Page 33 of Patron of Mercy

Less than five minutes later, Lach was snoring softly, still pressed tight against him.

He could imagine Charon’s recriminations already. Calling Lach a trash pirate, a no-good fish-herder, and maybe a few slurs about his mother copulating with sheep. Maybe when everything was said and done, that was what Thanatos would need: reminders of all of Lach’s failings and why Thanatos didn’t want him at all.

Maybe Lach would leave him feeling used up and empty inside.

For the moment, he felt warm and soft and sated like he hadn’t in so very long. He wanted to keep feeling that way for as long as possible. Was that so wrong of him?

With his free hand, he pulled up his boxers and somehow managed to zip his fly without damaging the silk underwear or skin beneath. Then he turned to spoon Lach.

They hadn’t ever done that before.

Lach had always needed to be the big spoon—the one in the position of power, relatively speaking. Thanatos had never blamed him. There was a huge power deficit in a relationship between a god and a human, and he’d never begrudged Lach wanting to reclaim some ground.

This position didn’t feel like he had power over the other man, though. It felt more like trust.

But that was silly. Lach had just gotten comfortable and fallen asleep. The position didn’t mean anything.

Once they found the scythe, it would be over again, and Lach would be gone.

Hells, Lach would probably be gone in a few hours. He’d always been good at sneaking out in the middle of the night. Even when he hadn’t been running away, he’d never liked to face the morning in Thanatos’s arms.

The idea of waking up alone had him feeling cold even as he fell asleep with a warm lover in his arms.

When he woke to bright blue eyes looking into his, he couldn’t stop his traitorous heart from leaping. It was too much. He couldn’t hope for this. He couldn’t want this. It would end with him picking up the pieces of his heart again, and how could he survive that?

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away when Lach leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, stale breath and all, and smiled at him. It was an open smile, less pirate and more lover, and it was the most dangerous thing he’d ever seen.

Maybe he was a weak man, but he wasn’t capable of turning his back on that smile. He could feel his heart breaking already.

The Last of the Melon

Lach woke up from his nap to the soft gaze of the man he loved. He had no idea how to tell him that it didn’t matter how long it’d been or what he’d said—Lach loved him. He also didn’t think Thanatos would believe him. The fact remained that he had said those things and had to live with the consequences.

“Hi,” Lach whispered.

“Hi.”

For a moment, they only stared at each other. The more seconds ticked by, the larger the silence grew. Suddenly, Thanatos popped up.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Already, Thanatos was getting out of bed and straightening his clothes. Lach had no idea how he managed to keep them so clean—it must have been a god thing. Or a Thanatos thing. Lach had never seen him unkempt before, but he hadn’t had the kind of access to him that he had now. There wasn’t a ton of privacy on a sailboat.

“Yeah,” Lach said, pushing up on his arm, “I could eat.”

For Thanatos, eating was an indulgence; for Lach, it was a necessity. He might be immortal, but he was still human.

“Do you mind if I shower first?” Lach asked and nodded toward the door to the bathroom. There was another near the front of the cabin, but all of Lach’s things were in this one. Well, and now Thanatos had to think about him wet and naked.

“Sure,” Thanatos said.

Before Lach could ask him to join, Thanatos left the room. “Such a weirdo,” Lach muttered. He’d had Thanatos’s cock in his throat. Lach might not deserve a return on that pleasure, but he wanted the god’s company anyway.

Watching someone as high-strung as Thanatos lose himself like that was something else. Lach had always loved knowing that he could do that to not just a god, but Thanatos particularly. He might not have a lick of magic of his own, but that’d always been Lach’s own special brand—using his hands, his mouth, every part of himself to make Thanatos tremble and fall apart. And gods, the way Thanatos said his name as he did... just thinking about it, Lach might need to take care of a thing or two in the shower.

With a sigh, Lach pulled off his trousers and threw them in a hamper. Mis would take care of them. He’d never appreciated how damn convenient magic was until he had her.

Once he’d cleaned off, Lach joined Thanatos in the mess. Already, he was arranging dinner on a tray. Most of the food he’d made didn’t take much preparation—the last of the melon, some sliced cheese, toast, and jam. They took it up to the deck to eat and watch the sun go down.

---