Rise: A Gay Fairy Tale (7 page)

Was it possible? Did the Outsider share Rion’s secret sin?

For a moment, Rion felt only unfettered joy, pure and sweet as it soared in him. But then he forced himself to remember that he was bound to the bed, held prisoner in his own home by filthy scum.

But is he truly bad?

Rion swallowed his bite of cheese.
It doesn’t matter. I have to get free. Nothing else means anything
. Yes, this was how Rion would gain the upper hand once more. He would use this sin. He just had to get Jack to trust him—to let his guard down.

Yet Rion’s own flesh stirred and his belly quivered. For so long he’d craved a man’s touch, and there was something about this Outsider that made his blood run hot. A tiny, cautious smile lifted the corners of Jack’s mouth as Rion kissed his fingertips, and Rion wondered what it would be like to taste those full lips. He wanted to suck Jack’s fingers harder and deeper. He wanted to suck on his pale neck, on his…

No! It’s too dangerous to play this game
.

Forcing himself back in control with a discipline earned over the lonely years, Rion rested his head down. He would find another way. He hardened his face and voice. “Best go back to your treasure hunt, as fruitless as it is. So why your own people reject you? Is it because you’re useless and ugly, or is there more to it?”

The soft, longing expression vanished from Jack’s—no,
the Outsider’s
face—and he jumped to his feet, the tray clattering to the floor. “You
are
a devil.” He turned and strode to the door.

“I have to piss,” Rion said. It was the truth, but perhaps the Outsider’s anger would distract him.

Jack glanced back warily, and then sighed. The old chamber pot sat behind the door, and he brought it to the bed.

“Untie one of my hands and this’ll be much easier.” Although Jack had surprising strength, if Rion could get one hand free, he knew it would be the end of his captivity.

“You truly must think me a fool.”

“No, just a scourge. All your people are.”

“And who are my people? How do you know them?”

Rion ignored the question. “Are you going to let me piss or not?”

Jaw clenched, Jack peeled the cloak down. He tugged at the laces of Rion’s breeches and reached inside. Rion’s breath caught as Jack pulled his cock free, wrapping his hand around the base. Rion bit down and swallowed a moan, tasting coppery blood on his tongue. All these years he’d wondered what it would be to have another man touch him there, and Jack’s palm was warm, his grip firm and rough. He would only need to move his hand, to stroke…

Rion’s lungs burned, lust coiling in his belly as images of his fantasies ran riot in his mind. He clenched his body, closed his eyes and concentrated on relieving himself into the pot, which Jack angled with his other hand.

When he finished, Rion opened his eyes. Jack’s fair skin was flushed and his lips moist. Blood rushed to Rion’s cock, which began to fill, still in Jack’s grip. For the space of several heartbeats, neither of them moved. Rion couldn’t stop his flesh from responding, and Jack watched avidly as Rion’s shaft swelled. He thought he might vibrate out of his skin, the urge to thrust his hips all-consuming.

Finally meeting Rion’s gaze, Jack tentatively stroked. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Do you want this? Do you want me to…?”

Yes! God, yes!
But Rion gritted his teeth. “
Unclean vermin
,” he spat. Yet all he felt was pleasure and
want
. His hips did arch up then, and when he heard a soft moan he realized with horror that it was his own.

Jack stepped back as if he’d been burned, curling his hands into fists. Shaking his head, he grabbed the torch from the wall and locked the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. Rion lay helplessly, exposed in the cold drafts and trembling with need.

Jack slid to the floor with his back against the door. He ran a hand through his hair and moaned in frustration. He no longer knew what he was doing. He’d been emboldened by his success—in climbing the stalk, in besting the beast, in deeds at which other men younger and stronger than he had failed. But all of that had faded away in the fruitless hours of searching.

And now this. This disgusting physical reaction to the creature, a lust as sure and strong as any he’d ever felt. It was proof all the more of his wickedness. It was true that he was cursed and damned. Jack rubbed a hand over his face. If only he could find what he had come for and
go
, pay his debt and leave this land forever.

He set aside the niggling worry about how he would manage to release Rion and still escape with the coins he required, for of course he could not leave him to die. He’d need to discover the treasure first, and so far that endeavor had not brought him any luck. He’d explored the castle’s nooks and crannies. Nothing. Not only no sign of the treasure, but not even an indication of wealth.

Certainly the castle was large enough, and some of the faded tapestries would have once cost quite a few coins. But it was all in disrepair, abandoned and covered with years worth of dust. Jack had begun to wonder if the treasure existed at all. Surely if this man, Rion, was in possession of such fortune he’d spend it on fine things?

Squaring his shoulders, Jack went back to work. For several more hours he scoured the castle, going back over rooms he’d already searched. Finally he opened the door to a room near the rear of the structure. He peered around. There was a large window and the sunlight streamed in. Jack supposed being in the sky naturally meant being closer to the sun.

This room and the library were the only two that appeared lived in. There were clothes hanging on a rail, none of them particularly fine, and all of them soft with wear. When Jack brushed his hands over them, he leaned in and inhaled, picking up Rion’s musk, a scent of leather and oak. Jack shuddered.

He’s a beast! Murderous and cruel!

Yet Rion’s breathy moan of need echoed in Jack’s ears. He’d been much more man than monster when Jack had held his cock.

A book sat on the side table. Jack thumbed through and found it was the kind of book he’d loved himself as a boy—tales of heroic knights from faraway kingdoms. He’d stayed up countless nights, sneaking Damara’s books and hiding the flicker of his candle with his hand as he escaped into other worlds. The pages of this tale were softened and scuffed as though the story had been read many times.

