacked in
the face with a pillow.
Felix laughed as Malcolm reeled back, sputtering out a feather and tossing the
pillow to the floor. Felix immediately scurried backwards, crying out playfully
when Malcolm grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back, locking him in his
arms.
"Oh, you're going to get it now," Malcolm purred with mock malice, unable to
hold up a facade of annoyance when Felix stared back at him with a goofy smile.
It was so quick, Malcolm almost wasn't sure if it happened or not. Felix's
hands on his cheeks, gripping his head in place, a soft, warm pressure on his
lips, lovely silver eyes slipping close, Felix so close, he could hear his
heartbeat drumming away. If it wasn't for the spark in his chest, a pleasant
throb that rendered his mind into lovesick mush, Malcolm would have assumed he
had imagined it all.
Lost in the heat of the moment, Felix hadn't thought much into it when he took
Malcolm's face into his hands, unable to stop himself from running his thumbs
over his prickly beard, and pressed their mouths together in a chaste kiss. It
didn't last long. Felix didn't think much of it which was why when he pulled
away with a goofy, innocent smile, he was utterly taken aback by Malcolm's
shock. It reminded him of the time he had slapped Malcolm for trying to kiss
him: Confused, broken, but for a whole different reason.
"Mal?" Felix cautioned, the blissful joy in his face fading away.
Malcolm couldn't keep his eyes off Felix's face, "What..." He whispered, "But,
you said..." A kiss is romantic. I can't just give that away to anyone. Slowly,
a smile stretched over Malcolm's face, his eyes softer than they'd ever been
like a worn-out soldier seeing his beloved for the first time in years,
"Felix," He sighed out his name like he was the only joy in his life.
There was a pleasant warmth in Felix's chest when he watched Malcolm, a passion
inside him he thought long dead. It pleased and terrified Felix in equal
amounts. But despite his fear, he shut his eyes and didn't pull away when
Malcolm closed in, crushing their lips together. Felix would never tell Malcolm
that plenty of customers had kissed him before. He may not have enjoyed it but
he couldn't say no to a pushy customer especially during an intense moment. All
he remembered from them was the salty favour of lips and sweat. But with
Malcolm, it was a sweetness he'd never tasted before. He pressed closed to
Malcolm, feeling the passionate scoundrel push back, desperate to taste Felix
on his lips forever.
Malcolm groaned when he felt Felix's hands slip under his clothes, pawing them
off his body and onto the floor. In response, Malcolm stripped off the woolen
underwear hugging Felix's hips, hands gliding all over Felix's naked body as he
laid him down on the bed and kicked off his own pants. With their lips still
joined and their hands endlessly searching each other, for the first time in
Felix's life, he was making love.
 
A pleased moan slipped from Felix's lips as he woke up, stretching back
languidly on his cot. He could still feel Malcolm's warmth inside him sitting
at the base of his spine, nurturing him with the same passion he always treated
Felix with. Felix held in a snicker as he rolled over, thinking about how he'd
left after Malcolm massaged the strain from the bondage off his shoulders. He
claimed that he had other customers to service but in truth, he had returned to
his shack right away so he could cherish the feeling of Malcolm all over him.
The town scoundrel and the town whore. A man with tired eyes and greying hair
and a youth just on the verge of adulthood. This wasn't a love story. It was a
tragedy but Felix couldn't find it in himself to care anymore.
Washing up and dressing himself, Felix quickly finished his morning routine.
Most pawnbrokers were open at night but if he was fast enough, he could catch a
few right at the earliest hours of the day. From a pouch, Felix slid out the
ring West had given him, rolling it around in his fingers before stuffing it
back inside and tying the pouch to his belt. The only thing Felix could think
of as he made his way to the pawnbrokers was how he'd be able to spend more
time with Malcolm using the ring to cover up lost expenses.
He only barely made it back to his shack with the coins he had received from
trading the ring. He buried just enough to pay off a month of rent under his
bed. He stuffed the rest into a burlap sack, already decided who this fortune
should go to. He brought the sack with him to the bakery, concealing it under
several bags of flour before returning to his work, once again producing baked
goods and snacking on a few when no one was looking. Felix watched the sky,
waiting for the lunch hour where he knew a certain visitor would come.
"Hey, kid," Felix whispered from the alley, waving to little Rumple who was
making his way into the bakery front.
Rumple dashed over immediately, tiny smile on his face, "Felix!" He greeted,
hugging the boy's knees.
"I got something special for you today," Felix said, kneeling down and handing
the sack of coins to Rumple.
Rumple scrambled to open it, hoping that it was something sweet. He looked
confused at the sack of coins, peering up at Felix trying to figure out what
the generous gift was for.
"You're taking care of your father, right?" Felix said, patting the boy's head,
"This should be enough for the next couple of weeks. Don't let your father see
the money either, alright?" Rumple nodded quickly, not sure if to smile or
frown.
"Thank you," Rumple said, bashfully twisting the bag in his hands.
Felix chuckled, reaching from behind the door for a second bag, "And here's
your bread."
Knowing how to react, Rumple gave him a big, toothy grin as he took the bread
and dashed off. Felix watched the boy run off, wondering how that boy would
grow up with the luckless hand he was dealt, taking care of a deadbeat father
and barely scraping by. It could have been worse; Felix knew firsthand how.
In the afternoon, Felix found West at the bar again, munching on a sandwich as
he did the day before. With a salute from the hidden prince, Felix took the
stool next to him and for once, indulged in small talk that he knew wouldn't
end with soliciting.
"This sandwich is terrible," Felix mumbled, snacking on the piece of sandwich
West shared with him.
"Who doesn't like sandwiches?" West replied, stuffing the last bid of crust
into his mouth and wiping his lips. He took the half-eaten corner from Felix's
hands without even the slightest hint of disgust, stuffing it into his mouth
and licking off the tomato sauce on his fingers.
Ready to return to the bakery, Felix stood from his stool, bidding farewell
with just a small wave before West reached out and stopped him, "Are you doing
anything tonight?"
"Nothing you'd be interested in," Felix said.
"Just wondering if you'd like to spend time at a bar, not soliciting customers.
I've got guards to keep them off you," West explained, "You can bring your
lover along as well."
Felix wanted to flinch and snarl at the words. He couldn't find the heart to,
"I've got plans tonight."
West looked disappointed but not surprised. He nodded back in acknowledgement,
spinning around in his stool to face Felix, "If your plans clear up, I'll be at
the Salty Mermaid tonight."
The Salty Mermaid carried several bad memories with Felix. All of his worst
customers came from that bar, sailors and pirates who hadn't seen a woman in
months would flock to that bar in droves. The courtesans were smart enough to
stay away, knowing that no amount of money was worth servicing men who'd gone
mad from their urges on the sea. Felix didn't have a choice though, using it as
a gold mine that was as beneficial as it was toxic to his health.
Felix knew West must've been bored, tired of his life in the castle, so he
plunged himself into the underbelly of commoner life for excitement. It was the
only reason why anyone in their right mind would go to The Salty Mermaid. Quite
frankly, it was the only reason why anyone in their right mind would seek out
Felix when there was plenty of better company around.
As always, it made him think of Malcolm. He was a man who had nothing so
logically, it was natural for him to cling to Felix. Should something better
come along, Felix wondered if he'd still matter to Malcolm. Wincing just a bit
at his harsh logic, Felix shut out his thoughts before they led to something
painful, before they could reveal to him a truth he so desperately wanted to
hide.
"Felix?" West asked, reaching out to him.
Flinching away, Felix pulled his cloak over his body and walked out briskly,
the thought of Malcolm abandoning him for something better shaking him far more
than he hoped. He wasn't sure what stunned him more, the idea of Malcolm
finding someone better or the amount of value Felix actually put on their
relationship.
 
West was kind despite the slightest darkness Felix could see inside him. Since
that day when he saw Felix visibly stunned by thoughts of Malcolm, he never
tried inviting Felix out again. Instead, he'd swing by The Crooked Man at night
for a quick chat or just an simple greeting.
The first time Felix noticed a flicker of darkness from West was just a normal
day at the bar. Felix was with Malcolm in the back, swindling customers as per
the norm. West had entered, sitting at a back table with his not-bodyguards,
eyeing Felix every once in a while and shooting him a smile when their eyes
locked.
Malcolm grumbled every time he caught the two locking eyes, "I don't like the
way he looks at you."
Felix smirked at Malcolm's blatant jealousy, stepping up to wrap his arms
around Malcolm's waist smothering his neck with kisses, beard tickling his
face, "How about now?"
Malcolm hummed in approval, giving West a sly wink before wrapping one free arm
around Felix's waist and pulling him flush against his body, "Better," He said
with a shrill giggle.
Felix nearly pulled Malcolm in for a kiss until he noticed the patron Malcolm
had been swindling. Judging from his clothing and smell, Felix knew he must've
been from the sea, possibly even the captain of a ship judging from fine but
worn embellishments on his clothing. He eyed Felix with a hunger that only
potential clients could possibly manage. He untangled himself from Malcolm,
cocking his head towards the captain before slipping out of the bar with the
new client in tow. Malcolm didn't stop him, giving him a gentle wave before
stepping out.
"Five for a blowjob, ten for sex," Felix repeated his mantra as he walked
briskly into a back alley. The pirate captain hadn't said a thing. The sound of
encroaching footsteps was a dead giveaway that he'd walked into something
dangerous. He whipped around to his supposed client, fighting the urge to
flinch when he saw four men behind him, all in similar dress with the same
lustful expression, "I don't service multiple customers."
Felix screamed when someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping an arm tightly
around his neck as he tried wrestling Felix to the ground, "Come on, we'll pay
you," The voice mocked.
Snarling at the man, Felix took the switchblade from his tunic and swung
backwards, striking the man's right eye with a grotesque, chunky splatter as he
pulled the blade out. The man howled in pain, clutching his face and collapsing
against the ground writhing in pain.
Felix tried to get away, bolting in the opposite direction only to be tackled
down brutally, smacking his head against a stone wall. In the small moment he
was dazed, he felt the switchblade ripped away from his grasp, hands all over
him, hauling him onto his knees and restraining him against a firm chest.
In a fit of panic, unable to break free, Felix screamed for the only man who'd
ever help him, "Mal!" A hand clasped itself over his mouth, almost bruising him
with it's inhuman strength.
"I get him first," The one Felix had stabbed growled as he stood, clutching a
bundle of cloth over his bleeding eye.
"You should sit out till we get medical attention-" The captain tried to
placate him.
"That bitch took out my eye!"
Felix bucked backwards, trying to use the distraction to squirm away. No such
luck as the one restraining him tightened his hold around his ribs, pinning his
arms to his sides. He screamed into the hand, begging for Malcolm to hear him
and save him.
"Fine, you want his mouth?"
Felix cringed at the question, everything else coming after turning into
garbled noise as his mind short-circuited. He couldn't even scream for Malcolm
when they released him, the feeling of a dozen hands against his body
unpleasant and degrading. He struggled violently, crying out incoherent pleas
as they pinned him down. Even as the town whore, he still had his dignity and
he knew submitting to this would completely shatter it.
"Enough!" West's charismatic voice cut through the alleys, startling the
pirates into backing off. Felix took a shaky breath as he sat in the dirt,
looking up to see West and two bodyguard flanking him.
As to be expected, the pirates immediately attacked this mysterious stranger
who interrupted their business, taking advantage of their numbers to subdue
him. Felix fully expected West's bodyguards to beat them back. What he hadn't
expected was West himself fighting them back, torturing them with absolutely
brutal manoeuvres. Fighting dirty would be putting West's fighting style
mildly. Nearly breaking off the captain's leg with a brutal swipe, West scared
them off with just raw brutality.
Standing on his own, Felix retrieved his switchblade and leaned against the
wall, watching as the pirates were scared off by West's presence. He gave a
small nod to West, thanking him without the dignity to say it out loud. Felix
swallowed the dryness in his throat, twitching when West offered him a hand.
"Shall we?" West asked, smiling pleasantly.
Felix nodded quickly, eager to leave the alley and forget about this incident.
The two returned to the bar, finding themselves a booth in the back when
Malcolm was far too entranced with his games to notice either of them. Felix
didn't mind, of course, wanting Malcolm to enjoy the night as much as he could.
He did feel just the slightest sting knowing that Malcolm hadn't come to his
rescue and was utterly oblivious to his ordeal.
"So..." Felix started, watching the bodyguards as they took their seats in
inconspicuous spots around the bar, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
West shrugged lazily, "I've fought much bigger things than them. Since I have
so much free time nowadays, thought I'd practice how to fight."
Felix snickered at the remark, "Are you really a prince?"
"Mostly," West said with a smirk, "Tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."
Felix rolled his eyes, reclining in his seat, "I don't have a story. I've been
in this line of work since I was a kid. It's all I've known."
"Since you were a kid?" West pondered.
Felix paused, swallowing as he ticked his head away, "I'd rather not talk about
that," His eyes drifted over to Malcolm, realizing that he hadn't even told his
lover about his past. If that was the case, then he certainly wouldn't be
telling West.
Catching Felix watching Malcolm from afar, West quickly changed the topic,
"What about him then? What's so great about him?" Clearly, West still saw just
a scoundrel unworthy of anyone's attention.
Felix shrugged weakly, "I've never had anyone love me the way he does," He gave
a small smirk when he saw Malcolm successfully trick a customer, arms spread
wide and laughing toothily as he collected his earnings, "I think he's cute."
"If you think childish is cute," West muttered.
"What's wrong with childish?" Felix replied, "There's something attractive
about a man who is still living his childhood," Felix paused as West stared at
him, studying him and his seemingly innocent words, "What?"
West shook his head, smiling back, "It's nothing," He chuckled when he locked
eyes with Malcolm, fighting the urge to laugh as the scoundrel scrambled away
from his barrel and flew to Felix's side. West stood when Malcolm sat,
understanding that he was no longer welcome given the intense glares Malcolm
gave him, "I should go."
Felix nodded back to him, sighing when he felt Malcolm's lips suckling at his
neck, "We should talk again," He said, waving to the prince as he exited the
bar with his bodyguards.
Felix never told Malcolm what happened outside the bar. He knew the scoundrel
wouldn't stand for it, getting himself beaten if he tried to confront his
attackers. It was a secret between him and West.
 
Letting West pay off the baker to take Felix away, the two eventually found
themselves chatting aimlessly at a bar in the afternoon snacking on whatever
baked goods Felix managed to smuggle out. West offered to pay but did
eventually agree with him that smuggled goods just tasted better. It was a
cleaner arrangement: West being able to talk to him without Malcolm
interrupting and Malcolm being able to spend time with Felix without West
provoking him. It was clear that West didn't like Malcolm, possibly even hated
him for his lazy, carefree lifestyle but Felix couldn't find the heart to blame
him.
They never talked about Malcolm though. West kept the topics harmless at first,
ranging from adventuring in the mountains to myths about sorcerers and talking
snowmen.
One typical afternoon, in the middle of just a normal conversation, West
muttered something absently that frightened Felix. It was a offhanded remark
from Felix, playing with West as he said, "So I should run off with you, get
married, and become Queen of the Southern Isles?"
West scoffed loudly, barking with laughter, "I'm thirteenth in line for the
throne but if you want a kingdom, I'm sure I can arrange something for you."
"Thirteenth?" Felix said, "You have twelve more siblings ahead of you?" Felix
always assumed he had one, judging from how he constantly referred to his
guards as his brother's, "How does your family manage that?"
It started with just an acknowledging laugh, eyes peering out the window as his
finger toyed with a glass, "They don't," His eyes glossed over for a moment,
lost in some private thought as if Felix wasn't there at all, "Fucking
deadbeats."
Felix flinched at the coarse words that slipped from West's lips. The prince
hadn't even acknowledged them, turning back to Felix with a smile and a second
conversation topic as if nothing had happened at all. Felix thought this was a
one-time thing, that West's parents were a sore spot for him so he deliberately
avoided talk about his family. However, the more Felix spoke with West, the
more he noticed the malice in his words. It oddly reminded him of Malcolm who,
despite his jovial and child-like tendencies, held such a deceptively competent
darkness in his eyes. It was an interesting contrast: Chatting with West in the
daytime and sleeping with Malcolm at night.
For a while, Felix was pleased with this arrangement, having a friend who
didn't remind him of his harlot lifestyle and a lover who cherished him
regardless of it. It couldn't last though; Felix knew it wouldn't. It was just
a matter of what piece would shatter first. Felix bet on West to break first,
judging from the slightest changes in his behaviour, the shine of his eyes, the
encroaching proximity of where he sat, the increasing specificity of the topics
as if he were describing something important to him.
The tone of today's topic was innocent enough but the topic itselfwas certainly
questionable. West looked almost too happy to discuss the best way to usurp the
throne of another kingdom. Felix was actually quite intrigued by how utterly
relentless West's words could sound.
"I'm just saying!" West said jovially, spreading his hands playfully, "All
princesses love the whole 'Prince Charming' and 'Love at First Sight' shtick.
It'd be easy to get a kingdom."
Felix snorted in reply, taking a bite from his sandwich before responding, "If
that's the case, then why are you talking me? I'm not the 'street whore' that's
secretly a runaway prince."
"Oh shoot, you're not?" West replied, eyes wide with sarcastic disbelief, "Well
damn. I've wasted all my time here!" His over-the-top reactions easily summoned
a laugh from Felix, "Come on Felix," West said, nudging at his shoulder with
his elbow, "I'm not talking to you with some ulterior motive. I'm talking to
you because it's fun."
A fool who didn't want to use him despite that being his only asset, "You're
just like Mal."
"The scoundrel at the bar?" West said with the slightest bit of irritation,
"Seedy looking fellow."
Felix shrugged, "Maybe I like seedy. That's why I'm talking to you."
West laughed at the remark but Felix could tell that he was not nearly as
amused as he presented, "Does he still... buy your time at night?"
"Every night without fail," Felix replied, sipping the light rum in his cup,
"Least he's consistent. I can give him that," If he concentrated hard enough,
he could still feel Malcolm's fingers on his skin, leaving thin bruises all
along his hips. He smirked to himself, almost lost in the memory till he
noticed a cold glare on West's face, "What?"
"Really?" West muttered, "Don't you think you're worth more than that?"
"What are you talking about?" Felix muttered, his voice involuntarily
quivering.
"He can't give you anything. On the contrary, he usesyou," West said without
hesitation.
Of course he used him. This was Felix's job, to let men use him for pleasure in
some rotten alley and make profit off it. By all means, Felix should've
accepted West's words without hesitation. Yet, for reasons he tried so hard to
ignore, Felix was pissed.
"Fuck you," Felix growled, standing up from his stool, "You don't know what
you're talking about."
He could hear West chasing after him as he left, grabbing his wrist gently to
stop him, "Wait," A pouch was in his hand. West knew Felix was running out of
gold from the ring he had sold a month back and was ready to provide him with
more.
Letting his emotions consume him, Felix tore away and ran, leaving West at the
bar filled with regret for not wording his opinion better. In hindsight, Felix
found himself cursing his impulsiveness, being handed a free month by a young
man that he considered a friend, choosing a scoundrel who could very well have
mistaken pleasure for love. His doubts on Malcolm's loyalty returned harsher
than ever, spurned on by West's declaration. When Felix returned to his shack,
he fell to his knees and heaved into the dirt.
 
"And stay out!" The bartender barked as he threw Malcolm out of his bar by the
scruff of his collar.
The scoundrel stumbled his way out before falling flat on his face. He rolled
onto his back, holding his hands up in supplication when a rowdy patron
followed him out, eager to pay him back for swindling away his money.
"Hey, hey! Come on, it was just a game!" Malcolm said, chuckling shyly as he
scrambled to his feet, "And let's be fair, I tricked you really well. You have
to give me credit for that," A heavy fist met his jaw, the ring on his middle
finger tearing Malcolm's lip on contact. He growled in pain, scrubbing at the
blood with the palm of his hands before throwing a punch back.
"Get out of here," A strong, kingly voice commanded. Garbed in rags but still
with the presence of a prince, West stepped forward, pushing the assailant back
with just his charisma.
The man nearly lunged when his confidence returned but stopped short when he
noticed the cloaked bodyguards all around playing as civilians. He retreated
into the bar, shooting Malcolm a death glare before disappearing into the
crowd.
Malcolm recognized the prince right away; he'd always remember the man who so
clearly had an interest in Felix. He spat a bit of blood to the ground, eyes
locked to West's as the prince turned to look at him.
"I can handle myself," Malcolm hissed childishly.
"You're welcome," West replied.
The two stood outside the bar in silence, both knowing exactly who the other
was waiting for. Malcolm was the first to break the silence, reclining against
a wall as he spoke, "I thought Felix would've told you. He can't spend time
with you tonight because he's with me," When West refused to respond, Malcolm
kept pushing, trying to coax a reaction out from him, "He lets me do everything
to him, you know? Never charges me anymore than ten shillings."
"Ten shillings?" West repeated in a dark voice.
"What? Has he never made the proposition to you?"
"You think he's only worth ten shillings?"
Any sort of superiority Malcolm thought he held over West suddenly disappeared,
"Of-of course he's worth more," Malcolm choked out dumbly. Malcolm growled when
West's gaze lifted, brows raised with condescension as he looked down at the
scoundrel, "Stay away from Felix," Malcolm hissed.
West folded his arms, unperturbed by Malcolm's threat, "You could never give
Felix what he's worth. If you really loved him, you would let him go."
Malcolm wanted to deny his words, wanted to prove that he could give Felix
whatever he wanted but he knew the truth, he wasn't the man who could save
Felix. That small, childish voice inside him refused to back down, snapping
back at West despite how fruitless the argument, "What would you know you
stupid brat?"
"Mal!" Felix shouted as he ran towards the older man, eyes locked on the
trickle of blood coming from his split lip, "What happ-" Felix froze when he
saw West standing before him, "Did... Did you do this?" Felix choked out,
suddenly feeling enraged, "What I do with my life has nothing to do with you!"
Felix snarled, frightening even Malcolm with his rage.
West quickly shook his head, letting his confidence fade away strategically to
calm Felix, "No, I didn't attack him. I only wanted to talk with him."
Felix didn't believe him, eyes immediately landing on Malcolm to see his
reaction, "Mal?" He said, staring into Malcolm's almost broken gaze. Gentle
hands met his cheeks, tracing his jaw and lightly scratching at his beard,
"Mal, say something."
Arms came around Felix's body, one looping around the small of his back and
crushing their torsos together while the other wove into his hair, pressing his
head forward till Malcolm could press a bruising kiss to Felix's mouth. They
hadn't kissed since the day Malcolm held him with such gentleness and
calculation that it could not have been mistaken for anything except love.
Felix couldn't respond, too stunned to even react. He let Malcolm embrace him,
suckling his tongue and lips into his mouth till they reddened from the abuse.
His hands began searching Felix, going from romantic to obscene in seconds as
his hands travelled across Felix's arched back and caressed the swell of his
buttocks. When Felix didn't fight, Malcolm moaned at the implication: Felix's
body belonged to him and he wanted it known.
When Malcolm tore away, he pressed Felix against his chest, hugging him tightly
as he smiled at West over Felix's shoulder, "He belongs to me. All of him,"
Malcolm hummed, juvenile at best, pathetic at worse.
This was nothing but a tragic joke, a worthless bum without a single shilling
to his name marking the town whore as his own, claiming a body that belonged to
everyone. West could have laughed; he had every right to. Instead, he
approached Felix, pulling back his cloak and stuffing a pouch into his pockets.
"This will help you get by," West said, clinical and ultimately practical in
his motives compared to Malcolm who only had childish sentiments backing his
claims.
Felix said nothing, nodding dumbly as West walked away, his cloaked bodyguard
following him closely. When he was safely out of view, Felix pulled away from
Malcolm, still stinging from his encounter with West earlier in the day, "What
did he say to you?"
"Nothing," Malcolm replied with a smirk, "Doesn't matter now," He cupped
Felix's chin, tilting his head left and right to memorize his creamy jaw.
Felix's eyes narrowed at the cut on his lip, "Did he do that?" Felix repeated.
Malcolm shook his head, "No. Just a sore loser from the bar. I scared him off
though," Malcolm said with a chuckle, "Worried about me?" He cooed.
Felix scoffed, the tension in the air dissipating with Malcolm's joking manner,
"Just looking out for my investments," He gasped when Malcolm closed in, their
noses nudging at each other. He couldn't contain his smile as Malcolm remained
where he was, the distance between their lips static as he continued nuzzling
their noses together. It was too sweet, too innocent, too cute, Felix
immediately melted in Malcolm's arms.
Felix took Malcolm's hand and led him down the dirt road, West's intimidation
pushed far out of their minds.
Locking the door behind him, Felix approached the bed where Malcolm sat and
promptly tossed himself into Malcolm's lap, "So, what do you want to do
tonight?" Felix asked, poking at his nose affectionately.
Malcolm giggled as he pondered, one hand sliding down Felix's back and playing
with the hem of his shirt, "What to do..." He hummed playfully, kissing the
tips of Felix's fingers when they traced his mouth, "I want you to seduce me."
Felix cocked a brow at the suggestion, "Um... I'm done."
"Pretend I'm a brand new customer," Malcolm added, reclining back onto his
hands, "And seduce me with all your charms."
Felix laughed at the suggestion, curious on how Malcolm would react if he
really went 'all out' with his seduction. When they had first met at The
Crooked Man, Felix only need to flaunt his charm slightly to have Malcolm at
his heels. He smirked, Malcolm's suggestion suddenly appealing to him. He stood
from Malcolm's lap, dropping his cloak and scarf to the ground, letting it
settle at his feet. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as Malcolm watched
on puzzlingly.
When Felix opened his eyes again, a boyish charm and softness to his face
surfaced. With the innocence of a virgin, Felix fell to his knees, hands
resting on Malcolm's knees as he brought his face in and breathed a hot path
down Malcolm's stomach, "Mal," Felix sighed, eyes round and naive in their
allure.
Felix fought the urge to smirk when Malcolm groaned softly. He carded a hand
through Felix's hair, breath hot as Felix mewled like a kitten at his touch.
Felix took hold of his wrist, his tongue peeking out from his mouth before
taking one of Malcolm's fingers past his lips, suckling on it with utterly
licentious intent. Felix pulled away after he thoroughly covered Malcolm's
finger, leaving an intentional string of saliva as he sat back on his heels.
"Is that all?" Malcolm muttered, immediately swallowing his taunt as Felix
closed in, pressing a kiss to the front of his pants, his tongue lapping at the
front playfully before pressing a path of kisses from the inside of his thighs
to his knee.
"I've been bad," Felix cooed, resting his cheek against the inside of Malcolm's
thigh as he traced circles on the opposite leg, "I need to be punished."
Malcolm beamed as Felix's eyes drifted upward, lips pouty and shining in the
starlight as he continued to trace circles innocently on Malcolm's thigh, "Oh
Felix," Malcolm crooned, ready to snatch Felix up in his arms and ravage him on
the spot only for the boy to back away, reclining against the ground rolling
his body in a deliberate, sensual way, "Where do you think you're going?"
Malcolm growled, nearly crawling after Felix as the boy played at being
fearful. He grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him back gently and caging him
under his limbs, his favourite position over his lover.
Felix purred at the touch, twisting his body so his back would be arched, toes
curling even without the contact, "Please be gentle."
Eyes sparkling with amusement, Malcolm chirped out a giggle and scooped Felix
into his arms, pressing a harsh kiss to his throat, "No promises."
 
