Kidnapped Ch. 06

Chapter eleven

Seb

I wake up early the next day, stretching like a cat and snuggling under the warmth of the comforter. Despite the hour, Ollie is already up, and he comes in with coffee.

"I'm never going to beat you out of bed, am I?" I ask him.

"Probably you will. I'm not always this eager to be conscious. Something about you making me feel more awake, I guess." He blushes and it's cute; his dark cheeks even darker as his long lashes flutter down. I sit up to sip at the coffee, crossing my legs and patting the bed to encourage Ollie to sit.

"What do you study, Ollie?" I ask him, wanting to know everything about him.

"Biochem's my major," he tells me. "I want to be a forensic scientist when I grow up." I laugh at his words, blushing myself when he winds his fingers through mine. "What about you, Seb?"

"I do business. But I don't like it. I always liked artistic things, but my father said that was useless and wouldn't get me anywhere. I had to do a degree he approved of."

"You'll be able to change that now though, won't you?" he asks me with his head to one side, a kind smile on his face.

"Why?" I'm confused though. Why would I suddenly have freedom?

"Well, when we've done this we'll have money. So you won't need to do what he tells you to."

"You'll have money Ollie," I chuckle, I don't know where he gets I'll magically be out of my father's influence from.

"Yeah, but that means you will too. Like, you know, what's mine is yours and all that. If you want to do a different course...?"

"Maybe we should worry about that later. After we know whether this works." I don't want to remind him, but I need to, before he gets ahead of himself. "My father isn't a good man, Ollie, and I won't let you put yourself in danger for me. If there's a link between us, he'll be able to find out what happened. We can't let him know there's a link."

I hate the sad look on Ollie's face, but he doesn't get mad that I'm pushing him away. He knows this is the truth as well as I do. I put my empty coffee mug down on the nightstand. We might not have long, but the time we do have will be well-spent. I get onto my knees, gently but firmly pushing Ollie back until he's laying on the bed and I can undo his jeans and take him into my mouth, feeling him harden against my tongue as I suck wetly down his length.

"Fuck, Seb, you're so good," he moans, running his long fingers through my hair, lightly puling in a way that makes me groan against him, controlling the movement of my head, but carefully, never pushing me harder or faster than is comfortable for me. "Such a pretty, slutty mouth," he whispers and I tense, but remind myself that he likes that, it's a good thing from him.

I sit up, rolling a condom down him and applying liberal amounts of lube to it.

"Prep yourself, Seb," he instructs, "I want to watch you." I follow his demand, sliding a finger inside, pressing my other palm against his chest to steady myself, adding a second while he watches me through lidded gray eyes. "Fuck, you're sexy, Seb." I love the way he says that, sounding a little in wonder, and I feel powerful, for maybe the first time in my life, and I don't want to let go of this way that he makes me feel, like I'm actually a special kind of person, to him at least. I remove my fingers, ready to take him, and ready to have a little bit of control here, on top of him, sliding down his length slowly, but making sure I show him how well I can take him.

When I'm seated, having accepted all of him, I start to ride him, lightly tweaking his nipples as I lift and lower, increasing in speed and force until I'm bouncing, only steadied by his big hands on my hips, squeezing lightly at first but increasing in tension as he begins to head toward his end.

"You feel incredible Seb, so fucking tight around me," he throws his head back then and I feel him start to swell, so I move my hand to my own cock, jerking hard and fast because I want to finish with him, and I stutter, losing control of my movements, just relying on him to keep me upright as I unleash over our bodies and he pulls me down hard and comes.

After a welcome shower I borrow Ollie's computer so I can do some school work but it's boring, of course. I still manage to finish one assignment and get started on another, but when Ollie comes in with a cheerful grin I'm more than ready to be distracted.

"Come with me," he insists, taking my hand. I let myself be pulled up against his body, wrapping my arms around his middle. He takes me outside and we walk away from the house, down a track between two barren fields.

"Does all this belong to your grandparents?"

"It does, but they don't actively farm anymore; they rent it to the farmer next door."

"Next door?"

"Well, his actual house is about three miles away, but, yeah, next door."

We finally come to a small orchard, the fruit trees leafless and gray, but there's a large blanket laid out under them, with a picnic basket, more blankets bunched in the corners. As we sit, Ollie passes me one and I wrap it around my shoulders.

