The Artifact of Foex (22 page)

“What do they call you, son?” he asked after
a time.

“Chet. And you?”

“You can call me Rhiys.” The man seemed to be
evaluating him.

Chet looked down, his mouth dry. How personal
would this get? As if in answer, Rhiys reached out and put a hand
on Chet’s leg. His touch was warm and had some pressure behind it.
He rubbed Chet’s leg up and down.

“You ever hitchhike before?”

Chet shook his head truthfully. Rhiys
lingered at his upper thigh, and Chet couldn’t help himself—he
squirmed. “I don’t like that,” he said experimentally. “Please
stop.”

Rhiys put his hand back on the steering
wheel, but his expression didn’t change. “You been volunteering
with Nuns all your life, boy?”

“All my sisters are Nuns,” Chet said,
sticking with the truth.

“You want to get those ladies where they’re
going, you’re going to need to follow some rules, here. For one
thing, this cab is my home. You’re to be polite and respectful to
me. You’re to call me sir. Do you understand?”

Chet didn’t like where this was going. “Yes,
sir.”

“I want you to undo my fly, boy, and pull out
my dick.”

That was quick. No foreplay or anything,
right down to business.
Chet nibbled his lip, uncertain. What
would Journey do in this situation? She’d defended herself readily
against Fenimore, yet she’d implied yesterday that she be the one
handling this exact circumstance while hitchhiking. Not willingly,
but from necessity. Would Journey open this guy’s fly and take out
his dick? Chet was afraid the answer was
yes
. Journey
would probably make sure to set some boundaries, though. Both Knife
and Fenimore had neatly—and cruelly, in Fenimore’s case—avoided
this situation entirely. If Fenimore were up here, he’d probably
unsheathe his hunting blade and threaten the man to keep driving.
Knife would have employed a subtler tactic with equal results.
Lacking a weapon or tactical knowledge, Chet decided to try setting
boundaries as a partial solution.

“Look, I’ll suck your dick for you. But I
won’t take it in the ass.”

Rhiys glanced at him with surprise. “Thought
you were a blushing virgin. Ah, well. Suck me off, and I won’t hurt
you too badly.”

What does
that
mean?
Chet
felt his breath stop in his throat. Was the guy a killer? They’d
sure chosen the wrong truck to climb into, that was certain.

His fingers shaking, he unzipped the man’s
fly. Rhiys lifted his pelvis helpfully as Chet pulled his penis
out. It was midsized and starting to grow hard, the glans head
unusually square and large, like a hammer. It didn’t smell very
good. Chet gulped and lay down on his belly, then took it in his
mouth. It tasted exactly the way it smelled. Chet made sure to
cover his teeth with his lips, the way Fenimore had taught him.
Rhiys rumbled in appreciation, stroking Chet’s head one-handed, the
other hand still steering the truck forward.

“Not bad, boy,” he murmured as Chet suckled
and pumped him with his lips. Rhiys was completely erect now. “Aw,
Abyss with it,” Rhiys growled after a while.

Chet felt the truck start to slow down, and
he looked up, confused. They were pulling over to the shoulder.
“What are you doing?” His lips felt oily and unclean.

“Next stop is too far away, and I want your
dick
now
.” Rhiys parked the truck and reached for
Chet.

Chet backed away. “Hey! I said—“

“Yeah, yeah, no fucking. I heard you. But I
still want to play with your cock.” Rhiys grabbed at his fly; Chet
struggled reflexively for a minute, but Rhiys was stronger. His
penis was limp as Rhiys pulled it out.

“Look, I—
oh,
” Chet gasped. Rhiys had
him in both hands now, pumping with one hand, the other rubbing the
tip of his penis. It felt overwhelming to be touched by a man he
feared, yet he was still turned on. Chet writhed, his empty hands
opening and closing as Rhiys manipulated him.

Rhiys put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him
down. “Lie face up on the seat.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Chet did as he was told. He'd delved into the
darkness of sexuality with Fenimore. Now he was diving deeper...
deeper... could he ever surface from this depth?

Yes
.

I
will
survive,
he
decided
.
It was a comforting thought with no basis in
reality. He was surrounded by people who frightened him, events
that had turned his world inside out. Professor Clementina’s
threats. Fenimore’s insistent ways. Even Knife had scared him when
he’d stepped out of line. The things Chet loved most were gone,
starting with his degree, his ex-girlfriend, and Tibbets. And yet
he would survive this.
I vow it.