The floor beneath them had been warmed by their contact, nearly red hot where
they lay fucking each other senseless. Malcolm was far too eager, unable to
even keep his clothes on as Felix reeled him in with his most arousing wiles
and techniques. Even though he was lying on the harsh wood, his neck screaming
at him, a huge, toothy grin was plastered on his face betraying all of his
satisfaction.
Felix snickered at Malcolm's euphoric expression, pressed against Malcolm's
side with his head against his collarbone, playing with the fine chestnut hairs
curling on his chest, "The bed's right there, you know."
"Too far. Couldn't wait," Malcolm replied, coiling on arm around Felix's waist
and pressing him upwards to plant a kiss on top of his head. He groaned when he
tried to sit up, a dull pain lancing through his spine, "Ugh, I'm going to be
feeling this in the morning."
Felix chuckled huskily, "Getting old, Mal?" He gasped as an arm came around his
neck, locking him in place as Malcolm's other hand ground his knuckles
playfully over his head.
"You know I hate it when you call me old," Malcolm cooed in a mock-hurt voice.
Squirming out of Malcolm's grasp, Felix swiftly pinned Malcolm's wrists to the
wood, sitting onto his hips and surprised at the ridiculous heat radiating from
his half-hard cock, "Already?" Felix muttered in disbelief, impressed by
Malcolm's virility.
"Not so old now, huh?" Malcolm snickered as he sat up slowly, trapping Felix in
his arms and jerking his hips upward to grind against his ass, "One more round.
A quick one."
Felix groaned at the steamy touch, draping himself over Malcolm's shoulders as
the scoundrel bucked him into the air, "I've got other customers," Felix said,
pressing kisses into Malcolm's hair, weaving his fingers through the floppy
mess, "And I'm still a bit sore-ooh," Felix crooned as Malcolm suddenly dipped
a finger inside him, twitching and flexing the tender flesh, "Mal, don't..."
Felix gasped, involuntarily clenching around him and feeling the slippery
remnants of lubricant against the intruding finger, "I have work. Please Mal."
Pleased with Felix's strained, husky voice, Malcolm pulled his finger out,
giving his backside a playful smack before helping Felix's to his feet, "Very
well. Wouldn't want to take up too much of your time."
The two got dressed silently, tossing on their clothes lazily from the ground.
Felix stayed by the mirror, fixing up his hair and wiping away the streaks of
kohl caused by sweat, "That's ten shillings," Felix called out absently when he
heard Malcolm sorting through his money. He jumped a bit when Malcolm snuck up
beside him and pressed his entire wallet in Felix's hands, "What?"
"Forty-two shillings. That's all I have on me," Malcolm said, the slightest
solemnity behind his carefree expression, "Take it. It's all yours."
Felix knew what this was about. Felix whipped around, eyes stern but not angry,
"What did West say to you?"
"Nothing," Malcolm replied, eyes darting away for just a moment.
"Malcolm," Felix snapped, "Don't listen to anything he says. He's just trying
to drive you away."
"But you are worth more to me than ten shillings," Malcolm blurted out,
stumbling over his words like he hadn't meant to spit them out.
Felix shook his head, prying Malcolm's hands open and stuffing the wallet into
his grasp. Before Malcolm could protest, Felix gently held his face and pressed
a soft, loving kiss to his lips. He barely pulled away, lips still in contact
as he spoke, breathing in the same breath Malcolm took, "I don't want your
money," He spoke without words, pressing another kiss to Malcolm's lips and
nearly swooning when Malcolm kissed back.
I want you.
Felix pulled away from Malcolm reluctantly, hands flitting over his chest
before pulling away entirely. After donning his cloak, Felix exited the room
briskly without taking a single shilling from Malcolm's hands.
Felix thought it would always be this easy: Choosing Malcolm over a better
life.
 
A week had passed since Felix last spoke to West. Although he had seen the
prince around, Felix began actively avoiding him, skipping a few bars here and
there whenever he heard the slightest mention of a peculiarly well-mannered
patron from exiting customers. Absently, Felix noted that he was cutting
another corner of his life. He was already reducing his earnings by spending
the night with Malcolm for free; now he had to pass up a good chunk of bars
just to avoid the prying prince.
Felix knew it was inevitable though. West would find him eventually. It was
just a matter of what Felix's mood would be when he found him.
"Eighty-seven..." Felix whispered as he slipped the last coin from the burlap
pouch. The combined profit from his earnings and the remainder of West's
previous gift would be able to support him for at least a few weeks. Still,
with half his night lost to Malcolm, Felix knew it was possible that he
wouldn't be able to make ends meet with his current working conditions.
A shadow loomed behind him and judging from the slightest scent of fine
cologne, Felix already knew who it was, "West," Felix growled, shoveling his
money into the pouch and moving to leave.
"I want to talk," West muttered, grabbing Felix's arm and pulling him back,
"Please, I didn't mean to offend you," Felix couldn't help but notice the
emphasis on offending him but not Malcolm.
Felix jerked his arm away violently, "Stay the hell away from Malcolm," He
growled. Felix wasn't sure if he was angrier at West questioning his
relationship with Malcolm or West confronting Malcolm without his presence. He
growled again when West's grip on his wrist refused to loosen, "Let go," Felix
hissed, swinging his other arm at West's face only for that wrist to be caught
as well.
"Felix, just let me explain-" West spat out before Felix abruptly kicked him in
the stomach, tearing his wrists out from his grip, "I just-," He choked out
while keeled over by the bar clutching at his stomach, "I just wanted to help."
Felix scoffed loudly, "Help? Help what?"
"You need money, don't you?"
Felix froze at the bizarre proclamation. It was such a commonplace notion that
Felix never thought it was worth mentioning, "Yeah. So?"
"That scoundrel doesn't have a coin to his name. He'll never be able to support
you, or save you," West declared without a shred of regret, "He's a burden and
you're better off without him."
Felix scoffed again, "Who cares about the money?" He let out a sarcastic,
chilling laugh, "You think I'd choose money over Mal?"
"Wouldn't anyone?" West replied.
"I'll get by. I always do," Felix snapped back.
West didn't look angry. On the contrary, he looked quite upset at Felix's
reaction, "Just like how you're getting by now? On my coin but in his arms?"
Town whore. Gold-digger. Harlot. Slut.
Felix could already feel the poisonous titles burning harsh patterns into his
flesh. He didn't want to depend on West but he had no other choice. It was
either this or living in the streets. Felix ground down on his tongue, trying
to find the words to counter West's debilitating argument.
"If he really loved you, he would let you choose a better life over him."
Felix swallowed harshly, trying to soothe the dryness in his throat, "What
would you know about love?" Felix struggled to say. He kept his gaze at the
floor, fists trembling at his side. He gasped when he felt West's hands on his
own, weaving through his fingers to spread them apart, dropping another golden
ring into his hands. Just from the sheer weight of the metal and detail in the
design, Felix knew this was a very pricy ring in his hands.
West said nothing, merely stared at Felix as he contemplated the connotation
behind the ring. If Felix took the ring, he'd be admitting to the truth that
Malcolm was inadequate and could never provide for him.
Felix's eyes flickered to West, "Why are you doing this?"
West was a prince. Felix couldn't comprehend why he would bother with him.
Again, his chilling doubts on Malcolm's loyalty returned, reminding him that it
was fully possible that Malcolm only chose him because he had nothing else to
choose from. Felix forced those thoughts from his mind, ashamed of even having
them in the first place. It was difficult, however, with West, the polar
opposite of Malcolm, affecting his perspectives.
"You're an interesting person, Felix," West said in a careful, quiet voice,
"It's lonely where I live. No one ever bothers to visit so I listen to the
guards my brother stationed at my estate," Felix quirked a brow at the curious
statement, "I heard of you from my brother's guards. Every single one of my
guards seduced by a young man? That's quite impressive. No offense to you of
course," Felix shrugged indifferently, "And then the gall to steal my ring the
first time we met? Or the fact that you could recognize me just with a glance
and an insignia that no one but a pawnbroker would recognize," West approached
Felix cautiously as if he may scare the young man away if he moved too quickly,
"You're so much more than you think you are."
Felix forced himself to take those words in superficially. If he hadn't, he
wouldn't know how to face Malcolm ever again.
"And if you stay with that filthy scoundrel, you'll never be more than what you
think you are."
With just a single condemnation against his lover, Felix's resolve returned and
he hurled the ring to the ground. West could spin whatever gentle tale he
wanted, rip Felix open and show him all the darkness and sin buried in his
flesh, but Felix would neverallow him to condemn the one person who brought joy
to his life. Fire burning in his eyes once more, Felix tore away from West and
left the bar.
"Is this what you really want?" West shouted to him, chasing after Felix as he
left the bar, "I know what you reallywant."
Felix scoffed, whipping around with a spiteful look, "Oh really?" He hissed
with the utmost malice he could manage, "Then what the hell do I want?"
A hand clasped onto Felix's shoulder, pulling him close as West brought his
lips close to his ear. A whisper, barely audible, easily lost in the breeze or
the rumbling of clouds, "A fresh start, freedom, dignity, an escape," Felix's
breath hitched, robbed of confidence, fingers suddenly trembling, eyes
stretching wide as West pulled away and left the boy where he stood.
In the darkest part of his mind, Felix couldn't help but count away at the
coins in his possession and feel the phantom weight of the ring he had thrown
to the ground.
 
Felix wanted to forget about everything West forced him to remember, needed to
forget or else he'd never be able to face Malcolm ever again. Felix wanted
nothing more but to shove Malcolm onto the bed and ride him till all of his
worries and distress were fucked right out of his mind. That was why he wasted
no time dragging Malcolm from the bar and walking him straight into the inn.
"Hey, hey, Felix, what's the rush?" Malcolm said with a chuckle as Felix
dragged him up the stairs by his arm, "Not that I'm complaining. Just can't get
enough of me, can you?" He quirked a brow when Felix refused to respond,
preoccupied with climbing up the stairs briskly, "Felix? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, something's wrong," Felix snapped back coldly, grabbing Malcolm by the
collar and nearly throwing him into the room, shutting the door behind him with
an absent kick, "Your clothes are still on," He growled with a deliberately
seductive smirk, ripping off Malcolm's jacket and unravelling his scarf.
The desire to play the oblivious fool was overshadowed by Malcolm's concern for
Felix's chilly behaviour. It reminded him of when he first met Felix, cold and
transactional as Felix once put it. In response, Malcolm pulled away, fixing
his scarf but leaving his jacket on the ground, "Did something happen?"
"Everything is fine," Felix said through clenched teeth, grabbing Malcolm by
the shoulders and shoving Malcolm onto the bed on his back, "Everything is
fine," He whispered to himself, climbing onto Malcolm's lap and unbuttoning his
vest absently.
Felix's eyes hadn't met Malcolm's onceand he was starting to unnerve the older
man with his joyless half-smirk. Malcolm caught Felix's wrists, stopping him
from stripping him any further, "What's going on? Did someone hurt you?"
Malcolm asked, lost as Felix continued to watch him with an empty smile, "Say
something please."
Malcolm groaned as Felix ground down on his hips, purposely pressing down on
the bulge in Malcolm's pants. Briefly, Felix shut his eyes, his eerie smile
growing as he used the slow pleasure to drown out his thoughts. He gasped when
he felt Malcolm buck under him, sitting up and grasping onto his arm, "Stop
that. You're not well."
Felix growled, gripping onto Malcolm's shoulders and grinding down on him
again, "Yes. I am," Felix hissed, throwing his head back and faking a moan,
rolling his shoulders seductively, "Naughty- oh god yes!"He moaned with
excessive volume, grinding harshly into Malcolm's hips.
"Whoa-whoa!" Malcolm stuttered as Felix latched onto his shoulders, rubbing his
crotch against Malcolm's stomach as he bucked on his hips, mimicking the rhythm
of sex, "Felix!" Malcolm shouted, only to be startled quiet by the young man
moaning lustfully, head tossed back and voice echoing in the room.
"More! Harder, Mal!"The more Malcolm protested, the louder Felix faked his
moans, polluting Malcolm's thoughts with nothing but perversion with every
licentious whine and enticing roll of his body. He pressed a palm against
Malcolm's hardening erection, stroking at it vigorously as he screamed in a
husky, lust-driven voice.
Malcolm couldn't even remember why he was protesting by the time Felix had
palmed him to hardness. Felix's sinfully angelic voice as he moaned his name
was all he could comprehend, "Oh god, Felix," Malcolm groaned, bucking his hips
suddenly and nearly coming when Felix arched his spine, the erotic tension of
his reclining body intoxicating.
Malcolm shivered as Felix undid the front of his pants, rubbing his erection
against the seat of his leather pants, the curves of his ass perfectly outlined
by the skin tight material, "W-Wait, you have to be quiet," Malcolm whispered,
cutting himself off with a grunt as Felix glowered at him and ground against
his erection, leather sticky with pre-come, "Oh-oh shit," Malcolm swung his
head back, shutting his eyes tightly trying to filter out Felix's insistent
ministrations and compelling voice, "You have to be more quiet- Felix!"
Malcolm's entire body tensed and he nearly screamed when Felix pressed a finger
inside him, flexing and massaging at a sensitive bundle almost immediately,
"Someone's going to -oh-someone-ah! She's in town today!"
"Who?" Felix whispered to him, withdrawing his fingers, ready to spit upon his
hand till their door swung open, startling both of them out of their arousal.
"MALCOLM!"
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," Malcolm muttered as the elderly but fierce landlady
gripped him by the ear and dragged him down the stairs.
"Your roof isn't caved in at all is it?" The landlady screeched, voice scratchy
and harsh from the startling realization of what Malcolm had been using her
hotel room for, "I can't believe you!"
"To be fair," Malcolm said with a deceptively reassuring voice, "I was putting
the room to good use-OW!" Malcolm hissed as the landlady twisted his ear
another half-circle.
"And stay out!" The landlady barked as she tossed Malcolm out the hotel. She
looked back to Felix who followed closely at his heels, giving her head a
disapproving shake before shooing him out and shutting the door behind her.
All Felix could do was stare at Malcolm perplexingly.
Malcolm smiled back to him goofily, trying so hard to keep his mood up and
bring the light back to Felix's eyes. He fixed his jacket and thankful that the
landlady had at least let him tuck himself away, "This is embarrassing," He
mentioned with a shy chuckle, "And we were just getting to the good part too!"
He stood up slowly, dusting himself off before extending a hand to Felix,
"Shall we?"
A clap of thunder. A sudden burst of rain falling from the sky, drenching
everything in seconds, especially Malcolm who stood at the middle of the path
while Felix was sheltered by the hotel awning. Soaked from head to toe, Malcolm
dumbly blinked away the water in his eyes, arm still extended as if he wasn't
sure what he was doing anymore.
"Well... darn."
A snicker from Felix startled Malcolm with it's innocent ring, laughter like
bells and birds filled the air drowning out even the loudest thunderclaps as
Felix nearly doubled over from laughing. Shaken from his joyless state, Felix
laughed till his lungs ached, clutching at his sides to quell the pain. Closing
in, Malcolm scooped Felix into his arms, smiling goofily with just the
slightest edge, "What are you laughing at?" Malcolm cooed, smacking his lips in
front of Felix's as the boy continued to laugh like a child.
Felix groaned when Malcolm suddenly held him close, crushing him against his
damp body, "Oof, Mal, you're all wet," His smile slowly faded when Malcolm said
nothing, merely hugging him even tighter.
"Mm, Felix," Malcolm sighed happily, nuzzling the side of his head, "Welcome
back."
Neither of them could make it far with the rain storm raging around them,
nearly ripping off rooftops with its torrential strength. Instead, the two sat
upon a crate hidden in a covered niche by the side of a tavern, watching the
rain pour and the skies churn with stormy clouds.
Felix sat against the wall, one leg hugged to his chest using his right
shoulder as support against the cold stone. Malcolm was sprawled beside him,
legs dangling over the crate and back against a wooden support beam.
"I ran into West again."
"I figured," Malcolm replied, nudging at Felix's one dangling leg with his
ankle, "What did he say?"
Felix paused for only a moment. Malcolm had every right to know what West had
told him. He should have no reason to hesitate, "He says I'm better off without
you. That you can't provide for me."
"... I promise, someday, I'll get you anything you want."
Felix smiled weakly as he shook his head. Malcolm had nothing to his name but
misguided optimism and childish sentiments. West's words were not wrong which
was what made everything so much worse. Even now, he could still hear the his
final words, echoing what he has wanted since he was a little boy.
"Felix?"
"Yeah?" He turned to the older man, watching sadness flash in lovely eyes that
reflected the colour of the storm and sea.
"Are you happy like this?"
When Felix first answered this question, he didn't care much for it giving
Malcolm a simple answer to satisfy him. Regardless of whether he was happy or
not, he had no choice but to continue living this life. They both knew this was
not the case. Another option had appeared and Felix didn't want to acknowledge
it.
"Of course," Felix stuttered out.
Malcolm's brow quirked upward, sceptical and despaired, "Really?"
Malcolm knew exactly how Felix felt, could read it in the way he spoke and
presented himself. Felix's sad eyes locked with his, a small smile playing on
his lips when he answered Malcolm's question, "Yes."
"You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not pretending," Felix snapped, gripping onto the crate in frustration,
"Mal, I..." Felix drifted off, his words locked in his mouth as he carefully
pieced everything together, "When I was just a child, my father sold me to a
brothel. They didn't make me serve any customers when I was young but I knew
I'd never be able to avoid it," Malcolm's brows knitted in surprise at words
Felix had never repeated to another person, "As shitty as my life seems, I've
grown used to it," Felix lifted a hand slowly, gliding his fingers over
Malcolm's damp beard, "This is all I've ever known," He cupped the side of
Malcolm's face, staring into his eyes once more and losing himself in the
competency and power hidden behind the darkness of his pupil.
"I can't save you from this life," West's words still echoed in Malcolm's mind.
A sudden thunderclap shook them out from the solemn moment, both of them
flinching on the crate and whipping around to face the storm. Felix let out a
brief chuckle when the tension faded, sighing when he felt Malcolm curl an arm
around his waist. No sex, no pleasure, just a comforting arm coiled around his
waist, shielding him, warming him. Shutting his eyes, Felix scooted over on the
crate, resting his head on Malcolm's shoulder and curling up against his side.
When the winds died down, turning the raging storm into a mere summer shower,
Felix raised a hand to catch a few droplets in his palm, "I guess we can head
to the tavern for now, occupy a booth in the back," He absently placed a hand
on Malcolm's thigh, caressing the slightly damp fabric, "Have a little fun."
A shy snicker came from Malcolm as the older man pulled away, sliding off the
crate and stepping into the rain with his arms spread open. Felix's brows knit
together as he studied the man lazily swinging around in the rain with a child-
like glee.
"What are you doing?" Felix asked, watching as the rain soaked completely
through Malcolm's clothes in just mere seconds, "You're going to catch a cold."
Malcolm laughed as he extended a hand to Felix, "Dance with me."
Felix scoffed, disbelieving of this man's audacity. He shook his head as he
contained his laughter, "You're crazy."
"Come on, Felix! It'll be fun!" Malcolm declared, grabbing Felix by the arm and
jerking him forward.
Felix pulled back with just enough strength to keep him under cover, "No way.
I'll get wet."
"I know. That's the fun part," Malcolm said with a wink, dragging Felix out
from the cover and into the middle of the road.
Felix shuddered as he came in contact with the cold rain, immediately fixing
his hood and using his cloak to catch most of the water, "Let go!" He shouted
with barely contained laughter, letting himself be pulled along by Malcolm in
the rain.
Ignoring his pleas, Malcolm scooped Felix into his arms, lifting him into the
air and spinning both of them through the rain, feet gliding across the slick
dirt road. Felix swept his hands through Malcolm's sopping flop of hair,
smoothing it back so he could see his face. Malcolm was a handsome man, rugged
and worn from his life but containing a youthfulness to his expressions that
made him look adorable in Felix's eyes.
Giving in, Felix pulled his hood back slowly, looking to the sky as the rain
chilled his pale skin and soaked his hair turning fine gold strands into heavy
locks. He watched as Malcolm was dumbfounded for a moment, eyes glued to the
way droplets of water glided down Felix's skin and plastered the untameable
curls of his hair to his head.
Felix pulled away with a smirk on his lips, swaying his hips sensually, almost
grindingagainst the air, reclining his neck and biting on his bottom lip,
tempting Malcolm with his enticing movements, "Dance with me," Felix cooed,
extending one hand and beckoning Malcolm over.
Dumbly and completely contrasting Felix's deliberately seductive movements,
Malcolm leapt at Felix with innocent glee. At the very last moment, Felix
retracted his hand and skipped away playfully, body moving like he was pulled
along by wispy strings. Malcolm chased after him, reaching for him again and
again only for Felix to dodge him with the grace of a dancer.
Felix could imagine everyone watching them from their homes, raising brows at
the whore and the scoundrel dancing in the rain without a single care for the
world. Bit by bit, he found himself caring less and less about how they felt.
Damn the world and their consequences, damn West and his horrifically accurate
deduction, right here and right now, Felix was happy and he had Malcolm all to
himself.
And when Malcolm finally caught him, he locked his arms tightly around his body
so Felix could never slip from his grasp. His feet moved in a graceful square,
mimicking the movements of a waltz with an amateurish but still impressive
accuracy. Felix matched Malcolm's footwork perfectly, blushing with
embarrassment as the scoundrel took Felix's hand and spun him forward, reeling
him back in clumsily and smirking at Felix's glare.
Pressing forward, Felix lifted his right leg, hooking it around Malcolm's left
thigh and smirking arrogantly at the scoundrel. Understanding Felix's
intention, Malcolm reclined backwards on one leg, creating a straining slant
with his body, one hand firmly on Felix's back to support his weight,
stretching the leg that Felix planted on the ground, the lovely arch of his
spine duplicated by the flexed left leg.
Even through the chill of the rain, Felix could still feel Malcolm's warm
breath against his lips. He smiled lazily, shutting his eyes when Malcolm
closed in.
"Felix," Malcolm groaned in a husky voice.
"Mm, yes?"
"... I think I threw out my back."
"...old man."
Felix rolled his eyes innocently, offering Malcolm a shoulder as the two slowly
made their way back to Malcolm's home. Even the rain poured down heavier as if
the clouds were mocking the two.
"You sure you don't want me to massage it for you?" Felix asked, clicking his
tongue at the sight of Malcolm clutching at his spine with one hand.
"No, no, it's alright. I'll just sleep it off," Malcolm replied, chuckling
sheepishly as Felix rolled his eyes again, "Sorry. We were having so much fun
too..." He smiled when Felix took his free hand, caressing it gently as the two
made their way down the watery road.
Felix smiled absently, not regretting for a single moment their dance in the
rain, "It was fun."
"Knew you'd like it," Malcolm said before nodding ahead, "Here we are. I live
there."
Felix wasn't surprised when he saw Malcolm's home: A dingy looking hovel which
was really just slightly better than the refurbished chicken pen he lived in.
There were only two windows, both of them cracked and filthy with cobwebs and
dirt. Felix would have called it pathetic if he hadn't been living in a similar
mess.
Felix was about to open the door until Malcolm burst forward, clutching at the
doorknob and groaning as he put more strain on his back, "I'll help myself in.
It's alright."
"Are you sure?" Felix asked, perplexed at Malcolm's strange reaction.
"Yeah, it's fine," Malcolm replied, patting Felix on the shoulder
affectionately, "Goodnight."
Felix smiled at the gesture, leaning in to press a kiss to Malcolm's lips,
"Remember to change out of your clothing before you sleep. Or you'll catch a
cold."
Malcolm chortled mirthfully, winking to Felix as he spoke, "Worried about me?"
Smiling back softly, "Yes."
Leaning in for one more kiss, Felix departed from the hovel and returned to his
own shack, stripping off his soaking clothes and collapsing onto the bed
happily. It hadn't even occurred to him that he hadn't made a single coin that
night.
***** Twenty Pieces *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a minor thing. I've combined the fourth chapter with this
     chapter since the fourth chapter was substantially shorter and I felt
     like it shouldn't have ended where I cut it off. Just in case
     anyone's wondering where the fourth chapter went. Anyway, happy
     reading!
Felix found himself fearing the worst when he came to The Crooked Man and could
not find Malcolm at all. He asked the bartender if he'd seen the scoundrel,
getting a nonchalant head-shake as a response.
"Are you sure?" Felix asked again.
"Haven't seen the guy. He'd be at the back swindling patrons already if he were
here," The bartender replied, nodding to the back where a couple sailors
talked, "Just find another customer. I'm sure there's plenty just as willing at
him to pay."
Felix felt taken aback by the remark, offended even. This man had no right to
belittle his relationship with Malcolm just because of who he was. For the
first time in a very long time, Felix was utterly insulted and he nearly
shouted till his common sense returned to him.
He was a whore. And more importantly, he missed an entire day of profit
yesterday. Biting down his remarks and backing off, Felix knew he'd have to
make up for lost profit. He'd find Malcolm tomorrow and serve as many customers
as he could today. Nodding to the bartender, Felix backed off and headed for
the back of the bar, sinking back into a routine he hadn't properly followed in
months.
 
