Beloved Ch 03 1

Author's Note:

'Beloved'

is an actual story, with *le gasp* a real, honest-to-god plot and character development. So if you haven't read chapters 1 and 2 yet, you will be entirely lost if you try to read this - Could probably still fap to it, but for optimal enjoyment, please go read the rest of the series first. I promise it's worth it!<3

Also, here is my usual reminder that the events in this story are

fictional

and should never, EVER, under any circumstances be attempted or reenacted in real life. Like most of the works under the Non-Consent/Reluctance category, the things portrayed here are a fun fantasy to explore in a book or piece of erotica, but would be abhorrent and incredibly illegal/immoral in reality. Please enjoy it as the work of fiction it is!

Also ALSO, a huge shoutout to my friends who are helping to proofread this and poke holes in my prose, they're amazing, and SO helpful! Y'all rock!

Happy reading! ;D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click-click-clack

Grant's fingers flew over the keyboard, the soothing sound swirling in the air between us. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he reached for another folder from the pile sitting on his desk, then turned back to the tattered paperback in my hands, pretending to read as I let my mind wander.

It was surreal to think I'd already been locked in this house for a full week, the occasion marked by the first gray and rainy day since I'd arrived. There was a chill hanging in the air that prickled at the bare skin of my legs, the thick fog clinging to the fields adding to the illusion of being stranded in the middle of dry land.

Rand still hadn't returned, and in his absence Grant and I had fallen into a strangely comfortable - and weirdly platonic - rapport.

My IUD hadn't been put through its paces since that first night, which wasn't to say Grant didn't touch me at all. He never passed up on an opportunity to wrap me up in a hug or steal a quick kiss, and our nightly post-grooming snuggle session always came with a side order of hot hard-on pressed against my ass.

But that was as far as it went.

Grant never got handsy or pulled his dick out of his pants, didn't try to make out or rub more liquid fire on my pussy so he could fuck me silly. Just held me close and chatted about this and that, gave me a soft kiss goodnight, and then left me lying alone in the dark wondering what the actual fuck was going on.

I didn't pretend to be well-versed in this whole 'sex pet' business, but the one thing I was sure about was that the entire point was, y'know, having sex with them. I couldn't shake the niggle of unease every time Grant rolled away without pressing his advantage, my gut telling me that something I wasn't privy to was keeping him at bay.

None of my wild theories made sense, the tamer ones even less, and I wasn't about to saunter up to him and ask

'Hey, I was just wondering why you aren't sticking your dick in me every chance you get?'

in case he was waiting for an invitation.

Because I definitely didn't want him to fuck me again.

Not one bit.

And if part of my personal nightly routine involved slipping my hand between my legs after he left, burying my face in the warmth he'd left on the pillow and picturing his stupid smug smirk?

Well.

That was none of his damn business.

To make matters worse, I was becoming more convinced by the hour that Grant had sprung fully-formed from some feminist's wet dream gone sideways, because the fucker was - for lack of a better word -

charming

. Witty, cheerful, and seemed remarkably sane for a man who routinely locked a shock collar onto my neck so I could get some fresh air.

He did nonsensical things like trying to perfect over-easy eggs just because they were my favorite and making sure I always had socks on so my toes didn't get too cold. Took care of the house and the cooking without asking me to lift a finger, and seemed perfectly happy to leave me with zero responsibilities or expectations outside of obedience.

Slowly, inevitably, all those little gestures and soft touches had added up, and I caught myself breathing just a bit easier, letting Grant coax me out of my shell enough to hold up my side of our conversations and even manage a laugh now and then.

I didn't flinch every time he touched me now, didn't automatically look away when our eyes met or hesitate when he ordered me to kneel. I wasn't relaxed, exactly, but Grant seemed pleased with my behavior, and I tried to convince myself that this was all part of my master plan. That what I was really doing was lulling my captor into a false sense of security so that next time I tried to run, he wouldn't be expecting it.

The truth was I liked the bastard more and more by the day.

And I hated myself for it.

Maybe this is what being a housecat feels like?

I mused idly, flipping another page and resettling myself on the fluffy floor pillow that served as my dedicated spot behind Grant's desk.