"I know it's freezing, but I thought some fresh air would be good for us." It is, my sluggish business-filled brain already feels clearer and when Ollie pops the cork on a bottle of champagne and hands me a brimming glass I happily accept it. "I know you don't really drink, but I saw this in the store yesterday, and I just had an urge to celebrate."

"Celebrate?"

"Yeah, I don't know, something good coming from something so weird and messed up, maybe?" He's uncertain about my response, but I just find the whole thing so sweet, and take a big sip of the fizzy goodness before launching myself across the blanket, kissing his sweet-tasting lips.

"Thanks for that, Ollie. It's nice to know you think we're something good." He laughs pulling me closer, twisting until I'm laying on the blanket covered by him.

"How cold are you?" he asks.

"Not cold at all with you on me," I admit, and he pushes the hooded sweater I'm wearing, which is his, up my torso, kissing across my chest.

"Good," he murmurs, before taking his glass of champagne and tipping it over my belly button. I scream at the freezing bubbles, laughing as he slurps the liquid up with his hot mouth. "This, I could do all afternoon, but let's take it inside so we don't freeze to death."

We scurry inside, just taking the champagne and the blankets, which he lays out in front of the freshly lit fire before he gently undresses me and lays me back so I'm in the position I was outside. Each drizzle of the fizzy liquid on my body leaves me shuddering in desire, more so when he chases every slick of liquid across my body until I'm a whining, horny mess.

"Fuck, Seb, I love it when you beg me," he growls, sounding very slightly drunk, which makes me giggle more. When he pushes into me, I'm so ready for him, so taken to the edge already by all his attention that it only takes a few long thrusts before I'm coming between us, his name on my lips.

Ollie

After two days of bliss, where Seb and I discovered each other's bodies until we felt the pleasurable ache of exhaustion, where we stayed up until the early hours just talking about anything and everything and nothing, asking questions and banning embarrassment, Mikey and Slater return, carting a huge box of supplies.

"Did you manage to sort the accounts Mikey?" Seb asks. Mikey nods. He'd confirmed he had some 'contacts', which was news to me and Slater, and could open multiple offshore accounts under dummy corporations. It all sounded pretty complicated to me, but I suppose having a finance major has to be good for something.

"And you brought the supplies?"

"Yup."

Slater pulls out a make-up palette, a filthy length of coarse rope and a ridiculous bright-red dildo that's so huge and heavy it wobbles in his hand.

"What the fuck?! How big is that thing? You're not going to...?" I'm aghast and Seb snorts.

"No, baby. It's twelve inches and I'm 'not going to'. We're just going to set it up to look bad, remember. Come on then Slater, let's get this photography studio on the road."

The two of them head upstairs and I slump at the table.

"Wanna talk about it?" Mikey asks.

"I'm okay, buddy. It's a good plan. I'm just not that happy about the photoshoot aspect. Seb told me what he's planning and I don't want him in that position - literally and figuratively - but I can't stop him."

"What's so bad? You worried Slater won't be able to resist your hot boyfriend when he's tied up naked in front of him?" Mikey chuckles but stops when I shoot him a look. "Oh. So there's a story there? Don't worry, I'm not going to ask, none of my business. But I thought there was something. Listen, if Seb is comfortable doing it, you have to be too." I sigh.

"I know that, Mikey, why do you think I'm down here and not up there stopping it? He's his own man. I think this whole blackmail thing is actually just a piece of catharsis for him, so I gotta just be here to support him."

* * * * *

Slater bounds downstairs shortly after, ready to get back to the city and finish up the plan.

"Seb's just showering off the makeup, he said to tell you he'd be down in a minute, you got the note?" Seb has drafted the note that Mikey will email to Winthrop along with the picture, once they get to the point in the city where three cell towers align and log into a VPN on the burner phone. We don't really have any idea of how much clout Winthrop has and aren't taking any chances.

I gasp when Slater shoves his phone under my nose, revealing the chosen image: Seb bound by thick yellowing rope, elbows to knees, wrists to ankles, folded in half like an obscene rendering of a pretzel. His face turned to the side, blue eyes opened wide in watery fear, marred by heavy red and purple bruising, more bruises that look like fingerprints across his smooth hips. And that angry red phallus, resting against his back to demonstrate its terrifying size, glistening with lotion, ready for use.

