Idnapped

Chapter nine

I hear a motorbike engine, the familiar roar of my old Kawasaki, my one concession to fun. I jump up, heading downstairs, because I know that's Slater and Mikey, and I know my time with Seb is coming to an end.

I greet them outside, where they stand talking to each other, and they turn to me, their faces somber. Slater hands me the keys for my bike and I see him pocketing his own car keys.

"So, you guys didn't come together? And why'd you bring my bike?" Mikey glances at me, and his expression is unreadable.

"No, I've been here for a while, you know how slow Slater takes it on your bike."

I gulp; the door was unlocked, and there's no way Mikey stayed outside voluntarily in this frigid air. I wonder what he saw, or heard; but he isn't saying anything. Slater runs his hand over his face; he looks tired and drawn. Something's gone wrong.

I'm distracted as they tell me about Jason, as I hadn't been interested in asking about it during our brief calls and messages over the last few days: when they'd got to his place there were bodies splayed everywhere - the usual fallout after one of their frat house parties. Slater had abandoned him on a filthy couch between two of his roommates, sleeping peacefully, which was more than he'd deserved. Later he'd apologized to Slater for not coming - he'd forgotten the entire night, and been convinced by his friends, who clearly couldn't remember a thing either, that he'd been with them as they mistakenly inserted him into their anecdotes of the night.

"Whatever that stuff was, Mikey, get rid of it," I instruct. Mikey nods, wide-eyed.

* * * * *

Once we're inside, with hot mugs of coffee, Slater speaks.

"You were right, Ollie. He didn't pay. I think it nearly went very, very wrong."

"It all seemed okay at first," Slater tells me, "he just agreed that he'd pay the million, didn't even question anything, didn't ask for proof of life, nothing. Just said he'd send someone to the rest stop and they'd leave a briefcase with the money. I was happy it was so easy." Mikey rolls his eyes and I can imagine the less than flattering thoughts that are going through his mind about Slater's reaction, imagine, as well, him having to point out the potential for it going wrong.

"Because of what you told us, about how he wouldn't give up his money easy, we decided we needed to be careful," Mikey says. Thank god for Mikey, who at least has an ounce of sense. Slater is an anomaly; he grew up rough, his mother a borderline crack whore, his stepfather using him as a punching bag, but he was smart enough and sporty enough to get the scholarship and escape as soon as he could. But, despite everything about his upbringing suggested he should be full to the brim with street smarts and common sense, he's one of the most naïve and puppy-like people I know. Which is why I feel even guiltier for going along with his harebrained schemes. Mikey and I are such enablers.

"We got there early," Slater continues the story, "and we hid your bike in the bushes and climbed trees so we'd have a good aerial view. It's lucky we did. Two guys drove up an hour before it was supposed to happen. Big guys. They looked dangerous."

"They just left their car in the open and hid behind some bushes," Mikey tells me, "only a few feet from your bike, but they didn't even look around."

"They had guns," Slater whispers with wide eyes, "big, heavy black things. And they were talking really loudly, laughing and joking about how they were going to get rid of us."

"They gave up eventually," Mikey patted Slater's arm reassuringly, "drove off, pissed because they thought their boss had wasted their time. And we went home."

"I was so stiff after clinging onto that tree for hours!" Slater laughs, apparently already recovered from his earlier fear.

"But we didn't come up with any ideas. What will we do?" Mikey asks.

"I don't know, Mikey. What can we do?" I say

"I mean you were right, he isn't going to pay up, he's not bothered about Sebastian."

"Seb," I correct, and Mikey sends me one of his unexpectedly sharp looks.

Just then, Slater's burner vibrates in his hand. He fishes the voice synthesizer out of his pocket.

"Shit, that's him."

Slater answers on speaker.

"You didn't pick up the money," Winthrop senior has an imperious drawl. I see a sudden burst of white-hot fury and grab the phone and synthesizer from Slater.

"You didn't send it. And it seems you're playing stupid games. Think we'll start sending body parts, do you?"

Even through the synthesizer, I know there's no disguising the viciousness in my voice. But it has no effect on the man.