'All these cuddles and snacks sure are nice, but I also want to smack you in the face and run away' sums up every cat I've ever met, at least...

My reverie was broken as Grant flipped open another folder, a frustrated noise escaping him as a piece of its contents fell to the floor by my feet. "Would you mind getting that for me, pet?" he asked, gesturing at it without looking down as he began to sort through the rest of the papers.

I picked up the face-down photograph, curiosity making me flip it over. My jaw dropped to the floor as I froze, transfixed by the lurid scene laid out before me in truer-than-life detail.

The picture was explicitly pornographic, the naked older man in the center of the frame throwing his head back with an expression of ecstasy while a blond woman half his age enthusiastically sucked the cock dangling beneath his beer belly. A beautiful brunette was waiting her turn, staring up at the man adoringly as one of his hands fondled her frankly impressive rack. The background looked like a fancy hotel room, the photo clearly snapped through a crack in the curtains, likely with one of those long-distance spy lenses.

"

What the hell?

" I breathed, staring at the image in horrified fascination. "This is..."

"Captivating, isn't it?"

I jumped at Grant's chuckle, quickly handing him the photograph. He gave it a quick once-over, nodding as if it confirmed something before tucking it carefully back into the folder.

"This guy was pretty good at hiding his tracks, but they all slip up in the end," he said, giving me a wink. "Should be more than enough for him to get what's coming, hmm?"

I looked at the stacks of folders, finally brave enough to put the question I'd had lingering in the back of my head all week into words. "Sorry, if I can ask... What exactly do you do for a living?"

Grant slid open a drawer, pulling out a business card and offering it to me between two fingers. It was printed on thick black cardstock with raised gold lettering sprawled across the front that proclaimed:

Grant M. Shultz, P.I.

President, DYKWYSI, LLC.

There was a phone number written underneath with an area code I didn't recognize, a tiny gold magnifying glass printed there to make the last two digits larger. I flipped it over, finding the back was covered in tiny gold footprints.

"So you're some kind of detective?" I asked, glad to have my suspicion that he was law enforcement confirmed.

"Private investigator, but close enough," Grant said with a shrug. "Our business has grown enough in the last few years that I'm mostly stuck doing boring office work, though I do occasionally get to go put out a fire in the field if Rand is otherwise occupied."

I'd already figured out the two men worked together, the unoccupied desk on the other side of the office featuring an oversized office chair that could only belong to one person. I couldn't help wondering what Rand's title was, though if the chaotic piles of papers on his desk were anything to go by, he probably wouldn't be able to find me a business card even if I asked.

"What do the letters stand for?" I asked curiously, handing back the card. Grant tossed it back in the drawer and swiveled to face me, steepling his fingers and tapping them against his lips.

"Have you ever heard of a little company called

Do You Know Where Your Spouse Is?

"

"Is that a trick question?" I said, giving a confused laugh. "Of course I have, they have that fucking earworm of a jingle that always gets stuck in my head. The one about cheap hotels and lipstick on collars that goes like..."

I started to hum it, trailing off as a slow grin spread across Grant's face. Realization hit me like a bolt of lightning as I looked back and forth between the stack of deceptively ordinary-looking beige folders and his clear delight.

"You're kidding," I breathed, my jaw dropping anew as Grant shook his head.

It was impossible to watch as much trashy reality TV as I did without running into ads for

Do You Know Where Your Spouse Is?

. All of their commercials were incredibly racy, and centered around a one-hundred-percent guarantee that they could catch your cheating spouse in the act within 90 days, or your money back.

Enough of my work colleagues and friends had used their services through the years for me to be familiar with the water cooler version of how they worked, something about a small up-front fee and then a percentage of whatever the client managed to win in a divorce using the evidence they'd collected.

I didn't pretend to know exactly how much the company was worth, but if their advertising budget was anything to go by it had to be in the millions, the mystery of why the house was so fucking fancy and all Grant's clothes fit like they were bespoke finally solved.

A cheerful chime made me jump, and as Grant checked his phone his face lit up like it was Christmas morning. He shot back a reply, looking down at me with a wide grin.

"Good news, pet! Rand's just walking out of the airport, which means he should be home in about an hour, give or take. About damn time, hmm?"