Rhiys climbed atop him, his crotch in Chet’s
face. His penis dangled on Chet’s lips. “Suck me off while I play
with you.”

Chet lifted his head and took his dick once
more. Rhiys’s oily taste and smell filled his nostrils. He felt
nauseous and involuntarily aroused, his cock again trapped and
pumped. Rhiys fucked his face indelicately, smashing himself into
Chet’s nose and cheeks. There was an implicit assumption in Rhiys’s
actions that Chet was a puppet to play with, an object without
emotions or opinions of his own. Chet gasped for air, fighting
against the, the
illusion
that his mouth was nothing but a
hole for the man to fuck. An illusion, yes. Had to be.

“Swallow me, boy. Swallow what I give you,”
Rhiys said in a breathless tone as he came, spurting semen into
Chet’s mouth.

Chet swallowed, gagging and sick to his
stomach as he tried not to bite down.
Pantheon, that was
cruel.
Would it end now? Rhiys didn’t climb off—instead, he
leaned over and took Chet in his own mouth. He didn’t bother
lapping his teeth, and Chet cried out, squirming, as the man
half-bit, half sucked him. Aroused and laid open, Chet came with
Rhiys’s scrotum mashed against his cheek.
Well, that was
unpleasant
. Strange that the same physical reaction could be
so different depending on who had caused it.

Rhiys let him up. “I’m tempted to fuck you
anyway, boy. You’re too a fine dumpling to eat only half.”

“I’ll suck you again whenever you want,
sir
. But leave my ass alone,” Chet said, trying to keep
his voice steady.

The ride continued. Rhiys fingered him
occasionally. The guy was just gross. Chet wished he were back on
the ceros, reciting poetry with the others. He wished he were
anywhere but here, yet this wasn’t too bad. Despite his greasiness,
Rhiys didn’t alarm him anymore. Rhiys respected Chet’s imposed
boundary, a fact which Chet found comforting.

“There’s a principality ahead where I fill up
and get some food,” Rhiys commented after a long silence. “Want
something to eat? Do you think your friend and the sisters will
want something, too?”

“Sure, I’ll have something. The others have
food in the duffle bag.” Chet didn’t want the Flame exposed when
they didn’t need to be. Besides, why should they get hot food when
he was the one doing all the work?
Fenimore can eat dry rations
and sit on it,
Chet decided grumpily.

“Whoops,” Rhiys muttered, clearly alarmed as
they rounded a hill.

Chet blinked. Twelve police cars, their
lights on, blocked the highway ahead. A long string of cars crept
forward, the queue controlled by the officers who were checking
each one.

Rhiys grunted, his expression hard. “Wonder
why they have a roadblock
here
of all places. No alternate
routes on this stretch.”

You just answered your own question,
Chet thought, frowning at the police cars. Yesterday Sheriff Jindo
had said police forces had been scrambling to find them. Now there
was a roadblock on Highway 1, the only viable road that ran east to
west across the Eicha continent.

Chet squinted, trying to see what was
happening. Each officer had a canteen in hand. They leaned into the
windows of cars with the canteens, doing—what? Checking for Flame
by sprinkling water on people? It seemed a likely and fool-proof
way to seek out disguised shapeshifters. There would be no
mistaking the Flame as anything but what they were... nor was there
a convenient doppelganger at hand, like Oak.

A line of closed-cargo trucks had been waved
off the road, the cargo doors open as they were searched.
Shit,
shit, shit,
Chet thought wildly. He had no way to warn the
others. He could only wait, but the wait wasn’t long; an officer
waved them off road as they crept forward in the line of cars.

Rhiys growled to Chet, “You say nothing,
understand? I can’t believe my bad luck...”

Chet nodded.
The guy’s a smuggler after
all,
he thought dryly. At least Rhiys had an internal
motivation not to stir up trouble in this police blockade. Chet
frowned, distracted. The cord he’d forgotten about—the cord linking
his navel to the Raptus—shifted a little. Then it jumped. Chet
glanced over his shoulder at the closed cargo hold. Was someone
back there messing with the Raptus?

A policeman waved at Rhiys and Chet to get
out of the truck, which they did. Rhiys presented his license and
travel permits upon request. The officer eyed them alertly. “And
who are you?” he asked Chet.

