"Fuck, Charlie," Simon breathed against his mouth, his voice ragged. "Come for me."
Charlie's body obeyed instantly. He threw his head back with a cry and came hard, his release painting his stomach white, the pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Simon kept fucking him through his orgasm. Kept fucking him as the pleasure slowly faded to aftershocks, until finally he slammed home one last time and spilled deep inside of Charlie with his own groan of ecstasy.
For long moments, neither of them moved, each breathing heavily. Then Simon lowered himself carefully onto Charlie, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. Charlie clung back instinctively, needing the closeness. Needing the warmth of another person's touch more than he ever had before.
"Wow," he mumbled eventually into the crook of Simon's neck. "That happened."
"Mm." Simon's response was muffled against Charlie's own shoulder, but he could hear the smile in it. It warmed him to his core to know that Simon was happy, that he'd made someone else happy for once without ruining everything in the process.
Maybe things weren't quite so hopeless after all, if he could still have this.
But of course this moment of happiness crumbled before Charlie could truly grab hold of it.
He noticed it in the way Simon's posture shifted. There was something desperate in the way Simon's fingers pressed into Charlie's waist.
Desperation wasn't an emotion Charlie equated with his hunter.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Simon shifted his head against Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie could practically feel him thinking, that sharp mind turning over some problem.
"I just..." Simon started, then stopped. "I was supposed to kill you."
"Yeah." Charlie kept his voice neutral, letting Simon work through whatever was going on in his head.
"But I didn't. I couldn't." Another pause. "I fed you my blood. Protected you. And now..."
The unfinished sentence hung between them. Charlie understood. Now they'd crossed a line Simon probably never imagined crossing. Not just sparing a vampire, but choosing one. Wanting one.
"If I was wrong about you," Simon said slowly, like he was testing each word, "then the Organization was wrong about you. And if they were wrong aboutonething…"
Charlie waited. He could feel Simon putting pieces together, the slight tension that came with each new connection.
"That librarian. Noah. He said..." Simon's voice got even quieter. "He said they choose people. That they arrange for certain people to be attacked."
What was Simon saying?
The organization was attacking people? Like, regular people?
Charlie felt Simon's breathing change. It was not quite steady anymore. The fingers against his waist pressed harder, then released.
"Noah knew things," Simon continued. "About the night I was attacked." Simon's voice didn't betray his fury, but it seeped into the bond that had formed between him and Charlie, too sharp for Charlie to ignore.
"Reuben was there," Simon said. "My mentor. He arrived at exactly the right moment to save me from becoming a vampire."
Charlie swallowed hard.
Was Simon implying…?
"Noah said I was selected. That my psychological profile, my family situation, made me a perfect candidate." Simon spit out that last word. Candidate. "He said the trauma makes better hunters."
Charlie didn't know what to say. What comfort to offer. "Simon…"
"My mother died screaming," Simon said flatly. "I was fifteen. I held her while she bled out, and Reuben let it happen. Heplannedfor it to happen."
Charlie felt Simon trembling now—not with fear but with rage so profound his body couldn't contain it.
"All these years, I've been grateful to him. For saving me. For making me strong enough to fight back. I took his pills, followed his orders, and killed for him. Because he saved me from becoming a monster."
