Shoot for the Moon, Son - Finale

 At the end of Chapter 10, after a whole chapter of sex, Haytham discovers Connor is his son and tells him he doesn't want to see him anymore in a hamfisted breakup session anyone with two eyes and a brain could see. Connor, hurt and wondering what he did to deserve it, runs off into the tundra and two months later he's dying in the snow. We are then treated to scenes of a modern hospital - because why the fuck not? - and Connor can finally see his father in the moon.

Oh yeah, it's getting a helluva lot better.

The young man stared at Haytham; his heart missing a beat and his stomach fluttering a little. For two months, he had yearned to see Haytham again; had dreamed and… and fantasized, even. Had regretted his impulsive flight from the outpost – had thought that Haytham had lied for some unknown reason about not wanting him because that night... he had addressed him by name, and guided their lovemaking with utmost patience and attentiveness. Ratonhnhaké:ton had wanted to return and find out why Haytham had lied, but the situation at the village had slowly escalated while Ratonhnhaké:ton had tried his very best to help to put an end to the death ravaging old and young…

So despite Haytham whisking you away and you charging off into the unknown because you're upset, you still fantasize about him. I do understand these feelings and I actually enjoy reading them, but in this story it takes everything I have not to roll my eyes out of my head. The added bonus of teleporting into the future creates a real mindfuck scenario.

Also, what is this horrible thing ravaging Inuit villages? I'd like to know sometime, Antecanis.

He fell silent. Since you told me… Hotness and coldness waved through him as he understood. Haytham had asked about his father – he had asked why he hadn’t protected his mother. He understood now why Haytham had cared. He had cared because he had known Ratonhnhaké:ton’s mother. He had been with her; he… had understood when Ratonhnhaké:ton had spoken about just who his father was. 

'Yeah I banged my dad, what of it? You some kind of bigot?'

“So you didn’t know when we slept with each other?”, Ratonhnhaké:ton asked clumsily. There was hurt in his voice; though he started to understand the older man’s actions better now – it didn’t help the bitterness and regret in his heart. He wasn’t sure if he was dying and this was his last journey before he would pass – and he couldn’t help but wish he had acted differently two months ago.

Doesn't sound like regret when you kept fantasizing about the guy. Just saying. 

Haytham’s head jerked up and he stared at the young man in apparent horror. “We didn’t – I never –“ He paled; his grip on the young man’s hand tightening subconsciously. His eyes widened as he stared at his son. “The… the Christmas party – that was… that was you, wasn’t it?”, Haytham croaked out; his bright eyes wide with understanding. “I… I thought… I didn’t know…”

This keeps getting better and better. I'm really not sure why I didn't read this story thoroughly as before, but this is one story that really breaks the boundaries of the 'Ash Ketchum coma' storyline. Holy fuck, imagine waking up in a hospital after dreaming you were fighting Russians on the wrong side of the continent and your dad sodomized you at a party. 

Did Haytham, his father, not remember what he had done on earth while he was on the moon? But… Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head. He wasn’t sure why it was that the other didn’t remember. But Haytham had asked, and so he would tell him.

I don't think anyone remembers what the fuck is going on here. The entirely of Chapter 11 is a huge case of 'tell, not show' where Connor tells Haytham in the hospital about how he went from village to village, watching everyone die of measles. He talks about fighting the shaman's son and getting stabbed. It's clear to Haytham this is all the result of the meds he is on, but to me, this smacks of an author who has no idea what the Hell she's writing about. I could've gone with the quasi-historical story, no matter how bad it was, but to have it all undone with this twist is insulting, to say the least.

He had longed to say these words; for two months, he had longed to voice these things he had realized so soon after he had left the outpost. The knowledge that Haytham, somehow, was his father, didn’t change the intense feelings Ratonhnhaké:ton held for him. He had needed to travel to this place to find out, and after so many years, his wish had finally come true.

Much love. Much romance. Much cock.

But wait! There's more!  

That's just a dream, too! Connor's 'moon talk' is just an AU version of himself talking to his dad in the hospital! His 'real self' is still in the arctic, in an Inuit village recovering from a fever. Ain't that just the grandest twist?

