Notes: Porn, basically. *cough* This chapter is NSFW.

Chapter 22: Letting Go

Haytham woke to the sound of Thomas and Benjamin arguing over something in the morning paper. Annoyed, he rolled over in bed and shoved the pillow over his head to drown out the noise. He'd rather wake up to Shay snoring and drooling on his shoulder than those two bitching about politics. As far as he knew, Thomas didn't even understand politics that didn't involve passing a few free counterfeit pounds into the right hands. He hoped to God Liam and Weeks' night of scouting bore some fruit so this could be over with. Either way, he still hadn't told Shay that Connor was his son. It was a strange feeling, finding out that he was a father. But it was... Nice. Ziio must not have spoken too harshly of him, as Connor followed his every footstep – desperate to be closer to him. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint him. He didn't speak much, and refused to say why he left his people. But if his tactics had worked with getting Shay to open up, then he figured it would only be a matter of time until Connor told him his story.

Haytham cringed, thinking of the previous night's conversation with Shay. He'd have to get out of bed sometime and face him. It was a good question, though. One he'd thought long and hard about before passing out from exhaustion. What was he afraid of? That it would be painful? Ridiculous. No, it was something deeper. Something subconscious. ...Like it would make him less of a men or something. Miserably, he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed.

Shay was alone with Connor at the table where they held their meetings. Connor was excitedly drawing on a scrap of paper, trying to explain the Natives' tales of how humans came to be. It was a story Shay undoubtedly knew by heart, given the time he'd spent with the Oneida. Haytham knew he still visited their village when he had the time. Shay just let Connor talk, though, as if it were all something new to him.

"Good morning." Haytham said stiffly and sat beside Shay. He wordlessly passed Haytham a tea biscuit. Connor watched them both with interest, and frowned.

"Are you mad at father?" He asked Shay. Shay froze, his own biscuit halfway to his mouth.

"Father?!"

"Well, I -"

"When were you goin' to tell me this?"

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of Thomas (who was already drunk at ten in the morning) swearing at an equally intoxicated redcoat down at the bar below. "We were dealing with something a tad bit more important last night." Haytham finally replied.

"...Fair enough. And no, Connor. I'm not mad at your father." He assured him and patted him on the head. "I'm just, well, hurtin' a bit on the inside but that's not his fault."

"Tell me whose fault it is." Connor demanded fiercely.

"Remind me to stay on your good side, Little One." Shay said, laughing. Connor, if nothing else, had a good sense for judging character. He avoided Church like the plague, clung to Shay and warily respected all the others. ...Except for Charles. Thankfully, it hadn't been Charles' who'd burnt the village. Haytham had been able to get the whole story, after talking with the others. It was Washington's men. Charles, William and Benjamin had unfortunately been unable to get in their way in time to save the village. Connor had been playing in the woods with some of the other children at the time, and managed to run across Charles rather than Washington's men. So, naturally, he blamed Charles.

"Stay here at the Inn, Connor. Shay and I have work to do." Haytham said, getting up from the table. Shay grumbled something under his breath and followed.

"I want to help!" Connor demanded, pouting.

"Knowin' your father I'll be spendin' my afternoon hidin' bodies." Shay told him, shaking his head. "Best you stay here where it's safe and don't trust anythin' Catherine tries to feed you."

"This don't seem much like work." Shay commented as he sat down in the chair in front of his desk in the Morrigan's cabin. Haytham had already occupied the chair behind it like he owned the place. A couple of the crewmen were milling about on deck just to make sure she wasn't left unguarded, but otherwise the Phantom Queen was deserted.

"It's not, not really. There's simply no other place I can think of in this damned city that I can be alone with you for five minutes." Haytham groused and turned to face Shay. "About last night... You are right. I don't think I actually know how trust works. Which is entirely the reason I tried to end this before I inevitably wind up hurting you like I do everyone else."

"Not this shite again, Haytham." Shay growled. "We're goin' to make mistakes, aye, but that's no reason to give up."

"I did not say that; I have no intention of doing that now. On the contrary, what we spoke of before..." Haytham paused, searching for the words. Rehearsing this in his head had been infinitely easier. Absently, he fiddled with the catch on his hidden blade and looked up to meet Shay's eyes. "I am inclined to lock that door and let you have your way with me."

"Christ, no. I'm not doin' that so you can pretend it's trust when you really just don't want to admit it scares you." Shay replied irritably.

"It is not that; I am not afraid. Well, not of the act itself. I think... I think I have been a part of a society that views such relations as an unforgivable sin for too long. On one hand, I could not care less. On the other, I have this sort of subconscious disgust that's been driven into me for years. I am not proud to admit it, but honestly the idea of submitting to a man utterly repulses me – yet there is no good reason I can think of that it should. ...Only that it is 'wrong'." Haytham told him uncertainly. "I can only imagine the beating my father would give me if he knew."

"Good t'know I'm repulsive." Shay said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That is not what I meant! It is just, I do not want – Ia m not a bloody woman!" Haytham complained.

"Is that it? Are you jokin'? You know the boys out there think you're the one takin' it, right? ...And that they all damn well know that you're the one wearin' the pants here? You need to stopping frettin' over nonsense and decide for yourself what feels right. It en't anyone else's business anyway. What does it matter what they think? How would they even know? It's not like I'd walk into the middle o' town and tell everyone I meet that I just fucked you in the arse. They'd probably stone me t'death, or have me hanged. Well, assumin' they could catch me." Shay replied, raising his eyebrows. Haytham sighed and stole a glance at the untouched bottle of whiskey that was sitting on Shay's desk. He wondered if Shay would care if he uncorked it and downed the whole bottle.