Finishing off his delivery rounds, Felix quickly returned to his shack and
packed up the few loaves of bread he'd taken from the bakery along with a
couple vegetables the farmer had left behind in the fields. He swung the burlap
sack over his shoulder, leaving the farm and carefully tracing his steps back
to Malcolm's home.
The scoundrel actually didn't live far from him at all. A part of Felix
wondered what would happen if he let Malcolm know where he lived. Clearly, he'd
visit him every day but the scoundrel always had a habit of surprising him.
Pushing his thoughts aside, Felix knocked on the door, dropping the sack beside
him, "Mal?" Felix called out when no one answer, "Mal? Are you there?"
A small set of footsteps came from behind the door. Already, Felix stiffened at
the implication. The door swung open and little Rumple peeked out from behind
it, "Felix?" He pondered in his squeaky voice, "What are you doing here?"
"Rumple?" Felix said, begging that he didn't stutter, "I... um, where's Mal?"
"...you mean my father?"
Felix fought the urge to freeze up. All of his worst fears were resurfacing
after he had worked so hard to bury them when West had brought them up. He took
a shaky breath in, not allowing disappointment to seep through his facade, "Can
I speak with your mother?"
Rumple looked away shyly, sulking at the floor, "I don't have a mother."
Felix felt almost foolish at how quickly his disappointment and fears
disappeared. For just the briefest moment, Felix doubted Malcolm and he already
felt awful, "Sorry," Felix replied, confidence returning, "I'm here to see your
father. Is he inside?"
"He's sick," Rumple replied, "He caught a cold yesterday."
Felix rolled his eyes. Honestly, he wasn't even surprised, "I know," Stepping
into the hovel when Rumple let him in, he stepped around the rickety furniture
and stray piles of straw littering the ground. Rumple's room was on the left,
the raggedy dolls on the bed a telltale sign, which meant Malcolm's room
must've been the one on the right. Felix placed the sack of produce on the
table before shoving Malcolm's door open and smacking the man across the head.
"I told you not to sleep in wet clothing," Felix snapped.
Malcolm coughed hoarsely, his face pale and eyes puffy, "But I was so tired!"
He rolled over on the bed, sitting up slowly to meet Felix's eyes, "Oh, hi
Felix."
"Shut up Mal," Felix replied, shoving the man back down on the bed and fixing
the blanket over his chest. He pressed a hand onto Malcolm's forehead, cringing
at the thick layer of sweat and excessive heat radiating from his flesh, "You
have a fever."
Malcolm groaned in reply, rolling onto his side away from Felix as he coughed
violently. Felix immediately pulled away, stepping out of the room to look for
any kind of container, "Rumple?" Felix called out, watching the little boy step
out shyly from his room, "Where's the well?"
"Just in the back," Rumple replied, "You can use that."
The boy gestured to the water basin in the corner stacked with several worn
towels and curiously, chunks of colourful, fragrant soap bizarrely out of place
in this dingy hovel. Thinking nothing of it, Felix took the basin and a stray
pot before leaving for water.
When Felix returned, he quickly made his way to Malcolm's side after he set the
pot of water on the stove. The older man was still laying on the bed but unable
to sleep due to his sporadic coughing fits. He carefully rolled Malcolm over,
sweeping back sweat-soaked hair as he placed a cool, wet towel on his forehead.
"Better?" Felix asked, sitting back on a stool by the bed.
Malcolm nodded weakly, eyes fluttering open and close. He nearly dozed off till
his door creaked open, Rumple stepping into the room shyly and tugging on
Felix's sleeve.
"The water's boiling," He squeaked.
"Rumple," Malcolm choked out, rolling onto his side and trying to sit up, "Go
back to your room and play," He almost sounded spiteful had it not been for the
sickly gravel to his voice.
Ignoring Malcolm, Felix reached out and pat Rumple on the head gently, "Let's
go make some soup. Alright?" He took Rumple's hand and led him out, shooting
Malcolm a rather concerned look before shutting the door behind them.
The soup Felix made was mediocre at best, far too watery with no where near
enough vegetables to even out or thicken the broth. Still, it was far better
than what either of them usually ate, both of them living off stale bread,
stolen produce, and cheap alcohol. Felix handed Rumple a bowl first, watching
the boy eat before helping him to bed. The child had stayed up all night taking
care of his father; Felix knew he deserved a rest.
Afterwards, Felix went back to Malcolm's room with soup and bread in hand. To
his surprise, the scoundrel hadn't fallen asleep, merely laying on the bed with
the slightest sadness in his eyes, "Mal, I got you something to eat," Felix
whispered as he shut the door behind him, helping Malcolm sit up and propping
him against the backboard.
Felix nearly dropped the bowl when Malcolm suddenly hunched over, coughing
violently into his hands. Immediately, Felix was at his side, stroking at his
back soothingly as he removed the towel from the bed and placed it back into
the basin. Felix carefully fed him, alternating between bites of bread and
spoonfuls of soup, backing away anytime Malcolm's breath began to hitch.
"You should've listened to me," Felix said absently, scraping up the last piece
of potato and holding it to Malcolm's lips.
Malcolm slurped it up giddily, his childishness still bleeding through the
sickness, "Yes, Mum."
Felix rolled his eyes, chuckling softly before putting the bowl aside and
lowering Malcolm carefully back on the bed. He watched as Malcolm's hand snaked
towards him from under the sheets. Obliging him just this once, Felix shifted
closer to the bed, nearly shoving his thigh onto the bed to lessen Malcolm's
strain. He was utterly surprised when Malcolm reached right past him, taking
hold of his hand instead.
"What are you playing at?" Felix asked, thumb rubbing smooth circles on the
back of Malcolm's wrist.
"You seemed so upset yesterday. I didn't want to take advantage of that,"
Malcolm whispered back.
Felix nodded in acknowledgement, unsure of what to say. Malcolm already knew
why he was upset and there was little else to say that could fix it, "Th-
Thanks," Felix whispered almost too quietly, barely acknowledged by Malcolm,
"So, how hard was it to resist me when I threw myself at you?" Felix asked,
trying to keep the mood light.
Malcolm's left brow quirked upwards, saying without words 'How unattractively
vain'. He rolled his head back, a dreary smile on his face, "Every time I look
at you, I just want to steal you away and wreck you in every way possible."
"Wreck me?" Felix was intrigued at Malcolm's choice of words.
With his eyes shut, half from exhaustion, half to amplify his imagination,
Malcolm licked his lips as he cycled through his fantasies, "I'd keep you all
bundled up like a present. Give you pleasure every single day. And of course,
if you tried to escape, there'd be punishment. You think it's possible for
someone to have a day-long orgasm?" He poked one finger out from Felix's grip,
using it to caress the side of Felix's thigh. His grin stretched from ear-to-
ear as Felix promptly slapped Malcolm's hand onto his thigh, gripping on it
from the outside so Malcolm's fingers pressed into Felix's flesh, "As you can
see, it was very difficult to resist."
Felix chuckled briefly, slapping a cold towel onto Malcolm's forehead, "Is that
the way you talk in front of your son?"
Malcolm paused for a moment, swallowing as he studied the look on Felix's face:
No shame, no guilt, "You're... okay with this?"
"With what?"
"My son," Malcolm replied, coughing suddenly but able to stabilize himself, "I
would've told you eventually. Really."
A deadbeat father who neglects his son, steals away their money to pay for
booze and a whore, refuses to get a job in favour of swindling patrons at a
bar, was quite honestly exactly what Felix expected of Malcolm. Felix really
had no right to judge Malcolm for being a poor father and even if he had the
right, Felix couldn't find it in himself to care.
"It's fine," Felix replied, adjusting Malcolm's towel when it began sliding off
from the back.
"...Really?"
Felix narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
"You're not... you're not angry at me?" Malcolm prodded.
"No, of course not," Felix replied, leaning in closer and reading Malcolm's
appalled expression. Despite being his senior, Malcolm still retained so many
facets from childhood, one of them being how easy it was to read him. Malcolm
looked so sure that Felix would spite him for having a son, would declare him a
self-serving deadbeat father and walk out on himjust as she did. Felix reached
a hand out, caressing the side of his face soothingly and straightening out his
sweat-soaked hair, "It doesn't matter to me."
Malcolm chortled weakly, a sad, sickly smile on his face as he reached for
Felix's hand, "My god, I love you so damn much," He took a weak fistful of
Felix's tunic, desperate to pull the boy down for a kiss before suddenly
sneezing into the air.
Felix laughed as he tucked Malcolm back in, pressing a chaste kiss to his
knuckles before putting the soup bowl aside, "You should get some rest."
"Will you be here when I wake up?" Malcolm asked innocently.
Peering out the window, Felix could already see the night edging into the sky
from the horizon. Just one night. Felix reasoned with himself that he could
spare one night to take care of Malcolm. Felix nodded in reply to Malcolm's
request, smiling when the scoundrel shut his eyes and lay on his back, snoring
gently moments later.
When the basin was running low on water, Felix picked it up along with their
empty bowls and stepped out of Malcolm's room, dropping the bowls into a pile
on the table and nearly stepping out until he noticed Rumple peering out from a
crack behind his door.
"Rumple?" Felix cautioned, noticing a rather aggressive look in the boy's
usually innocent eyes, "Are you feeling okay?"
The boy shut the door as Felix stepped closer, forbidding his entry. At the
time, Felix thought nothing of it, leaving to retrieve water for Malcolm and
sitting back at his side when he finished. He lay a fresh cloth on his
forehead, clicking his tongue when he noticed that his fever hadn't gone down.
He carded a hand through his hair when a fit of coughs erupted from his lips,
soothing him.
When night had fallen, Felix lit a candle, letting the gentle fire illuminate
the room. He returned to Malcolm's side, continuously weaving his fingers
through his hair, twisting it into funny shapes to amuse himself. He flinched
when Malcolm suddenly grumbled, lips smacking a bit as he shifted around in
bed.
"...Felix," Malcolm mumbled.
Laughing just a bit, Felix took Malcolm's hand and kissed the back of his
knuckles gently, "I'm here," He said to no one. He glided over Malcolm's
fingers, curiously noting that he didn't have a ring on nor had the telltale
grooves of an old wedding band.
For that brief moment at the door, Felix truly thought Malcolm was married. He
truly believed that the man had another and he'd let himself be deceived into
falling in love all over again. He examined Malcolm's room from where he sat, a
simple wood-furnished compartment reminiscent of the inside of a cupboard, no
furniture save for his bed and a chest to the side.
Amusing himself, Felix opened the chest, noting just clothing, bottles of rum,
and a pouch of coins, most likely his savings. It was an utterly impersonal
room but more importantly to Felix, there was not a single object which would
have indicated that Malcolm once had a wife. Returning to his stool, Felix
changed Malcolm's towel again, laying the cool, damp cloth across his forehead
after turning the man onto his back.
Malcolm was always so peaceful when he slept. All of the dreariness that came
with age and a tough life fading away with the night. Nodding off just a bit,
Felix lowered himself onto the floor so he could rest his head against the bed,
pressing Malcolm's hand against his cheek before shutting his eyes and dozing
off, lovely thoughts of Malcolm at his side putting him to sleep.
 
"Whatcha doing?" A lazy voice asked Felix.
Felix was sprawled in the leaves, staring up at a starry sky as cicadas chirped
all around him. Funny, it didn't seem like the proper season for cicadas. He
shrugged to the voice, stretching his arms out at his side, "Sleeping."
"That sounds boring," The voice replied, sinking into the leaves right beside
him.
Felix shrugged again, "It doesn't have to be."
"Oh?"
Felix flinched as a heavy weight flopped onto his body tossing leaves into the
air with the motion. He groaned loudly, eyes drifting away from the sky and
towards the boy curled up on his chest. All he could see was a head of soft
locks and the press of a pillow-like cheek against his collarbone. Felix had no
idea who this boy was but he already felt like he'd swear his life to him.
Hooking his arms around the boy's narrow waist, Felix rolled onto his stomach,
pinning the boy beneath him. He pressed his face into his hair, breathing in
roses and magic and everything completely unlike the earthiness around them.
"Oh, eager, aren't you Felix?" The boy said, laying on his stomach, ducking his
face away from Felix.
Felix smirked at the coy remark, laying down flat against the boy and
smothering kisses onto his neck. There was only one person Felix would ever
feel comfortable like this, "Mal..." Felix whispered into the boy's ear,
turning him over to stare at his handsome face, smooth and strong, unmarred by
age or conflict.
The boy smiled to him, humming a off-key tune as he scraped his hands gently
over Felix's face before landing on his collar and tearing off his cloak.
Somehow, with just that single gesture, Felix found himself completely stripped
down, his naked body on full display. He shuddered at the sudden chill on his
spine. He almost retracted back to rub his arms with warmth until he found
himself on his back again, leaves tossed once more and suspended in the air
like gravity suddenly switched itself off.
Felix found himself smothered with kisses a second later, lips intent on
marking every single portion of skin on his face. He groaned heavily as lips
travelled lower, the mischievous boy gripping onto Felix's thighs with bruising
strength as he trailed his tongue over Felix's half-hard cock, intent on
tasting every inch of it. Felix's back lifted from the dirt as he moaned, hands
finding themselves buried in the boy's chocolate-coloured hair as he felt his
cock touch the back of his throat.
Another second later, Felix was facedown in the dirt, one hand restraining his
head against the leaves as the other lifted his hips into the air. Already,
Felix was about to come, heat and pleasure burrowing into his body forcing
tremors of ecstasy to overtake his limbs. His legs had nearly gone numb from
trying to support himself.
And then the pleasure was gone, his climax never reached, but Felix was happy
and warm andloved. His arms were wound around the boy's strong shoulders,
kneading at his ratty green tunic before Felix pulled away to press a kiss to
his lips. The sun peeked from the horizon, basking both of them in a fine,
golden glow and as Felix pulled away, he felt the traces of a scratchy beard
against his lips. He smiled lovingly at the scoundrel in front of him, his mop
of greying hair and uneven beard always a pleasant sight.
"Malcolm," Felix sighed, leaning in again for another kiss.
Felix gasped as he awoke, eyes snapping open to the feel of a hand carding
through his hair. He gently took the hand weaving into his hair, rubbing
circles into his wrist as he looked up at Malcolm laying on the bed.
"You're still here," Malcolm whispered.
Felix smiled warmly, stretching his tired muscles and rubbing at his legs, numb
from kneeling on the floor for several hours, "Of course," He pressed a hand to
Malcolm's forehead, pleased that his fever had gone down, "Are you hungry?"
"Could use a little something to eat," Malcolm replied, seating himself up
against the backboard, "If you'd be so kind."
Snorting at the remark, Felix left the room and started the oven again, tossing
in a few stray pieces of wood into the flame and boiling his stew again. He
considered waking Rumple but held back, fearing that the boy was probably still
asleep. He wondered who prepared the food at home; the oven looked dusty from
disuse.
"Do you cook?" Felix asked as he entered the room, kicking the door shut behind
them and handing a bowl of stew to Malcolm. When Felix lived in the brothel,
since he was too young to service customers, he spent most of his time on
kitchen duty, cooking up various meals for customers or employees when they
rested. It was one of the few skills that Felix learned from the brothel that
he truly cherished.
"Not really," Malcolm replied, rubbing at his sniffling nose before taking a
bite of stew, "Mostly just make a bit of toast, eggs," He reached one hand
forward, stroking lovingly on Felix's knee, "Maybe you should stay here and
cook for me."
Felix rolled his eyes, sitting back at the stool and watching Malcolm as he
ate. His choice of words were puzzling considering that he shared his lodgings
with his son, "You're... not fond of your son. Are you?"
Malcolm choked on his stew, eyes flickering with shame for just a moment, "I
swear I would have told you of him..."
"Mal, it's alright. I'm not angry at you," Felix replied, "Really, it could
have been a lot worse."
"I tried, you know," Malcolm sighed weakly, "When I first saw him, I thought I
could be a father. For him, for my wife, I really thought I could do it," He
bit down on his lip, just a bit of contempt in his voice when he spoke of his
son.
"What happened to her?" Felix asked.
"I don't want to talk about that whore," Malcolm hissed. Felix visibly flinched
at the remark, trying not to react to Malcolm declaring his disdain for his
former wife with a title often bestowed upon him. Almost immediately though,
Malcolm realized his mistake, "I didn't mean it like that."
"I-I know," Felix stuttered his reply, "What did she do?" Felix said quickly,
trying to change the subject.
"She said I was holding her back in life. Called me a deadbeat and ran off with
some pirate," Malcolm scoffed as he recollected his wife, feeling not a single
shred of nostalgia for her, "Left me with Rumple. Took most of our money too;
she claimed it was all hers," Malcolm shrugged weakly, "She was probably
right."
Malcolm paused to cough for a moment, setting his soup aside as he covered his
mouth and cleared his throat. Felix watched him silently, unable to react to
Malcolm's story. There was nothing he could possibly say without sounding
jealous or self-deprecating.
When Malcolm's eyes fell onto Felix, he immediately noticed the reserved
frustration in his stature. Felix always forgot how perceptive Malcolm was
under his deceptive childish demeanor, "It would have never worked out between
me and her," Malcolm said, a competency in his voice that startled and
intrigued Felix in equal amounts, "I wanted her to be carefree. She wanted me
to grow up. It just wasn't going to happen and I mean, both of us knew. When we
were in love, we thought we'd be able to look past it. Then you get a kid and
suddenly you realize that you'll be living like this for the rest of your
life."
Words meant to soothe Felix only made his chest ache more. Malcolm had fallen
in love before. He knew what love was and how complicated it could get. It
wasn't just sex and games, not like his relationship with Felix. It made him
wonder if Malcolm ever thought about him like he thought about his wife or if
the most complex thoughts Malcolm's ever had of him were how to creatively fuck
him the next day to keep it interesting.
"Ah," Felix choked out, a dreariness returning to his eyes that he thought had
been long cured since he fell in love with Malcolm, "It sounds like... you put
a lot of thought into her," He looked away, scratching absently at a freckle in
his skin to distract himself, "You ever think what life would be if she never
left you?"
Malcolm was silent and only when Felix looked up did he realize that Malcolm
had been staring at him, studying him deeply with the same enticing darkness in
his eyes that had once seduced Felix. Taking his chin in one hand, Malcolm
moved in and kissed him. No tongue, no teeth, no hunger, just a soft, chaste
kiss untainted by feral lust. When Felix tried to pull away, Malcolm wrapped an
arm around his body, securing him in place as he continued smothering him with
chaste kisses.
"You're not well. Lie back-" Felix was cut off when Malcolm's lips returned to
his mouth, pressing a deeper but still chaste kiss to his lips before rolling
him onto the bed. Felix shuddered when Malcolm's lips danced on his neck, his
tongue painting ticklish circles all over the tender flesh, "Please Mal, your
son is right outside."
"Yes. I have thought about it what my life would be like," Malcolm whispered,
immediately feeling Felix stiffen beneath him, "If I never had Rumple, we'd
still be thinking that we can look past each other's differences and keep up
our charade," Malcolm winced when he felt Felix struggling under his grasp,
"But that's all it would ever be: A farce. And someday, I'd leave home
frustrated with everything. I'd step into a bar and I'd find you. And even if I
had her waiting for me, I would've chosen you."
Felix was shaking his head, "Why would you choose me over her? I'm just a-"
Malcolm silenced Felix with a finger over his lips, "No more of that," He
trailed his fingers down to Felix's arms, caressing them gently, "Stop treating
yourself like this," Malcolm, West, any of his customers, they all knew Felix
was so much more. They all could see a charisma in him fit for a leader, an
unwavering courage against even the worst fates. All but Felix could see this,
far too muddled by his sinful, shameful lifestyle, "I never want you to call
yourself a whore ever again. Alright?"
Felix nodded back dumbly, entranced by the intense look in Malcolm's eyes,
"Mal... you should go back to sleep..."
"I have enough energy for this," Malcolm replied, a small smirk on his lips
lighting up his face despite the evident flush of fever, "Let me treat you for
once."
Moments later, Felix had worked off Malcolm's clothes, tossing aside the loose
smock and braies. Malcolm's fingers stumbled over removing Felix's belt, so
accustomed to the deliberately simple clothing Felix wore at night.
"Why is this so hard to remove..." Malcolm grumbled as he finally unhooked
Felix's belt and pulled it through his clothes. Felix let out a happy sigh,
pulling Malcolm down between his legs and crushing their lips together.
As soon as Malcolm removed Felix's pants, his fingers immediately replaced the
fabric, pressing his palm against his inner thigh before moving inward and
jerking him off. He loved it when Felix bucked into his hand, desperate to keep
the contact as Malcolm glided his fingers up and down, collecting the fluid
drooling from the tip and smearing it all along the length.
His fingers were inside him first, spreading him slowly and softly before
Malcolm pressed himself in, thrusting his hips against his sweetly and
deliberately. Their lips remained locked for the entirety, tasting each other
despite the salty flavour of sickness still on Malcolm's tongue. Malcolm's
earthy scent in the sheets, his husky voice, blazing eyes, the salty-sweetness
of his lips, and white-hot flesh searing Felix from the inside and out, it was
a sensory overload burning itself all over Felix's body, marking him forever
and Felix only wished he could have more.
Felix deliberately made his voice high, whining and pleading for Malcolm's heat
inside and all over him, "Mal," Felix pulled away, letting Malcolm nibble on
his earlobe, "Do you think of me?" Felix couldn't finish the question: Do you
think of me as a lover would?
"Always," Malcolm replied in a husky voice, one arm wrapped around Felix's
thigh as he set his thrusts to an even pace, heat pooling between them in
steady beats. His other hand remained around Felix's shoulders, compressing
their bodies together, "Every morning, I think about when I can see you again.
I think about how great it would be if you moved in with me so I could see you
the moment I wake up," He shifted forward, testing the flexibility of Felix's
legs as he pressed towards him, angling himself just right as Felix threw his
head back and moaned. His whole body tensed and shuddered, flushing with heat
as Malcolm worked his body into an aroused mess, "I think about how badly I
want to take you away so you can have a new life, a fresh start, a world where
you can act like a boy your age," He let out a sad snicker, "I think about
bringing you to Neverland someday."
It had been so long since Felix had heard that name. He nearly forgot all about
it. That moment in the bar, the first time Felix ever actively sought out a
customer, it was the first moment Felix could honestly say that he fell in love
with Malcolm even if he didn't know it at the time. Felix cut him off, gripping
lightly into his beard as he pressed their lips together once more.
"Most of all..." Malcolm smeared his words against Felix's skin, "I think about
marrying you someday."
"W-what?" The breathy word was all Felix could manage.
Felix gasped as Malcolm's pace became erratic, nearing his climax, he scrubbed
his hands down Felix's body, gripping at his leaking erection and jerking it
fervently, determined to make him come at the same time. In response, Felix
purposely tightened around him, clenching down on the throbbing heat inside him
and groaning as it ground against his sensitive flesh.
"Someday,someday," Malcolm murmured nonsensically as his hips snapped upward
harder and faster, "When I have enough, I'll buy you a ring. Then you'll be
mine forever -oh god, Felix!" Malcolm moaned, shuddering and tossing his head
back as he came inside of him, hands gripping at his hips as he wrung himself
out. Malcolm crooned and snickered when he felt a trickle of heat in his hands,
sticky come dripping down his fingers when Felix came right after, orgasms and
afterglow shared between the two.
Felix lay completely still with his eyes shut, panting heavily as he stretched
his head back, exposing his pale neck unmarred save for the bruise Malcolm had
sucked upon his skin. His arms instinctively came around Malcolm's body when
the older man lay down on top of him, head resting just above his shoulders so
he could breath in the sweet scent of Felix's hair.
From the proximity, Felix could feel just a bit of heat coming from Malcolm's
forehead. No doubt the older man was exhausted now from both sex and sickness
and he'd need to sleep but Felix couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do you
really want to marry me?"
Malcolm hummed a response, nodding lazily before shutting his eyes, dozing off
almost immediately.
Despite claiming that he had forgotten, Felix knew exactly how old he was:
Sixteen. A jobless scoundrel in his forties proposing to a sixteen year old sex
hustler was the most tragic, patheticstory Felix could ever imagine, but right
now, with Malcolm in his arms and the whole world shut away, Felix couldn't
find himself to care.
Felix merely slept for another hour or so. The telltale sign of the sunrise
peeking through the curtains a prompt for him to get ready for work. He
untangled himself from Malcolm's form, laying the man on his back and
refreshing the towel on his forehead once more. He was thankful he hadn't
caught whatever afflicted Malcolm. Chastising his own impulsiveness, Felix
promised that he wouldn't have sex with Malcolm until his illness cleared up.
Felix dressed himself quickly, shutting the door behind him and ready to leave
till he saw Rumple hidden behind his door peeking out at him, "Rumple?" He
smiled a bit when Rumple shied away, "Come out and say hello," He knelt when
Rumple approached, a look of contempt on his face that Felix tried to ignore,
"Did we wake you?"
"It's because of you, isn't it?" Rumple asked, playing with the hem of his
shirt.
"What's because of me?"
"Are you the reason why Papa is never home?" Rumple said.
Felix sighed heavily, thinking about the clearest way he could explain this to
a child, "Don't say it like that."
"He's not eating because of you," Rumple snapped, balling his hands into fists
at his side, "He won't spend any money on food. And he's never home."
"You wouldn't understand," Felix replied, standing up quickly as the boy's
anger slowly seeped through.
"Why are you doing this to Papa?" Rumple shouted.
Felix thought Rumple would have been more understanding, their trust
established over the months of taking care of him the way his father should
have, "I love him."
Rumple shook his head in confusion, "But you're hurting him."
"You're just a kid. You wouldn't understand," Felix grumbled out, walking
towards the door.
Felix stopped when he felt a harsh tug on his tunic. He turned, staring down at
the boy who glared at him so viciously, "Stay away from Papa."
The boy's loyalty to his father was astounding given how dismissive and
neglecting Malcolm was to his own son. Felix couldn't comprehend how Rumple
could still love his father despite everything he had done to prove how little
his son means to him, "You're better off on your own."
The boy said nothing to him. He never came back to the bakery for bread and
locked himself in his room whenever Felix came over to visit Malcolm. It was
strange for Felix when he no longer saw the boy at the bakery, like it marked
an important change in his life.
 