Chapter 12 centres around Connor's wolf-bear dream sequences again, and he discovers that Haytham had measles as well. There is a problem with this: Haytham would have already been exposed to it in his childhood in England, and his Isu DNA would've given him some protection. Not that that matters, because most of Chapter 12 was dialogue and a brief discussion of how measles wiped out Native villages - which is infinitely a more powerful story than this one.

In Chapter 13 we are back to the hospital room. I'm not sure what Antecanis was hoping to achieve with this, but it definitely isn't the moon-wisdom metaphor/allegory she's desperate to convey. It just reads like a bad Christopher Nolan plotline.

The young man shifted closer and next to his father; leaning his head against the other’s shoulder as a both cautious and tender sign of affection. He closed his eyes. “You are more than one thing to me. You are many things at once, and I understand that these may not all fit into what is… expected. What is... appropriate.” 

Reminder these are the same people who mock Southerners who fuck and impregnate their sisters in trailer parks. It's 'intellectual' and it's 'romance' in this context, especially if it's an interracial gay incestuous romance. Though, according to some, since gay men cannot impregnate each other this isn't so bad at all.

Closing his eyes, he moved closer. His nose brushed against the other’s, and his lips found Haytham’s. It reminded him of their very first kiss in the snow shelter – not seeing each other, and simply enjoying the feeling of warmth and closeness. It was a tender, light kiss – a gesture to underline the gravity of their words rather than an act of passion or desire.

Sir, this is a medicine hut.

“I was too young to understand all, but from what I have heard and what I remember, our village was in conflict with one upriver. Animals and driftwood were scarce, and the elders accused each other of not treating the animals right and driving them away from us. That spring day, some men left for an attack on the other village. I don’t know why that day. I don’t know… many things.” Ratonhnhaké:ton shuddered, and he felt Haytham brush his fingers over his shoulder soothingly.

This is a first. An author who candidly writes about Native-on-Native conflict before the white man arrived there? Colour me shocked! We're supposed to believe there was no war, no rape or genocide, but that the white man brought all of that upon them. What a bad girl you are, Antecanis!

“I will tell you more about it, one day, and we shall find its use together. It is a key of sorts… We shall speak more of it once I have… regained my strength, and my...” 

Since you aren't bothering to explain its use now, there is no point to even mentioning this MacGuffin. It is a major Red Herring.

And it doesn't end there. Connor keeps Haytham locked in a lodge because he went blind from measles, and at the end of Chapter 14 they decide to have sex. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton retrieved the small container of oil he had brought in anticipation before he moved closer to Haytham again. He shifted into the other’s lap; thinking of that first night they had spent so illicitly entwined. Wrapping an arm around the other’s broad frame, he kissed him again; keeping himself from repeating words of care; promises of restoring Haytham’s sight through the help of the cave, the pendant and the moon.

His other hand found Haytham’s, and he gave him the small pouch of oil. While he could prepare himself well enough, he always preferred it when the other did it – it was much more thrilling and pleasurable to have Haytham’s fingers ply him open. And he knew that Haytham preferred it, too – after all – he could not watch Ratonhnhaké:ton do it himself. This touch; these words were all they could share.

Just...holy shit dude. Nothing could prepare me for how bad this was going to be. 

Without breaking their kiss, Haytham opened the pouch of oil – knowing the container well enough to do so with ease. He poured some oil in his hands, and Ratonhnhaké:ton did his best not to try and glance at him do it. He knew that the older man disliked being checked up on like that, and he trusted Haytham’s intuition and acute sensory awareness to do it even without his eyesight. Instead, the young man closed his eyes; concentrating on the feeling of their lips and tongues moving against each other; breath mingling and wetness covering their lips. 

 Haytham has been blinded by measles and was left to rot in an underground lodge. I can't think of anything more counter productive. Imagine losing your vision to a horrible disease and then denied sunlight and even social contact because your son wants to have sex with you alone. It doesn't make a lick of sense, but then again, there's another form of licking going on here.

If you're blind and you're angry at being isolated from the world on purpose, is figuring out where the prostate is on your list of priorities?

Once Haytham had put away the container with oil, his hands returned to the younger man’s body.

Ratonhnhaké:ton shuddered as Haytham’s one hand brushed along his back – doubtlessly giving the older man some orientation. The other hand followed, and after a moment, the young hunter could feel his father’s slick fingers teasing his entrance.

 You are doing this in the pitch darkness. Instead of caring for your sick father, you instead have sex with him. I'm glad Haytham remembers how to finger an anus despite his predicament.  

