Kidnapped Ch. 07

“Yeah,” I mumble. I mean, no, not really, but he isn’t wrong that meeting Ollie was the best thing that could have happened to me, and that we wouldn’t be where we are now, or how we are, without Slater’s dumb idea. “We’re all good, Slater,” I tell him instead. I figure he isn’t going to worry too hard about it -- it turned out well -- so why should I?

Slater delaying me works out pretty well, because Mikey comes in, dressed casually in long shorts and a graphic tee.

“You heading out, Seb?” he asks me, grabbing a juice from the fridge and downing it in one long gulp. “I’ll come with.”

As we walk across the neatly trimmed lawns, I can feel Mikey’s gaze on the side of my face.

“You been doing okay, with everything?” He’s a sweet guy; I can hear the concern in his voice.

“I have,” I tell him, and it’s almost true. I have nightmares, but Ollie is always there to hug them away, and do other things that seriously help me sleep, so that’s enough to make my words not quite a lie.

“You happy in the apartment? It isn’t exactly five star.”

“Doesn’t bother me. The people make up for it. Are you finding it too crammed?” I ask, suddenly worried he’s hinting.

“No. One extra body is nothing. I just shower at the gym to keep the bathroom less crowded.”

“Ha! Me too. We’ll get somewhere bigger soon. Ollie’s been suggesting it; I just want to give it enough time to keep my father off my back.”

“That’s fair enough. You’re a smart guy, Seb, you’re going to do just fine out of your father’s shadow.”

“I sure hope so.”

I have classes all day, and Ollie has been working as a TA all day today, even though he doesn’t have any classes himself, so I haven’t even managed to speak to him. I get home just after him to find him laying on our bed with a damp cloth over his forehead.

“You okay, baby?” I whisper, sitting gently beside him in the darkened room.

“I am. I had something that was threatening to turn into a migraine but it’s already easing off.”

“Lay on your front, Ollie,” I demand. I have an idea to help even more. The college offers extra-curricular courses in all sorts of things, to help students make friends and all that nonsense -- but the important thing is, it’s fun stuff that doesn’t go toward your final grade but still gives certificates and diplomas. I’ve done loads of them just to break the monotony of my main course not being something I’m interested in. I’m now semi-qualified in yoga instruction, handy with a pair of knitting needles, and quite the master potter. But more importantly, I have a diploma in Swedish massage.

I didn’t keep any of my fancy massage oils when I came to live in the apartment, but luckily I do keep sweet almond oil in the kitchen for my favorite salad dressing, and it happens to be great for skin too. I grab it and return to the bedroom, with an old towel I took from the laundry cupboard.

“Take your clothes off, baby, and lay on this towel. I’m giving you a massage.” I love that Ollie’s eyes light up at the prospect, and I can’t wait to turn him into a puddle of pleasure with my hands. He lays with his head resting on his crossed forearms, his beautiful, lean body stretched along the bed. I pour oil onto my hands, rubbing them to warm it a little, before running my palms in broad motions up his latissimus dorsi and trapezius. Even without getting my fingertips in there, I can feel the tension, even worse when I rub around his scapula. I start working harder, feeling the knots in the deeper muscles, gently but firmly working them out, deep in the rhomboids and supraspinatus, lifting his scapula to get underneath.

“Fuck, Seb, that feels amazing,” I love the husky growl of his voice, know that my searching fingers are doing more than relaxing his muscles, know there’s one area that’s undoubtedly the opposite of relaxed right now.

“Do you want me to massage anywhere else, Ollie?” I murmur in his ear, leaning over his body so he can feel my bare chest against his back.

“You cheeky- put your fingers inside me, Seb. You know exactly how wild you’re sending me.”

“I did hope so,” I smirk, sliding my hand lower until I find his tight hole, which responds instantly to my slick fingers, pushing back on them, swallowing them deep.

“Fuck, Seb, that feels so good. Work me baby, get me ready for your big cock.” I blush. I’m still not quite used to Ollie’s freedom of speech, though I’m getting better, especially when I’m in the moment. I’m getting there now, feeling how Ollie’s strong channel clenches on my fingers but starts to relax as I keep playing, sliding and twisting and spreading.