Rhiys said, “This is my son, Chet. He’s on
summer break from school and wanted to make a run with his old man.
Eh, Chet?”

“Yeah.” Chet shrugged, trying to look bored
and slouch like a secondary-school student. For once, he was glad
he looked younger than he really was.

“What cargo are you carrying?”

Rhiys cleared his throat. “Empty barrels. I
make stops all along Highway 1 to ice makers and other folks like
that.”

“Please hold out your hands,” the officer
said, a canteen in hand. They followed instructions and enduring a
sprinkling of water on their hands.

“Say, what’s this about anyway?” Rhiys said,
shaking off his hand. “You doing a hygiene test of some sort?”

“Tracking possible fugitives. I’ll need you
to—to open the... ba...” The guy blinked, as if uncertain. Then he
looked
very
uncertain. The feeling in Chet’s belly, the
link to the Raptus grew stronger. The officer shook his head.
“Excuse me. I need you to open the back of your truck.”

“Sure thing, sir.” Rhiys strode around the
side, Chet and the officer following.

The cord extending from Chet’s belly was
almost vibrating now. Chet held his breath as Rhiys opened the
cargo hold.

The officer glanced inside, his eyes vague
and unfocused. Even Chet could see that someone was hiding behind
the roped-down barrels: there was a tiny swatch of color in the
back of the hold. Fenimore, by the look of it, but the officer
didn’t seem to see him.

“Yep, looks good. You can be on your
way.”

Rhiys didn’t speed while driving away. He
also didn’t stop in the small principality they passed, or the next
one, either. Thoroughly spooked, Chet decided. After a while Rhiys
seemed to calm down.

“What a doedicu,” he said after a time. “I
can’t believe how dumb he was.”

“Guess you have good luck after all.”

Rhiys frowned at him. “They were looking for
someone. They were looking with
water
.”

Chet had nothing useful to say, so he kept
his mouth shut. Rhiys’s appraisal had become narrow-eyed. “Those
Nuns in the back... they’re not really Nuns, are they, boy?”

Chet swallowed, his throat dry. “Of course
they’re Nuns, sir.”

“Yeah, right. The way I see it, I covered for
your little group back there. You owe me.” Rhiys pulled off the
road to the shelter of a lonely grove of trees. “I need to take a
piss.”

“Okay," Chet said.
Just a piss.
Right.

Rhiys looked at him closely, and Chet stopped
feeling relieved. “You’re a good swallower.”

“... Sir?”

“Take out my dick and swallow my piss.”

Chet blanched. “Oh, gross.” Well, this trip
was certainly opening up new horizons to him, wasn’t it? Like the
sewer.

Rhiys grinned, his teeth mossy. “Tell you
what. You owe me, boy, but you’ve been such a willing lad that I’ll
give you a choice. You either drink my piss, or I fuck you in the
ass. No rubber, no nothing. Your choice.”

Chet found himself crumple inside, his heart
pounding in his ears. Despite himself, the guy had won. He
couldn’t
drink piss, which meant... which meant he was
going to be raped after all.

“You can’t fuck me without lubrication,” he
said after a minute, thinking about Fenimore’s earlier complaint to
Knife.

Rhiys grinned wider. “Good choice, boy.” He
riffled around the cab and found a bottle of hand lotion, which he
dropped in Chet’s lap. “Make yourself nice and ready for me on the
bunk.”

Chet didn’t move as Rhiys climbed down and
slammed the door behind him. Feeling more like an object than ever,
he slowly climbed back onto the filthy, stinking bed. He took off
his pants and shoes, though he left his socks on, and rubbed his
anus with lotion. Fortunately it wasn’t the perfumed stuff. Chet
couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe he was about to be
fucked by a dangerous, oily smuggler on Highway 1. How many times
had he driven this road between his family’s home and the
university? He would never drive this way again without
remembering...

No. He was just going to have anal sex with
the guy. He’d done this before with Fenimore and Journey; there was
nothing new about the act. Really. Rhiys hadn’t threatened him,
exactly, except with vague guesses about the Flame. Chet still
wondered whether Rhiys was a killer, but he didn’t know and had no
way to find out. Except the hard way, he imagined.
I'll take it
in the ass, but I’m no smaller for this experience,
Chet
thought stubbornly, his lower lip sticking out.
I’m not
weak.