WARNING: A gritty adventure story featuring distressing themes throughout subsequent chapters; coercion, traumatic forced sex scenes, kidnapping and a torture scene in Chapter 4, all which could be very triggering. Features HEA. Suitable for non-con fans and mainstream readers with strong constitutions.
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"Your turn," Cory said, chalking his pool cue.
Mark shifted his attention from the reddening sunset back to the game. "Remember what you told me when I suggested putting a pool table out here?"
Cory shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't remember. High maintenance?"
Bending over, Mark took careful aim. "You said I could use more know-how in running a ranch. And we've been out here every night of the week," he added, not taking eyes off the table. Knocking out three balls with one deadly shot, he straightened up, satisfied.
"I didn't try to stop you," Cory reminded him.
"I know. I just like to reestablish when I'm right," Mark answered, surveying the table with a teasing half-smile on his lips.
Cory sat down on a wide cushioned bench and leaned forward to watch. "It's bad form to gloat about unrelated topics when you're winning a game," he replied dryly.
Mark laughed. "We should have played for money. Or women."
Cory raised an eyebrow, laying his cue-stick aside on a large raised stone that had been chipped into a table. He picked up his beer and watched Mark carefully. "Women?"
"It's been a while. I mean, since the two of us..." Mark vaguely tilted his head, carefully lined up his cue and ended the game. When Cory didn't respond Mark dropped his cue-stick onto the green table and took a seat next to him, raising a beer to his lips as he again fixed his navy-blue eyes on the breathtaking view.
Mark and Cory were best friends, and business partners. Together they owned a luxury ranch, which had become an immensely popular destination for honey-mooners, rich business associates and well to-do families rolling in old money. For three weeks of every year, the ranch was closed off to guests, and Mark and Cory each occupied one of two presidential suites on-site, with only a few select staff to keep the place clean and running. Over the three weeks they caught up with each other's doings, reminisced about old times, and engaged in the facilities which made the ranch such a desirable holiday destination. Three years ago, on a spontaneous whim, they had purchased the land together and built the ranch.
The ranch surrounds held great appeal with activities such as fishing, hunting, horse-riding, and incredible scenery. On-site there was a number of luxury suites, three dining areas, a small indoor pool and sauna, a gym, tennis court, games room, and bar lounge. Arguably one of the ranch's most popular features was an enormous outdoor area complete with a pool table and surround seating, which captured unobstructed views of the sunrise and sunset. The high-rise location provided a picture of infinite wilderness, and many guests spent hours out there, watching through binoculars to sight wildlife, or just take in the astounding abundance of untouched nature. It was one of the most popular spots for guests to linger over drinks, play a game of pool, or for couples to hold hands and profess their love for each other.
Most of the year Mark worked part-time in corporate finance. With a lucrative career and a sizeable inheritance, he had more than enough money to retire, but hated to be idle and loved the cut-throat rush of business. Cory was a hugely successful farmer, and owned two properties with different functions - crops and poultry. Mark initially helped finance his businesses, and Cory had since repaid his investment tenfold.
Both thirty-two years of age, they had known each other since high school. In youth, just as in adulthood, Mark was charismatic, arrogant, with a tendency to sarcasm and cruelty. In school Cory was strong, dignified and mysteriously silent, though had come out of his shell as a quietly confident man when he grew older. Both men had set girls' hearts aflutter in their boyhood.
When Mark first laid eyes on Cory, he immediately recognised a competitor to his dominant presence at school, and quickly sought to bring Cory down before he could establish popularity with their peers. Mark forced Cory into a fight of honour, and was unpleasantly surprised to lean that quiet, mild, Cory was no 'sissy boy' too scared to throw a punch. Cory easily equalled him in strength and wit, and Mark had never before met anyone who came close to matching him, or caused him to doubt himself in a fight. The whole year watched breathlessly as Mark and Cory beat each other bloody, but there was no clear winner. From that moment, whether for mutual respect or blind admiration, despite clear personality differences, they became inseparable.
More than a decade later they had both grown into tall, strong, handsome men. Mark was only slightly taller than Cory's 6'4", and at the ranch their tall figures were easily recognisable from a distance whenever they went riding or explored the surrounds.
Mark had dark, slightly curled hair, and deep midnight-blue eyes which could flash steel-ice in one moment, and other times dissolve into dark liquid navy. Dedication to a strict gym routine ensured that he was well-muscled and strong, which suited his height and broad shoulders.
Cory favoured a simple, clean-cut appearance, and kept his sandy-coloured hair short. His eyes were a very light brown, like caramel, and shone gold when they caught in the light. Favouring a practical approach to running farmland, Cory's physique was incidentally very similar to Marks, except he had a tendency to relax his stance. Mark, working in an industry where appearances were important, almost always stood proudly to his full-height.
From a distance, the two were difficult to tell apart, if it weren't for the vast difference in the colouring of their hair and eyes, they could be mistaken for brothers.
Both Cory and Mark were unmarried, unattached, and their relationships with women were fleetingly hard and fast, without intimacy. They were highly-sexed men, and neither had difficulty finding eager sexual partners. They shared the same disinterest in continuing relationships with women, this is where the similarities ended. Though partial to hardcore sex, at worst Cory could occasionally be considered a selfish lover, merely focused on his own desires without giving a hoot about his partner's enjoyment, whilst Mark leaned toward kinkier practices and possessed a definite sadistic streak in the bedroom. Because both were remarkably attractive, none of their previous liaisons seemed bothered by these aspects of their character.
In the past, they had engaged in threesomes, but this sort of arrangement had dwindled to an end - during these encounters the differences in their personalities became apparent enough to affect the enjoyment of all. Now the only fun they had together with women was when they waged bets on who could successfully seduce a target, agreed upon by both.
"It hasn't been a while for me," Cory remarked, picking up the conversation. "A week ago, I did one of my staff in the barn."
"You fucked the help, and waited all week to tell me?" Mark exclaimed, turning to him. "That's hot. Tell me more."
Cory shrugged a shoulder. "Small tits, great ass, English accent."
"You, and your 'British nanny' fetish," Mark retorted, making a face.
"Don't have a type, you know that," Cory briefly shook his head, finishing his beer and setting it down next to his cue-stick with a clunk. "Well, I do have a type, actually. It's called 'fuckable'."
"Amen," said Mark, smiling at the sky as it rapidly morphed from bright scarlet to ocean blue.