“Please fuck me, baby,” he whines eventually. I like when he begs. He doesn’t do it often; not as often as me, anyway, but I guess not many people beg to be fucked as much as I do, not when they don’t have an Ollie around. I’m rock hard from playing with my man, and a slick with the thick oil feels even better, before I line up and push forward, drawing a groan from me and a long whimper of pleasure from Ollie. It doesn’t take long, aiming the head of my cock in shallow but pointed thrusts, Ollie face down like this the perfect position to tap at his sensitive nerves with each stroke, until I feel the delicious compression as he comes over the towel and I let his vibrating passage pull my release, coating his insides with heat.

I’m so happy, that on the day I receive a phone call from my father, nothing he can say can bother me. When he tells me my personal choices (I assume that his goons have finally tracked me down and discovered I’m living with Ollie) are incompatible with what he expects from a Winthrop, I am unfazed, other than thinking it might be about time to change my name. When he tells me he is cutting me off, I am unbothered. When he informs me he has paid my college fees to the end of my course and transferred a million dollars into my bank account, but never expects to hear from me again, it’s all I can do to not thank him.

Charlie brings me the legal document that arrived at the frat house, and I’m poised to sign it, when Mikey asks if he can review it for me.

“You realize that you can never contact your stepmother or half siblings?” he asks me.

I’m thrown; my father hadn’t mentioned that, although I’m not sure why it hadn’t occurred to me. Mikey points to the place in the document where it’s clear that any breach of the contract will result in me having to return the money.

“I’ll just tell him I’m not signing, and he can have his money back.” I’m pretty certain that’s a simple enough solution.

“Why?” Slater is shocked I’d consider that. “He’s given you the money already, just keep it and don’t sign.”

I share a grin with Mikey. Slater’s moral compass is clearly a little bent.

* * * * *

Ollie

I’m happy for Seb to tell his father where to get off. Although it might be difficult for him to see Marcy and the twins for a while, we’re both certain that there will be ways of getting around that that we’ll eventually find.

But then Mikey approaches me.

“You know when you told us that stuff about Seb’s dad?” I hum my acknowledgement. “Well, I did a bit of research, and I’m not sure Seb will be safe if he refuses to sign the contract. And, well, I’m not even sure he’ll be safe if he does sign it.

“I just researched what I could get on the internet, but even putting his name in brings him up in connection with a lot of shady stuff. And I mean a lot. He’s big into import export and has a lot of business contacts that don’t seem entirely legit -- and that’s the ones that haven’t mysteriously turned up dead over the years. He’s running for Senate, and there’s been questions raised about his contributions. The information isn’t all out there, but it looks like he’s been under investigation a few times over the years, and always managed to come out clean. There’s never anyone willing to come forward with information, and the paper trail hasn’t led to anything conclusive.

“But then I found something a little different. Seb’s mom died when he was a kid, but there was a big scandal after she’d died because it turned out his dad had been having an affair for years with some socialite, and he ran away with her after the funeral. But that isn’t it, because she died herself a couple of years later. But not before they’d had a kid together. Ollie, Seb has another brother.”

* * * * *

Chapter fourteen

Seb

I don’t even know what to do with the information Mikey and Ollie gave me. After so many years of not feeling like enough, getting here, where I finally do, and then to discover that I have another sibling -- a brother, apparently. Someone who means so little to my father that he’s never been in his life -- it makes me feel even stronger, because I know there’s someone out there who’s even more affected by the wreckage my father wreaks, and I can help him. But not if I sign my father’s contract, which expressly forbids any contact with any family member, without naming names.

It’s not about the money, it’s about being worried what my father will do if I break the contract, which I know will be more than simply demand the money back. I’ve always suspected that my father is a cold and vicious man, but the stuff that Mikey found out, and couched in carefully subtle terms to me, makes me fear more than a simple loss of funds. I’m worried for myself, sure, but I’m more worried for Ollie, and Mikey, and Slater, and, if I find him, this anonymous brother.

“Seb,” Mikey seems uncharacteristically nervous, “I might be able to help you, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.” He glances at Ollie and Slater, but I don’t think they’re surprised; Mikey is a very dark horse.

“So,” he begins, “my name might not exactly be Mikey Walker.”

