The Artifact of Foex

by James L. Wolf

  “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. Che
t 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.

  And if it came to killing... well, Chet would keep his eyes open. He’d be ready to do whatever was needed. Before this week, he’d never imagined himself murdering another human being, not even in his own defense. Yet hadn’t Journey said it herself? “You do things in war that it normally wouldn’t occur to you to do.” This was a kind of war, too, and if Journey could kill a man, so could Chet.

  The cab door opened and Rhiys stuck his head inside. “Good, you’re ready to go,” he murmured, undoing his belt buckle and letting down his pants.

  Though he’d resolved to keep quiet, Chet groaned involuntarily as the man clambered on top, his weight and smell pressing down on him. Chet closed his eyes tight. It didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. Rhiys grunted as he pushed himself inside Chet’s ass. The head of his cock was hard to take—it was too blunt. Chet wished Rhiys could shape down the way Journey could, or at least take his time. Rhiys fucked him without hesitation or compassion. Chet gritted his teeth and bore the unclean touch. He wasn’t hard at all, he realized. Being fucked by Rhiys wasn’t arousing; it was to be endured.

  At least Rhiys came quickly. “Sweet Chet," he whispered in his ear, licking it.

  Chet grimaced and tried to turn away. Survival sure isn’t pretty, he thought, straining under the weight. Rhiys grabbed his hair and hauled his head back, then proceeded to lick his ear out thoroughly, nibbling on the lobe. Chet closed his eyes again, enduring both the man’s tongue and dick still lodged inside him.

  After a time Rhiys rose, dressed and started up the truck again. Still no threats or attempts on Chet’s life. Good enough, he thought muzzily. He dozed on the bed as the sun set. After a while, he felt the truck slow and make several turns. The engine cut. Chet sat up, blinking sleepily. Rhiys had stopped at a gas station and diner, dusk deepening into night.

  “Come on, let’s have dinner. Since you’re whoring your sweet ass to me, I’m buying.” Rhiys grinned at him.

  Chet didn’t know how he’d be able to eat, but once the food arrived, he found he had an appetite. The meal almost felt normal, sane, as if the world hadn’t turned upside down. Yet when they were returning to the truck, Rhiys grabbed Chet’s belt in a proprietary manner, as if he owned him.

  “There are kids here! Families,” Chet hissed, his face going red. The parking lot wasn’t that dark. Though there was no one directly in their path, he could hear their conversations and smell their cigarettes.

  “You want to protect those people in the hold? Then your ass is mine.”

  “Yes, we’ve already established that.” Chet bit his tongue against a more sardonic response. “I just don’t want to be reported for indecency.”

  The argument seemed to hold water until they climbed into the cab, when Rhiys grabbed him with a move akin to wrestling, his touch savage. “Take off your pants. I’m going to fuck you right here where everyone can see.”

  Did he have a choice? Chet decided yes, he did, but almost every path he could conceivably take would lead to the police, exactly what he didn’t want. Nevertheless, Chet’s eyes narrowed. “You can fuck me in your bed.”

  “Shy, are you?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Chet moved toward the back of the cab, and to his surprise, Rhiys let him. Rhiys climbed in behind, and Chet let him take off his pants. Abyss, he gave in to my demands, so give the man what he wants. It was almost sexy to spread himself over Rhiys’s lap; he even helped insert himself. Chet relaxed. Being fucked like this was gentle compared to other positions. He glanced at the forward windshield and smiled. They weren’t under a street light, and it would be too dark to see inside the cab. He felt protected and safe from the public eye.

  Despite the danger, he was in control. Very nearly in control, anyway.

  Rhiys pumped Chet’s dick in his fist and fingered his nipples through his shirt. Chet was undisputedly aroused. He moaned, enjoying the feeling. Before being fucked by an oily smuggler had been a bad thing, but now it was almost tolerable. The guy accelerated the tempo of this fist pumping, and Chet abruptly forgot the litany in his head. He threw his head back and made little needy sounds. The dick inside him, the hands upon him, everything made him light up like Elderbeth in a clear sky. Chet came, spurting in Rhiys’s hand. Rhiys pushed him down into the bed—Chet felt like he had no bones left in his body to fight. Not that he wanted to fight. Chet fell to his stomach with a little grunt, and Rhiys fucked him harder in the new position.

  “Yeah, boy. Take it like a slut, boy. You’re my whore tonight, you and your hot cock belong to me...”

  The words washed over Chet. Fenimore wanted to own him, this guy wanted to own him, the police wanted to cuff him down and drag
him away. Everyone wanted a piece. He grinned at his own private joke.

  Rhiys grunted and came, spurting deep into Chet’s ass.

  “Hey, don’t fall asleep,” Rhiys said after a while. “Come to the front and keep me company. Oh, and your pants stay off. I want your bare ass on this seat for the rest of the night.”

  What? How long could he keep this up? Chet shouldn’t be surprised at this point. “If my pants are off, how will you concentrate on driving?”

  “Pantheon, you got a mouth on you. If you’d stick with me, kid, I’ll pummel those smart-alecky ways right out of you, but not tonight. I got to make my schedule.”

  They reached Fengfu an hour after dawn. Chet was filthy, tired, his muscles sore, his ass exposed and wet, his lips oily as abyss. Survival no longer had the shine it had held earlier in the night; Chet held on doggedly nevertheless. Rhiys pulled off at the correct exit and had Chet suck his dick one more time. Chet honestly didn’t care if the man killed him. He swallowed semen with dull exhaustion, no longer remotely aroused by the act.

  Rhiys zipped up his fly.“Good boy. Let’s let your friends out of the back, and you can be on your way, eh?”

  Really? My fears were for nothing? Chet found his pants and shoes, dressing himself in jerky movements. He let himself out of the cab and joined Fenimore, Knife and Journey by the side of the road. They were rumpled and smelly from uninterrupted hours in the cargo hold, but otherwise unruffled. Rhiys drove away without saying goodbye. On the whole, Chet preferred it that way.

  “So, girl, did you have a good time?” Fenimore asked Chet sunnily.

  Chet didn’t even think about it. He curled up his hand, pivoted and punched Fenimore on the face. Fenimore dropped to his knees, obviously surprised. Chet yelped, shaking out his hand.

  “Great good Pantheon, that hurt,” Chet hissed. He glared at Knife with unvoiced accusation.

  Knife grunted. “Next time, curl your hand so your thumb is outside your fist, like this.”