Kidnapped Ch. 06

But then he speaks to Seb, and the lump's back.

"Petit prince, l'eau est belle, viens nager." I only speak one language, but there is no doubt in my mind that he's speaking French.

* * * * *

Seb

I honestly don't know how I've coped the last few months. I feel the loss of Ollie as heavily as death. More so because I'm constantly reminded of my position by the presence of my father's goons. They were outside my house the morning after I got back and haven't left my side, or rather twenty feet behind my side, since. There's only two of them, so sometimes only one follows me, but mostly it's both of them, and I figure they have the most boring job in the world.

I tried to get rid of them early on by anonymously calling campus security one night, watching through a sliver at the bottom of the blinds just to see security exchanging a few amenable words with them and going on their way.

I approached their car one night, when the frustration of being constantly watched became too much. They glibly informed me that they are bodyguards, here to protect me, sent by my father. The irrelevance of the lie became clear when one of them, the dark-haired one with a nose apparently broken too many times to count, revealed that they are feeding back my movements to my father, to the chagrin of the bald one, who choked on his takeaway coffee. I gave up then, and ever since, they've been following me without molestation as I go about my utterly boring life.

Their presence is unsubtle enough to even get the attention of my roommates - not a bunch well known for their observance.

"Who are those people?" Brewster asked one afternoon, pointing toward the large dark car that hadn't moved in two days, because I hadn't left the house.

"I don't know," I claimed, but the others went to the window to stare.

"I recognize that guy in the front seat," said Simon, "he knocked on the door on Thursday afternoon, said he was doing some survey, asked a load of questions about occupancy and how many people we have living here. Even asked for everyone's names and who sleeps where. The government just want to know everything, huh?" I rolled my eyes at how dense some of these people are, but it got me thinking. The only reason he would want to know that is because he wanted to know where I sleep. It makes a shudder run through me, even now. I wondered if they were they planning on taking me? But that would be dumb; there's a million times a day they could snatch me from the street if they really wanted to, not breaking into a shared house with nine other people, today on the way to the pool for one, where they followed me. Did they break in to see my room? There's nothing in there of any interest, that's for sure. The idea that they wanted to see my room was the only one that made any sense, though not much, and I wondered if they'd bugged it, hoping to pick something up. Not that there's anything for them to hear, either, except, maybe, me crying like a dumb kid because I miss Ollie so much.

What I need is for them to be called away, for my life to provide no interest to my father. I've watched as many movies as the next person, and, as the common trope goes, I know that I cannot do anything to suggest I had any involvement in the plot to kidnap me. So, regardless of my intense desire to seek Ollie out, to engender a 'casual' meeting that will allow us to rekindle what is between us, I can't take that risk, for myself, but more urgently, for Ollie.

When my father sent me a new phone with my old number connected, I knew I had to use it, even if my father is undoubtedly getting every message and hearing every call. I didn't see it as a problem - Ollie doesn't even have my number, but when Antoine contacted me to say he's in town on his way to meet an old friend in the city, I knew there was no point shying away from the meeting, as my father undoubtedly knows about it at the same time I do. I have no qualms about Antoine; of any past partners, he is the one I parted from on amicable terms and, even though he greeted me with a hug and double cheek kiss, that's nothing more than his way, and in fact he greeted every one of my roommates the same way, much to the ill-disguised horror of some of them.

I brought Antoine to fitness training with my team. I know he'll appreciate all those lithe, wet bodies, and he's a strong swimmer himself. So, when we're at the pool, I'm unsurprised that he's checking guys out, although he's mainly subtle about it, despite his potential for overblown continental flamboyance. It's a front he puts on: even though he helped me come to terms with who I am, it doesn't mean everything has always gone smoothly for him and, sometimes, there's an undercurrent of sadness to his easy charm.

We're chatting by the pool, when Antoine stops, staring over my shoulder.

