There was finally another trans S-rank. It wasn’t official yet, but all the S-rank chats were ablaze with talk of it. Luc rapped his fingers on the desk as he read over the group chat. His name was Holy Walker, and he was re-awakened and a beast. The shaky camera footage from the dungeon break was horrendous. He was a monster. He dispatched S-rank beasts with ease while all of the other S-rankers were struggling, and he was only twenty. Sure, he was due to turn twenty-one in a few weeks, but he was barely not a teenager.

Luc rapped his fingers on the desk as he studied the footage stolen from the fight. It had already been uploaded to HunterWatch, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. He moved fluidly, like liquid, in a borderline inhuman way. He knew exactly where to step, where to throw himself, and his power… Luc thought he might be an assassin type, but that didn’t make sense. He clearly wasn’t an assassin type, because he had those walls. The way he dealt with that Cerberus was downright disturbing, and Luc had a feeling he went through something in the dungeon. Of course he went through something. Re-awakenings were always traumatic and horrifying, and he had been stranded there for four days. No one to date had survived a hidden dungeon, and while this was the seventh, Luc had honestly thought they would continue to be a problem.

Clearly not. There was still the issue of them being guaranteed to break, but that could be managed.

He rapped his fingers on the desk again. He thought…

“Carla!” he called, and his secretary popped her head in. “Book me a flight to Phoenix. As soon as you can.”

“Understood, sir,” she said, and Luc stood from the desk and grabbed his coat.

He was going to recruit him, he already decided. He needed to be in Boston. Luc had no other S-ranks in his guild, didn’t like working with them, but…

He was a transmasc kid. He was barely turning twenty-one, and Luc knew what this kind of lifestyle did to you. He knew intimately, and he was a bit of a control freak. If he could limit this boy’s insanity to at least a little bit, and make it so he had the least amount of scandals…

He wasn’t going to leave another transmasc to drown. He would have to give him a better offer than anyone else could manage. Holy had no idea what he was getting into, and Luc was, well, wanting to control the situation. If Holy lost his goddamn shit it would reflect on the entire community badly. And he was barely twenty-one, so he was going to lose his shit.

It was a matter of when, not if.

Trans people were held to a far higher standard than their cis counterparts. There was no question about it. Cis S-ranks could do whatever the hell they wanted. Trans S-ranks did not have that same luxury. This boy… He would be in need of guidance. And Luc could provide that.

Yes. He was going to move him to Boston. There were a lot of S-ranks clustered here, and hopefully, he would learn what not to do by their example. Luc wouldn’t take no for an answer. This S-rank… He needed to be controlled. He needed to be contained, and he needed a leash on him. Luc could already tell there was something wrong with him. Not a bone of empathy in his entire body, just from the way he killed. He was going to be dangerous, and it needed to be controlled.

….

Antoni slammed Holy into the door and leaned in to kiss him deeply. Holy let him as Antoni worked a knee between his legs for him to grind on, and he obligingly rocked forward. His clit rubbed against his leg, and he grunted into Antoni’s mouth as Antoni slid his hands up his body. His shirt was rucked up, and he rocked against his thigh as he tried to breathe through the kiss. Antoni kissed like he was demanding more, and Holy was happy to oblige.

Antoni lifted him up and wrapped his legs around his waist, and Holy let him as Antoni staggered to the couch and laid him down. Antoni’s shirt was stripped off, revealing a lean body and light muscle of the calisthenics variety, all functional, and sparse hair on his chest, with a happy trail leading down into his pants. Holy slid in closer, and Antoni got the button on his pants undone and zipper pulled down. Holy undid his boots and kicked them off, and then Antoni pulled down his pants and threw them aside. He paused, staring down at the silk panties on Holy’s body. They were red, with a little bow in the front, and Holy flushed.

“Well, don’t stare,” he said, and Antoni leaned forward, rubbing his lips from over the silk panties. Holy was soaking wet, and Antoni caught his lips in a kiss.

“Do you normally hide things like this under your clothes?” he purred against Holy’s lips, and then he unbuckled his belt and pulled out a massive dick that Holy wasn’t sure was going to fit. He was rock hard and ready to go, and one thumb caught in the panties and pulled them to the side with his thumb. Oh, he was going in dry?

“W---” Holy started to say, but Antoni spat on his dick and stroked it. It was barely lubed, and he pushed in, inexorably and slowly, going in and in until he bottomed out. Holy couldn’t breathe from the size of it. It was massive, to the point of discomfort, but at least it was thick, enough that he had a comfortable stretch and every single nerve down there was getting contact. Holy breathed out, and then Antoni started to move.

It was hot and heated. Antoni’s hips were slapping against Holy, and he was groaning despite himself. It felt good, but Holy wanted more. Antoni was fucking him like he was a hole, and it was thrilling, but something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt wrong, and he didn’t…

He was overthinking it. He hadn’t fucked once in the past six months after a bad experience, and now he was reading into everything.

“Hey,” Antoni said in his ear. “You shouldn’t be thinking right now.”

With that, he twisted his hips, and hit something deep in Holy’s insides, and Holy let out a choked off noise and arched up. From there, it was nothing but animalistic pants, Antoni pounding into him like a piston, fucking him like he owned him, and Holy gasp-sobbing through it. At some point, though, Antoni flipped him over and pinned him down to the couch, face down, ass up, and then he set into him in earnest.