Now they are surprised, and Mikey grins a little at the effect he’s had.

“My real name is Mikhail Petrovich Volkushkin, Mikey’s just easier.” I think for a moment -- why does that name sound familiar?

“You mean like the Volkushkin crime family?”

Mikey coughs with a tense grin, “Yeah, exactly like.”

The Volkushkin family have been in the news lately because their leader, one Andrei Donatovich Volkushkin, has just been released from prison after ten years for tax fraud. Mikey explains that Andrei is his uncle, the youngest but most vicious of five, and Mikey’s father, uncles, brothers and cousins had been running the business while he was gone. I guess that explains how Mikey knew how to set up offshore businesses. But Slater has another question.

“So why do you live so poor, Mikey? Surely your family has money?”

Mikey seems nervous now, “They don’t really approve of me, which is okay, because they don’t expect me to join the business -- but it means I didn’t feel comfortable accepting money from my father.”

I want to know why they don’t approve, but Ollie seems to be following his don’t-push philosophy, which was sweet when he did it for me, but is leaving me hanging now, even if he does raise an eyebrow to make it clear he’s aware there’s something more to the story.

“So, I assume you think they can help in some way?” he says, instead.

“Well, they’re good at finding people,” I definitely don’t want more information on that, it doesn’t sound good, “and I bet they can find Seb’s half-brother. If you want, Seb?”

“Let me think on that.”

I go to the kitchen with my new phone, boiling water for tea, just to give myself a distraction. This situation is becoming foggier by the day. I just wish my father would leave me alone. I don’t need his money, I’m a smart guy, I’ll have a good job eventually; but I can’t live in this state of uncertainty in terms of the safety of the people around me.

Ollie sidles into the kitchen, asking me with his expressive eyes if I’m okay. I reach out my arm, encouraging him to wrap himself around me, so I can go to a place I always feel safe. He rests his head on my shoulder and I smile to myself at how insanely good such a simple movement can make me feel.

With a deep breath, I dial the number that hasn’t changed my whole life.

“Winthrop residence, how may I help you?”

“Marcy, it’s Sebastian- “

“Sebby, oh, baby it’s so good to hear your voice. But you can’t call here,” she sounds like she’s been running, but it’s fear that’s causing her breathlessness. “Your father could be home any minute and he’ll...he’ll...”

“It’s okay Marcy, please give my love to the twins.”

I hang up sadly. I can’t see a way through this while my father stands in my way.

* * * * *

Later, I’m moving inside Ollie, grinding against him with his wrists pinned above him by my hand, him writhing under me. We’ve been building up to this, playing and touching and licking until we’re both so close to the edge. The noises coming from him are making me light headed as he begs for more, craving release. He feels so good, stretched out, our chests touching as I lean to flick at his earlobe with my tongue.

“I love you like this, Ollie, all vulnerable and desperate underneath me.”

He groans, throwing his head back as my rotating hips pass over his sensitive point again. I do love him like this, and love that he seems to recognize my need for control when it arises; he plays into it beautifully without forcing me to demand it; coyly averting his gaze, whimpering his desire. He breaks character now though, looking up at me with mischievousness in his eyes and wrests his hands free from my grip, pulling my head to him so he can taunt my mouth with a challenging kiss. Distracted by that, I don’t see the attack until I have been flipped flat on my back and his long body is covering me.

He pushes his face into my neck, “And I love being vulnerable, baby, but you’re being a filthy tease tonight. Are you going to give me what I want, or are you going to submit to me instead?”

God, I’ll never get bored of the sultry growl in his voice. Looking deep into his eyes, the color of thunder to match his lust, I make sure he knows I want to submit to him, for now, and I watch his eyes roll, and darken further as he enters me. The kiss comes like the crashing of waves in a storm, owning my mouth as he owns the rest of my body, and I shudder around him. He isn’t holding back, done with the tease, but this isn’t how I’m finishing things tonight, and now it’s my turn to be cheeky. If he ever had forgotten what I’d told him, he’s certainly remembering now that I was on the wrestling team in high school, and I pin him with ease, face down on the bed. I’m covering him, my legs inside his while his thighs are spread wide, a new desperation in his movements after thinking he was getting his way.