"Would you? I need some fertilizer. The boy might as well be good for something." We all gasp. I feel the blood slide from my face, push the phone back to Slater. I don't know how to deal with someone so callous, so cold to the wellbeing of his own flesh and blood. But why am I surprised? He hasn't cared for his son, his beautiful, broken son, before now. Why would mortal danger suddenly make him step up? The only thing he cares about is himself, if what Seb told me is even partly true - and I think it's all true. A wave of an idea comes to me. Not a good one, maybe, but something that will hit the sickening man where it hurts. I grab the phone back from Slater.

Before I can say anything, the man says something even more disgusting, making my blood boil behind my eyes.

"You should have a good time with him first. I've heard faggots give the best head. And he'll enjoy it too, the little pervert."

"You don't give a single fuck about your son, do you? But you care a hell of a lot about your own reputation. I bet you try to look like a good man, don't you? Donations to charity, that kind of thing. How would you feel if your words led to your son being assaulted by us? Killed by us? Wouldn't do your precious social standing any good would it?"

"Fool. I told you, he'd enjoy it. And when you've got rid of him, he wouldn't be able to embarrass me anymore, would he?"

"Who's the fool? We wouldn't be doing it to benefit you. Pictures to media outlets, I'm thinking. Along with part of this recorded conversation showing you didn't care it was going to happen, so everyone can see just what an uncaring bastard you are. Good luck with your reputation then."

"You wouldn't dare!" Came the roar down the line. "How dare you-" I hang up, feeling sick, my head in my hands.

I go to hand the phone back to Slater but am stopped in my tracks. Seb, my Seb, is standing in the doorway, his face pale. He looks dizzy, nauseous. I don't think he even sees Mikey and Slater.

"Is, is that why you...why you got close to me?"

"No, Seb, baby, no," I step toward him but he backs away, his eyes becoming frightened, feral. "Please," and I know I'm begging, but I don't care.

He turns, fleeing, that beautiful deer I had thought of before. I got to follow him, but Mikey stops me with a hand and a growl, and he goes after Seb himself.

I hang my head, waiting for Slater to say something, but nothing comes. Finally, I look up at him, and he shrugs.

"Man, if you hadn't... Mikey and I would be dead now."

* * * * *

Seb

I don't even know where I'm going, I haven't been outside the house since I arrived. I haven't got shoes on, and as soon as I step outside I feel the cold on my toes and biting through my thin sweatshirt; I may as well not be wearing anything. But I can't go back in there. I feel so stupid, but I'm not even sure why, I mean this is standard for me now, and I knew Ollie was too good to be true. That he wouldn't be interested in someone like me. With my past.

I move away from the house, across a lawn, just a big square of neat-ish grass, maybe where Ollie played as a kid, I think. Beyond that, there's nothing but fields, mainly cropped close to the ground, an expanse of boring, empty countryside. There's a loveseat here, old but cared for, a flowery cushioned seat making it look comfortable. I suddenly feel very tired; as bored and boring as the countryside around me. I climb onto the seat, and it swings gently under me; I think I'll just close my eyes and let it swing me somewhere else.

I might have fallen asleep. I open my eyes and there's Ollie's friend, the cute one with messy blond hair, not the big dangerous-looking one, tucking a thick woolen blanket around me.

"Thank you." It seems the least I can say. I'm warm now.

"I'm Mikey," he says, "I guess we're beyond hiding out faces or names from you now."

"I won't say anything."

But I don't think he's actually worried about that.

"I don't know what's been going on here. But I saw you guys. I got here," he checks his watch, "over an hour ago. And I saw you." I feel like I should be blushing at that, I can remember with sharp relief what he must have seen, but I don't, I just shrug. "And, listen, I don't want to be creepy, but what I saw was tender, loving. And when Ollie saw you in the door...listen, I've never heard or seen him be like that around anyone. I don't know what you've done, but somehow you're under his skin."

"You want me to leave him alone?"

"Ha," it was a short, sarcastic laugh, "fuck no, though I suspect he should leave you alone."

He stares at me now, his green-ish gold eyes peering at me as if he's trying to work me out. Not much to work out here.

"I knew Ollie wasn't telling us everything that you'd told him when he rang to warn us, and looking at you now, I think maybe he didn't tell us anything at all. I'm not sure how healthy Ollie would be for you, but I can already see that you're important to him. Maybe that's what Ollie needs to stop shutting people out. Or maybe he'll shut you out too. I can't promise."

