Death of Trust part six (Patreon)

Alton's bare feet slapped the ground as he tore through the city street away from Giovi's domus. The nicer homes broke apart giving way to shops and street venders. He turned down an alley where the setting sun had already lost it's war with the coming night. 

Trees replaced buildings. Dirt replaced cobblestone. Voices, creaking cart wheels, and the promises of peddlers faded away until there were only song birds and rustling leaves.

Alton's ribs squeezed and the air turned to broken glass. The tears running down his cheeks dried into salt lines. He kept running, ignoring the occasional sting of pain from the bottoms of his feet.

A root grabbed his ankle, jerking him off balance. Alton threw out his arms in time to shield his face from the rocky ground. The impact shoved his breath from his lungs and he rolled down the small incline coming to a stop near the edge of a creek.

Water rushed over his left foot. The skin on his sole seared hot and cold.

What had he done?

Streaks of sunlight broke through the canopy scattering gold droplets across the forest floor.

He'd run from Giovi and as a slave, Alton did not have that right. He'd be punished for this. Possibly killed. Would Giovi do such a thing? Alton didn't think so but he'd hurt the man. Hurt him deep enough that he might be unable to forgive.

What Alton said might have been the truth, it also might have been a truth Giovi was not ready to face.

A breeze cut across the ground. Blades of grass tickled Alton's cheeks. He wasn't even sure why he'd run. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to go. He'd been a slave for ten years and had no knowledge of how to survive in the wild. His stomach growled and he ignored it.

The sun dipped lower beyond the trees. While he'd never been out on his own, he knew if he didn't find shelter before night fall he could wind up a meal for the wild animals.

Alton pushed himself up on his elbows. A symphony of aches played through his bones. He winced and tried to stand. Ragged shards of agony beat against the bottoms of his feet. He gripped his ankle and turned his foot to the side. Crimson streaked his skin and thorns made dark lines in the creases of his toes.

He plucked as many as he could then forced himself up and bit back a cry as he limped to the other side of the creek where the remnants of a stone structure created enough shelter that he might be able to survive the night.

It must have been an old temple or some sort of city building, but the crude design hadn't held up to the worst of the elements. Instead of smooth pillars, the rock had been stacked in chunks.There was no sign of a roof, only the notches left behind across the tops of the crumbling walls where joists would have set.

A few clay pots brimmed with rainwater. Part of a collapsed wall offered an alcove and some protection from the wind and any rain. Alton cleared the leaves from a large flat rock. He started to sit.

The rise and fall of a melodic voice swirled with the whisper of tree branches swaying overhead. Softer than the songbirds, each note carried in a language he wasn't familiar with.

Alton followed the sound. More crumbled walls made a trail to a wide open area where even less of the structure remained. Clumps of green filled in the gaps between the rubble. Alton's tender feet protested as he stepped up onto one of the rocks.

Just over the edge of a collapsed wall, Alton saw him bathing in the creek. His pale skin made the copper locks of his hair all the more brighter. He was no taller than Alton, with a slender build. But where Alton was thin this boy was delicate. His graceful limbs followed the sloping lines of his body.

Alton might have questioned whether or not the stranger was even male if he hadn't been nude. The boy waded from a large pool formed by a hollow place in the stream bed. He picked up a towel laying with a pile of clothes and wrapped it around his shoulders.

The wind shifted and flicked Alton's bangs and the hem of his tunic. A static tingle danced down his spine, the hairs on the back of his arms stood up and a heated weight coiled in his groin. Alton needed to run. If anyone saw him he could wind up on a whipping post.

The boy stopped singing and turned.

Even in the fading light his luminous green eyes glittered and when he smiled Alton's heart threatened to stop.

Perhaps Alton was wrong and the gods of Olympus were well and truly real. Or at least the mythical creatures said to roam the woods. Because this too-perfect-boy was far from ordinary.

He approached. “Are you lost?”

No. Alton wasn't lost. He was something but lost definitely wasn't it.

“It's not that far back into town. You can follow the creek to a trail that will take you to the bathhouse.” He stopped in front of Alton. A sweet honey scent flavored the air.