"Wait, he's coming home

today

?" I said faintly, still reeling and completely unprepared to face another bombshell so soon. "You didn't say-"

"Oh, I didn't know either," Grant said, cutting me off with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Rand's... Well, let's just say he's a bit superstitious about flying. Never tells me he's on the way home until he's sure the plane landed safe and sound. Gives us an excellent reason to break for lunch early though, now doesn't it?"

I trailed behind him to the kitchen, taking my usual spot on the corner barstool as Grant started laying out ingredients, humming happily under his breath.

I couldn't pretend to share his excitement. RandComingHomeAnxiety.exe had been running as a background process in my mind all week, the thought of tossing the giant back into the mix making my stomach churn so badly I could taste acid in the back of my throat.

It felt like I'd only just found a tiny patch of solid ground to stand on inside my gilded cage, and I was terrified it would just crumble into sand beneath my feet the second Rand walked through the door. A million possibilities as to what he might do or how my day-to-day might change raced through my mind, each more unsettling than the last.

Grant chopped and chattered away, seemingly unconcerned by my lackluster responses. Every nerve in my body stood on high alert for the sound of tires on gravel or the slam of a car door, and I tensed when at last a low rumble reached my ears, a huge black truck lumbering into view down the driveway.

I forced a shaky breath into my lungs, pushing down the urge to bolt for the basement as Grant looked up.

"There's my man, right on time!" he said, beaming as he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and held one out to me. "C'mon, pet. Let's go say hello."

By the time we reached the entryway Rand was already coming through the door, dressed in a gray hoodie and well-worn blue jeans, faded tennis shoes on his feet. There was a carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, and no other luggage in sight.

Guess he travels light, huh?

That inscrutable gaze landed on us, flicking down to where I was trying to hide behind Grant and lingering on our joined hands.

"Going well, then?" Rand said, his voice even deeper and more graveled than I remembered, the sound of it sending a shiver down my spine. Grant gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze as he answered the giant with his usual cheerfulness.

"Yep! She's settling in just fine, you'll be happy to hear. How was your trip?"

"Long," Rand said, placing the bag on the floor and rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Good to be home."

Grant gave a low hum as he dropped my hand and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Rand's neck and pulling him in-

For a

kiss

.

This wasn't some little peck on the cheek, or even on the lips. No, it was a bonafide 'welcome home' sort of kiss, the way Rand gripped the back of Grant's neck to deepen it telling me this was far from the first they'd shared. As they broke away they leaned their foreheads together, exchanging that private sort of look that only comes with love and long familiarity.

"Missed you," Rand murmured, kissing the tip of Grant's nose. "You behaved?"

Grant raised a mischievous eyebrow. "When have I ever done that? But Kate and I managed just fine while you were gone, didn't even try to kill each other once. Isn't that right, pet?"

Both men turned to where I was standing dumbstruck, looking back and forth between them with my mouth hanging open. Grant took one look at my stunned expression and burst into laughter, burying his face in Rand's shoulder as a hint of mirth crinkled the corners of the giant's eyes.

Everything snapped into place so fast it made me dizzy, the world spinning as I realized that I was a complete fucking

idiot

.

I'd been so preoccupied with my own problems that I hadn't really taken time to really consider why two grown men would be so obviously living together, working together, functioning as two halves of a whole. I had been thrown off by both of them being intimate with me, apparently no room in my abduction-addled brain to remember that bisexuality is a thing that exists.

But there was no room for misinterpretation in the way they were holding each other, or in how Rand's left hand had sprouted an unassuming band of gold since the last time I'd seen him. The framed picture on Grant's desk of the two of them in matching tuxedos suddenly made perfect sense, and I kicked myself for naively assuming it had been taken at some kind of work event.

An unbidden image of them tangled up in bed together sprang into my mind, Rand's fingers twisted in Grant's hair as they kissed, hands wandering and muscular bodies pressed together. It was undeniably hot as hell, my whole body catching fire in an instant as my imagination tossed me into the middle of the fray.

I couldn't decide whether the prospect was intriguing or terrifying, pressing my hands against my burning cheeks as I suddenly became incredibly interested in the floor.