“Ah- yes, please…”, he huffed with anticipation clearly audible in his voice. He longed for their reunion – the hunt had been lonely, even if spent amongst people. “Missed you…”, Ratonhnhaké:ton added breathlessly before he could stop himself. Over the course of the past months, he had become much more vocal – not just during these illicit encounters, but speaking about what he wanted, needed and thought, too.

 Another thing: Connor just witnessed entire towns being wiped out by European diseases. This is his reaction. We also never discovered what the Russians wanted or what the actual plot was. Not that it matters; people would be more concerned with six paragraphs of fingering.  

Two fingers plunged inside of him, and Ratonhnhaké:ton gasped; his hips jerking a little. He held onto Haytham and tried to keep focused on their kiss – but his breath was coming heavier now; anticipating where there was going, and enjoying the feeling of the other’s fingers sliding inside of him.

 You've already spent a few paragraphs on this. Get on with it. 

Haytham knew how to move them so it teased him wonderfully. Ratonhnhaké:ton shuddered and let a wanton sound escape him into the messy kiss he had troubles focusing on. Instead, he was moaning lowly; his lips brushing against his father’s as Haytham started to fuck him with his fingers more roughly.

Ratonhnhaké:ton held onto the other tightly; eyes squeezed shut as he tried to imagine how it was for Haytham – relying on what the young man felt like; sounded like…

 It's been...how many months, since Haytham went blind? Instead of helping him acclimate you locked him in a shed. While that may be a fitting fate for a Grand Master Templar, Haytham didn't do anything in this story to explicitly deserve it. He's being kept there as a finger fucking machine for his son. That's some fate. 

Haytham’s other hand came up; following the young man’s broad frame until he brushed his fingers along Ratonhnhaké:ton’s cheek. “I remember…”, Haytham growled lowly. “I remember your expression, boy. The pleasure and surprise in your gaze – that desire so very visible. I can feel it now, too.”

 'I can forget you locked me in a basement provided I can finger your ass, son.' 

The young man whined softly; nodding against Haytham's fingers. He could feel a third finger joining but he was distracted by Haytham’s thumb brushing along his lips teasingly. Eventually, the finger pressed between them and slid into his mouth. Ratonhnhaké:ton opened his eyes again – shuddering as he found the other’s half-lidded, clouded gaze resting on him. He so desperately wished for the other to see him again – to elevate him into a state of being recognized and brought into full being by being seen. Sounds of eagerness and anticipation left him plentiful as he was forced to keep his lips parted; his dark, desperate gaze resting on Haytham’s almost expressionless face.

 Aren't they in near darkness? Did Connor bring a lamp? If so, how can you see or feel anything in near darkness? 

Haytham pressed his clever fingers inside of the young hunter again, and a spike of sensation shot through Ratonhnhaké:ton’s body as the other teased that incredible spot inside of him. His hips jerked forwards again, and he briefly dropped his gaze; bowing his head as he tried to regain some sort of composure. His cock was pressing against his father’s stomach; smearing wetness over the pale skin as he moved his hips in unison with Haytham’s thrusts. Ratonhnhaké:ton enjoyed the subtle friction against his arousal, and he rocked his hips a bit more purposefully to press against the older man’s body. After such a long time apart, Ratonhnhaké:ton was pitifully close to coming already – but he bit his lips and huffed in an attempt to keep it together for a while longer – not wanting this embrace to end; not wanting to lose this feeling of connection and hope.

 'Hope' is not the word I'd use. The main plot point with the Russians was abandoned for this, and we never discovered what Haytham's true purpose in the North was. Why did he seek out his son? Why did he need his help? Then, when disease strikes remote Inuit settlements and wipes out thousands, Connor reacts by hunting and...having sex with his father after he locked him in a basement. I don't understand anyone's motivations in this story. 

Haytham leaned into his son’s broad frame; his breath waving hotly over Ratonhnhaké:ton’s neck. The young hunter shuddered; his heart beating heavily as he wondered if Haytham would kiss or bite him – both could be pleasurably intense, and depended on the older man’s mood entirely – sometimes he was particularly gentle, and sometimes, he was clearly channelling his frustration into a rougher union. Ratonhnhaké:ton had welcomed and enjoyed both – there had always been a part of him that had found a thrill in giving control over to Haytham. It was the part that had made him lie in the other’s bed in the outpost; submissive and inviting the other to do as he pleased. It was a part that trusted Haytham deeply.