He blinked into the glare of the setting sun and put the book where he’d found it. He needed to make a plan to find the treasure. It had to exist. The legend went back generations. Of course the legend also spoke of a
giant
. Was it all a lie?

But he was tired, and it was growing late in the day. He returned to the kitchen. Rion made no sound from behind the locked door, but Jack knew he must be hungry and thirsty again. Jack couldn’t let him truly suffer in captivity to gain his own freedom.

And Rion might be helpful in the end, if Jack could persuade him. Perhaps he’d been going about this the wrong way. Rion’s reactions to Jack’s touches could not be denied. He’d seen and felt Rion growing hard in his very hand. The fact that he’d felt similarly aroused was disturbing but not a surprise given his own depravity. He couldn’t deny his desire. Perhaps he could have the best of both worlds—seduce Rion into helping him while also slaking his own hunger.

No.

It was wrong to use desire as a weapon. Isn’t that what Adair had done to him? Jack had always yearned to find love and friendship in tandem with lust. He wouldn’t stoop to Adair’s cruel level.

Inside the cell, Jack put a torch in the bracket and approached the bed. Rion kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. He laid there utterly vulnerable and uncovered, and shame flooded Jack. He could have at least tucked the man’s cock away and given him a modicum of dignity. Not to mention warmth, since the cloak was still bunched at Rion’s knees.

“I’m sorry.”

Rion’s eyes snapped to Jack’s face. “Go to the devil.”

Ignoring him, Jack laced up Rion’s breeches, keeping his touch perfunctory. He pulled up the cloak and tucked it in around Rion’s chest before giving him more water. Then he sat on the side of the mattress again, a tense silence settling in. Finally Jack cleared his throat. There was no point in wasting time on pleasantries. “Why do you pretend to be a giant?”

“To stop scum like you from stealing my family’s treasure.”

“Was there ever a giant?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

Rion was stubbornly silent.

“I just want to understand. Please. We don’t need to be enemies.” It was the truth, at least. “It seems we are stuck here together for the time being. Help me understand why you live this way.”

“There is nothing wrong with how I live,” Rion gritted out.

“No. But why the tale of the giant? Who was he?”

“What does it matter to you, Outsider?”

“My whole life I’ve heard tales of the ogre in the sky, greedily guarding his treasure and refusing to share it with even the least fortunate. We grow up dreaming of the climb, and capturing the treasure. Doing what no man has done. The seemingly impossible. I suppose I want to know
why
. Especially since in truth there is no giant here.”

After a long silence, Rion said, “He lived centuries ago.”

“Then how do you know he was real?”

His eyes flashed. “My parents told me.” He gazed at the ceiling again. “Cease with your questions. You’ll never find the treasure.”

Jack kept his tone steady. “Because it doesn’t exist?”

At this, Rion appeared surprised. “Of course it exists, you fool!”

“Have you seen it?”

“Many times.”He shook his head, smiling grimly. “So now you lull me into telling you where it is? Is that the plan? You’re wasting your time, Outsider.”

It was indeed the plan, if it could be called that. Jack forged ahead. “Why do you call me that?”

“It’s what you are. You come from the land below.”

“How am I different from you?”

Rion gave him a withering look. “As if you have to ask. Your people are unclean. Evil. Filthy, thieving dogs.”

“We are not!” Jack thought of Adair and the people who’d taunted him his whole life. “Well,
I’m
not.”

“Oh, so you didn’t climb up the beanstalk in the dead of night to steal my family’s treasure?”

Jack flushed despite himself. “I told you, I wasn’t going to take it all.”

Rion snorted. “Of course not.”

“I was desperate. I…
am
desperate.” This truth seemed to just trip off his tongue.

“Because of your debt.”

“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “I have nothing to go back to. You think you hate the people below? Not as much as I do. And you could never hate me as much as
they
do.”

Rion frowned. “I don’t understand this. You’re one of them. Why would they hate you?”

“I’ve never been one of them. I never will be. I’m different. Can’t you see that?”

Rion regarded him for a long moment. He opened his mouth to reply and then snapped it shut with a sharp inhale. “Spare me your sad tale, Outsider.”

“All right. If the people below are unclean, where do you come from?”

“From here. I was born here. I shall die here. It is my birthright.”

Not the immortal Jack had assumed the giant to be, then. “But where did your family come from originally? Surely your parents weren’t both born here.”

“My mother was. My father came from across the sea. That is the only place we can go to find a mate.”

“Across the sea? Beyond the cliffs, you mean? But no one can pass there. The water is too rough, ever roiling. It quickly swallows anyone who dares attempt to cross. I’ve heard there is no other side, just churning sea until the edge of the world.”

Rion seemed to want to say more, but after a long moment he shrugged. “My father came from across the sea,” he repeated.

So there
was
another kingdom there? Jack’s curiosity grew. “When I was young I dreamed of building a boat and sailing off. I never thought it was possible.”
Maybe I could go there! Maybe they’d accept me!

Rion scoffed. “They’d never permit you to enter even if you survived the sea.”

His surge of excitement receded. “Are the borders guarded?”

“No. It’s a peaceful land.”

Jack frowned. “Then why would they stop me from entering?”

“They’d…they’d arrest you on sight. You’re a filthy Outsider! It’s obvious with a glance.”

Jack ran his palm over his head self-consciously. “Because of my hair?” Yet no one else in his village had the curse.

Rion’s brow furrowed. “Because you’re unclean! What does your hair have to do with it?”

Jack blinked. How strange that for once, his hair seemed to be accepted. It was just the rest of him Rion hated. Although Jack was used to being the subject of scorn, he found it cut just as deep as ever.
Why do you care what this man thinks?
“Have you been there? To this land across the sea?”