Coming of Age -- Ending Two of Four is up!

Connor slammed his fist into the wall beside his brother’s closet door, and a bright flare of pain shot up his arm. “How could this happen?” he complained to the room in general.

Quinn watched his older brother carefully as he raged. Physically, the two boys couldn’t have been any more different. Connor was tall and broad shouldered, with thick wavy hair the color of honey. He had inherited his father’s heavy, sharp features and his brown eyes. Quinn was thin, pale, and black haired, and even though he was sixteen, he was often mistaken for someone much, much younger. His brothers’ ward was sitting on the chair beside the door, to be in close proximity of Connor’s pacing. Connor was careful not to move too much; the sounds the boy made when the cuff activated were terrible.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” Quinn asked Connor during a low point in his tantrum. “I mean, its not like you’re the first person in our family to go through this. Mom was Dad’s ward, you know, and look how that turned out.”

Connor glared at his brother. “Are you suggesting I start sleeping with him?” he snarled.

Quinn shrugged. “Well, you’re already going to be sleeping with him. As far as sex goes…”

“Enough.” Connor cut him off, and Quinn smiled. “Why did you know about this and I didn’t?”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Oh please! You really are thick, you know that? The whole thing is in the family history, if you ever bothered to look. I’ve known about it for years. All members of our bloodline, on the day after their eighteenth birthday, are given a ward. Traditionally, it’s a female to male and vice versa, but Dad’s got it in his head that it’s an archaic way of doing things.” Quinn smiled again. “I guess that’s Dad’s inner sexual frustration coming out on you.”

Connor would’ve marched over and choked his brother to death if he wasn’t so worried about the boy. Instead, he asked the question that had been bothering him all morning. “Where do the wards come from?”

Quinn shook his head. “I don’t know. I do remember that Mom was an orphan, and she was taken in the ward program when she was thirteen. I’ve heard that some other families prepare their wards from a very young age.” Quinn studied the boy in the chair for a moment. “That’s what yours looks like.”

Connor sighed and sat down on the floor beside the chair. He could feel the boy staring at him. “This is insane.” He groaned. “How am I supposed to explain this to everyone at school?”

Quinn shrugged. “Some of them might already know. There are a few families like ours, who participate in the ward tradition. My friend Eric has an older brother with a ward. They’ve been cuffed for almost a year now.”

Connor shuddered. Six months was going to be bad enough. He stood up. “I’ve got to think.” He told his brother, who nodded sympathetically. Connor held his hand out to the boy without thinking. “Come on.”

The boy took his hand, and Connor shuddered again at the touch of his smooth, cool skin. He lead the boy out of his brother’s room and back to his own. He just wanted to lie down for a while. The boy came along easily, two steps behind Connor the whole way through the house. Halfway up the stairs, Connor heard a low grumbling. He stopped and turned to look at the boy, who was staring at his feet and blushing.

“What the hell was that?” he asked him, and the boy shook his head. Connor noticed he had both hands pressed against his stomach, and realized what the sound was. He sighed. “Okay, come on.” He lead the boy back down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Addy?” he called.

The cook came out of the pantry with a huge bag of sugar in one hand. “Connor, my boy!” she greeted happily, pressed a big, wet kiss to his cheek. “Nice to see you up and about.” She eyed the boy critically. “Is this your ward?”

Connor nodded. “He’s hungry. Could you make us a tray to take up?”

“Absolutely, my dear.” She reached over and kissed the boy’s cheek the same way she had Connor’s. “Nice to have you, sweet heart.” She told him, and laughed at the look of shock on the boy’s face. “A bit jumpy, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea.” Connor muttered. “Do we still have that cheesecake?”

Addy fixed them sandwiches and desserts, and topped the tray off with two huge strawberry milkshakes, which had been Connor’s favorite since he was a little kid. The boy moved to pick up the tray before Connor could get their first. He lifted it easily and turned to wait for Connor to lead the way. Sighing, Connor did so.

Once they were back in his room, Connor realized he was exhausted. “I’m too tired to sit a the table.” He told the boy. “Come on.” He climbed onto his bed, and after a moment, the boy did as well.

They side by side and ate the sandwiches in dead silence. The boy seemed to be confused by the milkshake, though, and Connor considered the idea that the kid had never seen a straw before. But that was impossible right? Maybe not. He also seemed to have no idea on what clothes were. Where was this boy from?

Connor watched him as he pulled the straw out and carefully licked the milkshake off. His eyes seemed to light up in his head and he pointed happily at the glass, his mouth stretching into a delighted smile. Connor almost smiled back, until he realized what had been so off about the boy’s smile.

He had extra canines. There were three sets of incisors on the top jaw of this kid’s mouth instead of just one. The first set was normal sized and placed, but where his molars should have started, there was another smaller pair, followed by another, slightly larger pair. He’d never seen someone with extra incisors…

…or eyes that shade of blue green. Or hair that blindingly silver. Connor felt his stomach flip. The boy looked at him, still pleased as hell over the milkshake, but when he saw the look on Connor’s face, his smile disappeared. Connor studied him carefully, and boy stared back. “What are you?” he asked the boy softly. “Where did you come from?”