 It is never explained where this trust came from. Several chapters earlier, Connor became jealous easily when Haytham was spending time with other white men, despite the 'othering' treatment Connor was getting from them. Yes, Connor did save Haytham's life after he decided to go skinny dipping in sub-Arctic waters and protected him from a blizzard, but after that there was no significant event which would form a solid foundation for this trust. Unless you count the myriad of interpretative dreams, this is a 'just so' relationship. 

His thoughts were scattered when he could feel an odd stretch – realizing that Haytham added a fourth finger for the first time during his preparation.

“W-wait –“, Ratonhnhaké:ton managed out with Haytham’s thumb still between his lips before the other bit him and made his mind go blank once more. Ratonhnhaké:ton's body jerked and he let out a soft wail; spilling over Haytham’s chest as he came; clutching the older man’s shoulders and throwing his head back as he briefly tensed in bliss and overwhelming sensation.

 You've already taken his dick before. Why are you acting shocked when he is nearly fisting you? Wait, don't answer that. 

Panting heavily, Ratonhnhaké:ton went limp in his father’s embrace; feeling how the other’s fingers left him which prompted a low sound of loss and pleasure to leave his flushed lips. He could tell that Haytham was more in the mood to bite and dominate him – but after the weeks apart, Ratonhnhaké:ton was happy to let the other take control. How had Haytham spent his time, really? The light outside hurt his eyes, and what was there to do here, on the inside? Ratonhnhaké:ton knew that he trained – trained to regain his form, and trained to handle his weapons despite his loss of sight. But who came to visit aside Ratonhnhaké:ton? Who brought stories and company?

 Wait a second. How is Haytham doing that inside cramped quarters? You'd need someone to help you and guide you if you are trying to swordfight blind. You'd also need audio cues, and you don't get that in an enclosed environment. 

Connor left Haytham alone, for weeks, in a basement and Haytham magically kept his form and physique? Sorry, I don't believe that for a second. Blind or not, Haytham wouldn't consent to being locked anywhere, at any time.  

Instead, he leaned over Ratonhnhaké:ton; one hand brushing along the other’s frame to know where exactly he was, and how he was lying there. Haytham shifted above him again; propping himself up with one hand while the other continued its trail over the young man’s body.

“Please…”, Ratonhnhaké:ton huffed impatiently; yearning for that illicit embrace.

Haytham glanced up – or… seemingly so; his gaze empty. His expression was stern, if anything. “You are telling me to wait.”, he growled. “Now you shall demonstrate that patience you demand of me, boy.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton squirmed and whined; replying with his breath hitching, “Yes, f-father…”

 In this scenario, I can't exactly hold Haytham guilty. He is being deliberately left alone in the dark, with no sunlight and no social activity. Connor implicitly demands he be patient while not demanding it during sex. Does that mean Connor is going to be locked in a basement for weeks? 

When Haytham’s fingers brushed over the inside of his thighs, the young man spread his legs further; hoping for the other’s fingers to enter him again. But the older man’s touch travelled upwards more; cupping Ratonhnhaké:ton’s balls and rubbing his thumb along the base of the young man’s half-hard cock.

 These magical erections can endure multiple orgasms in succession! Order yours today! Never experience erectile dysfunction ever again!

By now, Ratonhnhaké:ton was panting softly again – more so in anticipation and need than in pleasure just yet; every stimulation just spurring his desires. His father’s lips were still trailing over his chest, and Ratonhnhaké:ton watched soft hickeys blooming on his bronze skin; barely visible in the dim light. Haytham sucked and nipped at the skin; every now and then biting down a bit more forcefully and clearly seeking those jolts and gasps he could tease out of his son through that.

How can you see any of those details in such dim light? Granted, Connor does have superior vision but you get the point. 

With stubborn determination to heed his father's words, Ratonhnhaké:ton tried to be patient – his fingers digging into the mats beneath him, and his breath coming heavily now. His heart ached – he had missed this closeness; had missed the other’s presence and attention. And yet, he felt guilty for not having found a way to heal his father after three months; guilty for keeping him here against his expressed wish. “Haytham…”, he moaned out quietly; the surge of his emotions audible just so within the single word.