“Please Seb, let me come.”

“You didn’t want me to tease anymore?” he shakes his head, “You want me to go fast, and hard?”

“Fuck me baby, please,” he moans.

I slide in smoothly, one long move, as fast and hard as I promised. He pushes his chest up, off the bed, at the intensity, and I pull him toward me, catching his mouth as he twists his head. So much teasing and we’re both ready now, as I feel him constrict around me as I slam into his prostate, pulling his body so I can reach his engorged, dripping cock, rolling my hand over in a motion to match my hips as he comes loudly, shooting his release up his chest. I grasp his hips as they undulate beneath me and I feel the wave rise, called by his heat, until I empty deep inside him with a gasp.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, listening to his soft breaths as they waft over my ear, along my neckline. They’re slowing, settling into sleep, and I am following.

Only one thought I want to voice, “I want to find my brother.”

* * * * *

Ollie

At the end, finding Seb’s brother was easy; well, apparently it was easy. We didn’t have anything to do with it -- Mikey just gave the limited information he’d already found to his older brother and, a few days later, an address came back.

We’re there now, in Seb’s Jeep, parked across the street from a run-down cottage in a run-down neighborhood. Dogs are barking maniacally in the distance but other than that there is silence on this summer afternoon.

“Why would Leonard live here? Even if his mom isn’t alive, I thought Mikey said she was an heiress or something?”

I don’t have an answer for that and I don’t want to speculate. Seb is strung out at the moment because his father’s lawyer is threatening legal action if Seb doesn’t sign the paperwork and he’s already been questioning whether finding Leonard is the right thing to do. I think it is, for him, but have no idea what kind of bigger impact it might have on the situation with his father.

The door of the cottage suddenly swings open, and a large woman waddles down the porch steps. She runs a meaty hand through her frizzed hair and bellows back into the dark interior.

“Brandy-Lynn, Cash, Tyler, get your asses out here!”

Three children only describable as urchins come barreling out of the house; the smallest carrying a purse almost as big as him. He shoves it into the woman’s arms and they all clamber into a beaten-up car, which eventually starts up after plenty of cursing. The front door has been left open and I’m about to say something to Seb, when a boy appears in the doorway. I gasp: he’s Seb’s double. The same big blue eyes, the same pout, the same messy blond locks, but all in a face of innocence set on a scrawny pre-teen body -- he can’t be older than nine or ten. He watches the car drive away with a wistful gaze and turns back into the house. Seb is staring, wide-eyed, his hand gripping my forearm almost painfully.

“What do we do?” his voice is a whisper.

“I think we go up. We’ve come this far. You can’t turn away now.” Seb nods, his face set in a determined grimace. I pull him into a hug, feeling him tremble in my arms, and give him a brief but tender kiss. This is my man, so very strong, but still not truly aware of his strength. He gets a little closer each day, and I get a little prouder of him each day too, as he continues to crack my expectations.

Seb clings to my hand as we walk up the overgrown path, stepping over a rusting once-pink bike before gingerly climbing the rickety wooden steps. He takes a deep breath, and I see the composure glide over his face, before he knocks sharply.

There are no sounds from within until the door suddenly swings open and the boy stands before us, eyes wide in apparent fear, but a glaze of defiance in his stance. He looks even more like Seb in that moment.

“Crystal ain’t here mister, and you ain’t coming in.”

His eyes rove over our faces, confusion entering them, increasing when they travel down our bodies and he sees our hands clasped tightly. I don’t suppose the collectors, or johns, or whoever normally calls for ‘Crystal’ come holding hands.

“Who are you?”

Seb seems to have become mute, staring in a way that is undoubtedly unnerving the poor kid, who looks a little older now we’re up close, just underfed and grubby.

I decide to speak for him, “Are you Leonard?” Leonard nods. I don’t even know how to continue, but I can feel Seb’s hand unsteady in mine so I know I must. “Leonard, do you know anything about your father?”

A look of anger enters now, and his lip sneers.

“Only thing I know about him is he’s a bastard,” he’s looking perceptively at Seb. “Are you gonna tell me he’s my dad? He sure looks like me.” I don’t chuckle, though I want to.

“Leonard, this is Seb. He’s your brother.”