The boy looked away, his cheeks tinged pink, and made a big show of eating the rest of his sandwich. Connor, however, felt so sick he couldn’t even look at the food. He decided it was best to just lie down and attempt to get a nap in. Maybe, when he woke up, he’d find his life back to normal, no strange, silver haired boy, no metal cuff.

He closed his eyes and begged to fall asleep.
&*&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

When he awoke, it was dark, but because there were no windows in this room, he couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Something cool and smooth and soft was sliding along the skin below his ribcage in slow, gentle circles. He leaned into the touch without quite thinking, and felt the boy snuggle closer against his back. For a moment his whole body tensed, and he was ready to fling himself out of the bed and away from the boy. But then he heard the soft sigh and realized he was asleep. He very carefully rolled over to face the boy, whose hand slid up and pressed against the space between Connor’s shoulder blades.

He was sleeping rather fitfully. His eyes kept flickering behind his eyelids, and his mouth kept moving as though he were speaking. Connor leaned in very close, hoping to catch something. He’d never heard the boy speak before. He moved so that his ear was as near to the boy’s mouth as he could get without actually touching him. For a moment there was nothing, and then Connor realized he was whispering very faintly in another language. Scowling, he gave up. He rolled over onto his back, which caused the boy was slide even closer, tangling his legs with Connor’s and wrapping his arm around his waist. His nails dragged along the skin of Connor’s abdomen, and Connor felt his whole body twitch at the sensation.

This was stupid. Connor glared up at the ceiling. Here he was, essentially handcuffed to a kid who didn’t speak English and had no sense of personal space. The boy made that soft sighing sound again and adjusted his posture, bring his face up to snuggle it into the crook of Connor’s neck. Connor tensed again, and the boy’s fingers began to move that delicate circling motion against his stomach, the same way it had been when he’d first awoken. It felt good, in a strange sort of way, and after a while, he closed his eyes again and tried to fall back asleep. He would’ve succeeded, too, if the boy hadn’t started acting even weirder.

As Connor was balancing on the edge between awake and asleep, he felt the boy shift again, and a moment later a cold, wet pressure latched onto the side of his neck. His half asleep body reacted, and he moaned a little, tilting his head back. The boy’s mouth slid along his throat, leaving a wet trail that felt somehow warmer when the air touched it. Connor’s hands came up and touched the boy’s back, felt the muscles under the skin and the strange upraised patterns of his scars. The boy’s hand on his stomach slid down, his long nailed fingers finding the button of Connor’s pants and slowly working it open. That cool, soft hand slid inside, finding Connor half erect, and the shock of the temperature difference snapped Connor out of his half sleep.

The boy felt that he was awake and immediately slid up to straddle him. “What are you-“ Connor got about that far before the boy leaned down and licked at his mouth. His tongue was so soft, so cold, than Connor opened for it without thinking. The boy stroked Connor’s tongue with his own, his hand beginning to move inside Connor’s boxers. Connor grabbed at him blindly, catching him by the shoulders. He wanted to push the boy away, make him stop, but his treacherous body did the exact opposite. He pulled the boy down, crushing his mouth against Connor’s, effectively deepening the kiss nearly to the point of pain. The boy moaned loudly into his mouth, his hand squeezing and releasing in a quick, steady rhythm as he stroked Connor’s erection, which was now so intense he thought it might explode.

Connor tore his mouth away from the boy and groaned, his hips shoving up, wanting the boy to move faster. The boy complied, leaning down to run his tongue along the shell of Connor’s ear. His whispered something, his voice low and hoarse and somehow sexier than anything Connor had ever experienced. Whatever he whispered, Connor didn’t understand, but he repeated it, his hand squeezing, and Connor felt his orgasm build to the point of agony.

“Please.” He tried to strain up into the boy’s hand, to get more friction. The boy leaned back a little, as if to watch him, and Connor saw the small, malicious smile on his face in the gloom. Connor felt like screaming. This was too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body convulsing, and the boy made a soft, low laughing sound as he watched Connor climax, his hands still working gently.

Connor collapsed back against the bed, panting. He felt like he’d just run ten miles. He watched the boy crawl off of him and lay back down on his side, facing Connor. Connor tried to feel guilty about it, tried to feel grossed out, like he was supposed to, and couldn’t manage. He was too tired, and that had been too good to regret. The boy curled up against him hesitantly, as though expecting anger or dismissal. Connor let the boy near him, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He told the boy softly, and watched the smile on his face. Then the boy closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep. Connor lay there, thinking. Had the boy been awake the whole time? What would it be like tomorrow? Was that supposed to happen with your ward on your first night?

Questions followed him into sleep.