 Holy - three months? Three months you've kept this guy locked up? Wow, you're a real Josef Fritzl, friend. And we're on similar 'family terms' here. 

The older man glanced up again; stilling his motions. Though Ratonhnhaké:ton knew the other could not see him, he shuddered at having his father’s attention so wholly. The young man reached out to cup the other’s cheek with shaky fingers. “I love you. I’ll always… I…”, he whispered with heartache accompanying his words.

 I don't believe a word of this. Where has Connor looked in order to find a cure for blindness due to measles? He is far away from civilization and he doesn't trust the British on the coast to get him treatment. All of his Inuit friends are dead from disease. He's spent all that time hunting and gathering what, exactly? He was better off going to the settlement or taking Haytham there so he could be among similar people. Leaving him alone would deteriorate his mental health.  Am I the only one who did the reading?

Haytham closed his eyes, not quite leaning into his son’s touch, but not pulling away, either. His expression was not giving away his emotions as so often these days. Instead of giving a reply, he eventually turned his head towards Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers; pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before he shifted once more.  

 Buddy you were left alone for three months. In the dark. In a basement. Without seeing a single soul. That's resilience.  

Kneeling between the younger man’s legs, Haytham finally undid the restricting pants and bared his own striking arousal.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s mouth went dry; certainly not enjoying the sight for the first time, and yet, always struck by how it made him feel to know that Haytham desired him. “Let me…”, he brought out breathlessly; feeling for the pouch of oil that had to be close-by. After he had found it, he slicked his fingers with baited breath while Haytham waited. Ratonhnhaké:ton sat up and before he slicked the other’s cock, he gave in to the temptation to lean in and let his lips brush over the older man's hot, stiff erection.

 Who else is he going to desire? That gay white prostitute back at the settlement? He's known no one else but you. 

And didn't you already lube up beforehand?

He could hear Haytham’s breath changing slightly – wondering if the older man listened to his breath, too, assessing how pleasurable his attentions were. Ratonhnhaké:ton let out a shaky breath through his nose; moving down and taking in the older man’s cock more; opening his mouth wide as he let it slide inside of him. This was not the first time he pleasured the other with his mouth, and yet, he had never been able to take all of Haytham's member in. Now, when Haytham’s cock brushed against the back of his throat, Ratonhnhaké:ton tried his best to swallow around him; his fingers around the base of the other’s cock helping him guide it. He gasped and moaned around his father’s cock; shuddering and panting in effort and arousal – turned on by the sound of Haytham’s breath coming heavier, and the feeling of the older man’s fingers digging into his shoulders now. He could feel the other’s heavy cock against his tongue; could feel the hotness and hardness sliding further into his throat as he did his best not to gag or choke.

 Sorry, but when you're deep throating you aren't able to gasp. You might be able to make low noises in the back of your throat, but the whole point of deep throating is that you have it so far in your mouth it restricts normal breathing. You can't pant, either.  

“Mh – ngh – gh – !” Ratonhnhaké:ton squeezed his eyes shut; sucking on Haytham’s cock as he swallowed and tried to breathe properly through his nose; his own arousal pulsating distractingly – tempting him to reach down and give himself a few good strokes to accompany this intoxicating experience. He moved back for a moment – releasing the other’s cock from his throat and taking a few breaths before he guided it back inside of him; feeling the stretch in his mouth and throat as he let it slide just a little deeper than before. “Nhh-!”

I don't know how many times I need to say or, or how many times people need to hear it: when you write a blow job, can you please not use dumb words that make it sound like you're having a stroke?  

Breathing through his nose, Ratonhnhaké:ton moaned around the older man’s cock; his chin pressing against the hand wrapped around the base of his father’s cock still. He was close, but he could not take in more.

Haytham was panting softly, and he reached out to cup Ratonhnhaké:ton’s flushed cheek with a strong hand. “Good boy…”, he said breathlessly; his voice wonderfully velvety and oozing with arousal.

Always nice to choke your own son with your dick!  

Ratonhnhaké:ton opened his teary eyes; glancing up at the other and for a brief moment, he had a vision of Haytham above him in a sunlit, spacious room – naked and flushed, with hickeys blooming on his pale skin. His lips and cheeks dusted in a rosy, aroused pink; his eyes bright and piercing as he glanced down at Connor with warmth and lust so clearly expressed in his stare.