"Eighteen..." Felix mumbled as he counted the last of his savings, scraping a
hand over his face when he realized that he didn't have enough to pay off rent
and take care of himself. Felix blamed it on Malcolm and how the man seemed to
hypnotize him into spending the night at his place.
It all started with just a house call, a quick romp and then Felix would be out
but then Malcolm suggested dinner, brought in fresh (stolen) produce, and then
he insisted Felix cook. Afterwards, Malcolm would smother all of Felix's
protests out with kisses, pull the boy into his bedroom for a quick massage
that ended up lasting the whole night. He'd tell stories to the boy, starting
out with just simple little tales about his childhood before suddenly, the sun
is rising and Felix can't get enough of his mesmerizing stories, lost in the
adventures of a trickster boy who grew up against his will. Felix found himself
curled up in Malcolm's lap still thinking that the sun had yet to set.
Felix could still remember the night he helped Malcolm trim his beard, laying
the scoundrel's head in his lap as he carefully snipped away the thick, tangled
patches till only an even trim remained.
Malcolm watched him lovingly, eyes locked onto his face and humming lightly as
Felix trimmed his beard. The two talked about whatever they could think of,
eventually coming full circle and returning to Malcolm's beard and Felix's
adamant decision not to shave it all.
"I would've never fallen for you if you were younger," Felix remarked, brushing
a finger over Malcolm's chin, "Your beard is half the reason why we even have
sex," Felix joked, wrinkling his nose in mock annoyance.
Malcolm shrugged, "I don't know about that. I was quite the looker when I was
young," Felix scoffed, chortling, before flat out laughing at the thought.
Malcolm frowned at him, reaching up to pinch Felix's cheeks with both hands,
"Respect your elders, boy," He cooed, sitting up slowly.
That was meant to be the night, Felix planting a kiss on Malcolm's chin before
pulling away and leaving for the night. Instead, Malcolm hooked his arms around
Felix's neck and pushed the boy to the bed, scraping his freshly trimmed beard
against his cheeks, taking advantage of Felix's guilty pleasure. Hypnotized by
the scratchy feeling, Felix lay back and let Malcolm do whatever he wished to
him. He eventually found himself waking to chirping birds and a clear blue sky,
Malcolm still eagerly nuzzling his cheek as he slept.
Felix couldn't even keep his money in check. Around Malcolm, he always wanted
to buy more for him, dote on him like a real lover. The scoundrel always looked
unhealthy, his body suffering the effects of malnutrition at worse, and despite
his insistence, Felix couldn't stop himself from taking care of him. Their
first stew was more water than anything else, chunks of potato floating in a
slightly cloudy broth. Then Felix began picking up dried meats, lentils, milk,
bringing life to Malcolm's measly kitchen. All of that just to see Malcolm
smile, to have the scoundrel wrap his arms around Felix's waist humming
pleasantly as they stood by the stove.
Felix's desire to see Malcolm smile was overturned by his inability to support
this kind of lifestyle and soon enough, Felix's money began to dwindle. The
first few times it happened, Felix merely scolded himself and swore to never
let it happen again. When it started to become a regular habit, Felix knew he
had to stop before he was completely broke. It was just so damn hard though,
like trying to break an addiction.
 
Felix groaned as Malcolm ground his half-hard cock against his ass, "How do you
keep going?" He murmured, groaning again when Malcolm tied his arms behind his
back in a neat square.
"Impressed?" Malcolm cooed into his ear, nipping at the lobe playfully before
looping the rope around Felix's body and binding him with intricate patterns.
Felix rolled his eyes, "I guess you could say that," He whined as Malcolm
tightened the rope, forcing his back to arch, "Where did you learn how to do
this?"
Malcolm shrugged lazily, tying tiny knots to secure the ropes in place, "Worked
on the docks for a bit. Tied all kind of knots there," He gave Felix a pat on
the shoulder, tugging at the key knot right beneath his bound wrists, "How is
it?"
"Tight," Felix replied, straightening his back the best he could, "But
manageable," He twisted his head around, planting a kiss on Malcolm's cheek
before laying against his shoulder.
Malcolm chuckled darkly, hands fluttering over the web of knots and rope
securing the boy in place, "The things I'm going to do to you..." He licked his
lips hungrily, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Wait," Felix called out, flexing his wrists, "What's the safeword?"
"Safeword?" Malcolm pondered.
Felix rolled his eyes, "You can tie the knots but you don't know what a
safeword is?" Malcolm nodded back dumbly, prompting another exasperated sigh,
"It's to let you know if it's too much for me and I need you to stop,"
Unsurprisingly, Malcolm sounded rather intrigued at the pretense, taking it
almost as a challenge, "And you have to stop. Or else I'll never do this with
you again."
"Oh fine," Malcolm replied, pressing a kiss to Felix's neck, "What's a good
safeword?"
Felix shrugged, "Something I usually wouldn't say during sex?"
"How about... 'The Crooked Man'? The first place we met," Malcolm said with a
nip to his ear.
"We're seriously about to have bondage sex and you're going to get sentimental
about it?"
"What can I say?" Malcolm suddenly pressed Felix forward, bending him over and
pressing his thighs apart, "I'm a romantic."
Felix sighed into the sheets, face pressed right into the bed smothered by
Malcolm's earthy musk. He moaned and writhed as he felt Malcolm tongue at his
opening, nipping lightly on a pale thigh before sliding a tongue inside him,
searching him voraciously. Felix wanted to struggle, angle himself better, but
the ropes kept him in place and at Malcolm's complete mercy.
Felix nearly lost himself to the sensation till a thin beam of sunlight struck
his face from between the curtains. His eyes sprung open, staring at the
curtain in absolute disbelief, "It's morning!?" He shouted, startling Malcolm
out from his routine. He only came over to cook dinner!
"Wow, you're right," Malcolm replied, oblivious to Felix's distress, "Time sure
flies, doesn't it?" With a shrug, Malcolm returned his attention to Felix,
pressing his tongue inside him once more. He pulled back when Felix began
twisting around, squirming to the edge of the bed, "Where do you think you're
going?" He took hold of Felix's ankle, pulling him back.
"Crooked man," Felix hissed under his breath. Immediately Malcolm released his
ankle and backed off.
"Felix, what's wrong?" Malcolm asked, helping Felix sit up and undoing the
knots around his wrists.
"I can't keep spending all night with you," Felix whispered out as if it pained
him. He patiently waited for Malcolm to undo the ropes, flexing here and there
whenever he felt one of them break free, "I need to make money." Or in other
words, service other men.
Undoing all the knots, Malcolm coiled up the rope while Felix rubbed the
feeling back into his arms. He leapt off the bed after, searching through his
trunk till he retrieved a relatively hefty pouch of coins, "Here. I can split
this with you."
After going so far without charging Malcolm for pleasure, Felix felt sick
having to accept payment once more. He pushed Malcolm's hands back, "I don't
want your money."
"At least take enough to pay off rent," Malcolm insisted, taking out a handful
of coins and shoving them against Felix's chest.
Felix pulled away, pulling on his clothes haphazardly trying to avoid eye
contact, "Please. You need it more than I do," He gasped as Malcolm came
forward, pressing Felix to the wall with a kiss and caging him in with a hand
to his left and the chest to his right. His other hand, deft from thievery,
snuck into the wallet on Felix's belt filling it with coins as he distracted
the boy with a fervent kiss, "Stop," Felix groaned out, twisting away and
shoving Malcolm back, coins scattering on the floor.
"Let me take care of you," Malcolm reasoned, refusing to back away.
You can't even take care of yourself.Felix sighed, unable to spit those hurtful
words out, "You should save that for yourself. I'll figure something out,"
Felix said, heading out the door to return to his shack.
Malcolm followed at his heels, desperate to do something, "Move in with me."
Felix froze where he stood; Malcolm had a tendency of making him do that. He
turned to him slowly, perplexed, "What?"
"Then you won't have to pay rent," Malcolm replied, "And I can see you
everyday."
Felix should have been happy about this. By all means, it was a sound solution.
Not having to pay rent would save him a good chunk of money and seeing Malcolm
every day would quell his desires. There were only a couple hitches with his
plan.
Rumple, it just wouldn't be fair to the boy. Ever since Felix first visited
Malcolm, the boy hadn't left his room once. At most, he'd glare at Felix as he
left, thinking that Felix hadn't noticed him. It was a wonder why Rumple didn't
hate his father, directing his hate towards Felix instead, blaming him for
Malcolm's neglect.
Secondly, the idea of crawling into bed with Malcolm whilereeking of other men
seemed vile and wrong. It was a mockery of their already pathetic attempt at a
domestic life. Felix just couldn't find the heart to do it. He knew if he
tried, it would end with him giving up his night work and living as a load in
Malcolm's life.
And most of all, Felix needed to have a place to call his own, filled with
objects that belonged to him and him alone. His body already belonged to the
town; he had to compensate somehow or else all of his dignity and self-respect
would float away.
"I can't," Felix whispered, shaking his head weakly, "I'm sorry Mal."
Felix's eyes instinctively slid shut as Malcolm wound an arm around his waist
and pulled him flush against his body. Malcolm's other hand weaved through his
hair, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. For that brief moment,
Felix truly believed that they were lovers.
And now Felix was sitting at a tavern, staring at the measly amount of cash he
had on hand. He let out a shaky sigh, scraping his hands over his face once
more. There was no way he was going to pay off this month's rent and have
enough to spend on himself and Malcolm. He couldn't go to Malcolm for help
because the idiot wouldhelp him at the expense of his own well-being. He'd have
to shift his hours, work longer in the night, service more customers if he
wanted to continue living like this.
In the very back of his mind, Felix wondered what would have happened if he
hadn't spurned West. He remembered all the bars he had to cross off, all the
customers he had to let go just because there was the slightest chance of West
being there. It was the first real strike at his profits and it only went
downhill from there.
The bakery was first to go. Despite the free bread, Felix made almost nothing
working at the bakery. With his job at the bakery gone, Felix would be free to
work through the entire night and sleep through the morning. Even though he
hated working at the bakery, hated the stingy baker and his condescension,
Felix felt like something vital was cut from his life when he gave up the job.
Working at the bakery was what defined his life as just another human being.
Without it, being a whore was becoming the only asset Felix could define
himself with.
No, I can't think like that. I promised Mal I wouldn't. Felix chastised his
thoughts, shutting them out despite the honest truth in them. He'd spend a good
chunk of night with Malcolm, curling up in his arms, playing at a domestic
couple, and briefly forgetting about what awaited him beyond the wooden walls.
And when Malcolm fell asleep, Felix would return to work just as he did before.
If Malcolm hadn't occupied so much time, Felix wouldn't have had an issue.
Although, a part of Felix wanted to waste away the night with Malcolm, reality
ensued and Felix couldn't play pretend with Malcolm anymore. He had clients to
service and money to make. He couldn't avoid West anymore either, frequenting
every bar to scrounge up as many clients as he could. He saw the prince here
and there but said nothing, ducking his head and swiftly disappearing into an
alley.
His customers were fickle, as he quickly remembered. There was no emotional
attachment that kept them anchored to Felix so the moment the boy disappeared,
they found themselves another hustler to satisfy themselves. It only took the
few days Felix stayed at Malcolm's to nurse him back to health for many of his
clients to find another willing outlet.
The ones that remained, Felix sometimes wished they hadn't.
A heavy slap across his face knocked Felix off his knees and into the dirt. He
nearly bit off the man's erection given the force of the strike but restrained
himself to prevent getting beaten to death by the bulky blacksmith. Dragging
him up by his hair and pinning Felix to a crate, the feral man gave Felix no
leeway, fucking him hard and raw, using him as nothing more than slave meat.
When the man finished, he didn't even have the respect of helping Felix up,
leaving the boy weak and aching on the crate.
Felix pushed himself up slowly, taking deep breaths as he tried his best to
ignore the pain in his loins. He nearly left till he noticed what palsy amount
slapped beside him on the crate, "Fucking is ten shillings!" Felix barked at
his client, "Hey!" Felix shouted, slipping on his clothes and chasing after the
blacksmith.
A heavy hand came down once more, slapping him on the other cheek and sending
him sprawling against the wall. His breath knocked out of him and he lay
against the cold stone for just a moment, trying his best to deter the troubled
man from another attack. As Felix expected, the man walked back into the tavern
leaving Felix aching in the dirt with just a palsy amount of five shillings in
his hands. He wished he could still blacklist customers; it was a luxury that
he could no longer afford.
With his quota met for this tavern, Felix made his way to the next bar. It was
the bar he always dreaded to enter, knowing that he'd certainly maximize his
profits here and the cost of his physical health. He pushed open the sea-
stained doors of the Salty Mermaid, taking a seat at the bar as he examined the
bruises on his face in the reflection of a wine bottle. The one on his forehead
throbbed the most but was visually unremarkable. The one on his cheek, on the
other hand, nearly bled into his eyes, purpling the corners.
The barmaid slid Felix a pint of rum. Felix shot the barmaid a perplexed look,
"I didn't order anything."
"He ordered it for you," The barmaid replied, gesturing to the man sitting
across from him.
West waved shyly to him, standing up from his seat to take the stool next to
Felix.
Felix nearly stood and left only to be stopped by the sudden twinge of pain at
his spine which crippled his movements. He remained where he was but kept his
eyes focused on the wall.
"It's been a while," West said, taking a swig of his own pint, "How are you?"
Felix shrugged in reply, determined to ignore West.
"So, the rumour is that you moved in with that scoundrel. They said you stopped
hustling for him but it appears that's not the case," West said slowly, "The
barmaids so love to gossip."
"I didn't stop. And I didn't move in," Felix replied, shoving away the enticing
pint West had ordered him, "He wasn't well. So I went to his home and took care
of him."
West nodded in acknowledgement, seemingly satisfied with Felix's response,
"Right," He reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small metal canister, "This
ointment is really good for healing bruises. Here," He handed it to Felix,
undeterred by the cross look Felix gave him.
"I don't need your help," Felix snapped.
"You don't want him to see them, do you?" West asked, condescending in tone,
"Who knows what he'll do when he sees you hurt?"
Felix bit down on his lip, ashamed that he let West press at his weakness.
Swallowing his pride, Felix relented to West's will, turning to him on the
stool to allow the noble to spread the ointment over his bruises.
"Better?" West asked.
Felix didn't reply, sliding off his stool as he made his way to a stray sailor
wandering into the bar with a lusty look in his eyes, "I should get back to
work."
"Wait," West said, slapping a handful of shillings to the bar, "Five for a
blowjob, ten for sex, and twenty for everything else?" Felix nodded in
confirmation, "Alright. Then thanks for the talk," West said, lifting his hands
to reveal the stack of twenty shillings on the table before turning away and
returning the a booth in the back.
Haphazardly, Felix took them into his hands as if the coins would burn him. For
a brief moment, Felix looked into his future and realized that this handful of
coins was as good as it was ever going to get and it shook him in a way he
couldn't comprehend.
A year ago, Felix wouldn't have thought twice about his life. He wanted
nothing, was nothing, had no ambition for more and only sustained because he
could. To finally have something to live for put everything into perspective;
Malcolm gave everything value. All the shame, the depravation, the humiliation
of being the town whore caught up with Felix. He wanted to put it all behind
him, burn his shack to the ground and all the sin that it housed, find a job so
he'd never have to solicit for sex ever again, start a new life with Malcolm
and treat everything he'd done to survive as a bad dream to be whisked away by
Neverland's magic.
Twenty shillings in his hands without degrading himself, this was as good as it
was going to get.
When Felix returned to the shack, nearly hobbling through the dirt as each step
sent a spiking pain up his spine, everything below the hip resonating with a
dull ache, he collapsed onto his cot just as rays of sunlight pierced through
the edges of the shack. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the stickiness
of his body and the sour taste in his mouth constantly waking him, reminding
him of what he was despite his insistence to deny it. He tossed his coin pouch
onto the desk when it prodded against his side. The sound of it's hefty weight
against the table was both reassuring and humiliating.
 