"Il est beau, quel corps incroyable," he gasps it, and I turn to see what has taken his attention. My heart stops for a moment. He's here. I feel like a fish floundering on the dock, feeling its life force being pushed from it. Whilst Antoine could as well be talking about Slater or Mikey, two undoubtedly amazing bodies on the continuum between muscular and lean, my response relates to no one but Ollie.

"Oui, il est, il a, c'est trop vrai."

My tone speaks to Antoine, always sensitive to emotion, just as Ollie's eyes, filled with pain, speak to me as he walks past.

"Tu le connais?" Antoine asks softly.

"Oui, dans un vie differente, que j'espere revenir a. Il a ma couer."

Always a romantic, Antoine, pulls me into a hug and whispers into my ear.

"Tu seras retourne, regarde son visage."

* * * * *

Ollie

Despite knowing that this must be Seb's French boyfriend, and that my heart shatters into a million miniscule shards when I see their easy intimacy, I know Seb's safety is still my priority, and I force myself to walk as casually as possible past them, to the pool.

They're chatting happily in French and at first I don't even think Seb sees me, but I make the shortest moment of eye contact, trying to communicate that I'm okay with it, which I'm not, but I'm determined not to cause him pain. I dive in, feeling the bone shattering cold of the water envelope me, and I feel as though I could stay under that water forever. I swim almost an entire length underwater, refusing to come up until my lungs are burning. When I get to the end I turn, and share one last look with Seb; I can almost see his clear blue eyes glittering with the reflection of the water, and he turns to leave, side-by-side with the French bastard.

"So, you must be pretty happy?" I look at Mikey like he's grown a second head.

"Why would I be happy?"

"You just saw Seb, maybe?" I don't know why he's confused. I put my head in my hands and consider the attraction of dropping to the bottom of the pool and not coming back up. "Uh, I'm thinking you can't speak French?" he's wearing a shit-eating grin and I'm tempted to take him down with me.

"No... but they sounded pretty intimate."

"Dummy, that's just French for you. Seb said that you have his heart and that he wants you. And the other guy seemed pretty happy about it, so I think you can stop thinking about drowning yourself now."

Slater bursts into raucous laughter and I splash them both, but I'm grinning like an idiot the entire time.

* * * * *

My heart is singing, birds are tweeting, the sun is out, I feel like a fucking Disney princess. I can't wait now, there's too much at stake the other way, the way of going against Seb's father, who I hate more each day. I need to see Seb, to tell him the truth. To make sure he knows he has my heart too.

I plan it out with Mikey. We're starting to get to like making plans, though I make a mental note to not become a criminal mastermind after college.

Once darkness has fallen I take my bike down the leafy avenue where Seb lives. I spot the navy Crown Victoria as soon as I'm on the street, see the dark silhouettes of two occupants, and have a moment of fear that Winthrop's men are police officers. I calm when I realize that's unlikely with the recent hours they must have been keeping, but we do know that they carry so my calm is short-lived.

I go past, careful not to move my head toward them, and turn right as soon as I can. I wanted to scope out the men, but my real aim is the street that lies parallel to Seb's. I know there's another fraternity house that backs directly to his, and I hope to be able to sneak through their garden without being spotted. When I arrive, it's better than I could have hoped as there's a major house party already underway and I simply walk through, waving and smiling like I own the joint. It works like a charm; act confident and everyone assumes that you belong.

I climb the fence at the bottom of the garden, luckily shrouded by large bushes, and drop into Seb's garden. Now comes the end of what we could plan. I know that Seb's room is at the back from Slater's recon, but that knowledge and the satellite images are useless in helping me get from here to up there. I cast about for a ladder, but there's nothing in the small overgrown space. I decide to rely on confidence again, though my heart is in my mouth.

A quick glance shows that there is no one in the kitchen and I open the, thankfully unlocked, back door. I can hear voices at the front of the house and take a deep breath. I have to pass that room to reach the stairs. Confidence. This is it.