I take it this is the modern day inserts we see whenever Connor hallucinates? Is he giving his dad a blowjob in a hospital room, or...? 

“Hnngh – !”

What did I just say? 

The young man's heart leapt in his chest, and Ratonhnhaké:ton moved forwards impulsively; swallowing down his father’s cock to the hilt; his gaze caught in the other’s ocean eyes that were so very affectionate, wanting and bright.

As the gag reflex kicked in, he pulled away; coughing and retching as he regained his composure. The vision had disappeared, and he was back in the dim sod house; Haytham’s clouded eyes resting on him but not seeing him.

1. How are you noticing his 'ocean eyes' when it's all happening in dim lighting?

2. Nice way to kill a sex scene when someone almost vomits from a blow job.  

As soon as Ratonhnhaké:ton’s breath had normalized, Haytham moved close again; pressing up against the young man and urging him back on the floor. Ratonhnhaké:ton complied willingly; vaguely disoriented and dazed by both the beautiful vision and the feeling of Haytham’s cock plunging down his throat.

Accompanied by the almost-vision of your lunch being spewed across the floor? 

The young man gave soft sounds of anticipation and approval into their rough kiss; reciprocating Haytham’s lip-tugging and biting; licking and nipping. He allowed himself to glimpse at the other as they kissed – noting how flushed Haytham’s cheeks were now, and not doubting that the other anticipated their union as much as he did. He spread his legs as he could feel Haytham’s orientation-seeking touch; reaching down to guide the older man’s cock between them.

I'll say. Leaving your dad alone for three months, on purpose, while you go out doing fuck-all is a sure way for them to want to bang you.  

Another rough, wanton sound escaped Ratonhnhaké:ton into their kiss as his father’s cock pressed against his slick entrance and slowly slid inside of him. He wrapped his arms around the other; focusing on the sensations that took his mind off the heavy weight of guilt and responsibility; allowing him to believe that they were truly one in this moment; in body, spirit, mind – wholly.

This 'heavy weight' was not present when Connor spent three months looking/not looking for a cure while Haytham was locked in a basement. He did not seem to have an issue running around the tundra looking for food and thinking about nothing, so why should this convince me he's really guilty?  

Ratonhnhaké:ton groaned in desire and stimulation as he felt Haytham’s cock slide further inside of him; filling him out pleasantly. It had been weeks since they had been close like this, and the young hunter had missed it. Now that they had only their touches and their voices to connect, he treasured this illicit embrace even more; filling him with the thought that despite Haytham’s occasionally harsh words, he did trust the young man to heal him; caring for his son dearly and more than was allowed; that Haytham did desire him – and wanted to see him again, one day, and would stay for the chance that he could…

Did he trust you to lock him up all those months instead of leaving you at the settlement? Recall how Haytham miraculously kept up his physique in such dank, enclosed quarters - and his mind, despite being isolated from others. Despite this grim reality and a grimmer one of no cure existed for blindness, Connor goes on long journeys to achieve nothing and all is good provided they have sex. One does not follow through with the other - unless you're talking about the cum guzzling.

When Haytham started moving, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s thoughts scattered pleasantly again. Haytham broke their kiss; panting softly as he rolled his hips more forcefully and established a fast pace from the beginning. Bowing his head, the older man nipped at the younger hunter’s neck; having Ratonhnhaké:ton whimper and gasp beneath him.

“So good… feels… so good…”, Ratonhnhaké:ton managed out in between pleasured sounds; wanting to put into words how much he enjoyed their closeness. Pre-come was dripping over his chest in their current position, and he shuddered at the feeling of warm liquid smeared over his flushed, sweaty skin and Haytham’s hot breath waving over his neck.

If you want a good sex scene, try to avoid talking during sex. If you have to, don't make it look like this. It sounds worse than anything Brazzers can produce. 

“Want it… want it harder?”, Haytham asked; his voice breathless and rough.

Ratonhnhaké:ton gasped softly; feeling how the older man thrust into him harsher – pressing inside of him fully as he held him down. “Ngh – yes, f-father, so… so good…”, he stuttered; his mind hazy and distracted as he tried to convey his consent. 

'NGH!' 'HNNG' and "NRR" make me think I'm at a frat party surrounding by people choking or about to throw up, or a Heimlich maneuver training course. 

