The door closes, and then it’s just the two of us.
Glancing around, I don’t see a camera, but I know there must be one. There’s no way we’re not being watched.
Poor Falk is probably stuck in the hallway listening to us.
I debate how we should go about this, without knowing where the camera is. I tap the floor with my shoe, then tug on the skirt of my dress. Trips cracks his knuckles like we’re getting ready to fight. We’re good to go.
I take a second to wonder how much this is fucking up my desire, this chase and tackle that we keep playing. Because as itturns out, I like it. I like fighting and then fucking. Even if the fucking isn’t real.
There’s something freeing about letting out the vicious part of me that wants to dig its nails into flesh and isn’t picky about motivations.
Trips bounds forward, and I scramble back, diving over the bed and ending up where he started, my heart already in my throat. “You’re getting slow,” he says, waiting to see which way I’ll go.
“They’re not letting me out to run.”
He stalks forward, angling himself between me and the bed. I debate going for the door, but I know Falk is there. Unless he’s giving me a chance to escape? Trips lunges, and I take a chance, scrambling to the door. He tackles me right as I step through it, cushioning my fall with a deft tug, his arm wrapping around my waist and slamming into the deck before me. Then we go through the motions of our fight, me flailing without doing much damage while he pins me to the ground.
Falk is not in the hallway. I guessed right. He’s an honest man.
Trips strips off my underwear, then pins my ankles with his, my wrists caught in one of his hands. With the other, he lines himself up under my skirt. Rage and sadness drip from him, and I tug at my arms, trying to get him to look at me, to show him we’re doing this together. But he doesn’t look up. And after a pause, we’re sliding together, my faked yelp and his grunt muted by the soft shush of the waves against the hull. He rocks against me, staring at my stomach, not at me, and I miss the connection.
I need to feel close to him, even as all of this plays out like a well-orchestrated sex scene in a movie. But he doesn’t look at me. He won’t.
It’s like he’s scared of what he’ll see if he does.
He grinds against me, dragging my arms straight but leaving his other hand pressed to my chest, locking me against the floor.We stay like this, only our breaths and the sloppy sound of my pussy begging for a visitor filling the space. A footfall has me twisting to see who’s there, terrified of what Falk will think of this. Does he believe Trips is irredeemable?
But instead of Falk, the door to another bunk opens, and Trevor steps through. I tug at my arms, whispering Trips’ name, but he’s caught in some part of his mind where he can’t hear me. Like the guilt is so loud my whispers can’t be heard over it.
And before I can get Trips to notice what’s changed, Trevor is here. He crouches beside me, and with a smirk, he flips up my skirt.
I scream, suddenly not in control of myself, as Trevor’s eyes get big, a delighted grin taking over his face. Trips jolts out of whatever trance he was in, and tackles Trevor to the floor, but it’s too late. His brother laughs as Trips punches him, and I scramble back, Falk reappearing and dragging Trips off his brother, his arms zip-tied behind him in a desperate struggle.
Still, he bucks and lunges, trying to get to his brother, and I can’t breathe.
Tears pool in my eyes as Trevor hauls himself to sitting, wiping blood from his face with his sleeve.
“Little sister, you look pretty in pigtails, but you’re going to look even better as a bruised grape when Father finds out what you two are up to.”
The allusion to pigtails leaves me confused, but my stomach swoops, my body somehow knowing Trevor is threatening me, even if I don’t know with what.
Falk slams Trips against the wall, forcing him still with his body, looking at me for an explanation.
“I—”
Trevor stumbles to his feet, his phone in hand. “This is going to be delicious.”
Then I’m moving, sprinting toward Trevor, diving at him, yanking his phone from his hand, then rolling, sprinting up the stairs. He grabs me from behind, and I throw his phone as hard as possible, the soft ‘plop’ telling me it made it overboard.
But he keeps laughing, dragging me back down the stairs. “You think that’s going to change the outcome here, sister? You’ve just pissed me off, not saved your lying ass.”
“Let go,” I shout, knowing no one is going to save me, but trying anyway. I’m slammed against the wall, Trevor’s hand sliding under my skirt as I kick backwards, getting him in the knee.
But he was raised by the same horror as Trips, so the pain doesn’t stop him from slamming two fingers into me as I scream and thrash. “Father said you liked to share. I thought I might offer to help tonight. Now I know I’m the only dick in this pussy, which sounds like quite the treat.”
He’s wrenched back from me, giving me enough space to spin and deck him in the nose, blood spurting, adding to the mess Trips already made of his face.
Trevor gets trussed up with zip-ties too, shoved into one bunk while Trips slams himself against the door of another, Falk quickly wrapping the two handles together with his belt, so that neither can open inward.
