Chapter 3.
Daniel woke to a pounding headache and an ache between his legs. The right side of his body was freezing and he tugged on his quilt. It was stuck and the fabric felt coarse and thin beneath his fingers.
Daniel frowned, too close to sleep to ponder this, and turned. His icy hand met warm skin that jolted on contact.
"Bloody fate!"
Daniel's eyes flew open, heart leaping into his throat. The witch rolled on top of him, hissing and squirming against the cold.
The boy's angular face was so pale, he looked more dead than alive, and his wild hair was a mess of tangles falling into smeared black eyes.
"I...you...wha...?" Daniel could barely breathe. The boy's gangly frame was surprisingly heavy, chest crushing into his abdomen.
His thoughts flew a mile a minute. The witch. The tea. The mattress...what had he done? What on earth had he done?
"Hey." Rough fingers smoothed back his hair and the boy kissed his mouth, breaths still heavy with sleep. "Calm down."
Daniel pushed frantically at the witch's shoulders. He didn't want to actually hurt the boy. The tea might have clouded his judgement, but he'd been more than willing and he wasn't certain he would have said no without it.
The boy pressed down harder and Daniel's rapid gasps cut off in a whimper.
"Shh." Kisses brushed over his cheeks, his watering eyes and the side of his nose. The hand in his hair stroked down his cheek and wrapped around his throat.
"Uh!" Daniel choked and a stab of fear had his nails digging into the boy's shoulder blades.
The witch jerked against him and the cock pressing into Daniel's pelvis twitched. Warm lips returned to his mouth.
"Breathe." The witch inhaled deeply in demonstration.
Soft black hair tickled Daniel's cheeks and the smell of smoke and sage filled his nose.
"Go on." The boy kissed him softly and exhaled.
Daniel gulped in a breath and it tasted burnt. He coughed into the boy's mouth, but the witch didn't move an inch.
Gradually his breaths came easier and he found the hand on his throat wasn't actually constricting. Just firm.
It shouldn't have felt reassuring, but Daniel found his grip relaxing.
"Good." The witch kissed him deeper now, thumb stroking beneath his chin.
Smoke filled his lungs and Daniel calmed entirely. The boy's hips began stirring, cock leaving a damp trail on his skin. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine, straight to his groin.
"Good." The boy repeated and a hot tongue slid between Daniel's lips, running over his teeth and rubbing against his pallet.
The world fogged and Daniel was thankful he was lying down. He couldn't think. There was nothing except this boy and the ache filling his cock.
Daniel moaned, legs parting, and his hands moved over warm skin. The witch suddenly pulled away and Daniel felt an irrational surge of panic.
"Don't...!" The sound of his own voice, high and weak, startled him into silence.
The boy's thin lips curved, lower body pressing reassuringly into Daniel's groin. He reached for the jar from the previous night and dipped in his fingers.
"I'm not going anywhere." He breathed and rubbed the balm all over his dick.
Daniel's eyes fixed on that shaft. It was long and thick with delicate veins traveling up the sides. The skin was so white it was nearly grey and the glands were a glistening pale pink.
Daniel's breaths came faster and the boy smirked down at him. "You want it?"
Daniel flushed hot all over, cock full against his belly. The witch knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Daniel to say it.
Dark brows lifted at his prolonged silence and the witch climbed up Daniel's chest, balls pressing against his sternum, and gripped his hair.
"Ask nicely." The boy rubbed his tip over Daniel's lips, leaving a wet film.
Daniel's mouth watered and he licked his lips, tasting sweet saltiness. He wanted to bend down and suck more out of the slit, but the fist in his hair kept him still.
"Yes...please." He managed and looked up hopefully.
The witch grinned, flashing white teeth, and Daniel shivered.
"Next time. If you're good."
Daniel stared blankly for the longest moment, before shock transformed into outrage. "But I did what you...!"
"Yeah, yeah." The boy released him and scooted back down - in the middle of Daniel's sentence - pulled his leg aside and thrust into his ass.
Daniel cried out; more from surprise than pain. There was a brief burn of intrusion but the balm soothed instantly.