"I won't be able to make rent this month unless a miracle... Goddamn,
everything hurts so much."
"Felix?" Malcolm called out as he hugged the lanky boy from behind, resting his
chin on his shoulder watching the boy absently stir a pot of vegetable stew,
"Whatcha making?" Malcolm stopped nuzzling the side of his face when Felix
hadn't responded, "Felix? You there?"
Flinching and nearly dropping the wooden spoon into the pot, Felix quickly
reached for the pepper, sprinkling just a bit in before sealing the pot with a
lid, "Almost forgot."
"Penny for your thoughts?" Malcolm asked in a slightly sing-song voice, "What's
on your mind?" He repeated the question more solemnly, noticing that Felix
still hadn't lightened up.
Felix shook his head, fixing the forest green scarf around his neck to hide the
nauseating colours it had taken from constant abuse, "Counting rent."
"Hey, is that my scarf?" Malcolm remarked, pinching at the coarse fabric, "Ah
right, I forgot I gave it to you. It's a good colour on you," Taking one
corner, Malcolm began unwinding the fabric.
Terrified, Felix slapped Malcolm's hand away, his other hand inadvertently
landing right on the sizzling stove top, "Fuck!" Felix hissed under his breath,
pulling away from the stove clutching at his throbbing left hand.
Immediately, Malcolm doused the flame of the stove, shoving the pot to the back
as he pulled Felix into a chair. He brought over the bucket of water they had
used to rinse of the vegetables and delicately poured it over Felix's burn,
soothing the searing ache. When water began seeping into his sleeve, Felix
absently rolled up the cloth. He completely forgot about the lines of bruises
all over his forearm, telltale signs of hands pinning him down.
Malcolm froze at the sight, swallowing dryly as he continued pouring water over
Felix's burn. Felix tore his gaze away, biting down on his lip as he flexed his
burning hand, "Couple customers got rough last night," Felix murmured. The man
who had left those bruises was so delirious from alcohol that he hadn't even
realized that he nearly broke Felix's arm. A part of Felix scolded himself for
not straight out stealing his wallet; the man was far too drunk to even
remember who he was but never too drunk to keep him from satisfying his lusts.
Malcolm hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes averted and sulking just a bit.
There was something in his expression, something Malcolm looked like he was
trying to hide but failing miserably as he always did with his emotions. Felix
caught it immediately: Disapproval, and it made Felix seethe, "Don't you dare
judge me."
Startled, Malcolm placed the bucket down and met Felix's gaze, "What are you
talking about?" He moved to roll down Felix's sleeve only for the boy to jerk
away, "Felix?"
"I know what you're thinking," Felix hissed, "You think it's disgusting, don't
you? Having to share me with every single man in the town. You wish I didn't
have to go out every night and fuck my way off the streets," The salty, sour
taste forever stuck in his mouth, hands scouring his body, marking him with
bites and beatings, a disgusting stickiness swelling inside him, filling him
up. And worst of all, it had always been there; Felix only realized the shame
imprinted onto his body now, "Repulsive, depraved, filthy," Felix growled under
his breath, no longer sure if he was reading Malcolm's thoughts or projecting
his own.
Malcolm was dumbfounded as Felix spoke, unable to process the sudden burst of
rage.
"It's the only way I can afford to live!" Felix shouted, voice cracking at the
strain, "At least I'm out there making money. What the hell are you doing with
your life? Absolutely nothing!"
The moment the words slipped from Felix's lips, Felix immediately regretted it.
He watched as Malcolm shattered, eyes wide and fearful, mouth gaping just a
bit. He swallowed harshly, fighting the dryness in his throat as he backed away
from Felix, picking up a few shillings from a drawer and nearly sprinting out
the door.
Felix twitched when he heard another door open. Rumple's eyes were filled with
tears as he watched Felix, locked onto him as he slipped out the door and ran
after his father.
Slipping to the ground and eventually slumped against the wall, the fresh sting
in his hand and the dull ache throughout his body was no longer relevant.
Trembling as he hugged his knees to his chest, Felix fought the urge to scream
or cry, bottling everything up till it turned into self-loathe.
After stewing in his sadness for just a while longer, Felix got up slowly,
drying his eyes as he rushed out after Malcolm.
The Crooked Man was his first destination, bustling as it usually was at night,
Felix had trouble sifting through the crowds, "Mal!" Felix shouted, begging for
someone to respond, "Mal!" He shouted again.
When he couldn't find Malcolm, Felix backed out of the bar and made his way to
the next one. It had to be a close-by bar, one of the ones both of them
frequented often. Malcolm had a very particular choice when it came to bars and
Felix committed the preference to memory.
Felix wanted to run but he found his body already feeling heavy. A month of
servicing the sinful desires of his clients all throughout the night was eating
away at him. His thighs were on fire, a sharp, tearing pain between his loins
stopping him just as much as the shame did. He leaned against a wall to catch
his breath, trying to massage the soreness from his neck only to make it worse
when his fingers pressed against a nasty bruise.
Felix groaned as he dropped his hand, wishing that he hadn't lashed out at
Malcolm, hadn't upset him, wishing that they were back at his dingy, little
hovel resting in Malcolm's arms while the older man's voice drowned out and
dulled the pain.
A hand wove itself through his hair lovingly, fingers curling as they brushed
against Felix's cheek gently. He let out a happy sigh, turning around in an
instant, "I'm sorry Mal-" Felix stiffened as he stared up at a one-eyed pirate
leering down on him with sadistic lust.
"Sorry?" The pirate said, grabbing onto the front of Felix's collar and
dragging him into the alley, "You know, you didn't even let us finish the last
time," The man pressed Felix against the wall, caging him in between two arms,
"We said we were going to pay you."
Felix shuddered, too weak to fight back, "I don't do gang bangs."
"Name your price,"
"There is no price. I won't do it."
"How does... thirty-five a head sound?"
Thirty-five shillings per person... Felix bit on his lip, fighting the urge to
give in. The slimy man caught the nervous tic, smirking as he fleshed out their
deal, "Eleven people. We expanded our crew since last time we met."
Three hundred and eighty-five shillings... The poisonous deal was far too
enticing especially given his standings on rent, "Where?" Felix huffed out,
trying to delay the inevitable agreement.
"At the Salty Mermaid," The man replied with a serpent's smile, "We can rent
their basement for cheap."
Felix almost made the deal before the slimy, one-eyed man was thrown against
the opposite wall, "Mal!" He declared, staring right at West's face. He was
stunned silent as the prince scared off the filthy bastard, "What... what are
you doing here?"
West brushed his clothes off nonchalantly, barely looking at Felix as he spoke,
"I was at The Crooked Man. Saw that son of a bitch follow you out so I went
after him."
A few months ago, Felix would have thanked the prince for saving him and
offered him a drink. Now, considering his financial troubles and the pirate's
enticing but villainous offer, Felix wasn't sure how to react, "You don't have
to keep saving me."
"And let you get hurt?" West replied.
Felix shrugged as if the answer was obvious, "Why are you helping me?"
West gave him a sad smile, stepping closer to Felix, "Don't tell me you've
already forgotten. You're an interesting person and I enjoy talking to you."
With the weight of everything coming down on him all at once, Malcolm scared
off, Felix feared that West would successfully charm him away, give him the
reprieve he so desperately wanted, "I should... I should go," Felix murmured,
ducking his head as he started down the road trying to hide any obvious
flinches of pain.
A hand on his chest stopped Felix before he could start, a heavy pouch of coins
pressed right against him, "One hundred crowns," Five hundred shillings.West
declared, "And you come with me for the night."
Felix flinched at the sheer amount, "Where?"
"My estate," West replied, "It's at the outskirts of town right where the
forest starts."
Felix choked out a sigh, drawing his hands through his hair as he considered
the offer. The money would be a huge help but it'd go against every rule he had
about house calls. Granted, he'd already broken plenty of his own rules because
of Malcolm.
"I want the money up front," Felix stuttered out.
Obediently, West handed him a firm leather pouch filled with coin bundled
together in paper rolls. Taking the money into his hands, Felix agreed to his
terms and followed at his heels. As he followed West, Felix couldn't stop his
mind from wandering back to Malcolm. Where was the scoundrel now? Was his son
still with him? Would Malcolm forgive him if he came back and apologized?
If it were any other situation, Felix would have never entered West's
stagecoach and let him drive him off somewhere far from town, never would have
put himself into such a vulnerable position. Disillusioned by himself, Felix
silenced his doubts and shut his eyes, fighting the urge to fall dead asleep
from the mental exhaustion.
"You don't look well," West remarked, startling Felix from his nap, "Have you
been getting enough sleep?"
Felix didn't reply, merely squeezing himself further into the corner of the
stagecoach and wrapping his arms around himself. He only stirred when West
reached into a basket to his left and retrieved half a sandwich wrapped in
paper, gesturing it towards Felix.
"You need this more than I do," West said with a shy smile, trying to coax
Felix into responding.
The sandwich in his hands reminded Felix that he'd left the stew on the stove.
He purposely splurged for that stew, purchasing dried lamb meat and fresh herbs
to spice it up on top of Malcolm's curiously procured produce. He thought
cooking something nice would help him get his mind off his night work and in
the end, all it did was drive a wedge between him and Malcolm, plus the chunk
it took from his profits.
Absently, Felix took the sandwich half, barely acknowledging it as he took a
bite, "It's pretty good," Felix commented, eyes focused out the window.
West smiled to him, something Felix only caught from the reflection on the
window, "We're getting close," He said, knocking at the window with his
knuckles, "My estate is up ahead."
Leaning forward just a bit, Felix spied his home from across the hills. At
first glance, there was something off about the estate. It was certainly more
extravagant than anything he'd seen in town but something about the design
seemed common. For a prince, Felix expected a far more regal design. The
twisting vines over the walls of the peach-stoned building gave it a homely
feel, completely unlike any royalty Felix ever imagined.
With the stagecoach parked, West stepped off first, holding his hand out for
Felix who immediately shot the prince a cross look. West lifted a brow at
Felix's reaction, knowing full well that dismounting on his own would have been
a ridiculously painful action for Felix.
"I'm not going to laugh," West said, still offering his hand.
Felix ultimately ignored him, smacking West's hand away as he slowly slid off
the seats and onto the ground, biting down the pained groan as the slightest
tremor from the landing refreshed the dull ache throughout his lower torso. He
knew West walked slowly on purpose so Felix could keep up without straining
himself.
"How obvious is it?" Felix muttered in an attempted jovial tone.
West unlocked the door and stepped in, ushering Felix and the small handful of
guards in, "What is?"
"My body," Felix replied bluntly, unable to match West's stare, "It's an
absolute wreck."
Felix couldn't read West's expression. He couldn't tell if it was sympathy or
condescension. Before Felix could study it deeper, the prince came around and
removed Felix's cloak, draping it over a nearby table. He took the pouch of
coins next, tossing it beside the cloak haphazardly.
"There's a bathhouse in the back. You should use it wash up," West said,
removing his gloves as he walked up the stairs, "Meet me in the dining hall
when you're done."
A bathhouse was certainly a new concept for Felix after years of scrubbing
himself off with just a bucket of water and washcloth. At most, he'd bathed
himself in a river but the water was unfeeling and shallow. For the first time
in ages, Felix actually felt clean, scrubbing away the years of filth caked to
his body that a bucket of water could never wash away.
He laughed a bit when he examined his hands, noticing that he was actually
slightly paler than how he usually looked. His mood immediately dropped,
however, when he noticed a thin track of blood sitting at the surface of the
water. He swallowed harshly at the sight of it, immediately stroking his hands
through the water frantically to dissolve it. Felix felt like he was
contaminating the water with his presence.
He sat upon the bottom, his head just barely peeking out from the water as he
hugged his knees. In the brief moment of silence, Felix's thoughts ultimately
drifted back to the only person he'd been thinking of for the last few months.
A calloused hand against his shoulder, the gentle scrape of an uneven beard
against his cheek, a jovial voice almost child-like in tone, and almost
immediately, Felix started smiling again.
"What the hell are you doing with your life?"
It had only been an hour or so and Felix already couldn't stand being away from
his lover, their last words to each other causing him physical pain. Almost
unconsciously, Felix leapt from the tub and climbed out of the water, desperate
to bid West farewell and return to his lover, wherever he was. Felix wasn't
sure when Malcolm became the center of his life, when he became so willing to
toss away every single rule he'd lived by just for the sake of this one man.
Felix flinched when he couldn't find his clothes. Someone must've came in and
taken them away, leaving him a set of finery to wear. He couldn't take the fine
clothes with him back to town, the fine cloth would easily attract unwanted
attention. However, as Felix poked his head out to call for a servant, he
noticed that the estate was completely empty.
Dressing himself in the finery temporarily, Felix stepped out from the bathroom
to search for anyone. With his mind no longer muddled, whether from the bath or
from his thoughts on Malcolm, Felix quickly noticed many things out of place in
the supposed home for a prince. Firstly, a fine layer of dust coated most
irrelevant furniture: vases, out-of-way desks, portrait frames. Secondly, as he
searched further in, Felix couldn't find any where for the servants to rest. At
most, he found the few rooms in the back where West's guards and the driver had
disappeared to. Thirdly was the lack of splendor all over the estate. As nice
as the decor was, Felix fully expected statues, stained glass windows, exotic
carpets, everything he had seen in old storybooks that he had read as a child.
As he came around to the dining hall, Felix came to another realization as he
spotted the staircase and the opened door to the left. West was the one who
retrieved his clothing for him, not a servant, and right now, he must've been
cooking. Skipping the dining hall, Felix entered the kitchen to confirm his
suspicions.
"I'm starting to think you're not a prince at all," Felix remarked as he leaned
on the doorframe, watching as West prepared a small meal on his stove.
West peered over his shoulder, "You can bathe a bit longer if you want. Food's
not ready."
Felix scoffed as he approached, small smirk playing on his lips, "Since when
does a prince cook his own food? Or fight like a barbarian? Or live all alone
without servants?"
"I have a servant," West corrected.
"A servant," Felix emphasized, "Who the hell are you?" To forge the Southern
Isle's royal insignia was quite an impressive feat but not impossible.
West came towards him with a plate of food in hand, its delicious aroma
intoxicating given the bland foods Felix had grown up with. He nodded towards
the dining hall, waiting on Felix to oblige before walking into the room and
depositing the plate on the table in front of Felix.
"Hans Westerguard," West said as he seated across from Felix, "The exiled
prince of the Southern Isles."
Felix gave a small chuckle, "You sure left that part out."
"Not exactly the best way to break the ice," West replied.
"Yeah, because 'fairest one of all' is certainly the better way,"
"So you still remember," A smirk returned to West's face, "I'm flattered."
Both of them knew the question was coming. As Felix snacked on the mix of
potatoes, onions, and cheese on his plate, he looked to West and asked, "What
did you do?"
West didn't look upset from the question. He looked rather amused like he was
recalling a fond memory. He reclined in his chair, eyes looking into the
distance as he spoke, "Do you know the Kingdom of Arendelle?"
Felix nodded back. He'd certainly heard of the place but he knew nothing else
of it.
Without a hint of shame as he spoke, "I tried to kill the queen," Felix
flinched at how nonchalant the confession was.
"Why?" Felix pondered, suddenly realizing the malicious truth behind all the
what-if scenarios West had been joking around with in the bar.
"I wanted to usurp the throne. Her sister stopped me and I was exiled by my
family," West explained, "Those guards you saw, they aren't here to just
protect me. They're here to keep me in line."
Felix scoffed as he shoved the plate away, losing his appetite at the twisted
tale, "And this whole time, you've been calling Mal a scoundrel and treating
him like a criminal when you're the biggest criminal of all."
Disgust flashed over West's features, "I don't see what that scoundrel has to
do with our conversation."
"Regicide," Felix muttered under his breath, ignoring West's condemnation while
shaking his head in disbelief and almost laughing at the irony, "Unbelievable."
West's composure was delicately breaking, "How could you ever understand?"
"Try me,"
"Living with twelve brothers who treated me like shit just because I was the
youngest or dealing with parents who thought I was nothing because they'd
already invested everything into my older brothers," West nearly barked,
getting enraged the more he talked about his family.
"At least you had a family," Felix hissed.
"You're lucky enough to not have one," West replied.
Felix wasn't sure how to react. No one ever questioned the tragedy in his life
and compared themselves to him, "How tragic," Felix growled, settling on rage
after a short pause, "How tragic for you to be born into royalty and never
dealing with having to live on the streets. How tragic for you to be exiled
into a fancy mansion, living far better off than everyone in town," West
returned a stoic look as if he were acknowledging Felix's words, "Why even try
to usurp the throne? What, you weren't satisfied bring a prince and showered
with riches?"
"It wasn't about the money," West said firmly, "Just like it isn't about money
for you."
Felix narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean by that? You think I do what I do
for fun?"
"You do what you do for him."
The dead silence of the dining hall was the perfect companion to their heated
argument. Felix was paralyzed where he stood, suddenly understanding and
feeling foolish for not seeing it sooner. He kept his mouth shut, watching as
West collected himself and stood from his seat, staring down at Felix with a
defeated look, "If it wasn't for that scoundrel, you wouldn't have to work
through the night or take shady offers or quit your job at the bakery," The
accuracy with which West described his life made Felix uneasy, "You don't do
this for money. If you did, you wouldn't be spending so much on him."
Felix tore away, steadying his composure which always shattered just a bit when
Malcolm was mentioned, "Why did you try to take Arendelle? So your family would
love you?"
"So I could show my family that I really was worth something," West murmured,
"That's a lost cause now. I'm not sure if my family was more upset that I was a
criminal or that I failed in taking the throne."
The exiled prince extended a hand to him, leading him up the stairs and into a
room on the left. Felix swallowed at the sight of the bed in the center covered
in fine silk and fleece sheets surrounded by bookcases all along the walls.
"You want to get it over with?" Felix said, guilt already heavy in his stomach.
"I want to give you this room," West replied, puzzling Felix as he stepped in,
"You're right. I am living far better off than most people but it means nothing
when I'm alone just like how it was before I was exiled," He extended his hand
to Felix, beckoning the boy to join him in the mansion.
Felix shook his head, "I don't love you."
"I just want a friend. I don't need your love," West approached him, cool and
collected.
Felix's eyes scanned the walls, the bed, the bookcases. It was a life he always
wanted, an escape, a fresh start, "What about Mal?"
"That scoundrel will do you no good," West said, "What can that worthless
scoundrel possibly do for you?"
"Don't talk about him like that," Felix snapped, approaching West and angry all
over again.
West's eyes narrowed in derision, nearly speaking through clenched teeth, "I
take nothing back. He's filthy, idiotic, childish, useless, and an absolute
waste of your time."
For a moment, Felix couldn't comprehend why West hated Malcolm so much. He only
slowly understood as he clicked the pieces together, "You're jealous of Mal,"
This time, it was West's turn to be stunned silent, "You're jealous because
he's happy, aren't you? Happy and completely broke," Compared to a man who had
everything and was absolutely miserable.
"He doesn't fight for what he wants yet he gets everything he desires. All he
has is sheer dumb luck," West growled, "Why wouldn't anyone who has ever fought
for what they wanted and failed despise him?"
"You can't hate him for that," Felix shouted back, "Blame yourself for
failing."
West pulled away, moving towards the window and shoving Felix's accusation out
of his mind, "Leave him behind and stay with me. I'm the only one that can save
you from this life."
"I can't leave him behind," Felix repeated quietly, "I love him."
"You'd really pick the scoundrel?" West asked, whipping around so the moonlight
cast a chilling glow over his face, "Alright. Fine. So let's say you pick him,
then what? What can he possibly give you? You'll go right back to being the
town whore. Is that what you want?"
"I love him," Felix retorted.
"Love is weakness," West snapped suddenly, serenity failing in that brief
moment. West backed away and folded his arms, "Are you happy like this?" That
question repeated to him once more, "And answer me honestly."
"Yes," Felix snapped.
"Are you really?" West replied, brow quirking upward, "Are you happy slaving
away all night sucking off every customer in a bar? Are you happy getting
fucked till you bleed? Are you happy getting gangbanged in an alley for thirty
shillings a person?" He closed in, motioning as if he meant to kiss Felix but
stopping short just a breath away, "Are you happy that Malcolm won't do the
same for you?"
Felix's breathing became shallow, he backed away, trying to catch his breath,
"I can take it. I'll get by."
"And when you can't? When it's too much and you want out, then what?" West
shook his head at Felix's stubborn remark, "I could have saved you, could've
given you the escape you always wanted, but you chose love instead."
"We'll get by," Felix whispered, unable to meet West's eyes and confirm the
exiled prince's remarks.
West shook his head once more, "And will you be happy?"
Felix couldn't answer. He reached out when West turned to leave, "Hans, bring
me back to town."
This was the first time the prince heard his true name from Felix's lips. It
successfully stopped him and he obliged to his request reluctantly, taking him
back in the stagecoach. The two stewed in silence, unable to dissipate the
tension between them.
"In the long run, he can't give you what you want," Hans said as they rolled
into town.
Felix said nothing, climbing out of the stagecoach carefully and ignoring the
dull sting as he landed.
Before Hans shut the door and left, he shouted to Felix, "My offer is always
open. Just come find me."
Felix flinched at the declaration, not moving till he was sure the stagecoach
had left. Trying to shut out Hans's final words to him, Felix tried to make his
way home, suddenly distracted when he passed by Malcolm's hovel, noticing the
door was slightly ajar.
He nudged the door open, noticing that Rumple's door was closed while Malcolm's
door was wide open. He could catch the sound of Rumple's sniffling in his room,
the poor boy no doubt upset over his father's despair. Felix immediately
noticed the pot of stew on the stove, unmoved and still covered, sitting at the
backburner. At the sight, he rubbed as his hand absently, the remnants of the
burn itching his skin but soothed by the bath. Before he even entered Malcolm's
room, he already caught the sour scent of alcohol wafting through the air.
"Mal...?" Felix murmured as he saw the scoundrel laying on his side with his
back to the door, his breathing even and quiet. He was still frowning even as
he slept, his body and clothing stinking of cheap liquor. Sitting down on the
edge of the bed, Felix slowly extended his hand to brush the hair off his face.
"Are you happy that Malcolm won't do the same for you?"
Felix flinched, his chest suddenly aching. He swallowed the dryness in the back
of his throat, fighting the urge to curl up and sob into his knees. He loved
Malcolm more than anything in this world; he was his True Love if he believed
in the term, but if that was the case, why did Hans sound so right?
Felix shut his eyes tightly, hand dropping to the bed as he slumped over on his
side, back just lightly touching Malcolm's. He could deny it all he wanted but
Hans was telling him the truth he knew all along: This was as good as it was
going to get with Malcolm. If Felix never foolishly broke his own rules, never
got attached, kept everything cold and transactional, he wouldn't have ever
fallen this low. He would've chosen Hans in a heartbeat.
Emotionally drained, Felix absently dozed off on the edge of the bed nearly
forgetting about the man behind him; Hans's payment for his night and where he
left it at the manor completely slipped Felix's mind.
 
In those brief moments when Felix awoke, straddling the edges of a dream and
reality, Felix was at peace in Malcolm's arms, blissfully sleeping away with
his lover draped around him, protecting him. No, no, no, come back. Don't go.
Felix begged for the numbness of sleep to stay as he felt the heavy chill of
reality settling in, pulling him out from his dream and making the arms around
him feel like chains.
"Mal?" Felix whispered, still facing the door with Malcolm's arms wrapped
tightly around him, "Are you awake?" Weight shifted behind him. He could feel a
nod against the back of his head, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
Malcolm's arms tightened around him, bringing him closer as he pressed kisses
all over his hair. Carefully, Felix rolled to face him, letting Malcolm leave a
trail of kisses as he turned. He gently brushed his fingers across Malcolm's
face, noticing the redness of his eyes from either alcohol or tears. He could
taste the liquor still in his mouth as he kissed Malcolm, weaving their tongues
together, an apology in the language he knew best.
Felix groaned as Malcolm suddenly rolled on top of him, crushing him with his
body as his kisses became deeper, hungrier. A hand slipped itself under Felix's
spine, pressing it upward and forcing his back to arch. The other hand landed
on his knee, scraping nails light up his thigh before slipping underneath the
cloth. In better health, Felix would have welcomed this, waking up to Malcolm
ravaging him, unable to get enough.
In his poor state, all of Malcolm's touches felt red hot to his aching body.
Felix wrenched his mouth away, gripping into Malcolm's shoulders and shoving
him when the scoundrel refused to relent, "You're hurting me," Felix muttered,
trying to buck Malcolm off his body, "Stop it..." He grunted out when Malcolm
nipped at his neck, "I said stop!" Felix shouted, knowing that he would've woke
up Rumple with his shout.
In an instant, Malcolm was gone, moving so quickly to the opposite edge of the
bed that Felix might've thought that he was there all along. The man looked
utterly defeated, eyes dreary and lifeless. All of his childish energy gone.
This was the first time Malcolm looked old in Felix's eyes.
"I wanted to make it better," Malcolm whispered weakly, trying to justify his
actions. Sex was the first way they communicated; Felix couldn't blame Malcolm
for trying to use it to fix things no matter how misguided the notion was.
Cupping Malcolm's face with his hands, Felix leaned in till their foreheads
touched lightly, "Let's just put it behind us, alright?"
Malcolm nodded back, forcing a smile on his face as he embraced Felix once more
with less force, "I love you."
"I love you too," Felix stumbled over his words. He twitched when he felt
Malcolm's fingers at the hem of his tunic, lifting it up slowly, "Mal..." Felix
growled, eyes narrowing.
"Is your body okay?" Malcolm asked softly without a hint of lust in his voice.
Felix wanted to say yes, wanted to relieve Malcolm of the responsibility.
Instead, he shut his eyes and collapsed into Malcolm's arms, gripping onto his
broad shoulders tightly as he shook his head. With Malcolm's hands in his hair
and on his waist, pressing him close till their bodies lay flush against each
other. His hand drew soothing circles on Felix's back, warming him with the
gentle friction. Pliant in his arms, Felix melted against Malcolm, unable to
move himself as the older man slowly brought him back to life.
At the time, Felix truly thought that it could have worked out. He really
thought all of his aches and suffering could be washed away by Malcolm's
presence, his embrace smothering everything. But soon enough, his debt kept
growing, his jobs got shittier, his temper grew shorter and soon enough, he was
yelling at Malcolm all over again when the scoundrel merely stated that his
stew was too salty.
He hated himself for falling so deeply in love, for being addicted to Malcolm.
He wouldn't have had to live like this if it wasn't for him, sacrificing his
money and his time all for this one man. And yet, Malcolm had no job, didn't
bring home a paycheck, sustaining on thievery and cutting corners. Just like
how he swindled the hotel owner, he charmed plenty of goods from others. Felix
loved it at first, loved how Malcolm bested all the odds and could live such a
joyful life despite his dire surroundings.
Felix wasn't even sure when he began despisingit. He suspected it was when he
was kicked out of a bar for soliciting sex while Malcolm obliviously swindled
away money from unsuspecting patrons. Malcolm was the one who was conning
people, stealing away their cash, while Felix was the one with a legitimate,
albeit shameful, job. It wasn't fair for Felix to be the one kicked out.
"How do you do it?" Felix whispered as he lay in Malcolm's arms, letting the
scoundrel kiss away the soreness in his neck.
"Do what?"
"Never get caught, always get away, sustain yourself," Felix spoke the vague
terms as if Malcolm could understand him perfectly.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes, "I don't understand."
Aggravated, Felix sat up and looked to Malcolm sternly, "How do you always get
what you want?" Without having to fight for it.
The only answer Malcolm could give him was an absent shrug. He wasn't sure what
Felix wanted to hear and didn't want to risk enraging the boy any further.
The night Felix finally had enough was also the first time Malcolm ever fought
back.
"I'm going to have to evict you," The farmer said when Felix once again failed
to turn in sufficient rent.
"I'll get you the money. I just... need more time," Felix always told himself.
If he never took on the responsibility of taking care of Malcolm, he'd have
more than enough to pay off rent. Despite his lover's insistence that he was
fine, Felix couldn't stop himself whenever he saw Malcolm's dilapidated body,
"Please, I'll get the money."
The farmer sighed heavily, scratching at the top of his head, "Get it to me
tomorrow. Then we'll talk."
It was a no, a nicer no with leeway but still a no. The farmer knew what Felix
was, knew he was desperate for a home and that no one would let the town whore
into their houses so he overcharged Felix for a shack worth nearly nothing to
any other patron. Most of all, he knew how desperate Felix was for his own
place, trying to treasure having ownershipof something in his life.
Felix would get him the money, no matter what it took.
That night, Felix used his time with Malcolm to calm his nerves, trying to
absorb as much happiness as he could from the scoundrel.
"Mm, Felix, you're so eager today," Malcolm cooed as he nipped playfully on
Felix's ear, "Did something good happen?" He crooned when Felix's teeth scraped
across his neck teasingly.
"Getting prepared. It's going to be a long night," Felix replied, moving down
and nuzzling Malcolm's chest.
Malcolm clearly looked reluctant at his words, knowing that Felix would be
getting himself into another dangerous situation, "Will you be alright?" Felix
didn't respond, "Felix... just move in with me. Don't do this to yourself
anymore."
Felix didn't have the will to argue. It'd ultimately end in rejection and he
needed to save his energy. He pressed a finger over Malcolm's lips, shutting
his eyes and cuddling against his chest. Malcolm understood, crossing his arms
around Felix's body and protecting him for just this moment.
Felix wished he could still feel Malcolm's arms around him as he approached the
Salty Mermaid. All he could feel was a chill at the pit of his stomach, robbing
him of all confidence and dignity as he stepped into the bar and eyed the
familiar band of pirates sitting at the back. He clutched at the satchel on his
shoulder, already feeling shame seeping through the fabric and into his flesh.
"So you really came," The one-eyed pirate said, jumping to his feet eagerly,
"If you'd give us a moment to gather our crew..."
"I'd like to change our deal," Felix said, doing his best to maintain a
confident stature, "I want fifty shillings per person."
The crew immediately responded with a cruel chortle, exchanging disbelieving
looks with one another, "No offense, but you're not worth fifty shillings."
Felix didn't react to their mockery. Instead, he took the satchel from his
shoulders and threw it at the center of their table, "Fifty shillings, and you
can use all of that," He shuddered when the pirates threw hungry looks at him,
already aware of what the satchel held.
The one-eyed pirate leered as he lifted a gag from the satchel and held it in
front of Felix, imagining the boy's lips pulled back and teeth biting into the
leather bit, "You've got yourself a deal," Felix fought the urge to flinch when
a hand came on his shoulder, arm resting gently against his back as he was
herded down the staircase.
 