I walk, quickly, coolly, reaching the bottom of the staircase unseen, I think.

As I step, I hear, "Hey is that Brewster? Hey Brewster buddy, in here!"

That's my cue, and I positively sprint the rest of the stairs, barreling through the door to Seb's room and slamming it shut behind me. The next movements are a blur, Seb leaping from his desk in shock, and then warmth expanding from him when he sees it's me, I absorb it and we move to each other, meeting as one. I feel his soft lips, so responsive to mine, part at the insistence of my tongue, of me. I want to absorb everything I have been missing these months, make it that we were never apart.

We part finally, breathing deeply, a calmness that had been missing from me returned. I open my mouth, I want to say the words, but Seb begins wildly gesticulating, and I stop. Is this charades? I gather he's trying to say something about the men outside, and logic dictates what it is. I'm tempted to just let him carry on, it's utterly adorable, but reach for a notepad on his desk instead.

He scribbles down that he fears his room might have been bugged by his father's men. I take the pad and write a few words: 'We'll just have to be very quiet then.'

Seb sees what I've written, and I see the electricity behind his eyes. I write a few more words, show him, and it turns to fire. I can't help but smile into his mouth as we swirl, tasting, feeling, as our bodies swirl too in concert, swinging to the bed. He pushes me back, and I like this, this new confidence, and I don't think this change in my sweet, shy boy is born purely of what I just wrote, but maybe from what came before too, when we were together.

There's an urgency derived from knowing we're not safe, but I must take a moment just to really see Seb again. We shuffle quickly and silently out of our clothes, Seb grabbing what we need, laying again so we can stroke and tickle and feel, just reconnecting fingertip to skin.

Then, it's time: we have waited long enough. Seb glides down my body, tiny wet bites marking his path, until he reaches his goal. He pauses for a moment, and I breathe sharply in expectation as I feel him absorbing what is before him. Just the smallest moan of desire escapes his throat before I feel the heat and moisture as he slicks his strong tongue across my eager hole, which instantly responds to his touch. His passion is apparent as he pushes and twists while my body fights to writhe and my fist flies to my mouth, bitten hard in a desperate but mainly successful bid to prevent noise escaping me. I feel his fingertip there now, and I look down to see him watching my expression with a beautiful smirk across his lips. He slides a lubed finger inside me, and I'm thankful, it's been a very long time since I've done this. He starts working inside me, adding another finger, and slides back up to take my mouth. It's good timing because I'm barely able to hold the noises of pleasure and share them with him this way.

His delicate ministrations have me relaxing, but I can't deny nerves when I feel him lining up to enter me - I let out a small anxious hiss as we make contact and he grins as he puts one long finger against his lips. Then he's serious for a moment, asking me with his eyes if I want this. I do, oh I do, but I can't help a whimper as he breaches me, and there's that delicious grin again, as he puts his hand over my mouth. I'm taken aback at the sensuality of his control, and very nearly release even louder sounds, but suck them down into me, instead focusing on the pleasurable burn as Seb moves forward.

Seb moves his hand, lightly placing it over my throat, and I can feel his power and the gentleness of his touch, which somehow removes any need or ability to create noises; we just look into each other's eyes as he moves inside me, and I lift my hips, creating the perfect angle for him to rub that exquisite cock over my sensitive gland. I can feel it building and the sensations are overwhelming, fanning out from my body so much that I can barely believe they aren't lighting up the room. I can't lose this quietly, I have to pull Seb to me, sharing my dampened scream with his mouth, as I break apart under him without ever having touched my cock. He leans to me, tightly grasping my hip, sharing sweet, tickling whispers, oh so peacefully telling me I'm too beautiful to be real (I like this), that he doesn't deserve me (I don't like that), until he whispers his love in my ear as he releases his pleasure whilst deep inside me, and I return the declaration nuzzled into the hollow of his neck.

* * * * *