The witch moaned, dark nails digging into Daniel's hips. He felt so unbelievably full and each push rubbed against an electric spot that sent pleasurable sparks everywhere. But it wasn't enough.
Daniel pulled on those tattooed arms and the witch fell down on top of him. Their bodies twined and flowed together, moving as if they had done this a thousand times before.
Daniel hugged the boy's damp shoulders, feeling lithe muscle ripple beneath smooth skin and a hot mouth pressed against his neck.
The boy gripped Daniel's cock, running a thumb firmly up the back, and the orgasm slammed into him; making all his muscles clamp down.
The witch howled out his release and Daniel's backside was so numb, he barely felt the pulse inside him. He was panting, wet limbs trying to pull the boy impossibly closer.
"You finally found someone as loud as you." A girl remarked drily.
Daniel's heart briefly stopped and he stared horrified up at the charred ceiling.
"Mmhm." The boy kissed Daniel's throat and sighed into his skin.
"I'm sleeping in the barn." Boots thunked across the floor and the door opened and slammed shut.
The silence was deafening and Daniel's mind was suddenly perfectly clear. His headache was gone and reality washed over him like an icy bucket of water.
His father was sentenced to hang. He'd gone out to find a witch, leaving his mother alone (without even a note of explanation), and now he was whiling away the time in bed. With the witch.
His throat tightened and his eyes welled with shame. He was so selfish. A criminal. A sodomite.
"Shh." Velvety kisses moved over his skin and the hand on Daniel's chest slid up towards his throat. And he suspected the minute the witch touched him there, he'd forget everything else.
"No!" Daniel gripped the boy's thin wrist and stared pleadingly into heavy lidded black eyes.
"I want to bargain." Tears ran down his cheeks and he sniffled. "My father was framed for murder. Please."
The witch considered him expressionlessly, inked fingertips playing over his collarbones.
"I-I have money." Daniel choked out.
"Don't care about money." The boy rolled his eyes and pulled away, lifting off the mattress.
Daniel's heart thumped painfully and he stumbled to his feet, barely catching himself from pressing against that tattooed spine.
What was happening to him? Was it witchcraft?
The boy stepped to the basin and looked expectantly over his shoulder. Daniel's hands fisted and he forced himself to stay put. He wanted to touch the boy so badly. To ask him his name again. But they couldn't be so familiar.
The witch's brows furrowed and he washed quickly, wiping the kohl from his cheeks and rinsing his crotch with soap.
He left the rag floating in the water and pulled on the same black trousers he'd worn the day before.
Daniel walked self-consciously to the basin. Semen was trickling down his leg and his body felt grimy with sweat. The water didn't look clean and he hesitated.
"Not good enough for you, piggy?" The witch spat and Daniel jerked as though struck.
The softness that the boy had shown moments ago was gone. His face was all sharp angles and slitted eyes, like a feral cat.
The tears that had been drying returned in a rush of hurt and anger. Daniel knew his family was privileged to have clean water, but the witch didn't have to insult him and call him names.
But his mind was clearer than it had been last night; Daniel was here asking for help and retaliating wasn't the way to do it.
He lifted the rag stiffly and squeezed out the filthy water. It was freezing. He set his jaw and reached for the small slab of soap, lathering it into the worn fabric.
The boy ripped open a drawer in a sharp squeak of hinges and pulled out a vibrant blue shirt with burn stains on the sleeves. He pulled it on and ran his fingers through his wild hair, barely taming it at all.
Daniel scrubbed under his arms and found himself thinking that if he had a brush, he could help.
He felt those dark eyes on him and dismissed the thought instantly. He rinsed the rag, before hanging it on a hook to dry.
The witch barged out the door and Daniel flinched when it banged shut. His teeth chattered with cold and he collected his clothes strewn about the dirty floor.
He pulled them on and took a couple of fortifying breaths, before opening the door.
Two women were occupying the high stools by the table. One of them was reading a newspaper, a half-eaten cinnamon swirl dangling absently from black nailed fingers, and the other was talking loudly while gesturing with her cup.