I feel the sickness rising and turn to the, thankfully empty, sink.

"For fuck's sake, Slater, why would you show him that?" Mikey is pissed - an uncommon occurrence. Slater hangs his head for a moment, mumbles that he thought it looks good, but he's irrepressible, assuring me that I'll be fine before springing out of the door ready to drive back to the city for the next step.

I trudge up the stairs to find Seb, curled in my bed already sleeping. He murmurs when I climb in next to him, dropping a sweet endearment on me, turning to snuffle into my chest. I hug him to me a little too hard and try to cry as soundlessly as possible.

* * * * *

Seb

The plan works better than I could even have hoped. Once my father saw that picture and heard the edited recording of the phone conversation he agreed to the terms instantly. Mikey and Slater get the payment perfect - allowing a twenty-minute window after they provide the account numbers, which he hurries to adhere to. There's no way he wants that picture and proof of him refusing to stop it reaching media, and he paid the doubled demand - go big or go home - without quibble.

Through all that, I'm told he doesn't ask about my wellbeing at all. His only interest is in the pictures that he's been told get progressively more explicit after that one he's seen. In this day of digital we remind him he's going to have to trust us, but I half wish he hadn't paid. I would have sent it to the media, and I feel that may have been more satisfying. As it is, he's lost two million dollars - barely registering as a blip to him - and had no instruction on his behavior.

But I soon forget about the festering nutsack that spawned me. My time with Ollie is over, and I feel it almost physically, through my leaden heart and the shooting pain I convince myself is in my muscles, but really I suspect it's in my soul.

We knew all along this would be the situation, even if we only acknowledged it minimally during our time together. Now, we know even more. My father will not simply let the situation go - fear will have that effect. I'm expecting to see his goons everywhere I go.

We clean up the house, leave it sparkling in an attempt to get as much legitimate time together as possible. When we're done, outside, standing by Ollie's bike, he pulls me into the final embrace. Somehow, I manage not to cry. I feel almost deadened, even when we share the gallow's kiss and I allow myself to sink into it, sharing the tastes and sensations for the last time. I wonder if it's because I have a faint hope that it's not forever. But I'm kidding myself - there's no way this issue will drop off my father's radar.

I climb onto the back of Ollie's bike, wrapping my arms firmly around his strong torso, my head against his back. And now I cry.

* * * * *

Chapter twelve

Ollie

When I drop Seb off a block away from the bus station I feel empty. I don't move until I see him enter the cold fluorescent glow that bathes the sidewalk outside the utilitarian building. He had to go with barely a word, no contact, no kiss - we just can't risk it.

In the apartment, Mikey and Slater recognize I don't want to discuss anything. I withdraw completely - that night and for many more to come. I see the concern that mars their faces, hear the sudden silences in their conversations when I walk into a room, but I don't care.

I keep working, just as much as before. Suddenly I don't care about tiredness, in fact that feeling at least is a feeling, because I'm struggling for any other. Slater visits his mother for the holidays, but Mikey initially wants to stay with me. I won't let him, I can't cope with his relentless efforts to cheer me up, when there's nothing.

The only thing Seb and I had discussed was the certainty that his father mustn't find out that he had been conned. A sudden relationship would give him a lead, something to pick up on, and Seb was sure his father's men would be watching him. I hold a solid hope deep inside me that Seb will feel safe enough to come to me in the future, but that's what I'm going to have to wait for. The lack of autonomy is draining everything from me.

Over the holidays I am permanently conscious that Seb is out there too, alone, somewhere on campus. I watch out for him everywhere, my heart races every time I see blond hair in the distance, but it's never him. I want, so much, to go to him, to at least ride past his house, to catch any glimpse of him. But I can't risk it. I have no concern about myself, but Seb's terror that his father would prefer him dead is strong, and I am not being a catalyst for him to feel any fear.

Finally, the new quarter rolls around. I start to feel a little more human, though Seb still gnaws at me deep inside and I don't think I'll ever lose that feeling. We don't spend much money, Slater takes out a loan, which he's able to pay back each month from his take. He drops out of the scholarship program but has no issue maintaining his place due to his good scores, which improve rapidly now. His coach wants him to stay on the team regardless but Slater turns him down, promising only to come to some practices to help train up the new blood.

