Good question. I’m not sure how or why, but it is.
“Pretend I’m not here,” Kian says.
As if that’s possible when we’re joined at the wrist and his cheek is pressed against my shoulder.
“Or turn the tap on,” he says a moment later. “The sound of running water might help.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Sorry.”
I know he means well. I shouldn’t be so grumpy, but it’s hard not to be when I’m handcuffed to my best friend’s younger brother.
I turn the tap on full blast. If nothing else, the water rushing into the basin and down the plughole will mask the sound of me taking a piss. I’m going to kill Rufus once he takes these handcuffs off. What the fuck was he thinking?
I sigh as my bladder cooperates and empties itself.
“Better?” Kian asks.
I grunt as I put my dick away and try to fasten my jeans up.
“Need a hand?”
I make the mistake of looking at Kian right as he smirks.
“No.”
“Suit yourself.”
I close the zipper, but the stiff button defeats me. I give up. We’ll be out of these cuffs soon anyway. Kian turns so it’s easier for me to use my right hand to pump liquid soap into my left palm. I put my fingers under the flowing water and then pull back.
“Fuck.”
“Too hot?”
I adjust the tap and wait a few seconds to be sure it’s cool enough to wash my hands. The handcuff chain jangles as I do so, and I splash water over the bright pink fur.
“Your turn.”
Kian goes far faster than I did.
“Let’s find Rufus,” I say once he’s washed and dried his hands. “Which room was he in?”
Kian leads the way. The house is quiet. The only sounds come from us.
“This room,” Kian says.
I open the door without knocking. The room is dark.
“Rufus, you bastard, give us the key.”
No response.
Kian turns the light on. The room is empty. The bed doesn’t look like anyone’s slept in it.
“Fuck.” I clench my fists.
“He might have passed out downstairs,” Kian says.