Daniel closed the door and both women looked up. The boy stood by the counter, back and shoulders stiff as he poured tea into two cups.
"Oh look!" The talkative witch set down her cup and slapped her palms together, making the curves of her breasts jiggle past the low neckline of her shirt. "A Christmas angel!"
Black hair fell to her waist in a snarl of tangles, threaded with silver charms and red beads, and her angular features echoed the boy.
"Have a seat, sweet-cheeks!"
Daniel flushed and stepped forward uncertainly. There were two seats, one on either side of the women, and the boy sat beside the reader.
Daniel climbed onto the spare chair. It wobbled precariously and the woman caught his arm, sharp nails pricking his skin through his wooly jumper.
The boy pushed the cup in front of Daniel, but he wouldn't touch it this time.
"What's your story, then?" The woman released him and sipped her tea, black eyes boring into him over the rim.
The second woman glanced up and her pale face was soft, almost girlish. Her dark eyes were lined with kohl and her black hair was braided over her shoulder.
"I-it...was..."
"Murder." The boy interrupted and grabbed a slice of Daniel's potato and onion pie from a copper dish on the table.
The talkative woman blinked and set down her cup.
"Oh? A little weighty for your first, darling." She said.
The boy scowled and he looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't past his huge mouthful of pie.
"Too soon." The reader agreed quietly and licked her thumb to turn a page.
She looked to be around the same age as Daniel's mother. They both did. But they couldn't have been more different from the women Daniel knew. They didn't even wear skirts.
"Please, it's my father." He spoke in a rush, telling them all about the delivery, Mr. Whittaker, the stolen glove and his own suspicions. When he was done he was crying again and clasping his hands to stop them from shaking.
"Perry's bakery," The reader said softly, mat irises flicking over the newspaper, "he's to hang at noon in two days."
Daniel bit back a sob and the talkative woman cackled. "Gives them time to advertise. Draw a bigger crowd."
Daniel flinched. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. As if he wasn't sitting right there. But these were witches, he had to remind himself. Not human.
Families often travelled far to see a hanging and many shops set up stalls. But to think of his father's death as entertainment... Daniel felt sick to his stomach.
"I can help you, pumpkin." The talkative woman turned towards him and her breasts all but fell out of her shirt. "But it won't be cheap."
"I have his name and his blood!" The boy slammed his palm on the table and Daniel jumped, but the woman's attention never wavered.
"I-I have m-money." Her stare was making the hairs on Daniel's skin stand on end.
"Oh honey-buns. We don't deal in coin." Her smile was razor sharp as she stroked his arm.
"He said he found me!" The boy exclaimed and the talkative woman finally looked at him.
"Really? Are you sure?" Her winged brows lifted sceptically.
"Enough, E." The reader murmured and folded her newspaper.
The talkative woman, E, shrugged and her hand thankfully left Daniel's arm, leaving a touch of cold. She adjusted her shirt to cover up her cleavage and sipped her tea.
The boy visibly relaxed and wiped the crumbs off his mouth with his fist. "What can you spare? Finger or toe?"
Daniel's eyes widened and searched the boy desperately for any sign of jest. The witch returned his look sullenly and cocked a brow.
The women both watched him expectantly and Daniel swallowed tightly past the drum of his heart. He needed his fingers to bake...
"I-I s-suppose...t-toe?" He croaked and E set down her cup with a grin.
"Good choice, apple-cheeks!" She pulled Daniel off his stool and in the next instant he was pressed to the floor with both women pinning his arms.
The boy pulled a wicked looking knife off a rack on the wall and straddled Daniel's legs, facing his feet.
E shoved a strip of leather between Daniel's teeth and he whimpered. She tutted at him, but the reader smoothed back his hair.
"Darling, if it's too much..." E began.
"Mom! Shut up!" The boy pulled off Daniel's sock and pressed his foot flat against the floorboards. "On three, okay?"
"So sweet." E cackled and the boy cursed at her.
Sweat beaded on Daniel's brow and he was starting to hyperventilate. Were they really going to...
"One..."
Daniel sobbed and the reader stroked his cheek.
"Two." The blade sliced into his skin and Daniel screamed.
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