I don't think Mikey spends any of his money at all, though I do notice him buying coffee and sandwiches for, and giving fifty-dollar bills to, homeless people. I ask him about it one day. He shrugs.

"I don't need the money. It helps them." I think of the used books Mikey buys, the fact he doesn't have a car, though I know he can drive, the college sweatshirt that is almost three years old and a much paler shade of blue than it used to be.

"You sure?" He's sure. I don't push it. I think if we hadn't promised to stay subtle with any spending he might just give the whole lot away.

The only thing I buy is a bed. A glorious bed almost seven feet across. I contemplate copying Slater and taking out a loan, dropping my scholarship. But, no, right now I need the distraction, the pressure of expectation. I do reduce my hours at the bar - there's a point a few weeks into the year when I was starting to look almost ghostly: a combination of tiredness and immense sorrow.

Mikey pulls me back in a way that I'm a little ashamed at falling for. He reminds me that when (bless him, when!) Seb is back in my life I'm not going to want to meet him looking like shit. It works though, and makes me start to eat properly, exercise and sleep, even if it's with some slight herbal assistance.

Sleep is still difficult though. I miss Seb's presence, his calming warmth in my arms. I miss his conversation, the way his laugh makes my chest glow, the way he looks deep into my eyes when he's being serious. I finally open up to Mikey about it.

"I feel stupid, Mikey. I barely even know the guy, and I feel like my arm's been cut off. Or my heart's been cut out."

"Barely even know him? Dude, you spent every minute with him for all those days. That's gotta count for, what? Twenty dates, at least."

His words are sweet, but more than that, they spark a realization in me that what I feel for Seb is more than the simplicity of lust, and that I'm not going to let this fade away, although I have no idea how to stop that.

* * * * *

One Sunday, I wake unexpectedly early. It's a gorgeous spring day and Mikey bounds into the kitchen, where I'm working on an assignment.

"Ollie, come to the pool with me!" I'm surprised by the demand, even though we're going through an early heatwave, the pool isn't that popular this early in the year because the spring breezes are enough to make it feel icy outside the water. I point that out to Mikey but he's undeterred.

"Yeah, but it's great exercise and I'm bored of running and the gym."

His angelic grin sways me, and we even manage to convince Slater, though I suspect he only agrees because he's, unnecessarily, in fear for his six-pack since he cut back on training.

In summer, the pool is packed with bronzed bodies, lined up on the surrounding grass, trying to get attention as much as a tan, but today, it's mainly serious swimmers, many training for the upcoming season of meets. So, when I see Seb, there's no distraction. He stands with his back to me, but he's unmistakable, and I almost stumble, Slater catching my arm. He asks me what's wrong, but I'm mute, blinded, the sky suddenly brighter than it's ever been.

It's in trying to blink off the supernova in my head that I see them, two broad-shouldered men seated high on the bleachers, utterly out of place in this arena, wearing ill-fitting suits and dress shoes. I clutch Slater's arm and he turns, his face going pale when he spies them. That's all the confirmation I need that these are the men from the drop off - watching Seb.

We sit for a moment, removing our clothes. We're close but slightly behind Seb, and I can see his profile, his lean jawline and smooth golden skin. He's still frontrunner for the most beautiful man on earth and I have to look away after traveling down his toned body, to his perfect tightly muscled ass, clad in electric blue swim shorts that hug his every curve. I know if I get hard now it's not going away.

Mikey grins at me, whispers that he knew the lacrosse team were doing fitness training in the pool and he'd hoped Seb would be here. Seb turns, and I wonder if he'll see me, but his gaze doesn't travel that far, pausing at the two men and looking quickly away. I know with them here I can't risk speaking to him, can't risk the emotion that I'll have, and maybe he'll have too. Out of the corner of my eye I see the men looking at us, and realize, on a day like today, us just sitting here is strange. We have to act more normally, not draw their attention.

I stand, about to speak, when Seb bends and I'm, naturally, drawn back to that breathtaking view. But he's putting his arm out, helping someone out of the pool, pulling out a deeply tanned broad-shouldered hairy-chested man who athletically rises to stand next to Seb, clapping him joyfully on the shoulder. I feel a lump in my throat, but quickly pull it down - he's probably one of Seb's teammates.