Saliva flooded Alton's mouth and he struggled to swallow. The boy searched Alton's face then widened his eyes as he skipped his gaze from Alton's head to his toes. “You're bleeding.” The boy knelt his copper locks brushing Alton's stomach on the way down. The momentary contact might as well have been a bolt of lightening. He jerked back and the ground fell out from under his feet.

The sky traded places with the boy kneeling on the rock and a hard jolt of pain burst in Alton's hip. He rolled coming to a stop after what seemed like miles but was only a few feet away from where he'd fallen off the ledge of the stone.

The boy made the small jump to the ground. His wrap flipped up exposing everything, every perfect inch of him and Alton shoved himself back.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.”

It wasn't hurting him Alton worried about but the deep longing that threatened to make him hard. And sex was nothing more than another form of torture. A way to inflict pain and humiliation.

“My name is Cael.” The boy said it like a confession or a plea.

Alton stopped his retreat and looked up.

“I promise I won't hurt you.” Cael nodded at Alton's feet. Crimson peppered the ground where he'd fallen. “You're bleeding, I just want to help.” He knelt and pulled the towel from his shoulders. “I'm going to bandage them okay?” Cael tore a strip of cloth from the length of fabric. He lifted one of Alton's feet and frowned. “There are thorns.” His green eyes held unshed tears. “Why aren't you wearing any shoes?”

And why did Cael care? And why was he the one about to cry?

“I lost them. I think.”

“You think?” Cael sat on the ground and placed Alton's foot on his thigh. The innocent contact threatened to suffocate him. His heart hammered in his chest.

“I had them, so I must have. Probably in the woods.” Or it might have been the street. Alton had no idea and in that moment he wasn't sure he cared.

“Be still, this might hurt a little.” With graceful elegant fingers, so fitting of the rest of him, Cael plucked the thorns from Alton's skin.

It should have hurt, but the brush of Cael's fingertips sent a constant crackle up Alton's spine. It wasn't until Cael stopped that Alton realized his breathing had quickened, and his cheeks burned.

“It's too dark for me to see.” Cael stood leaving behind the towel and scrap he'd torn off. “Hang on I'll start a fire.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're not.”

No he wasn't.

Cael picked his way around the crumbling structure, his lithe figure sliding through the shadows. Ethereal black silk slipping down his skin. Even when Cael disappeared in the darkness Alton sawhim. The same elements of the ambrosia flower churned beneath the other boy's flesh. Only brighter, creating a physical pull at everything in Alton's being. He dug his fingers into the rocky soil. He was not like the slave trader. He refused to be like him. Cael reappeared from the darkest parts of the rubble. Alton clenched his eyes shut. 

Branches rustled, rock scraped on rock. Bittersweet smoke overrode the constant honey scent bleeding from Cael. Heat pressed against Alton's legs. A sharp snap was followed by a rustling crackle. Light danced behind Alton's eyelids. He risked a look. Cael placed stones around the fire. He still wore nothing. After he added a few more bundles of larger branches he returned to where Alton lay.

“There, now I can see.” He lifted Alton's foot and resumed plucking the thorns. After a long stretch of silence he stopped.“I don't think I can get any more than that. But I'm pretty sure most of them are gone.” Cael picked up a bowl.

Where had he gotten it?

“What's your name?”

Alton swallowed hard.

Cael placed the bowl on a stone near the fire. “After it's warm I'll wash off the blood and wrap them.” The fire light turned his brilliant green eyes dark jade. “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“Alton.”

“Well, Alton, I'm not a physician but I think it might be a good idea to wear shoes in the woods.” Cael's gentle smile faltered? “What's wrong?”

“What are you?”

Cael's eyebrows crunched together. “What do you mean?”

Maybe he didn't know he was different. But he had to because what glimmered in Cael was a sun compared to the candle flame in Pavle.

“Never mind.” Alton sat up. Now he was even closer. He resisted the urge to back away, not because he was scared but because of the craving to close the distance between them.

A blush rose in Cael's cheeks and he dropped his gaze. The gesture shrouded him in innocence making Alton feel all the more dirty.

“Are you hungry?” He still didn't look up. “I brought some bread and cheese with me.” Cael started to stand and without even thinking about it, Alton caught the other boy by the wrist. They both gasped but Alton couldn't make himself let go.