"It sounds petty when you put it like that." Haytham said after a while.

"It is petty." Shay muttered in response. "You've never let anyone make your choices for you in anythin' else, so why is this different? Either way, it doesn't matter to me. If you don't want to do it, then don't. I won't make you."

"It is not different. Not at all, really. I never thought about it that way." Haytham realized. ...And how am I to judge whether or not I would enjoy something if I'm not willing to even consider trying it, he added silently to himself. He looked up at Shay who was watching him with concern, and found his resolve. "...I want to try. Right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He knew he didn't manage to keep the nerves out of his voice, but it seemed good enough for Shay.

"All right, then."

The moment Shay's lips met his and warm, calloused fingers tangled themselves in his hair, Haytham had a hard time remembering that he was nervous at all. Shay's touch had an intoxicating effect on him, and he found that their short time apart left him utterly starved for it. He sucked in a shaky breath as Shay nipped at a spot on his throat and slipped his shirt down off his shoulders. Suppressing the urge to fight Shay for dominance and pin him to the bed was harder than he thought it would be. Instead, Haytham busied himself with undoing Shay's belt as he trailed hot kisses along his collar bone and hooked his fingers into Haytham's pants, sliding them down his hips. Haytham mumbled something incoherent at the soft contact of Shay's fingers brushing against the scar on his side.

"I'll stop if you want me to."

"Stop, and I'll cut off your cock." Haytham hissed and took him in a heated kiss that tasted faintly of tea laced with liquor. He forced himself to let go of Shay who shoved him up against the wall to regain the upper hand. A loud moan escaped Haytham's lips as Shay bit one of his nipples and nudged his knee into his groin.

"The bed or the desk?" Shay asked huskily, rubbing his thumb over the head of Haytham's cock that was throbbing with need.

"Bed." Haytham breathed, and gasped in surprise as Shay shoved him down into it and pinned him him down with his hips before he got the chance to think of finding himself on top of Shay.

"Stop fightin' me and relax." Shay told him and caressed Haytham's chest with light touches that left him writhing and panting for breath.

"Sorry, force of habit." Haytham said truthfully, and nearly choked on the words as Shay teasingly licked just the tip of his length. The forgotten apprehension returned in full force as he heard Shay reach for the small bottle of oil on the bedside table. He tried not to let it show as he felt Shay kiss him softly just below the navel and slide his oil slicked fingers between his legs. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until Shay reminded him to breathe. It felt strange, but not entirely unpleasant as Shay prodded at his entrance gently and wrapped his other hand around Haytham's cock. He let his eyes flutter closed and bit his lip as Shay pressed his finger deeper inside. It was uncomfortable, he decided, but not painful. Shay stroked him slowly, reducing Haytham to a moaning, needy mess of desire and he didn't even notice as Shay inserted a second finger. What he did notice was the shock of overwhelming sensation that spread through him as Shay's fingers brushed the spot he was looking for. Haytham arched his back and mewled like a cat in heat as Shay repeatedly stroked his prostate.

Haytham didn't even remember his own name by the time Shay withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock. He choked on a moan, twisting his fingers into the sheets as Shay slowly pushed his way inside. Now it hurt a bit, but he knew it would. Shay had warned him, after all. It wasn't a bad sort of pain, though. He just felt full, and stretched a little too far. Shay buried himself to the hilt and pulled Haytham close, running his fingers through his hair. He pressed a soft kiss to Shay's shoulder and rested his hands on his hips. It didn't take long to adjust to the new feeling as Shay moved, carefully at first. He knew what he was doing, though. Haytham was a helpless mess of need after just a few thrusts. He let his head fall back against the pillow and trailed his hands across Shay's muscled abdomen. He fell into a steady, even rhythm careful not to be too rough with Haytham.

Shay smoothed Haytham's hair out of his flushed face and kissed him deeply. He held onto Shay's hips for dear life, convinced he was going to drown in the intensity of the pleasure that washed through him with each thrust. Just when he thought he might burst, Shay wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked him in time with his thrusts. Haytham's eyes rolled back in his head and he brokenly begged Shay to take him harder, not even aware of the words as they left his mouth. He didn't need to, though. A soft nip on on the sensitive skin behind his ear and a gentle squeeze of his length was all it took to send Haytham over the edge. It felt like he might literally melt into Shay as he kept up his steady pace, riding out Haytham's climax until he reached his own with a strangled gasp. Haytham took a shaky breath, reveling at the sensation of the heat of Shay's release inside of him. Shay slowly pulled out, and kissed Haytham softly on the forehead.

"Well?" Shay asked, nuzzling his face into Haytham's hair. "...Haytham?" If it weren't for the thinly veiled note of panic in Shay's voice, he might have kept ignoring him. Instead he rolled over, pinned Shay hard to the bed, and kissed him until they both nearly suffocated.

"Enough! You did not break me, Shay." He said quietly. "In fact, I rather enjoyed it."

"Sir, I -"

"For the love of God, stop bloody talking. You are ruining the moment. Again." Haytham groused and settled down beside him. "We do still have work to do, though..."

"Now who's ruinin' the damned moment..."

And there's no archaic slang in this chapter. I'm a little disappointed in myself. :c