The change in position was electrifying. Holy scrambled to get a grip on the couch, and pleasure poured through him. Yes. This was what he was looking for. He felt like he was in his own body again, like it belonged to him once again. Every stroke hammered in that he was in his own body, that he owned it again, because at one point, he hadn’t felt like it was his anymore. For the past four days, it had felt like it belonged to someone else, and he had hated it. It felt like he was nothing but a toy, a plaything for some sadistic child that was going to have a spot on True Crime Network one day. He hadn’t felt like a person, merely a vehicle for pain, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that entity got anything out of it.

Holy buried his face into the throw pillow as Antoni forced him down to lay on the couch so he could straddle his thighs and continue to fuck him. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about cumming. It was going to happen soon---

Antoni pulled out, and Holy stiffened up. There was a gasp behind him, and Antoni jacked off so white ropes painted Holy’s thighs. Warm, thick liquid landed on his skin, and Holy blinked. Wait, that was it?

“Welcome to S-rank, kiddo,” Antoni said and ruffled Holy’s hair. Then, he stood and pulled his shirt on, buttoned up his pants, and tilted his head at Holy. “You probably can’t walk after that, so I’ll catch an Uber home.”

“Oh…” Holy rasped out. “I almost came…”

“Finish yourself off then, I guess,” Antoni said with a shrug, and then he turned for the door. Holy watched him go, and the door quietly clicked shut behind him.

That was it?

For some reason, Holy had thought an S-rank would be different from the majority of cis men that thought sex was done when they came. Apparently not. With a groan, he sat up and stared at his pants on the floor. He needed to go to the bathroom so he didn’t get a UTI and take another shower. He smelled like sex now, and he needed to go to the Association tomorrow. And he needed to clean the couch after that.

With a sigh, his stomach feeling weird and twisted, he looked around.

Why did he do that? Why did he constantly play Russian roulette with cis men who saw sex as something you did to someone, not something you did together? He had thought that was going to be different, but…

His eyes trailed to his phone left on the floor. It fell out of his pocket, and he picked it up and checked it. There were four messages from Kara, who he’d already texted to make sure she knew he was okay, and three missed calls from his mom. He stared a long, long time at the missed calls, and then he locked his phone again. His TikTok and HunterWatch were probably exploding right about now. And his YouTube. And his Twitter. And his… actually, no one knew who he was on Reddit and Tumblr, so those were probably the only sites he could safely go on right now.

Even so, he should probably make a statement on his Twitter. With a sigh, he unlocked his phone again and sent out his tweet.

@ H0lyWar

I’ll make an official statement after tomorrow. Sorry. I’m alive. That’s all.

He sent the tweet, and then he walked into his bathroom and turned on the light. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he thought he might be different now. Look different, that was. There was something in his face. Maybe it was because he only had three tacos in the past four days, but he looked like he was hollower in the face, more gaunt, and there was something in his eyes he recognized and didn’t like.

It was like a different person staring back at him. He didn’t recognize this boy in the mirror. His eyes used to be soft, but there was something wrong with them. He couldn’t see past it. Without a word, he switched off the light, the way he always did when it was time for a shower when he was feeling bad about himself, and stripped off the cropped mesh top and binder. He dropped his stinking panties that stank of cock and his juices, and then he started up the shower in pitch blackness, only the light of the open door lighting up the room.

He didn’t want to look at his breasts.

It didn’t matter. In three weeks, they would be gone. He didn’t care if he was S-rank now. They were going to be gone. He would put off accepting any guild offers until he’d gotten the surgery done. It would take four months before he was cleared to resume normal duties, unless he paid a healer to fix him up, which he didn’t have the money for. His Patreon payout was coming on the first of the month, and he would be okay after that, but not ‘pay a healer’ okay. He needed to set aside 20% of it for taxes, after all. And 10% for savings. That, too.

Holy climbed into the shower and sank down as the water pattered down around him. Antoni really left, just like that, huh?

Well. He wasn’t expecting much, anyway. For a second, he had felt good, but he didn’t think it was enough. It was never going to be enough, but he just…

He buried his head between his knees and breathed as the water soaked into his hair and ran down the sides of his face. He couldn’t wait until he was no longer needing to take these pitch black showers. He just wanted to go to bed. Why did he even go out? That was a stupid decision. Why was Antoni out, for that matter?

He felt dirty. Used. He knew that was the lingering feelings of his Christian upbringing, and he just needed to push through and learn to enjoy his body, but it was hard. It was very hard. He didn’t know how to feel right now. He felt filthy, all over again, and that had done nothing to make him feel better. For a second, he felt in command of his body again, and then it all came crashing down the second Antoni pulled out to cum.

He didn’t know why he did this to himself.

He was just a mess. Always had been, but after all that happened, he felt more fragile, more unhinged, more ready to break at any moment.

Everything would be fine in three weeks. He would hold back from going to dungeons, and rely on his streaming revenue. Then, he would get his top surgery done, and everything would feel better. He just…

He wasn’t going to recover from this, he realized.

His whole life was about to change.

And all he could think about was the pain. It had been like electricity, over and over, taking over his body and destroying him from the inside out. He didn’t know how he could go into his life as the same person after what happened. And why was he forced to lie? Why didn’t the goddess want people to know about this? Why was he being forced to keep her secrets?

Of course, it would sound crazy if he was honest about it, he realized. He was diagnosed mild schizoaffective, and he was about to rave that a statue spoke to him. They would put his ass in intensive care again for that, and he briefly realized the Banner Behavioral Health Hospital might not have survived the attack.

Oh.

He liked that place.

There were too many thoughts going through his head, and he didn’t know where to start with them.

He just…

He needed to ignore his phone, finish washing up, and go to bed.

He needed to go to bed.