Panting, aching, the world dipping into black with each excruciating step he
took. Felix barreled forward at a misstep as the blood in his eyes blurred the
uneven ground. He tumbled into the dirt and dropped the satchel at his feet.
The impact with the ground sent a spike of pain up his legs, igniting the
white-hot pain in his loins, and he groaned, too exhausted to scream. Pleasure
was non-existent to him at this moment and he began to question if it ever
existed. The heavy heat in his lap was painful, humiliating, bruised with
fingers that were too eager to see Felix undone.
"That was fun, wasn't it?"
Too many hands, too many mouths, too many eyes, all on him at once. The salty
taste of skin, semen, and dirt trapped under cracking fingernails forever
imprinted in his mind. His body was still sticky, stinking of sweat and bodies,
too many bodies.
"As we promised, fifty per person,"
A shower of coins, each shilling sent a ripple of pain as it collided with
Felix's oversensitive flesh. And as the pirates left, Felix knelt on the floor
and collected the coins, ignoring the fragments of his dignity sitting amongst
the payment.
"One last thing,"
Felix squealed as he was hoisted off the ground, dropping all the coins he
collected in his hands to the ground as he was restrained on his knees,
bruising grips keeping his limbs locked in the air. Hands kept his head still,
one gripping into his hair and another locking his chin in place as the one-
eyed pirate searched through Felix's clothes, smirking when he found what he
wanted: his switchblade.
"Payment for my eye. I think this is fair, right?" The pirate said, approaching
Felix as he twirled the knife in his hands.
A dirty piece of cloth was forced between his teeth, giving him something to
bite down on and muffling his deafening screams as the blade sunk into his
cheek and dragged itself upward, forever marring his face. Satisfied with the
long gash he'd left on his face, he lightly stabbed at the wound again, poking
a perpendicular cut lightly into his cheek right below his eye.
It took Felix an hour before the bleeding stopped, clutching his cloak against
his face at he lay on the floor sobbing dryly. He wrapped a stray strip of
cloth he had found in the basement around the injury, stopping the bleeding the
best he could with what he had.
"See you around, whore."
All Felix wanted now was to see Malcolm, wanted Malcolm to make it all better.
Felix limped to Malcolm's hovel, collapsing into his arms when Malcolm opened
the door. The scoundrel carried him into his room, laying him carefully on his
bed as he wiped away the dirt on his body with a moist cloth and cleaning the
injury on his face properly. Malcolm treated the wound on his face first,
fighting the tremble in his fingers as he cleansed the opening with warm,
slightly soapy water, disinfected it with ointment, and tightly bound it in
clean bandages.
"Better?" Malcolm whispered, shivering when Felix didn't respond.
Felix looked catatonic, hair a mess, sticky with sweat and come, he looked
liked he'd pass out any second. Desperate to cheer him up, Malcolm kept
prodding at him with innocent remarks, trying to coax something from him, "Take
the day off tomorrow. I'll go swindle some extra coin and we'll spend the night
together," No response, "I love you no matter what, okay? There's nothing
anyone can do to make me stop wanting you," Still nothing, "So, what do you
want to eat tomorrow? I'm sure I can find some vendor out there dumb enough to
steal from," Malcolm meant no ill will when he triggered the fight, "How much
did you make?"
Felix flinched heavily, hanging his head as his voice became low, "Is that all
you care about? How much I fucking make?"
Startled, Malcolm quickly shook his head, "N-no, I didn't mean anything by it.
I just wanted to chat," He was just rambling on; Malcolm had no idea he'd
ignite such a negative reaction.
"It's always about you, isn't it?" Felix hissed, glaring at Malcolm through his
stringy blonde hair, "Maybe I don't want to chat because by now, I'm really
sick of having disgusting old pervertsas company."
Malcolm bit down on his lip, knowing how much Felix went through and not
wanting to make it worse. He hoped the conversation would end and he could
continue treating Felix's injuries. Felix would be in a better mood after he
slept; Malcolm just had to endure the silence till them.
"If I can do anything to help..." Malcolm murmured with his head away and eyes
down, docile.
"If you want to help me, get a job," Felix snapped coldly. Malcolm's eyes
immediately locked onto his, something cold, dark, and empty filling them as
Felix spoke, "You haven't paid for a single thing since we've been together.
You can't even take care of yourself! Hell, you have a son and you can't even
cook. How long have you been living like this? You're a complete failure!"
Malcolm was staring right at Felix but seeing something else, his body tensing
up as Felix continued to spit poison at him, mocking him, trampling his
dignity, reminding him of every single shortcoming and failure in his life.
"Every night I let people fuck me raw so I can take care of us," Felix growled,
"What the hell have you ever done for me? Now I get why your wife left y-"
Felix couldn't finish, cut off as Malcolm smacked him across the face,
backhanding him viciously and sending a tremor of pain over the gashed side of
his face. The shock shook him far more than the pain as he was tossed onto the
bed by the strike. He clutched at the side of his face, unable to move or
believethat Malcolm just slapped him. He stared wide-eyed, quivering inside as
Malcolm glared down on him, hand slowly dropping. He'd never seen Malcolm so
angry, mixed with just the slightest bit of confusion.
A million words were boiling in his head, a million fingers to point at Malcolm
and blame him for all of his suffering. He'd tell him that Hans was right all
along, that he was just a waste of time and a worthless scoundrel. He'd flaunt
the escape Hans gave him and prove that Malcolm could never give it to him.
He'd taunt him, mock him, brag about running away with Hans and leaving him
with no one but his son.
Instead, Felix clutched his face and burst into tears. Everything finally
coming to a head and Felix just couldn't stand it anymore.
***** Guilty People *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When the hysteria passed, Felix found himself in his shack again curled up on
the corner of his cot. He scrubbed at his face harshly, salty tears mixing the
dirt, smudged kohl, and blood on his face into a sickening stew of his
humiliation. He hadn't cried this hard since the day his father sold him to a
brothel. No matter how hard he wailed and wept, his father wasn't coming back
for him. It taught him a harsh and valuable lesson: No one would save him no
matter how hard he begged for it. If he were to survive, he'd have to do it on
his own.
Felix thought he got over it, thought he'd never have to cry like a child ever
again. Malcolm brought everything back. His love for Malcolm, just like his
love for his father, reverted him right back into a hapless little boy begging
to be saved. And just like his father, Malcolm couldn't save him.
"Love is weakness,"Felix mumbled into his knees, finally understanding Hans
perfectly. Love tore down every single wall he put up, every single rule,
making him vulnerable. It made him want in a world that had nothing to give
him.
The last few moments were hazy, coming back to him in flashes. He wondered if
the pirates had drugged him in the basement, robbing him of his mind even after
they had finished with his body. He remembered wailing into his hands on
Malcolm's bed, the gash on his face screaming with agony. Malcolm's hands were
on him, trying to soothe him, rubbing comforting circles on his back. Felix
couldn't take it though, any touch to his flesh felt white-hot. He shoved
Malcolm back, staining his chest with the hot, salty tears on his hands.
Felix remembered Malcolm shouting at him, a face creased with worry and regret
pressing close, trying to smother his sadness. What sparked Felix's hysteric
episode, causing him to burst out from Malcolm's hold and scramble back home,
was that it almost worked. In that brief moment, Malcolm all around him
mumbling apologies into his hair, Felix almost forgave him and forgot
everything.
If he forgave Malcolm, he could cease his tears and bury his memories. He'd
never have to recall that awful night again, pretending that the small fortune
in his satchel was just from another day's work. If he forgave Malcolm, he
could salvage this night, fall asleep in Malcolm's arms, have his mind drift
away dreamily to Neverland, and let a band of pirates fuck him senseless in a
basement all over againwhen he needed rent.
I don't want to live like this.
I'm not happy.
Felix shut his eyes and threw his fist at the wall over and over again,
hammering against the wood until his knuckles began to bleed. Why couldn't just
love be enough? Why did reality have to drive a wedge between them? The choice
was no longer clear; the conviction he showed Hans seemed laughable now. If
everything was simple, he could be with Malcolm. He could've had his father. He
could've been happy.
Reality ensued. It always did. And the lesson Felix learned so long ago was
meant to cement this.
Felix wasn't sure when he fell asleep. He probably passed out, mental and
physical exhaustion pushing him right over the edge. The farmer hadn't left a
bucket of water for him, probably assuming that Felix wouldn't be able to make
rent. When Felix presented the money to the farmer, the stench and stickiness
of night was evident on his body but he couldn't find it in himself to care at
the moment. As soon as he paid his rent and bid the farmer farewell, he
returned to his shack and collapsed in his cot.
Felix wished he dreamt as he slept, wished he could escape to Neverlandeven for
just a brief moment. No such luck. And soon enough, Felix found himself back in
the streets as night fell. He forced himself to ignore the tremble of fear as
he passed the Salty Mermaid, shutting out the relapsing memories.
Halfway into the town, Felix abruptly stopped. He sat back on his heels,
staring down an imaginary fork in the road, one path crooked and bright but
leading him in circles while the other was surrounded by barbs which would rip
into him should he enter but at least,it had an exit. He could go to Malcolm
now, go to him and let the scoundrel hold him till he thought he'd shatter in
his arms. He'd lose himself in his voice, his presence, fall so deep into
Malcolm that all of his misery would become irrelevant. Love would give him
relief, a drug to dull the pain so he could keep on going.
But no matter how potent the drug, it could never change his fate. Someday,
he'd need money again. Someday, he'd end up in a basement or an alley taking on
the most degrading roles just to get by. Someday, he'd end up beaten to death
in an alley by a disgruntled customer. The healing gash on his face throbbed at
the thought. It was just his face this time, almost his right eye; he didn't
want to imagine what would happen next time.
Only Hans could give him escape, the life he's always wanted, to never serve
another man ever again. Even if his life would solely belong to the prince, it
didn't matter because his body would finally be his own once more. Felix
crushed his eyes shut and raked his hand over his face, wishing that this
choice didn't break his heart. The slash across his cheek throbbed harder the
more he thought about it. He could finally be free of this life. It was no
longer a cruel destiny he deluded himself into thinking was acceptable.
If he was forced to walk the path of a whore desperately clinging to love then
Felix would've done it proudly, just like he always did when life chewed him up
and spat him out, 'getting by' because he had no other way to live. Choice was
foreign to him, unsettling, a game-breaker.
Hearts could be mended. I can love another.
If he saw the scoundrel again, Felix had no doubt that his resolve would
shatter and he'd fall right back into his arms. He went to the edge of town
where Hans had taken him to his estate, staring out at the open plains and
making out just the roof of his home sitting at the edge of a forest. A
stagecoach was approaching him, no doubt Hans making his way over.
His legs moved without his consent, pulling away from Hans and into a stray
tavern by the edge of town. Not yet. He needed time to forget Malcolm, time to
accustom himself to a life without his lover's presence, forget the feel of the
man's arms around him, cherishing him. If he went to Hans now with Malcolm
still prevalent in all his thoughts, he'd despise himself and run right back to
the scoundrel, forever throwing away the prince's offer.
Felix chose his path, ignoring the barbs that tore his heart to pieces.
 
"What do you mean you don't know where he is!" Malcolm growled as he grabbed
the barmaid by her collar and hoisted the woman over the bar, "The boy who's
always with me!"
"I know who you're talking about," The barmaid frantically replied, shoving at
Malcolm's hands, "I haven't seen him in days! Honestly!"
A fist flew at Malcolm's face, striking the man hard on the jaw and sending him
sprawling on the floor, "You okay ma'am?" The patron asked the frightened
barmaid, his friends glaring at Malcolm as the scoundrel quickly scuttled to
his feet and left The Crooked Man.
He'd blacklisted himself from at least half the bars he frequented and when he
returned home, the side of his face was a mess of bruises. Frustrated, Malcolm
kicked over the dinner table, shattering the pitcher of water sitting in the
center. He stormed into his room, sitting on the edge of his bed and slumping
over his knees. He jabbed at his forehead in frustration, trying to figure out
where Felix could have gone.
The last time he saw him, Felix had been crying hysterically on his bed,
fleeing when Malcolm tried to make it better. He hoped Felix was just upset,
that he needed some distance before they could rekindle their relationship.
More than a week had passed now and the possibilities in Malcolm's head quickly
dipped into the unsavory: A known sex hustler carrying a hefty amount of coin
too physically and mentally exhausted to fight off any attackers.
Malcolmbeggedthat this was not the case.
"Where are you..." Malcolm murmured, sifting through anywhere else he could
have missed.
"Papa?" Rumple's voice spoke through the door, "Are you okay?"
Malcolm let out an aggravated sigh, "Go back to sleep," He grumbled, "Papa
doesn't have time right now."
Malcolm didn't bother hiding his discontent when Rumple pushed the door open, a
slice of bread in his hands. He placed it into Malcolm's lap before backing
out, fearing his father's current mood. Malcolm thought little of it, taking
the slice of bread in his hand and staring at it irritatingly. The bread
reminded him of Felix, the slightest toasty smell of rising dough on Felix's
skin as Malcolm pressed his lips into his neck.
Malcolm collapsed onto the bed with the slice in his mouth, staring up at the
ceiling trying to imagine where Felix could have gone and how he could make it
better. He clutched at the hand that struck Felix, gripping into it viciously
like it had attacked Felix on its own will.
When he was static, the worst scenarios caught up with him and flooded his mind
with nightmares: Felix beaten to death in an alley, a curled up corpse rotting
in a gutter stripped of clothing. Imprisoned upon a pirate ship, forced to
service the men when they were lonely. A body torn apart by wolves, ditched by
a disgruntled traveler desperate for a companion.
Malcolm promptly got up from the bed, spitting the slice of bread onto the
floor as he stormed out of his room and out the door. He had to find Felix and
apologize and if nothing else, he had to stave away the bitter images.
Interrogating other hustlers, starting bar fights, returning home beaten and
hungry but still unwilling to eat till he found Felix. His wretched state was
beginning to frighten Rumple, a boy so dedicated to his father that he never
realized how much of a scoundrel he really was. Another week had passed and
Malcolm found himself slumped over a bar drinking himself into a stupor
desperately trying to remember Felix's face. He hoarded all of their money,
lashing out at Rumple when he asked for some and swearing that he'd give it all
to Felix when he saw him again. The hefty amount could really only support
Felix for a couple months but Malcolm was too far gone to understand that he
would never have enough.
"Papa," Rumple whispered as he tugged on the tails of Malcolm's jacket, "We
don't have any food at home. You're going to get sick."
Malcolm growled lazily, taking another sip of liquor, "Go away Rumple."
Stung but persistent, Rumple shook his head and gave his jacket another tug,
"You haven't eaten in days."
Rumple's youth and pathetic lifestyle was more than enough to earn him pity
from vendors, always sparing him something to eat knowing that his father
wouldn't do the same. Malcolm, on the other hand, garnered the full spite of
the village, his reputation built off swindling patrons, neglecting his son,
and most recently, sexual interest in a boy less than half his age.
"Papa!" Rumple screamed, nearly in tears, "You need to eat!" He reached for the
satchel of coins, leaping back when Malcolm slammed the heavy bottle of liquor
to the table and tore the satchel from Rumple's hands.
"It's for Felix!" He barked, snarling at his son.
In a drunken haze, Malcolm clutched the satchel to his chest as he mapped out
the village in his mind. He'd been to every bar at least three times, each one
at a different interval of day. He'd checked the alleys, the doctors, Felix was
no where in sight. At best, he must've went to another village, but which one?
What stung most of all was the desperation Felix had to get away from him. What
could he possibly do to fix it? He shut his eyes tightly, digging his fingers
into his hair as he tried to recall anything that could make Felix happy.
Finger gripping gently into his beard. Soft lips pressed against his own, a
salty-sweetness on his tongue. Half-lidded eyes, surrounded by flushed skin and
a soft, familiar scent like the earth after a rainstorm.
"...Most of all, I think about marrying you someday."
A breathy gasp, pleasure, then hands scouring Malcolm's body and pressing their
flesh together. A pale neck exposed, vulnerable, relinquishing ownership to
Malcolm. Reflected in Felix's form, happiness like no other.
Malcolm's eyes snapped open. He knew what he had to do to make him happy but
before he had a chance to stand, Rumple wrenched the coin satchel from his
hands and fled, "Rumple!" Malcolm shouted, stumbling after the boy, "Rumple
come back!" Malcolm shouted again, unable to keep up with his son due to his
drunken stupor. He ran for a good five minutes before his legs gave out,
falling against a wooden beam as the world spun around him.
"Stay positive, stay positive," Malcolm whispered to himself as he rubbed at
his temples, fighting off the pounding in his skull from the alcohol. He
couldn't assume the worst, not until he truly found Felix and when he did, he'd
scoop the boy up into his arms and never let go, swearing to make Felix happy
again.
Malcolm laughed quietly to himself at the thought, delirious from exhaustion,
hunger, and booze. He promptly passed out at the side of the road, collapsing
onto the side of a small shack.
"Is he waking up?"
"He stinks of rum-"
"-and he looks like he's starving."
Malcolm flinched as he felt a splash of water on his face. He sputtered
slightly, opening his eyes slightly to find two old spinsters watching him from
their wheels. He looked down at the hay beneath him, acting as a makeshift bed.
"Why am I here?" Malcolm muttered as the two women waved to him politely.
"A hello would be nice," One of them said.
The other shrugged, "But if you must know, you were passed out on the streets.
No one else would help you out."
"Said you were a scoundrel," The darker haired one said, "And a pederast."
Malcolm scoffed, "I'm not a pederast."
"Then who's this Felix everyone says you're obsessed with?"
"Felix isn't a boy," Malcolm snapped, standing up shakily only to fall right
back into the hay, "He's already an adult," The spinsters quickly noted that
Malcolm didn't deny his obsession with Felix.
"He's sixteen," Both spinsters said at once.
Malcolm was stunned at the declaration. Not even he knew how old Felix was,
"Says who?"
"Isn't it obvious?" The lighter haired one asked.
"You can tell by looking at him," The darker haired one replied.
Malcolm scoffed again, ready to dismiss the two women and wander out till he
realized what they just said, "Wait... then that means you've seen him around,"
Malcolm bolted to his feet, energy returning to him, "Where is he?" Both women
said nothing, exchanging knowing glances to one another, "Don't try me. Where's
Felix!"
The darker haired one shrugged, "Isn't it obvious what he's doing?"
"Or perhaps he's worried of his health."
"The boy's doing fine if that's what you want to know."
Malcolm growled, irritated by their seamless banter, "Will you stop talking
like that?"
The two exchanged another look as if judging Malcolm's worthiness.
"He doesn't want to see you. He's trying to get away."
"You'll only be a burden to him."
"If you want to help him, then let him go."
Malcolm approached the women, the pounding in his head preventing him from
taking on a more fearsome persona, "Tell me where he is!"
The two spinsters looked to each other once more. The darker haired one pulled
away first, returning to her work on her spinning wheel, choosing to ignore
Malcolm's pleas. The other stayed where she was staring at Malcolm with the
condescension of a queen.
Swallowing harshly, Malcolm lowered his eyes, bowing his head just a bit,
"Please."
Another exchange of looks and the lighter-haired one spoke, "He's at the
neighbouring village Krumm, just a two-hour ride from the edge of town."
"You can't give him what he wants," The darker haired one said, not even
looking up from her wheel, "Not the way you are now."
"I will," Malcolm snapped, "I promised him that someday, I'd get him anything
he wants."
"Promises can be broken."
"And he won't blame you if you break them."
"You'll want to go before the sun sets."
"Since the night time's when he comes out."
Too thankful to be put off by their cryptic warnings, Malcolm gave them an
acknowledging nod before bolting out the door. Malcolm returned to his hovel,
unperturbed by Rumple's absence, and quickly retrieved a small pouch of savings
in his chest. It was a measly amount he had kept from his ex-wife but still
more than enough for him to hitch a ride to Krumm with just a little left over
to pay for a small meal.
He held the pouch to his forehead, shutting his eyes as he prayed to whatever
gods were listening. Please let me find Felix. He whispered before leaving the
hovel to find his lover.
 
"Are you alright, kid?" His customer asked as he fixed up his belt, reaching
into his pockets to count ten shillings for Felix.
"What do you mean?" Felix replied nonchalantly, fixing his cloak before
extending his hand to take the payment.
The customer dropped the coins in his palm, "You look like you're about to
cry."
Flinching, Felix growled at the customer and stormed out of the alley. He'd
been getting along perfectly fine without Malcolm, the scoundrel nowhere in his
thoughts for the entire week. Sooner or later, he'd be able to forget all about
him and finally claim the life he wanted since he was little.
...or at least, that's what Felix wanted.
Pulling himself into a tavern, Felix drowned himself in a cheap drink seduced
off the bartender. It was the only way Felix could smother his sadness, the
homesickness that came from distancing himself from Malcolm. Felix flinched at
the implication: Malcolm was home. Despite the many 'lovers' Felix had, Malcolm
was the only person he truly loved. The scoundrel with beautiful eyes filled
Felix's thoughts like no other person ever had.
A few days ago, Felix almost ran back into Malcolm's arms. He'd taken in a
customer with similar eyes and an identical floppy mess of hair. His voice was
deeper though and he had a mole on his cheek as Felix noted, picking out all
the difference between this man and his ex-lover. As the man took him behind
the alley, Felix's fingers grasped at the thick, greying locks, his back arched
against his touch, and he screamed Malcolm's name. His customer paid no mind
but Felix found himself petrified at the declaration.
Felix took another gulp of his drink, lapping at the edge when he had emptied
his cup. He could do this; he could get over heartbreak. He had to or he'd end
up living his life in the gutters, spat on, degraded, treated like an object.
If the choice was so obvious then why did Felix feel like he was crushing his
heart to ash? Why did all of his suffering seem worth it as long as he had
Malcolm? He touched the scar on his face, sealed lightly with ointment he'd
bought off a doctor. It's insistent throb was a constant reminder of the life
he would lead if he stayed with Malcolm.
His previous customer was right. Felix really was about to cry.
The best way to clear his mind was to find another client, buy another drink,
drown himself in self-indulgence till he couldn't even remember a thing. Or at
least, that's what Felix hoped for. No matter how hard he tried, the scoundrel
would always be sitting at the back of his mind, waving at him and beckoning
him to come home. And sometimes, Felix almost obliged.
Pushing off his stool, Felix moved swiftly to the door, ready to find the next
tavern to solicit from.
"...Felix?"
Felix froze at that soothing, accented voice, floppy mess of greying hair, and
the most stunning eyes he'd ever seen, "Mal..."
Malcolm breathed harshly, disbelieving of his good fortune. A smile was perking
his lips as warmth filled his eyes, "I found you," He came forward, reaching
for Felix clumsily, "God, I missed you so-" He flinched when Felix backed away,
"Felix?" He gasped when the boy swiftly moved around him, nearly running out of
the tavern, "Felix!" He cried out, chasing after the boy.
Felix said nothing, keeping a brisk pace as he focused his eyes on the space
far ahead, avoiding eye contact with Malcolm.
"Felix please. Whatever I did wrong, I'll fix it," Malcolm begged, following
after him desperately, "Don't run away again. I need you in my life," Voice
breakingat the declaration.
Felix choked at the confession, stumbling in the dirt before walking away
faster. Anymore and Felix would fall right back into Malcolm's arms. He fought
the urge to flat-out sprint, knowing that he'd only end up reawakening old
injuries. He squealed as an arm suddenly wound itself around his body, pulling
him flush against the chest behind him.
"I can't live without you," Malcolm whispered into Felix's hair, desperate to
coax anywords from Felix.
"Stop it!" Felix screamed, shoving at Malcolm's arms and squirming away, "Just
stop it!" Please, don't make me fall back in love with you.
Malcolm couldn't understand, shaking his head fearfully as Felix rejected him,
"I don't understand. What did I do wrong?"
Swallowing his hysteria, Felix took a deep breath to gather his composure,
staring into Malcolm's eyes as he spoke, "You didn't-" Stumbling over his
words, "I just can't live like this anymore. Being treated like an object,
getting fucked in the streets and spat on by clients. I can't take it anymore."
"Then don't. Move in with me, marry me, and we can deal with the money later,"
He took Felix's hands, holding them close to his chest, "All that matters it
that we're together."
Felix winced at the impromptu proposal, a warmth seeping into his heart that he
refused to acknowledge, "It's not that simple!" Felix shouted back, "Open your
eyes, Mal. You can't get what you want just by thinking about it. This is
reality," It was incomprehensible to Felix why Malcolm could think so
childishly. Felix was beginning to think Hans was right: Malcolm always got
exactly what he wanted without working for it which was why he couldn't
understand what others had to do to survive.
Malcolm blinked furiously, confused, "If you stop paying rent-"
"It's not about the money," Felix whispered, shaking his head, "It's about...
having something of my own, something that doesn't belong to anyone else." This
was the only thing that separated him from his lifestyle: Dignity.
Malcolm was silent, unsure what to say. The dreariness of age was returning to
his face, creasing it with distress.
Felix dropped his gaze to the ground, "You asked me a long time ago if I was
happy," He murmured quietly, "My answer's no. I hate my life. I hate everything
about it, living in a shack, selling myself at night, having no future to look
forward to other than being beaten to death in an alley. Except you, you're the
only thing I didn't hate. But that's just not enough." Felix bit down on his
lip nervously knowing that his next words would provoke Malcolm, "He gave me a
chance to escape."
Malcolm flinched, eyes narrowing with unknown intent.
"He offered to let me stay with him, to never sell my body ever again. I
could've escaped from everything. I could've had the life I've always wanted
but I didn't because of you," Felix gasped out, voice growing softer with each
word, hearing Malcolm's heart crack with each statement, "Because I can't stop
thinking about you."
"If I could give you the world, I would," Malcolm gasped out, moving closer
only for Felix to pull away.
"But you can't," Felix replied, begging for the ache in his heart to quell. The
shattered look on Malcolm's face was too much for him and almost drove him to
tears again, "You can't give anyone anything. You can barely take care of
yourself," He tore away, hoping that Malcolm would disappear and he could
gather his composure again.
No such luck as Malcolm rushed after him, "So that's it then? You're just going
to run off into the sunset with the prince?" Malcolm shouted, voice tinged with
irritation and concern, "You really think he's going to give you what you want?
Like it would be any different with him!" His voice grew harsher with each
word, nearly growling as he spoke, "You realize he has other friends, right?
You'll be nothing more than a pet to him. And when he's bored of you, he'll
toss you right back onto the streets with absolutely nothing. He's a prince!
What could you possibly expect from royalty?"
Felix whipped around to face him, his resolve nearly breaking when he saw the
heartbreak in Malcolm's eyes, a thin layer of tears glistening in his eyes,
"He's exiled," Felix replied, "All he has is money, nothing more."
"Doesn't change a thing," Malcolm hissed in reply, "You let him have you and
he'll take advantage of you just like all your clients. You won't enjoy that
life."
"Better than living like this," Felix replied, shrugging off Malcolm's hand
when it came up to his shoulder. He backed away shakily, turning on his heels
and trying to leave before everything came crumbling down, "There's nothing you
can give me that'll make me change my mind."
"I love you."
Felix froze at the words, biting right through his lip trying to resist him,
"Love is weakness," He repeated Hans's cruel words, wincing as if the mere
statement caused him physical pain.
Malcolm was stunned, unable to move a single inch from where he stood. Felix
thought it was finally over. His heart was shattered but still salvageable.
Felix didn't even realize that he had stopped, immediately taking long steps to
compensate.
"No,"Malcolm's voice was gruff and feral, "No.This isn't fair," He growled,
rushing forward and grabbing Felix's arm, "You do not get to walk into my life,
steal my heart, and just walk right out of it!" He dug his nails into Felix's
arms as he jerked him back, grabbing onto the boy's shoulders to face him, "You
are mine, Felix,whether you like it or not."
I know. That's what makes it so much harder.
Felix fought back the tears, biting down on his already torn lip and shaking
his head, "You don't love me. You just want to own me," Felix spat out his
lies, trying so hard to concentrate on all of Malcolm's flaws, trying so hard
to hate him, "You don't know what it's like to suffer for someone you love.
When have you ever done that for me? That's why your wife left you, because
you're selfish, and worthless-"
"Shut up!"
Felix flinched, clenched his eyes shut and nearly screamed, "A good-for-nothing
scoundrel deserves exactly as he gets!"
"Shut the hell up!" Malcolm barked, shoving Felix against a wall, "I know you.
I know this isn't what you think," Malcolm hissed out, gripping onto Felix's
other arm and pinning them to his sides to prevent him from fighting back, "I
know you love me!" He shouted at his face, forcing Felix to flinch away
fearfully.
Swallowing his sadness, letting a chilly numbness blanket his pain, Felix
forced a frighteningly stoic composure onto his face as he spoke, "As long as
you have the money," He spat the words out with calculated spite, their year
together contaminated by his poisonous words.
First his wife and now him, Malcolm nearly lunged at Felix, grabbing onto his
shoulders with bruising strength. Frantic and terrified of the feral darkness
in Malcolm's eyes, Felix struggled hard, flailing around desperately till he
broke free. The momentum sent him sprawling on the ground, scraping his face
against the corner of a stone building. Felix immediately clutched at his
cheek, warm blood seeping through the reopened gash. He groaned heavily but not
because of his scar; the pain of Malcolm's expression far worse than the throb
of his injury.
Felix flinched when he felt Malcolm grab the back of his cloak, dragging him
off the dirt. Like the sound of breaking glass and crashing waves, Felix heard
something inside of Malcolm shatter. A tranquil fury overtook the man and for a
brief moment, Felix's natural danger alarms were blaring at him but he just
couldn't find the strength to take out his switchblade.
"Five for a blowjob, ten for sex, twenty for everything else," Malcolm said,
his voice monotonous and solemn so unlike his usual tone, "Right?" He gave
Felix a harsh shake.
Felix nodded back, eyes squeezed shut to prevent himself from crying. He gasped
as Malcolm threw him back into the dirt, lurching over him as he sorted through
his money pouch. A handful of coins were thrown at Felix, striking him on the
face and staining a couple with blood from his gash. Felix stared down at the
palsy amount, twenty shillings.
"There. My payment for our time together," Malcolm hissed, "The best price I've
ever had for a whore."
Malcolm didn't look at him as he spoke. Leaving Felix in the dirt as he walked
away slowly, unreadable and hate-filled. Felix lay on the ground, weak,
bleeding, defeated, and pathetically collecting his payment when Malcolm
finally disappeared from sight.
There was no turning back now. Malcolm was gone from his life forever. He was
finally free to take Hans's offer and live a good life. But if that was the
case, why did Felix feel like he was drowning?
 