Haytham’s fingers dug into his thighs; holding him down and starting to fuck him more roughly. His hips snapped forward, and his cock plunged inside of the young man’s body at that wonderful angle that had Ratonhnhaké:ton’s body jerk; his toes curl and saliva escaping his flushed lips as he pressed his head back into the grass mats and moaned shamelessly.

Now I'm reminded of a person coming out of wisdom tooth surgery with all that drool. 

The young man’s fingers scraped over his father’s shoulders helplessly; trying to hold onto him to keep some sort of composure, though he knew it was in vain. He was far too lost in the tingling, blissful pleasure of their embrace.

“Love you – love you!”, he wailed; hips shaking and come dripping from his cock as he tried to keep himself from coming; clenching up around Haytham’s cock and barely remembering to breathe.

'Love' means locking your blind dad in a basement while you go running across the tundra, because Reasons. 

“I love you, too.”

It was almost inaudible. It was breathed against his neck more than spoken out loud – but Ratonhnhaké:ton had heard it. It was the first time Haytham said it, and for a moment, Ratonhnhaké:ton forgot how to breathe. He was floating – elevated by bliss and joy; his heart overflowing with relief and hope.

Again - what hope is there? Connor witnessed entire villages wiped out by disease and all he cares about is locking his blind father away so he can have sex with him in secret. Priorities, or what? 

He was thus entirely unprepared when Haytham’s teeth sank into his neck so forcefully that it drew a few drops of blood – a bite that claimed and warned. You want me to want you? Then you are mine.

Nice way to get tetanus. Did Haytham brush his teeth? 

Ratonhnhaké:ton cried out in surprise, pleasant pain, stimulation and bliss. He spilled hotly between them as the orgasm crashed through him as an intoxicating wave; the bite pushing him over that intense edge and letting him become entirely undone in Haytham’s embrace. Excitement and pleasure washed over him, and he was reduced to a whimpering, twitching mess beneath his father.

Though Haytham’s motions had stilled, he had neither come nor pulled out; his throbbing cock still buried inside of the young man’s body. He was breathing heavily; his hair messy and his cheeks flushed, and Ratonhnhaké:ton gazed up at him hazily; his arms slipping from Haytham’s frame as he sagged and enjoyed the blissful rush slowly ebbing away. The older man looked gorgeous, still wanton and dishevelled - a sight Ratonhnhaké:ton never wanted to forget.

Haytham sure is gifted, maintaining his erection after multiple ejaculations. And doing it all blind! 

Haytham’s fingers found the young man’s neck and brushed over the throbbing bite mark he had left. And for the first time that day, the older man’s expression changed quite visibly – a crooked smirk adorning his flushed lips as he raised his fingers to his lips and licked the drops of blood from them. “I might not see it – but everyone else will.”, he remarked huskily; clearly pleased that their embrace would stay with Ratonhnhaké:ton for days to come, and that a trace of him would leave this house along with the young man when he could not do so in person. 

That's nice. You gave up your freedom and prestige, but that's OK because the whole world knows you fucked your son. Victory!

Before Ratonhnhaké:ton had truly processed the other’s comment, Haytham started moving again; wiping any clear thoughts from the young hunter’s dazed mind. Ratonhnhaké:ton moaned in blissful exhaustion; sprawled out beneath the older man and pliant in Haytham’s grip.

Their pace was gentler now; Haytham rolled his hips in a pleasurable, steady rhythm. His eyes were closed, and he looked more at ease. His soft sounds of pleasure caused a small, affectionate smile to appear on the young man’s lips; his heart still full of the quiet admission of love and care. Hearing, seeing and feeling his beloved’s pleasure, care and desire brought an unknown kind of joy to him – fuelling the determination to find a way to heal Haytham. He knew the answer was on the moon – maybe his father’s spirit self would know a cure. Ratonhnhaké:ton would not give up.

The 'moon' in this case is a hallucination of the future, or at the very least, it's Connor's real self stuck in a coma. I'm not entirely sure what the author was thinking with this kind of plot-within-a-plot, but it doesn't make any sense and it certainly doesn't put her in touch with Inuit beliefs. It reads like a liberal wine box mom trying to recite poetry in a language she doesn't understand or care for.  

Connor won't find that cure, because he's too busy screwing his dad. Why cure him of his blindness when he is beholden to you, now and forever?