Cael knelt again, this time right beside Alton. So close his breath kissed his cheek and the honey scent threatened to choke him in the most wonderful ways.

“You're different.” Alton's voice cracked. “Why are you different?”

Cale bit his bottom lip. “You don't know?”

Alton shook his head.

“But you're a god.”

“How do you know that?” Alton tightened his grip even though he meant to open his fingers.

“The same way you know I'm different.” There was no tension in Cael's frame. It was almost as if the act of restraining him gave him some kind of comfort.

“But you're not a god.” Alton made it a statement.

Cael giggled. It should have been feminine but it wasn't. Not from him. From Cael it was neither male or female. “Of course not. I'm a Doxie.”

“Doxie.” The word rolled from Alton's tongue tasting as delicious as the air.

An owl called out. Leaves rustled. Seconds became minutes. The fire light died down.

Cael nodded at the camp fire. “I need to put more wood on.”

But that meant letting him go. Alton's fingers creaked with the effort to force them open. Red imprints marked Cael's wrist.

Guilt curled in Alton's stomach. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” Cael fed the fire.

“For hurting you?”

Again he smiled. By all that was how the hell could a person be so beautiful?

“You didn't. I promise.”

“But I...”

The marks were gone. They'd been there, Alton knew they'd been there.

Cael spread out the remains of the towel and sat.

Somewhere in the darkness a tree branch snapped. Alton jerked his head up. Red and orange firelight streaked the remains of the stone walls. The night beyond an inkwell. Cael hummed while he tossed on more sticks. Another rustle and Alton moved closer to the fire.

“It's okay, it's just deer.”

“What if it's not.”

“It is.”

“How do you know?” Alton couldn't pull his gaze from the darkness.

“Experience.”

That made Alton look at Cael. Experience? This boy belonged in a palace surrounded by treasure. He was not made for the forest. Unless of course he actually was a magical creature of some sort.

“You don't believe me?” Cael folded his legs. “The boy who ran through a briar patch doesn't believe the Doxie who isn't scared of the dark?”

“I'm not scared.” Alton swallowed hard. “Not of the dark.”

Cael's gentle features turned serious. “Are you running from someone?”

Alton shook his head then nodded.

“Who?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I said I don't want to talk about it.” Alton tried to stand but a shredded bolt of pain tossed him back on his ass. Tears sprang to his eyes and he bit back a yell.

“You're not going to be able to walk for a few days.” Cael crawled over.

Alton cradled his left foot. A heated fever pounded under the skin. “Why does it hurt so bad now? You got the thorns out.” That should have eased the pain, not made it worse.

“The thorns you stepped on sting. You know, like a bee.” Cael knocked Alton's hands away. “Here let me see.” He unwrapped the bandages and frowned. “Are you allergic to bees?”

Alton shook his head. “Why?”

“It's really swollen.” Cael's touch grazed the length of Alton's sole.

He shivered.

“Does that hurt?”

No, it should have. “Not really.”

“Maybe it just looks worse than it is.”

Thank the stars, otherwise his foot would have been hanging by tattered strands of skin. Cael stood.

“Where are you going?”

“To look for some moss.”

“What? Why?”

Cael climbed onto a large rock near an ancient tree sprouting in the center of the ruins. “To help with the swelling.” He ran his hands over the bark. Fire light outlined him in shades of bronze turning him into a work of art. Alton willed himself to close his eyes, a battle he almost won until the other boy got to his knees, ass in the air, exposing everything for the world to see.

Alton shoved the heel of his hand against his erection. The last thing he needed was for Cael to know.

“Here.” Cael backed down from the rock with a clump of pale gray moss in his hand. He pulled off a clump and put it in his mouth. “This should be enough.” He returned to the place at Alton's feet. “My mother used to make healing creams with this stuff. I don't know if it ever really helped with healing, but it sure could take the fire out of an insect sting or cut.” He spit the clump into his palm. “I promise this will make it feel--” Cael's gaze landed on Alton's hand he had stuffed between his thighs. Alton's face burned far hotter than what radiated from the campfire.

Cael's smile went lopsided and he returned his attention to the bottoms of Alton's feet. Spots of sticky wet warmth pressed against his abused skin.

