Cym was dead asleep in Fourteen’s arms before Marshall came to rescue them. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Fourteen to agree to follow him back to their chapter house. Fourteen was dead on his feet and had blown through all of his easily accessible resources. He needed a safe place to rest and regroup before deciding with Cym what their next move should be.

Fourteen wasn’t concerned his new allies would hurt Cym while they rested, because it was clear to him that they considered Cym a priceless treasure. Fourteen was more concerned about how they’d feel about the two of them leaving.

He would bomb that bridge when he got to it.

For now, he needed to fucking sleep.

He kicked off his boots and shucked his armor before joining Cym on the bed.

Instead of instantly falling asleep like he was used to, he found himself tracing Cym’s cheek with the back of his hand. Slowly, reverently.

Even after holding him for hours this evening, the surge of pleasure and comfort from touching Cym was heady. It had felt wonderful to hold him, but he hadn’t been touching Cym’s skin directly.

How could anyone feel this good?

Fourteen’s mind provided him with a query of what sliding into Cym’s tight little body would feel like, and he told it to fuck off.

Later. He would find out said information later. For now, they both needed sleep.

Fourteen pressed a kiss into Cym’s hair, but before settling in next to him, he remembered to attach a cuff to Cym’s wrist and put the other on his own. There was no way Fourteen would be able to sleep without making sure his flight risk was properly secured.

Finally satisfied, Fourteen slung an arm over Cym’s chest, a leg over his hip, and curled around Cym like a dragon protecting his precious hoard. Only then did he allow himself to sleep.

He woke up to discover that Cym had not only not tried to run during the night, but had instead managed to burrow his way inside Fourteen’s shirt. Since they were cuffed together, it had left them in a tangled mess.

Cym had also managed to get rid of most of his own shirt, so the amount of Cym’s skin touching his own had Fourteen’s dick wide awake and his soul singing. He doubted he’d ever felt this good in his life.

Fuck. It was almost like Fourteen was a person.

Fourteen pressed his nose into baby-blond hair and breathed in the smell of smoke, magic, and Cym. Overall the effect was very… pink. Fourteen huffed into Cym’s hair and smiled. Everything about Cym was so fucking cute, from his silly little cat backpack to his soft, fluffy hair and huge, blue eyes.

He reached down to find the cuff on Cym’s wrist and stroked it thoughtfully. He could take it off now before Cym woke up, but he wasn’t going to. It was better to get Cym used to who Fourteen truly was from the start. Cym hadn’t met Fourteen at his best. Or at his worst, depending on how one looked at it.

Even Fourteen didn’t know who or what he was anymore, but he didn’t think he was a good person. He was a little concerned that Cym thought he was.

Regardless of the magic Cym had pumped into Fourteen to give him access to some of the emotions and memories the Colonel had stolen from him, he was still a mess of programming and chemicals that had irrevocably changed who he was on a foundational level.

The starry-eyed kid who idolized his dad was nothing more than a wisp of a memory. His dad was dead, and the man who’d killed him had turned Fourteen into a monster.

He looked forward to showing the Colonel exactly what he’d created.

The body in his arms shifted and began to wiggle.

When Cym began to make tiny happy noises, Fourteen pulled him even closer to his chest, remembering at the last moment to hold back his strength enough to keep from crushing Cym’s delicate frame. Fourteen’s enhanced strength had been an asset in the field, but he’d never had something so fragile to protect.

He was going to need to work to keep from hurting Cym by accident.

“Mmmmph,” Cym murmured into Fourteen’s bare chest. Half of his face was obscured by Fourteen’s shirt. If it hadn’t been warped and stretched out by its second occupant, Fourteen doubted he’d be able to see any of Cym’s face at all.

“Good morning.”

Cym’s body froze. Then he jerked his head back, and it disappeared into Fourteen’s T-shirt entirely. There was some wiggling inside the shirt and the jingle and small tug of Fourteen’s wrist told him Cym had noticed the cuffs.

Fourteen waited patiently for Cym’s reaction. He didn’t fully know Cym yet, so Fourteen couldn’t guess what his new person’s response would be to the discovery, but he looked forward to the day he would be able to know him well enough to anticipate such things.

Cym gave a little snort. “I suppose I deserved this, but I think shoving me inside your shirt was a bit excessive.”

“I’m responsible for the cuffs, but you climbed inside my shirt all on your own.” When Cym attempted to escape the shirt, Fourteen held him in place. “I like it.”

Cym stopped trying to crawl out and then flopped back down. Fourteen gave a small sigh when their bare chests pressed against each other once more and his dick pulsed against Cym’s thigh.

“Oh!” Cym shifted awkwardly, and Fourteen noticed the young man’s own cock hardening against Fourteen.

Cym scooted until his head popped out of Fourteen’s shirt. His face was a deep scarlet. Fourteen hipped into him cautiously, testing.

Cym’s body responded beautifully. He made a soft little uhhh and he bucked his hips against Fourteen’s stomach.

“I don’t think…”

Fourteen didn’t get a chance to find out what Cym thought because a tiny, velvet-soft tongue began lapping at his chest like it was made of ice cream. If he’d thought skin contact felt good… fuck.

Fourteen wanted to swallow the little man whole. He wanted to chain him to himself.

…More.

He wanted to chain Cym to him with thick, unbreakable bonds that could never be removed.

The physical and emotional sensations rolling through Fourteen made it nearly impossible to do what he knew he had to do next.

Fourteen unwrapped his unchained arm from Cym’s waist and placed his hand under Cym’s chin. “Baby, stop.”

Cym’s eyes were hazy and unfocused and his little pink tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started something just now. We need to talk first.”

Cym’s eyes became clear in an instant. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” His eyes began to shimmer with tears, and his horrified expression cut through Fourteen like a knife.

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t cry, baby. We’re okay.” Distantly, Fourteen was impressed with his ability to articulate his thoughts so well. Cym’s magic was a gift that Fourteen hoped he never took for granted. The T-shirt had slipped down to obscure part of Cym’s face, and Fourteen ripped the fabric in half, exposing a sad face and the slim, enticing body pressed against his.

Cym sat up and straddled Fourteen’s stomach, looking just to the left of his face. “What do we need to talk about?”

“I can think of a few things. I believe you can come up with some yourself if you try.”

Cym gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah. Maybe one or two.” He held up the hand with the cuff on it. “Maybe we should start with this?”

“You run away a lot,” Fourteen said bluntly. “I don’t trust you not to do it again.”