"Papa?" Rumple greeted his father with a small, cautious mewl.
Tired and broken, Malcolm trudged into the room, eyes tired and weak. All that
work, everything he felt, nothing but lies. From the moment he saw Felix, he
fell so deeply in love that he knew he had to have him. No matter how hard
Felix spurned him, mocked him, Malcolm always came back, always showered him
with the same amount of affection. And when his efforts paid off and Felix
loved him back, Malcolm thought they'd be together forever. This wasn't like
his wife, wasn't a broken mess born from misunderstandings and willful
ignorance; this was True Love.
But it's not that simple. It never was.
Malcolm felt like a fool. A lonely, childish, heartbroken fool.
Rumple tugged on the front of Malcolm's jacket, round eyes filled with tears.
Just like his father, Rumple would always keep trying, would always love
Malcolm no matter how poorly the older man treated him. For the moment,
forgetting all of the misery Rumple's existence brought upon him, Malcolm fell
to his knees and embraced his son, crushing the young boy in his grip.
Rumple shut his eyes, returned the hug and, with a maturity beyond his age,
held in his tears as Malcolm sobbed hysterically into his shoulder.
 
"All that matters is that we're together."
"I wish it was that easy. But we both know wherever we go, I'll go back to my
old ways."
"I can never be the father you want me to be. I'm too weak."
"I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"
 
The moon was out that night, casting everything in a pale, eerie glow,
foreshadowing the arrival of a demon boy to the village of Krumm. Peter
whistled a fine tune as he watched over the town, crossing his legs over the
edge of the tallest rooftop he could find. It had been a year since he
returned, nearly a year since he abandoned his son and received eternal youth
and omnipotent power. Poverty and effort were non-existent. Just think of
something and have it. Anything at all.
Well, except one thing.
A dull spark of lust ignited inside of Peter ignited by the sight of golden
locks shimmering in the moonlight. For months, memories of Felix's form and
pleasure were the only thing that kept him company in Neverland but no matter
how realistic he made his illusions, it was just never enough. He could conjure
up a shadow of Felix, spend hours on even the minutest of details, use magic to
enhance the pleasure and replicate his dingy hovel but it would never feel as
good.
Something was off, however. When Peter first returned to The Enchanted Forest,
his first stop was not Krumm but the Westerguard estate at the edge of the
forest. It was as Felix said: The mansion was lonely, barren, fitting for an
exiled prince. More importantly, Felix wasn't there at all. Not a single trace
of him could be found at the mansion.
Instead, there was a girl at the mansion, sleeping in what appeared to be a
guest room. Peter watched her greet the prince, watched him cook up a meal for
her, and spend the entire day at her side. Peter resisted the urge to laugh. It
was as he said. The prince would throw him away the moment he found someone
better, leaving Felix with less than nothing.
And now Felix was back in the streets selling his body. Peter licked his lips
as the boy turned into a tavern, no doubt to solicit for sex. Peter stretched
back from where he sat, already feeling a heat building in his lap at the mere
thought of bedding Felix again. Peter scoffed at the words he once called their
affair: Making love. What a joke.
Peter dropped from the roof, landing smoothly on his feet before making his way
into the tavern. He sauntered into the tavern casually, carrying all the
presence of a rebel king as he moved his way towards Felix. The lanky boy was
sitting at the bar, cloak lowered to expose his body. He'd ditched the silk
tunic for a simple smock, the front unlaced to show off his chest. His leather
leggings remained, still hugging onto his body in a way that made Peter purr
with pleasure.
In the year since they last met, the boy hadn't changed much. Except for one
thing. The fire in his eyes, the want for dignity and self-respect shining in
his pupils, the silver tone they took when light reflected upon them. All of
that was gone. His eyes looked like they were filled with smoke, suffocating
and dull. The seductive allure and youthful energy that the boy naturally
exuded was utterly non-existent. He almost looked like a shell, broken and
hollow, emptied out by his experiences.
His pathetic form made his scar look so much worse, twisting across his face
like a crack in porcelain. It was a travesty to mar his face. It made the kohl
and balm on his lips look laughably dismal like an old crone trying to doll
herself up as she did in her youth.
For a brief moment, Peter's heart ached terribly. A voice that spoke with
Malcolm's tone begged him to comfort Felix, take him in, make him smile again.
Peter shut that voice out, gritting down on his teeth and burning that bit of
conscience with rage. Felix broke his heart, used him, abandoned him for a
prince. Even now, Peter burned with heartache that could never be sated.
However, Peter knew there was something else he could use Felix for.
He moved in and leaned against the counter next to Felix, quirking a brow up as
he spoke, "Aren't you a handsome one?" Peter said, smirking.
Felix didn't respond. He glanced at the boy, tilted his head shyly, and turned
back to face his drink.
Peter narrowed his eyes. Was he mistaken? It seemed only yesterday that Felix
seduced him to his bones with just a single, smoldering look, bending over the
barrel, licking his lips... Peter shook the thought from his head, scolding
himself for losing himself in a memory. Whatever happened in this past year
shook Felix, tore out his heart and left him an empty husk.
"Peter Pan," Peter greeted, extending a hand to shake Felix's.
The lanky boy shook back weakly, not responding verbally as he pulled away and
returned to his drink.
Peter blinked, perplexed, "Not a very talkative one, are you? That's alright. I
like that," His hand instinctively shifted towards Felix, landing on his thigh
and stroking it affectionately. Peter nearly groaned at the touch, unaware of
how much he really missed Felix's body.
The moment Felix locked his eyes onto Peter's, his mouth fell open just a bit,
gaping. He looked confused and just a bit pained, merely staring into Peter's
eyes as the demon boy continued to massage his thigh. Felix twitched when Peter
suddenly gripped onto his leg, fingers digging into his inner thigh. He let out
a small whine as Peter pressed closer, lips smudging kisses all along his neck,
nipping at the flesh when appropriate.
Preventing him from pulling away, Peter took hold of Felix's shoulder with his
free hand, jerking him close so he could deepen the kisses, nearly breaking
flesh as he bit at the junction between the neck and shoulder. Conditioned by
his experiences, Felix immediately responded with high moans and breathy whines
engineered with the intent to seduce.
Pleased with the reactions, Peter smirked against his flesh and pressed another
kiss to his jaw, magic surging from his lips and erupting into ecstasy on
Felix's flesh, green sparks coming off his skin in controlled bursts. Felix
cried out, surprised. He tried to turn away only for a hand in his hair to
secure him in place. Peter replicated the burst of magic with his other hand,
sending sharp tingling sensations up Felix's tender thigh.
Peter shut his eyes, relishing the taste of Felix's flesh in his mouth, his
cries of pleasure.
A soft mewl. A playful laugh.
"Stop that. Not in public," Felix muttered through a chuckle as Malcolm nipped
at his neck playfully, hands gliding under his clothes and pinching at
sensitive spots, "Mal, I mean it," He groaned as Malcolm dragged his tongue up
Felix's neck.
"It's good publicity though," Malcolm joked, lapping at his ear playfully, "Let
them know what they're missing out if they don't buy your time."
Felix laughed at Malcolm's suggestion, finding it both endearing and silly, "No
way. I don't do exhibitionism," He groaned again as Malcolm's hands grazed a
nipple, "Stop," Felix sighed out without the slightest bit of malice, swinging
his head back to rest on Malcolm's shoulder.
"Say it like you mean it and I'll oblige," Malcolm growled huskily, latching
onto Felix's ear with his mouth and ravaging it with his tongue and lips. He
quickly swallowed his own words as Felix kicked him right between the legs.
Immediately, he let go, slipping up against the wall in pain.
Felix smirked at him, pressing a kiss to his nose lovingly before wandering
off, deliberately swaying his hips for Malcolm's enjoyment.
Peter opened his eyes and pulled away, staring into Felix's face and seeing
none of the bite he once had. He looked tired, pliant, utterly docile. Peter
blinked furiously, unable to comprehend how he felt about this new Felix. How
did he turn out like this? Who did this to him?
No matter, Peter wasn't here to catch up. He was here to sate his boredom and
he fully intended on doing so. Peter conjured a handful of coins from his
pockets, depositing them into the money pouch that always hung from Felix's
sash, "I bet you're tired of old men. Why don't we have a bit of fun then?"
Consenting without protest, Felix stood, allowing Peter to toss a possessive
arm around his waist and lead him out.
As they walked down the alley, Peter pulled himself flush against Felix's side,
noting the height difference between them. Felix was always a tall boy,
towering just over Malcolm. As his old self, Peter never paid too much
attention to it. However, as Peter Pan, the self-proclaimed king of Neverland,
there was the slightest sting of inferiority from Felix being taller. It wasn't
too big an issue, Peter thought; there were some benefits to be had. The
instant the two turned the corner, Peter's hand slid down Felix's waist slowly,
giving his ass a playful smack before latching his hand against the taut
fabric.
Felix gasped but didn't pull away, turning to Peter with an incredulous look
before the demon boy backed him up into a wall, pressing his chest up against
the stone as his hand continued to grope him, "These leggings fit you so well,"
Peter purred, "It'd be such a shame to take them off," He hooked an arm around
his waist, pulling his hips off the wall and forcing Felix to bend over, palms
and forehead against the rocky surface.
Peter's free hand eventually settled to the front of his pants, groping at the
bulge furiously as the hand cupping his ass stroked against his leather-clad
cleft, stimulating Felix through his leggings. Peter licked his lips when he
felt a building heat through the leather, his fingers dancing over the
hardening flesh. Peter unlaced the front of his pants clumsily, groaning when
his hand curled around Felix's erection.
"I missed this," Peter whispered, stroking at Felix with renewed vigor. His
other hand kneaded at his ass, dipping down between his legs to tickle him,
pinch him, tease him. Lost to the sensations, Felix whined and bucked, legs
trembling as Peter worked him in his hands. Peter's prodded at the cleft
harshly, fingers pressing at his entrance but never penetrating.
Smirking wildly, Peter let another spark of magic slip from his fingers,
traveling from one hand to the other exciting and arousing all the sensitive
flesh in between. Felix cried out like he had climaxed, head thrown back and
screaming to the skies, a fine sheen of sweat covering his soft flesh.
Intoxicated by the reaction, Peter released his restraint and continued firing
magic through Felix's body, pleasuring him from the inside out.
Felix bucked in his hands, appreciative noises slipping from his lips as
Peter's magic coursed through his body, violating the deepest parts of his
flesh. He twisted his head around to look at Peter, eyes pleading and desperate
as he shivered uncontrollably. Without his words, his eyes did the work for
him, needy and erotic. From that single look, Peter was overcome with lust and
he immediately doubled his magic.
Felix screamed, overwhelmed by magic yet unable to get enough. His whole body
trembled violently as each shot of magic sent erratic green sparks throughout
his body, lighting up the dismal alley with its exotic colour. His knees
buckled suddenly, unable to take the punishment from Peter's fingers.
Immediately, Peter hooked an arm around his waist, hoisting him up. Running on
his memories of Felix, Peter reflexively closed in, ready to press his lips
against Felix's and ruin them. At the sudden proximity, Felix twisted his head
away but before Peter could be disappointed, Felix planted his arms against the
wall, rooted his feet, and pushed his ass hard against Peter, grinding his hips
against the front of his pants.
Peter threw his head back, gripping Felix by the shoulder and bending him over
further, giving him access to his neck. He yanked his cloak off, tossing it
onto the floor as he rolled up his smock and pressed kisses between his
shoulder blades. With one hand still stroking at Felix's erection, Peter took
hold of Felix's hips with the other hand, holding it in place as he ground
against his ass, making sure Felix could fully appreciate the obscene amount of
heat through the seat of his pants.
"The moment I laid my eyes upon you," Peter groaned, smearing the words along
Felix's back, "I wanted you so badly," He thrust his hips forward, loving the
aroused mewls that slipped from Felix's lips. Increasing the force and speed,
hands scouring his body seeking out all his hotspots, exciting his form with
magic, Peter was all but flat-out fucking him, "Has anyone ever told you how
beautiful your are?" Peter cooed into his ear. Felix promptly responded by
rooting himself once more and grinding back hard against the front of Peter's
pants. Peter threw his head back, lost in the sensations as he moaned, "Oh god
yes!" He bit down on Felix's neck once more, desperate to leave his mark on his
flesh, "Felix!"
A curious sound came from Felix's lips but Peter was far too eager to inquire.
Instead, he hooked his thumbs into Felix's leggings and pulled them down to his
knees, undoing the sash with it leaving Felix in nothing but the ill-fitting
smock. Peter's hands glided up his thighs, memorizing in the feel of creamy
skin and wispy hairs against his fingertips, arousal muffling the nostalgia. He
rested his hands on either side of Felix's ass, thumbs dancing over the swell
of his buttocks.
For a brief moment, Peter just stared, indulging the voyeur in him. He was
fully hard without even removing his pants and he wasn't even the least bit
ashamed, "I doubt any man could go back to a woman after seeing you like this,"
Peter whispered seductively, smacking one cheek harshly as he licked his lips,
"So tell me, how many men have you seduced like this?" He gave it another
smack, loving the licentious sound that Felix made as his body shuddered at the
touch, "Twenty? Thirty? Is there a man in that tavern who doesn't touch
themselves at night for you?"
At his taunt, Felix whipped his head around, eyes sparkling with arousal, a
malevolence gracing his enticing smirk. A challenge, and Peter was more than
happy to accept. Felix rooted himself again, ready to grind against Peter's
hips once more only for the demon boy to hold him in place with one hand, the
other hand loosening his belt and nearly tearing down his own pants.
Without any warning or preparation, Peter grabbed Felix's hips with both hands
and shoved himself in, letting out a thoroughly satisfied gasp as he lost
himself inside of Felix's throbbing heat. Felix cried out in response, gripping
at the walls and panting heavily. The feel of Peter stretching him to the brim
was mind-blowing, completely unlike any customer who had ever taken him
before... unlike every customer except one.
Felix choked, slipping down from the wall for just a moment. Peter nearly
missed it as he hooked his arms around Felix's torso and held a brutal but even
pace, pounding against him while using magic to lubricate himself with every
thrust. Peter slid his eyes shut, concentrating only on the heat absorbing him,
the seductive squirm of hips flush against his own.
His thrusts faltered for just a moment, hands no longer bruising Felix's skin
when the lanky boy turned his head and stared at Peter from the corner of his
eye. Peter saw it immediately: Lines of tears trailing down his face, his scar
diverting the salty stream like a trench. Felix didn't look like he was in
pain; he looked like he was heartbroken. Peter gasped, softness falling on his
features at the sight.
"You..." Peter whispered, feeling something warm, light-hearted, and utterly
Malcolm taking over his mind.
Jerking away, ashamed, Felix tightened around Peter and pushed back, rolling
his hips and arching his back in an absolutely perfect way. Peter threw his
head back, all of the warmth in his chest blown away by the sheer pleasure, "Oh
fuck!" Peter cried out involuntarily, surprised that even with his magic, Felix
could still make it feel better, "Naughty boy," Peter growled out, voice hoarse
and erotic as he planted his hands on either side of Felix's hips and sent a
jolt of magic up his spine.
Felix cried out, screaming as sparks came off his flesh, magic penetrating and
ravishing every part of him. Vigor renewed, Peter thrust himself in harder,
faster, almost desperate in his attempts to mark the innermost part of Felix,
engraving himself inside his flesh both physically and ethereally. One hand
drifted back to Felix neglected erection, pumping at it brutally as he once
again coursed magic through Felix's body, igniting him from the inside. The
lanky boy was squirming under him, screaming, out of control. Peter could see
it, coherent thoughts no longer relevant in the boy's mind, blown out by
ecstasy and wanton desire.
Peter turned Felix around frantically, pinning the boy on his back as he lifted
him up by his thighs and doubled his pace, both of them crying out with every
thrust. Peter pressed his lips to Felix's cheek, smothering every inch of skin
on his face with rough kisses and bite marks. Everywhere except his lips. Peter
hadn't even noticed that he'd been actively avoiding that sacred spot of flesh.
"A kiss is romantic."
This was not romance. This was primal and raw, just satisfying urges and sating
boredom.
And yet, Peter just couldn't just get enough. This was supposed to be nothing
more than a game, a quick romp to satiate his lust. Peter wasn't sure why he
wanted more, needed more, like he'd rather lose all of Neverland than be
without Felix's heat surrounding him and taking him in. He couldn't let this
end, couldn't let Felix just walk away with ten shillings in hand as if Peter
was just another ordinary customer. There was a desperation in his need,
something almost pathetic in the way Peter desired Felix like this boy was the
only thing that mattered to him in this world. He shouldn't feel that way; he
was a god, the King of Neverland, he shouldn't ever let such base needs rule
his mind.
However, the moment Felix's arms came around his shoulders, embracing him, all
of Peter's resolve disappeared and he knew exactly what he needed to do.
I need to take him with me. Bring him to Neverland and make him utterly his.
Bundle you up... Give you pleasure every day... Punish you if you tried to
escape.
Lifting Felix's knees till his thigh was against his chest, Peter pounded into
him violently, nearly bruising his hips with the sheer force. With his other
hand, he took hold of Felix's erection, flooding his body with magic that
twisted and burst inside him leaving glowing, web-like cracks all along the
walls where the magic bled out from Felix's skin. Felix was screaming,
overwhelmed by the magic crackling throughout his flesh leaving frightening
patches of light where Peter touched. If he wasn't in such intense pleasure,
the heat just bearable enough to be erotic, Felix would've sworn that Peter was
killing him.
Felix was shaking his head when Peter smiled at him, chuckling with a low,
sinister voice as he continued grinding into his hips, "That's your body
talking," Peter cooed, lips just dancing over Felix's, "But that's not what you
want, right?" Peter's hands ignited with ethereal light, shimmering green like
the surface of a shallow pool, white-hot to the touch and already cooking away
the steam on Felix's thighs.
Felix was shaking his head no while a mischievous, curious smirk graced his
features.
Peter quirked a brow up and promptly gripped at Felix's thighs with both hands,
light immediately fleeing them and surging up the tender flesh.
The magic was sharp, quick, flooding Felix's body and igniting every single
inch of flesh with heat, pleasure, pain, joy, shame, overwhelming him in every
way possible. Felix threw his head back and screamed loud enough for the entire
town to be aroused by his voice. Coming simultaneously, his hips continued to
spasm and buck, over-stimulated by Pan's magic.
Working himself just a bit more, Peter came inside of Felix with a quiet groan,
purposely contrasting Felix's uncontrolled wail with his restrained sigh. Felix
immediately collapsed against Peter's body when the demon boy pulled out. He
was absolutely drained, limbs twitching as leftover sparks of ethereal magic
flickered on his skin.
Peter's smirk was nearly demonic. He was so utterly pleased with himself,
utterly pleased with finally fulfilling a fantasy he'd been living through
illusions on Neverland. He stroked his hand down Felix's back, stroking him
like a cat as the boy took deep, heaving breaths against Peter's shoulder. He
lay the boy down in the dirt over his cloak, sweeping back his sweat soaked
hair so he could expose his face to the moonlight.
If he were to take Felix to Neverland, he had to be careful about it. He
couldn't let the boy unlock Neverland's true power, couldn't let him be
equal.Peter had to assert his dominance, prove to the boy that he was to be
completely submissive to his king. All those times he sassed Malcolm, teased
him, enticed him with sensuous moments to get what he wanted, as much as Peter
longed for them, he could never let Felix do that to him.
Peter smiled down at Felix, climbing over the boy to cage him under his limbs.
Felix's eyes were half-lidded, chest heaving as he tried so hard to focus on
the magical boy. Peter swept a hand through his hair once more, wiping away
sweat with delicate swipes.
"Do you like it here?" Peter whispered to him. Felix didn't respond, the hazy
afterglow sustained by Peter's magic still fogging his mind. Smirking
sinisterly, Peter let manipulative words slip off his tongue, "He's never
coming back for you, is he?"
Felix stiffened at the words, pupils dilating, breath quickening. His lips
trembled as Peter closed in, pressing kisses all along the side of his face.
"He promised he'd give you an escape," Peter purred, holding Felix's face with
one hand so he could watch his expression, study them with a calculating
intelligence fitting of a criminal chess master, "But look at where you are
now. Right back where you started."
Peter groaned as Felix's hands flew up, shoving at Peter's chest with trembling
arms. Without any strength, he might as well have been a fly batting away at
him, "He's better off now," Peter muttered casually, grabbing Felix's wrist and
lifting his hand to his mouth. He gave each finger a tentative lick, sampling
the flavour before choosing his ring finger to suckle on, violating it with
every twist of his tongue, "He found another in his life. A woman," Felix let
out a pathetic sound, finger curling and flailing weakly as Peter continued to
thoroughly abuse each joint of his ring finger, "They live together now,
happily, in the room you could've had if he chose you instead."
A sob slipped from Felix's lips as the boy crushed his eyes shut. Unable to
turn away and too weak to fight back, Felix slapped his free hand weakly
against Peter's face only for the demon boy to release his chin and grab the
offending wrist, restraining his arms in the air. He promptly pressed his
tongue against his palm, claiming it as he did with his other hand. Felix cried
out, shoulders digging into the dirt as his back arched off the ground.
"Princes are so fickle, aren't they?"
Peter didn't notice when Felix stopped fighting, fingers no longer convulsing
in his grip. He didn't notice Felix opening his eyes, staring at Peter with an
unreadable expression, like confusion and sorrow and realization and
understanding and shame mixed together in an indecipherable mess.
Peter lowered Felix's hands to the dirt, pinning them to either side of his
head as he closed in, nudging Felix's head to the side as he pressed butterfly
kisses all over his ear, "Is that what broke you? Is that what took your voice
and robbed you of the fire that made you the best whore in town?"
Peter released Felix's wrists, testing if he'd successfully broken through
Felix's defenses. He was pleased to find that Felix didn't fight back, merely
laying back in the dirt staring at him with an inexplicable wantin his eyes. He
sat down on Felix's hips, fingers flitting over his bare chest before settling
on the sweat-soaked smock hugging his torso.
"Today's your lucky day," Peter declared, eyes glittering with mischief, "How
would you like to come with me? I'll take you back to where I live, a place
far, far away, and you'll never have to serve men ever again," He leaned in,
the inky darkness of his eyes swallowing Felix, consuming him, "Finally, an
escape. What you've always wanted, yes?" Peter lifted himself up, the moonlight
casting shadows over his form, betraying the demon that hid deep inside his
youthful body, "Come with me to Neverland."
Felix nodded back weakly, a small, tired smile gracing his lips contrasting the
mischievous smirk that stretched across Peter's face. He lifted one hand,
waving it over Felix's form, putting him to sleep. With a second wave, Peter
cleaned up Felix's body and redressed him. All in a single motion, Peter lifted
Felix into his arms, the boy light and almost airy under his ethereal strength,
and flew towards the stars.
 