“It's perfectly normal you know.” Cael chewed another piece then added it to the growing collection of mossy wads. “All young men get hard.” Ceal re-wrapped Alton's foot and started on the right one. “Especially godlings. Especially when they're around a Doxie. And you're really young...”

“I'm not any younger than you.”

Cael grinned. “Really?”

“I'm fifteen, I think, maybe sixteen.”

“And I was born before this temple we're in fell.”

Alton replayed the words in his head. Hadn't Pavle said ambrosia can let a man live forever? Or at least a god? The same obviously applied to Doxies. Maybe more so. Because Cael practically glowed with the elements of the bloom.

Cael rewrapped Alton's other foot. “You'll feel better in the morning I promise.”

This boy. This beautiful boy, was older than Alton could even comprehend. Older than Rome? Because this temple, these piles of rock, clumps of broken earth, discarded pots, had to be older than the city shadowing it.

Alton drew his knees up to his chest. Cael poked at the embers with a crooked branch. Even such insignificant actions were made beautiful by him. Even the act of drawing air was somehow mystical.

“If you keep staring at me you're going to make me self-conscious.”

“Sorry.” But Alton couldn't look away. “Are you really older than these ruins?”

“Yes.” There was palpable sadness in that single word.

“Did something bad happen?” Was that why he was out here? Had Cael run from someone like Alton had?

Cael exhaled a sigh deep enough to drop his shoulders. “Lots has happened.” He shrugged. “Bad things, good things. Better things.” He flicked a look up that suggested one of those better things might be Alton.

Ridiculous.

Cael set the stick beside his leg and leaned back on his hands. His shoulder brushed Alton's knee and he trembled. If Cael noticed he was good a pretending not to. But if he was as old as he claimed, he probably had a lot of experience. After all he could tell what was a deer just by the way leaves rustled. “Are you ever going to tell me what you're running from?”

No. “I did something stupid.”

Cael laughed a little. “Who hasn't?”

“I ran from my master.”

That got Cael attention. But he didn't look at Alton with anything but worry. “You're a slave?”

Alton nodded.

“But you're wearing clothes.”

Alton nodded again.

“Did you steal them?”

“No. The man who owns me gave them to me.”

Cael pinched the hem of Alton's tunic. “It's nice. He must care about you.”

Only because he wanted to see Alton as his son. Looking back, the reasons why that couldn't be allowed had faded. Alton had been so sure he needed to quash those thoughts from Giovi, now he only felt foolish.

Alton's stomach growled.

Cael tilted his head. “I've still got that bread and cheese in my pack. I don't mind sharing it.”

“I don't want to take your food.”

“You won't be taking it I--”

An echo carried Alton's name from beyond the treeline. The voice was unmistakable. Giovi. And there was no anger, just a panicked rhythm to how he repeated his call.

Cael leapt to his feet. “I wasn't here.” He grabbed his towel. “Promise me Alton, you won't tell anyone you saw me.” Cael watched the darkness.

“Wait, why?”

“Please, just promise me.” Desperation burned in Cael's eyes as bright as the firelight.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” He started to turn but stopped and knelt. Cael's lips left a silken brand on Alton's cheek.

Before Alton could even blink Cael disappeared beyond the ruins as he headed back towards the creek.

“Alton?” Giovi's call echoed off the rocks. Alton tried to stand but it was useless. His swollen feet simply wouldn't hold his weight.

Torch light glimmered through the trees. Giovi emerged from a mass of bushes. His gaze met Alton's and his worried expression shattered.

“Oh thank the gods.” Giovi rushed over. “I was sure I'd never find you. Or worse.” He took the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around Alton's shoulders.

Shame cinched Alton's chest. Giovi continued to fuss, when he saw Alton's feet tears glittered in his eyes.

“I'm sorry.” Alton had no idea why he bothered to apologize. He didn't have the right to hope for forgiveness.

“There is nothing to be sorry for and if there is I'm the one who should be apologizing.” He petted Alton's head. “And I am sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you and I'm sorry for...” His Adam's apple bobbed. “Please come home and I promise to tell you everything. Tomorrow, after you rest, and after you've eaten.” Giovi offered Alton a hand up.

“I can't stand...my feet.”

“Then I'll carry you.” Giovi nodded once and scooped Alton up as if he weighed nothing.