Lips like Ice (boyxboy)

Pact

A/N: This is the second story I ever wrote and my pen is simple and new. If you enjoy dark stories (with better writing) I recommend A Witch's Bargain and Whole.

Chapter 1.

"Thieving lout!" Luke crashed past the cabin door and fell hard against the rail. His thin chest heaved and his once-white shirt nearly slipped off his shoulders.

A large man, with a scruffy beard and generous belly, kicked the weaving door with a heavy boot and advanced on the boy.

"P-please, Mr. Roberts, It won't happen again!" The boy raised a trembling hand in defence.

"Damn right, it won't." Roberts growled and yanked up the boy by his worn shirt. "I didn't allow a useless shit like you on board just so you could eat my supplies!" He shook the boy hard.

Luke yelped and wrapped his hands around the beefy fists.

"Please, Sir! I'm sorry!" Tears streamed down the boy's dirty face and Roberts snarled in disgust.

"Get your filthy paws off me! Stinking, whining..." His words cut off when Luke's flimsy shirt tore and the boy fell over the rail.

He released one thin, pitiful wail before he hit the dark water and was swallowed beneath the waves.

Roberts stood, stunned. He clutched the rails and watched the dark ocean intently. The boy was gone. He leaned back and heaved a sigh.

"Well that settles that." The man grumbled and tossed the remnants of the shirt into the water, before retreating into the cabin.

Below the surface Luke floundered as the ice penetrated his bony limbs. His heart pounded desperately and he was incoherent with fear.

No... he despaired. No. Not like this.

He'd been starving, barely surviving on the stale bread crusts and watered beer Mr. Roberts had provided. He only meant to taste the man's stew. But once he'd had a bite, he couldn't seem to stop.

The boy twisted, straining futilely for a sense of direction. Which way was up? There was no light. He was surrounded by darkness.

His lungs gave one last, desperate squeeze for air and his mouth opened. Cold, salt. He choked as he breathed in the ocean and pain flooded his insides.

Luke barely noticed the brush of cold fingers. Only when a limb wrapped around his waist and his chest touched a living thing. He jerked, once. But fatigue and weakness was taking hold of him. He was dying.

Flesh pushed against his face and pressure sealed around his lips. There was a sucking sensation and the water drained from his mouth. Sweet air rushed in and his heart gave a painful thump.

The boy's arms felt numb and uncoordinated but he lifted them weakly and felt the arch of a slim back. He clutched the skin feebly and breathed in the wonderful oxygen.

The arms around him tightened - he felt a bump against his pelvis, and a disturbingly large motion beneath him, as they moved upwards.

Luke gulped in air, pushing his face as tight against that pressure as possible. His fingers were now stinging with tiny pinpricks all over and he folded them harder against that slender shape.

Suddenly a fist tangled in his hair and he was torn backwards. He gagged on water for a split second before his head broke the surface.

The boy coughed and spluttered - hearing the body against him do the same. Lights danced before his eyes and his head spun.

The fingers in his hair gentled and guided him forward. He let his head rest against wet skin and waited for his vision to adjust. Gradually he saw the motion of the black water - a flash of moonlight reflecting off the rippling surface.