I'm listening, kind of, but the words are so much noise. My head feels too full. I want to forgive Ollie for those hurtful words, that idea that he'd thrown out that I'm just a commodity, to be used and discarded, but I know I shouldn't. I know the desire to forgive is symptomatic of the bad in me, that others have seen before, and now Ollie too, apparently. But I find myself barely able to even remember what he'd said, what had sent me running out here. But then, what's a phone call anyway, what's a phone call to someone who hates me, whose life would be simpler and happier if I died? I'm a little bit over this I feel as though my life has been drama for so many years and I'd quite like no more drama.

"Mikey?"

He waits, I'm sure wondering whether I'll cry or spit with fury. I'm certain he expects a performance of some kind, after all, that's what my life is. But no theatrics here.

"I'd like it if you conned my father out of lots of money. It's the very least he deserves, and I'd do far more than that if I had the power. I'll help you...As far as Ollie goes...I have no idea, not really, how he feels about me, other than he's sweet, and kind, and careful. But I'm too much of a mess for a man like him. He can do so much better than me."

He places his hand on mine and squeezes gently.

"Oh, Seb. You're right that Ollie deserves someone good, who's right for him, and healthy for him. But I think you're more of a tough cookie than you think you are. I think you're more right than you let yourself believe. It's already obvious you follow your heart, and that might have let you down in the past, but I don't think it will let you down if you take the risk with Ollie. Though you may have to keep reminding him that you are tough, because here he comes with the cotton wool."

I glance where Mikey is looking, and see Ollie, tentatively crossing the grass toward us. Mikey stands, kissing my forehead, and heads back to the house.

Ollie sits in the place Mikey vacated. He doesn't speak for a moment, but I watch him. I can see his worried gray eyes looking out over the scrub, where the sun is beginning to drop low in the sky. His face is gorgeous in profile, I can see his thick lashes, and the pout of his full lips. Damn. Even now, I can't seem to help the base thoughts.

I'm always trying to be truthful, too much so really. It's certainly got me into plenty of trouble. Sometimes I've been less so, but by omission only. Because of fear only. But here, now, I'm making a decision that I won't be that with Ollie. I want him to like me, to want me, but only if he can like and want the actual person I am. So here goes.

"I'm sorry I ran out Ollie. But I need you to be honest with me."

He finally looks at me, and I almost gasp at the rawness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Seb. I never should have even thought something like that. He just made me so mad, that he had so little care for you. How can he be like that? How can he not see how incredible you are?" His words go right to my heart, but I'm still going to say my piece, and I'm conscious of Mikey's final warning.

"I know we don't know each other well, or at all really. How can you possibly know someone in such a short space of time? But, I feel something for you, I want something with you, that can only happen if you help me without suffocating me. I know what happened scared you, I know you think I'm a broken little boy. And maybe you think I'm too broken for you. Maybe I'm completely wrong in thinking that you feel something like what I'm feeling..."

Ollie covers that space, scoops me into the warmth of his arms, tangled and wrapped in the scratchy blanket. He presses his lips to mine, not passionate, but safe and giving at least part of a response to the words I said. He still uses his words, taking what I said about honesty seriously.

"Seb, I don't even know what you've done to me. I'm crazy about you, I just have this surge, like you make me a superhero, and not because of any dumb savior stuff, just because you make me feel that powerful, like I can protect you, but you're protecting me at the same time.

"Yeah, I feel bad about what happened to you before, and I want to prevent anything like any of those things ever happening to you again. But I'm not going to make it about me. I'm not even a little bit scared of the fact that you might need help. I'm not going to take over, and I need to tell you that because I think you might be a bit worried I will. You know what? I think maybe need some help too, especially if I'm going to open myself up to you."

He's whispering this speech directly into my ear, his big hand curling round the back of my neck. My hand is on his chest, and I can feel his heart pounding, perhaps in fear at making himself vulnerable to me. Maybe we should talk more, but suddenly talk can wait. I've never had anyone willing to open themselves up to me, and I suspect he's never wanted anyone to do it to him, but I can almost feel the connection now, bright tendrils connecting us at hearts and minds.

I wriggle free of the constricting blanket, straddling his tight muscular thighs, I can feel the strength of him beneath me and it's insanely erotic. He pulls me to him, fingers in my hair, probing into my mouth with his thick tongue. Already I'm gasping into his mouth, remembering what that tongue did to me earlier, grinding onto him hard, delighting in the feel of his rapidly stiffening cock.

