Page 25 of Brutal Captivity

“Oh no. I’m more of a loner I suppose. I usually keep myself closed off to people because I don’t know if they really like me or if they like my money. Or I guess my parents' money.” Callisto shrugs, as if it doesn’t bother him but I can tell by his tone of voice that it does. That’s the only reason my snide remark about the woes of a rich kid dies on my tongue.

“I guess I could see that. Never really thought about it like that,” is what I settle on. For the first time, a flicker of pity stirs for the man sitting next to me. I never considered the fact that someone would use him for his money. Money can buy a lot of things, but I suppose it could never buy true friendship. Not like the bond I have with my friends. The kind where you live and die with each other.

“If your dad was the one that forced you to go to Italy, then why did he make you move back?” I set the now empty ice cream container on the table in front of me. Callisto brings his spoon up to his full lips, licking the rest of the sweet treat off as he contemplates his answer. I suppress a groan because now is not the right time to get hard. Callisto’s lips are so fucking full, bright red now, the skin irritated by the cold snack.

“My father wants me to take over the company. He’s told me that’s what he wanted me to do since I can remember. But I hate it. I hate the idea of having that life. He said it was my only choice if I wanted to keep the wealth that I have. I moved back, and instead of taking over his stupid company, I started art dealing. I want to prove to him that I can do something on my own, without his help. I mean, I guess I still have his help from my trust fund, and I haven’t done anything on my own besides getting kidnapped.” Callisto’s tone is sad, and I ignore the stabbing sensation piercing through my own chest. I cannot feel sorry for Callisto. I need to keep seeing him as cartoon bags with dollar signs, nothing more than a check.

“I respect that,” I say, and I mean it. “But you have probably done more than get kidnapped. You did a few modeling gigs, didn’t you? Traded and sold some art since you moved back. You have a degree, don’t you? That’s something. More than me.” I have no idea why I’m trying to make Callisto feel better, but here I am, offering reassurance to a man I barely know and should hate.

“Yeah, but my family paid the tuition.” It’s Callisto’s turn to sound sad and detached. He huddles closer to me, laying his head on my shoulder for a moment before he sits up straight again. I kind of wish he had left it there. I liked the heavy feeling of his head on my shoulder.

“You still did the work, didn’t you?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“Your old man didn’t take the tests for you.” There is a soft and sincere edge to my tone that I don't want to contemplate. I feel tired, my stomach full and my limbs heavy. The slow cadence of Callisto’s voice makes my eyelids feel heavier and heavier.

“Thank you.” Callisto lays his head on my shoulder again and leaves it there. I don't say anything nor do I make any attempt to shrug him off. The moment feels intimate, as if there is a blurry filter on the world around us, making everything softer. Harsh edges smudged out. “I know it’s pathetic that I have to pay my only friend to be around me, but it is what it is I suppose.”

“If you were a horrible person, Nico wouldn’t stay around. Sure, you pay him, but that doesn’t make him any less of a friend to you. There’s a reason he applied for and took the job, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. I suppose. He knew my father, though, so I’m not sure how much of it is him staying for me and how much is loyalty to my father. I didn’t really need an assistant, but my father didn’t give me a choice in the matter. He probably hired Nico to try to talk me into working for the company.” Callisto’s jaw moves on my shoulder with each word. They are slow and methodical.

“Has he?” I ask, filing that bit of information away in my tired brain. I remember Evan saying that he couldn't find any information on Nico prior to his employment with Callisto, so it's interesting that Callisto's father put him in that position. A guy with no past, forced onto a sheltered rich kid under the guise of an assistant? It smells like a plant. A handler. But I keep my face completely neutral.

“Has he what?”

“Tried to talk you into working for the company?”

“Oh. No. I don’t suppose he has,” Callisto admits, the words quiet and soft.

I don’t say anything further, the silence settling over us like a weighted blanket. It’s comforting, in a way, to have someone there and not be expected to entertain them. When Daron, Fletcher, and Evan are over, I always feel like we have to be doing something whether it’s playing video games or drinking or whatever. The TV is on, but I’m not sure either of us are watching it anymore. The weight of Callisto’s head rests on my shoulder, but the weight of his words restson my heart.

twelve

“Can’t. Won’t.”- Leo

Sometime between Thursday Night and Early Friday Morning….

Iwakeupwitha start, feeling something warm pressed against my body. I buck into it, my cock hard and throbbing. Before I can think, I grind forward.

“Mm… feels good, Leo,” comes a sleep-heavy voice from somewhere in front of me. It breaks through my consciousness like a nail being hammered into a wall.

My eyes snap open, green eyes stare back at me. They are dark and desperate, almost pleading, his red lips parted on a moan. I know I should stop. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but Callisto moaning my name is only adding fuel to the fire, stoking my hips into movement.

“Fuck.” I kiss Callisto’s neck. I want to get off, and he feels so fucking good. So good, and I am so tired. My brain isn’t working. I have been so stressed lately, but this… this feels like the cure to all of my problems. Grinding against his ass.

“Don’t stop.” Callisto’s voice is deep and breathy. It’s then I realize we are lying on my couch, our limbs tangled together, the blanket resting on top of us making me feel even hotter.

“Can’t. Won’t.” I grab his hips and move them with my own, making the grind that much more delicious. He kicks off the blanket, and I groan when he moves away from me, his ass no longer pressed against my hard length, still encased in my jeans. He doesn’t go far– he turns over so he’s facing me. The TV is still on, the screen flickering behind Callisto, illuminating his dark curls like a halo every few seconds. I still feel like I’m dreaming, and maybe I am, but I’m not about to force myself to wake up.

“Please.” He presses his hips against mine. He’s as hard as me, his thick shaft pressing against his tight pants. I knew he was well-endowed; I’d seen as much when nothing but a towel was covering his half-hard dick, but I never expected it to feel so good pressed against my own. Fuck. All I can do is moan and nod my head. I mouth hisjaw then down onto his neck. His moan rattles against my teeth buried deep in his throat, only driving me to bite down harder.

“God, Callisto. Feels so good.” Our rhythms sync up, our hearts beating in time with one another. His soft hand spans my stomach and my side, snaking its way under my shirt and squeezing hard. I don’t say anything, enjoying the pressure. His hands are so big, almost as big as my own. I usually go for guys much smaller than me, but his big hands branding my skin makes me hotter.

“Lee.” As the nickname rolls off Callisto's tongue, his voice coated in molasses and gravel, a wave of pleasure rocks my system. I didn’t realize someone saying my name could turn me on so much, but here I am, grinding against him, moments away from coming in my jeans like a school boy. Callisto’s hand moves down my hip to grab my ass, forcing our dicks to grind harder against one another.

I don't say anything, and push my own hand under Callisto’s shirt, his skin slick with sweat. I tweak his nipple, biting hard on his neck. The resulting moan that makes my tongue tingle is addicting. I expected Callisto to be uptight. I was very, very wrong.