When Haytham’s rhythm slowly grew more erratic, and his breath hitched, Ratonhnhaké:ton knew he was close. He reached up to brush his fingers over his father’s chest. He pressed his palm against the other’s pale skin, just above his heart, while he guided one of Haytham’s hands to his own. “We’re connected now, do you feel it?”, he asked quietly; so very much reminded of Haytham’s guiding touch when they had slept with each other for the first time.

The spirits are watching a Mohawk man have sex with his white father while their people suffer extinction. Oh yeah, I'm definitely feeling the connection. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton nuzzled into the older man; knowing that he would not have to be afraid to wake up by himself tomorrow. He had to believe that one day, Haytham would look at him once again. That they would travel across the tundra, and do what they could to keep people safe; aid others against the violence of greed, despair and disease. And perhaps, he dared to hope as he drifted off to sleep, they could call this place home one day; a home to return to, a people to call their community. Never had Haytham spoken of wanting to return to his distant shores, and Ratonhnhaké:ton wished fervently that their future was here – their path entangled, laid out across the tundra.

You spent three months running across said tundra doing nothing. Remember that Russian fur trader plot that went nowhere? Me too. I'm one of the few who actually read this story between the lines and realized how ridiculous it is. 

What greed? What despair? None of that appeared here!  

As Ratonhnhaké:ton approached, he took off his fur and greeted his husband in equal form. They were humans here – Haytham by necessity; his bear-self lost with his fur beneath the mountain; buried by rubble and earth. He now had to learn how to hunt as a human. But every step, he was aided by his wolf. Ratonhnhaké:ton embraced the other as he returned; burying his face in the crook of the bear's neck and breathing in that familiar, soothing scent. Haytham’s touch was warm and gentle, and Ratonhnhaké:ton knew that he was home.

Man, I love how Inuit culture is so progressive as to have gay marriage! Don't you love incestuous gay marriage on top of it? So do I! It's such a powerful, moving story of hope, adventure, despair and Native culture.

Alright. Time to drop the sarcasm. 

This author has no clue what she's doing. I bet she thinks she's cute with the incest pairing, but the fact she didn't even remember what he plot was later in her story is simultaneously the best and worst thing I've seen a person do. Imagine making a plot about evil Russians on the wrong side of the continent plotting to rob Natives of their way of life and then dropping it for a moon hallucination orgy with your father. Hard to imagine anything funnier than that.

Imagine spending time looking up Inuit words, customs and culture yet forgetting their own misery at the hands of European diseases in favour of a Mohawk man having sex with his dad. Imagine forgetting the blood wars between Native tribes and thinking a Mohawk woman would be able to make it that far north without encountering any enemy tribes in between. Imagine using the Russians when they colonized Alaska when using Iqaluit, which was on the East Coast. 

The fact so many fic authors do not know how to use maps or forget what they wrote in their own stories is endemic. It has gotten worse, and good luck trying to tell them otherwise. I need to remind you that these are not 16-year-olds anymore: these are young adults, with college degrees, or women with children. And they know next to nothing about the world they live in, despite all their education and their bragging online about how better they are than you.

I can't imagine someone deliberately forgetting their own plot in favour of an entire chapter of sex. Can you? Now add in an 18th century plot which is actually a hospital hallucination of a guy who screwed his dad at a Christmas party. Now go back to that 18th century plotline, have the dad go blind from measles, and spend months 'looking' for a cure while locking him in a basement. Does that make sense to you? Does that sound like love? If your answer was no, well then you're just an uneducated bigot. 

Lock your dad in a basement while he's blind from measles; watch your villages crumble from disease and waste time running around the tundra and he'll forgive you provided he gets the chance to colonize that ass. Gotta keep it in the family.

I have a hard time believing this was all accidental. You don't write 50,000 words confusing the Yu'pik with East Coast Inuit. You don't drop your plotline in favour of daddy kinks. You don't construct a weird plot where a Native man travels forward in time while he hallucinates while looking at the moon, and you don't have him getting gay married to a bear. This was done on purpose, and no one thinks anything of it.

When I said the incest was the least worrisome thing about this story, I meant it. You know have proof of how ludicrous this whole thing is. Can you imagine someone confusing Iqaluit with Anchorage? 

Normal people don't. But with fic authors, anything is possible.