Rand cleared his throat pointedly, saving me the embarrassment of trying to come up with something to say by changing the subject with a single word.

"Lunch?"

I sat silently through the meal, pushing bits of cheese around my plate as Grant chattered animatedly at Rand, responding to the other man's grunts as if they were full-on sentences. It reminded me of how the parents of toddlers always seem to know what their kid is saying, when to the rest of the world it's just gibberish.

Guess opposites really do attract?

I wondered, watching out of the corner of my eye as Grant cracked a joke and Rand supplied a noise that was either a laugh or him choking on a bite of taco.

There was no room in my stomach for anything but the weight of uncertainty, and by the time the two men finished demolishing their portions I'd only managed a few nibbles. Grant frowned at my untouched plate as he began clearing the table.

"Feeling okay, pet?"

"Not really," I said, sliding off my stool and giving him an apologetic smile. "My stomach's just a little off. Do you mind if I go to my room for a bit and lay down?"

Grant's ready "Sure" and Rand's rumbled "Nope" came in perfect unison. I bit my lip nervously, uncertain which of them to listen to as Grant turned to Rand with a frown.

"If she's not feeling well-"

"She's fine," Rand said, eyeing the way I was fidgeting without concern. "Just skittish. You wanted to go out?"

Grant nodded slowly. "I thought I'd go pick up some groceries, maybe get in a run? But I'll stay if I need to, just say the word, Boss."

Boss?

I blinked as Rand shook his head, carrying his glass to the sink and wrapping an arm around Grant's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Nah. Go have fun, baby. We'll be fine."

I was trying to figure out if them being so fucking cute together made things better or worse as Grant kissed each of us goodbye and headed out the door, tossing one last reminder for me to behave over his shoulder.

I stood uncertainly as Rand watched out the window, making sure Grant's SUV was out of sight before silently beckoning to me with a single finger.

I forced myself to move, padding in my fuzzy socks across the hardwood until I was standing in front of him. My eyes were barely at the level of his massive chest, and as I went to look up his palm slid around the back of my head, tilting it forward until my face was parallel with the floor.

My neck protested the intensely submissive position, but I didn't dare lift my head as Rand spoke.

"Just two rules. Nice and easy." Fingers appeared in my peripheral vision, two of them unfurling into the shape of a peace sign as he rumbled, "Obey my orders. Don't run. Got it?"

I opened my mouth and then shut just as quickly, not trusting myself to do anything but nod as Rand gave an approving grunt.

"Good kitten. Stay."

I obeyed, forcing myself into stillness as Rand's footsteps receded and then returned once more. Two plastic grocery bags appeared under my nose, both stuffed near to bursting and knotted securely at the top.

"Go get ready," Rand instructed, gesturing with the bags towards the basement. "Don't take too long."

I didn't stick around to ask questions, keeping my head down as I clutched the bundles to my chest and fled down the stairs.

As I shut myself in my bathroom I wished for the millionth time that the door locked, keeping my ears open for any sign Rand might be coming downstairs as I set the bags on the counter and eyed them suspiciously.

They were both triple-bagged, either to secure or obscure their contents, and I decided to open the one that seemed fullest first. As I tore through the flimsy plastic, a familiar bright red floral pattern jumped out at me and I gasped, reaching in to pull out the bundled-up fabric.

My hands shook as I unfurled it, holding up my favorite dress in the whole entire world. It was a bit wrinkled from its ordeal but I didn't care, a spark of pure joy springing into life at the sight of its garish, cheerful print.

"Rand, you glorious bastard," I whispered, burying my face in its softness to inhale the lingering scent of detergent and

home

. "Bribery will get you

everywhere

, oh my god..."

I set it carefully aside and pulled out the next offering, my excitement growing with each new piece that was revealed.

Up next was a well-loved graphic tee, rolled into a set with that one pair of faded jeans that fit my ass just right. Below that a pair of strappy sandals with the imprint of my feet dark on their soles, tucked on top of the pajama set I'd gotten from Lindy a few Christmases back that had curse words printed all over them. And at the very bottom, a bra and a few pairs of very impractical lacy underwear that must have been dug out of purgatory in the back of my dresser.