His feet were soft against the sands. Peter was careful not to make too many
jarring movement lest he wake Felix from his sleep. The lanky boy was coiled up
in his arms, unconsciously tossing one arm around his neck and nuzzling into
his chest. His blissfully peaceful expression was foreign even to Malcolm. The
times he watched Felix doze off, the boy always looked troubled, dreading to
wake and live another day on the streets. Whether it was because of the spell
or the promise of freedom, Felix had slept more peacefully than he had in
years.
It almost made Peter want to genuinely give him a home in Neverland.
"Hell no," Peter growled under his breath, laying Felix down into the sand when
he found himself unwilling to let Felix go. He collapsed onto a rock next to
Felix on the beach, trying to focus on anything but the boy laying in front of
him.
At the time, this seemed like a good idea. He could have Felix every day,
wouldn't have to share him with any other men, and finally be able to stave off
the loneliness. Peter didn't think it'd be so difficult to be around him again,
to stop himself from falling back in love. The year Peter tried so desperately
to erase from his mind was coming back to him. The forests of Neverland were
shifting, opening up, letting starlight pierce through the darkness and cause
nocturnal flowers to bloom, welcoming Felix to Neverland.
Peter growled at the shifting island, hated himself for letting Felix pull him
right back under his spell. He willed himself to only remember the last few
days, to believe that Felix was nothing more than a gold-digging opportunist.
He spurned him for a prince, condemned him to have money, wormed his way into
his heart only to leave him behind when something better came along. Peter
punched the tree next to him, seething as he willed the flowers to die, willed
the poisonous barbs to return to the trees and plants.
Peter glared at Felix, smothering any flickers of heat he felt when he looked
at the boy's face. He wouldn't let Felix have Neverland. He'd lock him up in a
cage, take him out only when he wanted pleasure, punish the boy when he was
bored, and most importantly, keep him at a distance so there wouldn't even be
the slightest risk of falling back in love. It'd be like having a pet, Peter
reasoned with himself.
A tired groan from Felix woke Peter from his thoughts. Immediately, the demon
boy was at his side, watching as Felix opened his eyes groggily and looked
around. The smell of waxy leaves and untouched soil was unfamiliar to Felix.
The gently crashing waves were welcoming though, reminding him of the port town
he once lived in. He sat up slowly, rubbing away the sand on his face.
"Sleep well?" Peter said, smiling sweetly as he placed a hand on Felix's
shoulder to steady him, "Welcome to Neverland."
Peter watched Felix's lips mouth out the word 'Neverland', his eyes never left
Peter, locking onto his face and studying him intensely. For a brief moment,
Peter couldn't move, trying to understand what Felix was concentrating so
deeply on. Felix's hand came up cautiously, gently stroking Peter's chin with
the back of his fingers.
At the contact, Peter immediately pulled away, turning on his heels to face the
ocean, "You'll like it here. It's a place with no adults, no rules, and you can
do whatever you want!" He extended a hand to Felix when his jovially innocent
facade returned, "Let me bring you to our camp."
Felix took his hand, pulling himself onto his feet quickly. He didn't let go,
however, even after he had gotten up and dusted himself off. Felix's hand
remained securely around Peter's. Felix looked almost confused, eyes flickering
between Peter's face and the soft hand encircled by his. Peter pulled away
immediately, backing up and heading into the forest.
"Come along, Felix," Peter shouted, pushing through the branches. Felix
immediately followed at his heels, dusting the sand off his cloak, "I bet
you're eager to know what I brought you here for. You see," Peter smirked,
expertly weaving his lies, "I need a second-in-command. Someone to do my
bidding when I'm too occupied, to entertain me when I'm bored, and you fit the
bill,"
Felix gave an indifferent shrug when Peter turned to him, "What's the matter?
You don't look excited. What's on your mind?" Peter smiled just a bit before
turning away, "Right. You lost your voice. No, that's not entirely true. You
were using your voice quite liberally in the alleyway just a while ago," The
slightest flush appeared on Peter's face, already getting hot from the thought
of Felix undone in his arms, "You can't speak. Something robbed you of your
ability to speak," Peter smirked, holding back a nasty bush of dreamshade as
Felix stepped through, "Is it because your beloved prince broke your heart?"
Peter asked, immediately rushing back in front to lead Felix to his camp, "A
painful memory locking away your words."
Peter pushed past a few trees, nearly whacking Felix in the face with a stray
branch. He stepped into the clearing where his camp lay, just a simple bonfire
with miscellaneous logs and tents scattered around, "Soon, you'll forget about
all that. Not like you'll ever need those memories anymore. Anyway, here we
are," Peter lifted his hands, "Welcome to your new home."
Felix stepped into the clearing, expression neutral as he examined the camp. He
poked at the tents here and there, distracting himself with their fine
craftsmanship despite their cheap material. Peter noticed Felix's eyes
flickering back at him, pretending to sweep over the camp. Peter didn't read
into it though, smiling half-heartedly as he sauntered into the center of the
camp.
Peter's hands twitched, magic stirring from the ground, ready to construct a
cage from thin air. Felix was a tall boy, he'd need at least double the size of
a typical cage to live comfortably. Although, Peter was enticed by the thought
of cramming Felix away in a small cage, only letting him find relief and
stretch his limbs when Peter needed him to sate his lust.
With the lustful thoughts rushing through his head, Peter didn't even notice
Felix approaching him from behind.
"Mal?"
His thoughts silenced. The magic stilled. Peter whipped around frantically,
staring at Felix with a maddening attempt to collect his composure, "Who are
you talking about?" Peter's voice trembled uncontrollably fooling no one with
his attempt at ignorance.
Felix's breath hitched, staring at Peter as warmth returned to his eyes. For
the first time in months, Felix felt his ability to speak return to him, "You
came back for me," Felix whispered, "Oh god, Mal," He ran forward, stumbling
before gripping onto the back of Peter's coarse tunic and hugging him tightly.
Peter shook in his grasp, arms hanging limply at his sides unable to react. He
felt like he was being crushed and he wasn't sure if the feeling was unwelcome.
He fought with himself, arms shaking at his sides as he forced himself not to
embrace Felix no matter how rightit felt.
"You really came back for me..." A sob interrupted him, "You brought me to
Neverland just like you promised," Felix sobbed dryly onto Peter's shoulder,
"All those horrible things I said. I'm sorry, Mal. I didn't mean it," He
gripped onto Peter tighter, crushing the demon boy into his chest, "I took you
for granted," Felix whispered, burying his face into Peter's neck. A thousand
words, a thousand apologies poured out of him, "Mal, I'm so sorr-"
A burst of magic came from Peter's body sending Felix flying through the air
and tumbling onto the ground in a heap. Before Felix could even sit up, a boot
planted itself on his chest, kicking him backwards into a cage that
materialized behind him in seconds. Felix hit the wicker wall hard, head
spinning from the intense battering. He almost passed out till he saw the bars
of the cage forming in front of him, separating him from Malcolm.
"No!" Felix cried out, reaching through the bars at the forest-clad boy
standing a few metres away staring at him with an unstable expression, "Mal,
please!"
Without a word, Peter backed away and disappeared into a puff of smoke leaving
Felix alone in camp reaching out of his cage aimlessly. Shutting his eyes and
backing away, Felix collapsed against the side of the cage and pulled his knees
to his chest, everything he'd tried so hard to put behind him in the past year
coming back with his voice, drowning him all over again.
Appearing in front of his thinking tree, "No, no, no, no, no!" Peter mumbled,
carding a hand through his hair at every stressful memory.
Every night ever since Felix broke his heart, Malcolm would be plagued with
memories of his touch, waking up aching and pathetic, yearning for a boy he
could never have. Peter Pan was never supposed to have that problem. Felix was
supposed to mean nothing to him. It was what he told himself every night when
he conjured a shadow of Felix to pleasure him, transforming his tree house into
a carbon copy of his old hovel, reliving the memories if he were Pan instead.
Felix was just entertainment, a body to keep him warm at night.
"All those horrible things I said."
"I'm so sorry."
Lies. They had to be lies. Just like a whore trying to play a lover, nothing
but an act to make the best of his life. Peter didn't know what he wanted more:
For Felix's words to be the truth or another elaborate lie to reel him in. He
kicked at the Thinking Tree repeatedly, shaking the leaves with his inhuman
force, "Damn it!" He barked over and over as he beat away at the trunk, pixie
dust fluttering down from the branches.
If he had shown more restraint, if he restricted his interactions with Felix,
he wouldn't have reawakened his old feelings for him. Cold and Transactional,
as Felix once put it and both of them failed to follow the rules. In hindsight,
Peter knew he messed up, knew he called Felix by his name at least once during
a heated or frantic moment. Although, with Felix's thighs coiled around his
hips, his velvet heat devouring him, and his voice singing to the rhythm of
pleasure, Peter really couldn't blame himself.
With an exasperated growl, Peter collapsed against the trunk of the tree,
scraping his hands through his hair. He had to bring Felix back, drop him off
back in Krumm, and forget all about him. He was a gold-digger, an
opportunist,playing to Peter's sympathies because he knew that was the only way
he'd live here comfortably. But his confession seemed genuine. His heartbreak
seemed real.
Peter chastised the thought but couldn't deny it. If Felix truly loved him,
then what? He needed a way to know, needed proof outside of just Felix's words.
He lay against his Thinking Tree, playing with the stray piles of pixie dust
that accumulated at the base. He'd invited another problem into his life just
as he did long ago as Malcolm.
Already, he felt the weakness of his original self weighing down his new form.
There was only one shred of wisdom Peter took with him from his days as a
worthless scoundrel, words that Felix used to shatter him: Love is weaknessand
already, Peter was feeling feeble, just as Malcolm always felt inadequate in
Felix's presence.
 
Felix couldn't tell how long he had been sitting in the cage. The perpetual
night and unmoving stars provided no indication of time. His legs were already
feeling sore from the scrunched up position he was forced to take. Even if he
sat diagonally, there wasn't enough space to even stretch out one leg. He was
thankful that the cage was tall though, letting him sit at full height without
straining his neck.
A part of him couldn't believe it. He thought he was dreaming again, mind
drifting off to Neverland, but no matter how many times he blinked or pinched
himself, he remained where he was; all of his mental checks passed. This was
real.
"Nothing would make me happier than taking you with me to Neverland," Felix
repeated the promise Malcolm made to him so long ago. When he was with the
scoundrel, he never dwelled on it, dismissing it as rambling. However, in the
year without him, Felix couldn't stop himself from searching his memories for
anything that could tie him back to his ex-lover.
The fact that Malcolm not only found Neverland but brought Felix with him and
turned himself back into a boy was astounding. Had the mood been kinder, Felix
would have enjoyed laughing alongside Pan. Now, Felix just didn't know how to
feel. He saw the look in Peter's eyes, saw the malicious intent when he walked
him into camp.
Felix's trembling came not from his fear of death but from finally seeing
Malcolm again and learning that his ex-lover hated him. Felix sobbed dryly,
resting the side of his head against the harsh wicker. He was a fool to think
he could forget Malcolm so easily, to think that a few cruel words could erase
him from his mind. Malcolm was his everything.
The air around him suddenly stirred, a breeze picking up insidethe cage. Felix
gasped, immediately backing into a corner as a fine smoke billowed into the
cage, engulfing him. When the smoke was gone, Felix found himself still locked
up in his cage but in a cave large enough to house a small village. The stone
was nearly silver, taking on an azure hue from the moonlight pouring in from
the top. Felix gasped and stumbled back when he noticed where he was perched, a
lone stone platform surrounded by a bottomless pit just a tremor away from
falling in. Felix forced himself still, clutching fearfully at the sides of the
cage. His resolve broke, however, when he peered through the bars and saw Pan
standing on the edge across from him, his green tunic and sharp eyes making him
stand out from the smoky stone.
"Mal!" Felix cried out, leaping forward and reaching out the bars, "Please, I
just want to talk."
Peter remained where he stood, expression cold and fearsome, "Then let's talk.
We've got all the time in the world," He sat down on a rock, arms resting on
his knees as he watched Felix from across the gorge, "Do you know where we
are?"
Felix swallowed, trying to recall the places Malcolm had talked about so long
ago. He shook his head shamefully, eyes cast towards the floor.
"We're in the Echo Caves. I brought you here because there's a special set of
rules in the Echo Cave," Peter explained, "The Echo Cave punishes liars. If
either of us lie, the ground beneath you will crumble away. The only way to
escape is to speak the truth. Do you understand?"
Felix nodded back, gripping at the bars of the cage, curious, "What do you want
to know?"
Peter's fingers were fidgeting. He had a million things to ask him but he knew
he had to prioritize. Peter sat back, hands resting on the rock as he spoke,
"What happened between you and the prince?"
Felix blinked in confusion, "I don't get what you mean."
"What did he do to make you lose your voice?" Peter clarified, "I've seen you
at your lowest. Even after that gangbang with the pirates, you still had your
fire in you. After you went to him, what did that prince do to breakyou?"
"He didn't do anything to me."
The cave didn't move. Peter couldn't understand.
"I never went back to him."
The ground shook but nothing crumbled. On the contrary, the slab Felix's cage
rested upon extended forward. Despite the blatant proof, Peter couldn't believe
it, "What do you mean?" Felix turned away, ashamed, "Don't you dareturn away
from me," Peter growled, loud and feral, drawing Felix's attention.
Flinching, Felix turned back, staring at Peter with desperate eyes, "I never
went back to Hans," He shouted over the gorge, "I said I'd go to him... after I
got over you. If I didn't, I would've hated myself for letting Hans take care
of me while I thought about you," He smiled a bit, shutting his eyes and
resting his forehead against the wicker bars, "But I never got over you. That's
why I was in Krumm. I never went to him."
The cave was shaking again. The slab was growing. Peter was trembling.
"You're lying," Peter growled contrary to all the proof, "Then how did you lose
your voice?"
"Because of you," Felix shouted back, breath growing heavy, "Because I went
back home and you weren't there. No one had seen you and Rumple wouldn't talk
to me. I thought you were dead!" He crushed his eyes shut, trying to forget all
the nights he lay in bed plagued by horrific imagery of Malcolm's corpse, a
body hanging from the ceiling, starved to death on the streets, "I thought you
were dead because of me."
A jagged, stone path was slowly being forged between them. Peter immediately
pulled away, pacing on his feet as he scrubbed a hand exasperatedly through his
hair. He was afraid to keep going, afraid of all the emotions he thought he
locked away. Love is weakness. Love is weakness. Love is...
"That's a lie," Peter hissed, fighting the urge to cover his ears and scream
till his heart burst, "You abandoned me!"
"I tried to," Felix said without shame, letting out a shuddering huff, "Since I
was little, I always lived on my own. I never needed anyone. Then you came
along and I just couldn't go back to the way I was. I couldn't live with you,"
Felix let out a pitiful laugh, "You don't know what you did to me. I think I'm
obsessed with you," A weak smile lifted his lips as he spoke. Felix reached out
through the cage again, "Mal, pleaselet me-"
"Stop calling me Mal!"Peter growled, voice bouncing around the cave echoing the
deep, feral tone he took. That pet name melted his heart every time it slipped
from Felix's lips, making him feel weak, "You were just making the best of your
dismal life. You neverloved me!"
Felix cried out and Peter froze as a chunk of the path shattered, falling into
the abyss below.
It took everything not to crumble. He couldn't let himself get upset so he got
angry instead, "Say that you regret meeting me," Peter hissed, "Say it!" The
mere force of his rage shook the cage causing stones to rain from the top,
pelting Felix's cage.
Felix stared at him, shaking his head weakly. Felix was terrified but his
denial was not sating Peter. The demon boy only got more and more enraged when
Felix refused the order. Swallowing his fear, Felix spoke up, "I regret meeting
you," He muttered, gasping when the path crumbled away, taking a huge chunk of
the platform with him. He immediately shifted to the back, trying to keep his
weight off the dangling edge.
His eyes locked with Peter's, pleading with him not to give him another self-
destructive command. Felix wouldn't deny it even if it meant his death and he
hoped Peter understood that, "I-I knew you were still angry at me and you were
probably bringing me to Neverland to either kill or enslave me. If that's what
you want, then go ahead. I'll... I'll tell a lie and let myself fall."
Felix was shaking as he spoke. In another situation, Felix knew he wouldn't
have even cared if he died or not. His hollow life was inconsequential to him
and the world. With Malcolm before him once more, everything they did together
in that year in contention, a will to live and value returned to Felix and with
it came the fear of being separated again, disappointing Malcolm once more.
Reading Felix's expression and realizing what he had done, Peter sat himself
back down, taking deep breaths to cool himself off. This was Peter's idea,
forcing the truth from Felix's lips. He couldn't let it overwhelm him. He had
to be the one in control. Felix watched Peter through the cage, unsure if he
could ever win Malcolm's heart again.
He swallowed weakly, inching forward in the cage, "Peter?"
Peter looked up, meeting his eyes, waiting.
Felix cast his eyes downward for a moment, "What did you do after that night in
Krumm?"
Peter's eyes were stone cold. He had every right to reject Felix's question but
chose not to. There was no harm telling him what happened, "I went home. Went
to a bar. Hired a new whore. Did everything to get over you. Then things
happened, I...gave up my son for Neverland and the rest was history."
Peter would never speak of the lonely nights bedding anyone who resembled Felix
in the slightest way, whether they had long legs, messy blonde hair, or
smoldering eyes. He wouldn't speak of the nights he dreamt of having Felix in
his arms only to wake with nothing but a thin blanket coiled up in his grasp,
mocking him. Or the nights that'd he touch himself to the memory of his
beloved, knowing that he'd feel nothing but shame and disgrace at the end but
unable to stop himself. He stared at Felix as his memories settled like a thick
fog sifting through his mind. Peter needn't say anything. Felix could read it
all on his face.
Felix nodded in acknowledgement, barely reacting to Rumple's fate. He expected
this of Malcolm and he knew the boy would be better off.
"Do you regret meeting me?" Felix asked quietly.
Peter was silent, lips mouthing invisible words, tasting them and unable to
settle on them. His eyes flickered to Felix once in a while, studying the boy's
soft but broken expression, "Yes. I regret meeting you. I regret going to The
Crooked Man. I regret letting you seduce me over a game of cards," The cave
didn't move. His lie or truth not yet fully realized, "I regret meeting you as
a pathetic, worthless, filthy scoundrel who couldn't get you anything you
wanted. I regret not meeting you as I am now."
The platform was restored, the path grew once more, a mere leap away from
joining the two.
Felix smiled to him from afar, clutching at the wicker bars weakly, "What took
you so long to find me?"
Peter chuckled to himself, surprised that Felix somehow turned this game
against him. It was always his speciality to somehow obtain the upper hand even
in a compromising situation, "I was scared. I didn't want to find you with the
prince. So I tried to forget you," He leaned back on the rock, "You've asked
enough questions. Now it's my turn: When did you know it was me?"
Felix smirked at the light-hearted question, "When you took me in the alley.
Only one person knows everything I like," Both laughed at his response,
lightening the tense mood, "No, it was before that. When I saw you in the bar,
even thought I wasn't completely sure, I recognized your eyes. No matter how
different you looked, your eyes would always bleed through," An alluring
darkness, sin and intellect reflecting in those stunning eyes that matched the
sea and the stormy sky in colour. The first time they met, it was Malcolm's
eyes that pulled him over, tempting him into making the scoundrel his customer
before realizing that he had been seduced. Whether he was Malcolm or Peter Pan,
a hopeless bum or an immortal king, those eyes and their effect on Felix were a
constant, "You were right. You really were quite the looker back in the day."
Peter smirked, absently scratching at a bit of moss on his knee, "You still
remember those stories I told you at my old home?"
"I'll always remember," Felix softened at his words, a gentle smile on his
face, "Those nights in your home, just the two of us, those were the greatest
moments of my life," The cave rumbled as the crooked path stretched further,
joining the slab Felix rested on with the opposite edge.
Felix watched anxiously as Peter stood, stepping across the stone pathway
slowly as if he could fall off any second. Felix fought the urge to charge at
the wicker bars, desperately grasping at Peter like a lovesick animal. Instead,
he kept his hands firmly on the floor, watching Peter with bated breath as the
trickster knelt down in front of the cage.
Up close, in the ethereal moonlight, Peter was more handsome than Felix could
have ever imagined. The demon boy was beautiful, confidence exuding with every
step, his voice throatier, smooth like the finest dark chocolate, seducing
Felix without even trying. Even if Felix had no idea who he was, he would have
fallen in love at first sight. His hands darted past the bars on their own,
resting on Peter's jaw and tracing upward, relishing the ivory skin, soft like
the finest silk.
Both of them snickered just a bit.
"I miss the beard," Felix said, pinching Peter's cheeks with both his hands.
Peter said nothing, snickering away with an innocent, jovial expression
reminiscent of Malcolm's default mood. He brought himself close to the cage,
taking Felix by the collar and pulling him in, pressing a firm kiss on his
lips. At the contact, Felix melted in his hands, the feel of Peter's lips
against his own intoxicating especially after the year's reprieve.
"The offer still stands," Peter said, breaking away from the kiss reluctantly,
"If you want, you can stay with me in Neverland forever," He pressed their lips
together again, working at the soft flesh between his teeth, "And even if you
didn't want to stay, I'll still keep you here whether you like it or not."
Felix broke away, nodding gently as he brushed his lips against Peter's. He was
pressed right up against the wicker trying to touch Peter's body, "I'd like
that," With those words, the cage shattered and Felix nearly threw himself into
Peter's arms, their bodies finally pressed flushed against each other.
Gasping, Peter shut his eyes and let out an amused chuckle. He pulled Felix
into his arms, crushing them together as he pressed a loving kiss to his lips,
"I love you," He whispered, words he thought he'd never repeat again slipping
out on their own. His hands crawled around his waist undoing the sash before
softly pressing away Felix's clothes.
Felix followed suit, stripping off his clothing and helping Peter out of his.
They shared another kiss, softer and kinder than any kiss they'd ever had.
Their lips remained locked through the night, unable to part from each other
even as Peter took Felix against the stone, ravaging him with their fingers
intertwined. Everything they locked away came back at once: Memories of every
time Malcolm took Felix, from their very first time uncomfortably crammed in an
alley to the very last time before their relationship began to crumble, laying
on Malcolm's bed joined for hours. All of those memories came back stronger,
more vivid, overwhelming both of them till they could no longer see anything
else, not their future, their past, none of it.
To live in Neverland with Peter was to toss everything away. Growth, maturity,
and society was no longer relevant. Cherished memories, unpaid promises,
outstanding debts would fade away with the endless centuries. There was no
future to be had in a place where time stood still. This would be a selfish
life, never contributing to anything or anyone. They would only have each other
to love, to survive, to treasure. The simplicity they both yearned for
sustained by self-indulgence.
This was the path Felix chose to walk, a flawed, jagged, broken path that led
in never-ending circles, but that no longer seemed like a problem. As long as
Peter was at his side, as long as Malcolm was at his side, he'd proudly walk
their crooked path forever.
Chapter End Notes
     Thank you to everyone who was willing to sit through my Malcolm/Felix
     (Mallix?) fanfic. The Panlix ship is already small enough, the Mallix
     ship is literally non-existent and I thank everyone who was willing
     to give it a try. And another special thanks again to Sporklift who
     helped made this fic happen!
     What could have been:
         * There was originally a barmaid who was meant to be Felix's only
           friend, providing him with contacts here and there. She was
           meant to be based off Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre
           Dame but in the end, I scraped her since I wanted to make
           Felix's life a bit more abysmal. Hmmm, starting to realize
           that's a running theme in all my fics: Making Felix's life
           abysmal
         * The original driving conflict was actually supposed to be
           Rumple instead of Hans. In two variations, Felix can't love
           Malcolm because of how he treats his son or Rumple ruins
           Felix's reputation, ratting him out to the baker, and driving
           him away making Felix hate Malcolm for not keeping his son
           under control. Both were scraped since Felix clearly has no
           problem with Rumple being Malcolm's son in the future and in
           the second scenario, his hate is geared more towards Rumple,
           not Malcolm.
         * The prince wasn't planned to be Hans. I tried searching up any
           Peter Pan-relevant characters but didn't find any characters
           that could play the role. Eventually, I decided to go with
           Frozen references and selected Hans for the role. Fun fact: I
           imagine he looks like Armie Hammer in live action.
         * Felix's backstory was meant to be much darker and play a much
           bigger role. Originally, I had planned that he was sexually
           abused by his father, leading to this mentality of servicing
           older men. Malcolm learns this and tries desperately to not
           replicate his father's behaviour which is why he acts so
           carefree and childish around Felix. This would lead to a
           variation when Felix and Malcolm clash. Instead of passing on
           "Love is Weakness", Felix was meant to pass on "Because that's
           what adults do!" when Malcolm tells him that he'd never hurt
           him.
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