It is cold, and I grab the blanket, wrapping it over my shoulders and his, but not before I've slid my joggers off, kicked them away. When I'm re-straddled I rock gently back and forth, pushing my hardness against him. He murmurs my name into my mouth as he takes it, tasting every part, making me feel as though he's drawing my soul into him. My cock is leaking so much; I want him, I want to show him that I can do this, as I'm so, so aware of the danger of him becoming afraid that I can't.

I tell him, whispering my desire into his ear, before taking a gentle bite, sucking the lobe into my mouth. He groans lustfully, sliding his hands under my sweatshirt and up my warm skin, still heated, despite the ice in the air around. I think he's creating that from inside me.

"We can't, baby, no lube here." No way, he's not getting away that easily. I know he's turned to fire when I'm brave enough to say the things that fill my head when he's touching me, and the thought of that makes it easy to say now.

"I want it, Ollie, I want you inside me, I want to feel it so hard and so rough, it feels so good when you're there."

Still baby steps, I think, but it has the desired effect, as he grasps my ass, pulling me against him even harder. The friction my cock is already feeling against his sweater is electric, and then he pulls it up so I'm feeling his skin, the ripple of his solid abs, still as we kiss as if this might be the last kiss on earth, and if we never stop we can save everything. He reaches his hand between us, using his finger over my tip, collecting the clear stickiness before I feel his finger at my entrance, feel that bit of warm slickness transfer.

I reach down to release him from his jeans, gently squeezing his thick shaft as I stroke the soft wrinkles of his sack. He leans back with a soft sigh and we each play with the other, collecting as much of that precious lubrication as we can.

"Ollie," I whisper eventually, "I'm going to come soon, and I want you to be inside me."

He shifts, pulling his wallet out to extract a condom, and I have to admit a sense of relief to note it's a brand that pre-lubricates. I want to do this, so much, for Ollie and for myself, but I had been feeling fearful of the pain of taking Ollie's eight inches without proper lubrication. This won't be much, but I know it will help.

I feel his hands shuffling behind me, putting the condom on, and I lift up so he can guide himself inside me. We're still wrapped in the blanket and I tuck us in further, clinging around Ollie's broad shoulders and sucking his tongue into my mouth, giving myself a glorious distraction while his mushroom head passes through my tight ring. I can't help a cry of pain as I feel it burning inside me, and I can tell Ollie wants to stop, to give me a chance to retreat.

I don't want that. This is proving something to me as much as him. I can tell he believes I have passion buried deep, but I need to make sure he understands it's much nearer the surface than he thinks. I kiss him hotly, taking his mouth in the same way he does to me. Just like when he leads, I can feel the sparks, the current of power that passes through me, and I know he can feel it too, by the way he submits to my mouth, growling as he feels himself being drawn further inside my body.

I'm relaxing now, the burn has been replaced by a warmth as I begin to guide what's happening, using my thighs to raise and lower, slowly at first but increasing in speed as I feel release travelling inexorably through my body. I have my head thrown back with the pleasure I'm feeling, and I look down at Ollie's face to see him looking at me with such a look of, I don't know, maybe delight, maybe something more, that I almost lose my place. But his strong hands on my waist, not leading, just holding steady, help me keep it, and I come with a sharp exhalation as I cover Ollie's mouth for a deep kiss.

He pulls me in further, and I can tell he's close, so I work my passage, loving how I can feel every inch of him, loving how it forces exaltations from his throat, how he chants my name as he swells inside me.

* * * * *

Chapter ten

Ollie

We sneak into the house, running upstairs to shower and change as I don't think Mikey and Slater need to see us covered in Seb's milky cum. While we're getting dressed I can't help grabbing at Seb, pulling him to me, drawing him into brief but passionate embraces, and I know I should be freaking out over how natural it feels, how easily we went from 'that' to 'this', but I just can't. It's too good.

I know that Seb was proving something to me outside, although I'm not sure what. I fear I've made him paranoid about something in my bid to get him to loosen up and squeeze out his appetite, or maybe it has something to do with him getting upset the first time. I'm not going to let myself be worried though. I'm going to ask him outright what he needs and how he feels - I'm taking this honesty policy seriously. But later, when we've got rid of Slater and Mikey and their uncertain faces.