Page 51 of Brutal Captivity

When I finish, Callisto collapses on top of me, what’s left of his cum smearing between us. We’re both breathing heavily, the moment dangling on a fraying string. We are braced, waiting to crash. For reality to check us back into existence. For me, it comes with remembering that he won’t be in my life any longer than absolutely necessary.

As soon as Callisto’s parents pay his ransom, he will go back to them. He will go back to his life of luxury. He will goback to fancy hotel rooms with their mini bars. He will travel in expensive cars or private planes where he will drink the best champagne and forget he ever met someone like me.

While Callisto immerses himself in that lifestyle, I will still be here, living the same life I always have. The life that he became a part of, even if it was only for a brief amount of time. It won't be as easy for me to forget he when he already looks like he belongs in my house. I push that thought from my mind, refusing to think about it tonight. I’ve had enough melancholy for one day.

I hiss when he slowly pushes himself off, my soft dick slipping out. He rolls to the side, making no move to leave, and I’m ridiculously thankful. I take off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the garbage can. I don't want to move, and Callisto seems to be on the same page, his body starfished next to me in the king-sized bed. I grab a random item of clothing from the floor, wiping off both of our chests.

I turn off the lamp, leaning over Callisto’s body to turn off the one on the other nightstand. With the room in complete darkness, I start to go back to my side of the bed but am stopped by two strong arms. he doesn’t say anything as he pulls me to him, and I go willingly. I lay on his chest, warm under the covers, listening to his heartbeat, the gentle cadence of his breathing making my eyes heavy. I’m glad we aren’t talking. I am tired of talking. I want to lie with Callisto.

I am safe for the first time since I was a young child. The sheer weight of how unsafe I truly was before crashes over me only now, as this long-forgotten sensation wraps around my body, a heavy, warm blanket. Just like a home, sometimes safety isn’t in a place but in a person. It’s in arms that you feel. A smile that you taste. Eyes that you see. Skin that you smell. A heartbeat that you hear. It may only be for a short time, but I am safe.

twenty-four

“How did you get these scars?”- Callisto

Saturday Morning…

Iwakeuptosunlight filtering through an unfamiliar room, my head rising and falling with the rhythm of whatever it’s resting on. Memories from last night come rushing back, slicing through the sunlight.

The bitter smell of De Luca’s dried blood on Leo's clothes when he came home. The image of him curled into a ball, rocking back and forth as he sobbed on the shower floor. His haunting screams as he begged to be called a monster. The taste of his lips while he slowly spread me open, finally knowing me. Then the feeling of being wanted pushing away the isolation I had become accustomed to throughout my life.

I am lying on Leo's chest, the smattering of hair there tickling my nose. I look up to find sunlight streaking across his face. His hair is messy with sleep, matted on one side. A tattooed arm is covering his eyes, but I can still see long eyelashes grazing his freckled cheeks, the line of stubble starting right below.

He looks peaceful like this, and, not for the first time, I wish I could sketch him. My eyes rove over Leo's body, wanting to look at him in the light of the day and not under the shroud of darkness like the night before. It still feels like a dream.

My eyes travel all over Leo's torso, finding it covered in not only tattoos, but also scars. Some are lighter than others, as if they’re older. I push the covers down a bit more to get a better look. I reach out to trace one, not being able to stop myself.

There is something incredibly sexy about them, and my cock twitches under the sheets. The touch must wake him. His eyelashes flutter, the arm resting on my shoulder twitching with alertness. He moves his hand away, gunmetal eyes cracking open the next second.

“Do you ever want out of this life?” I ask, not being able to stop the question from tumbling out of my mouth. He blinks a few times, looking down toward me. If my breath leaves me at the sight, then that is neither here nor there.

My chin is propped up on Leo's pec, my head slowly rising and falling with Leo's breaths. I’m still absentmindedly tracing some of the scars littering his torso, simply because I can’t seem to stop myself.

“I um…” Leo falters, and I can tell he isn’t sure if he wants to answer the question. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing I could read his mind. At least, I finally seem to be getting more than one word answers from him.

“This is all I’ve ever known. It’s not as simple as walking away. I know too much. He’d put a hit out on me in a matter of seconds. I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for a sniper’s round. What kind of life is that? I could never have a family.” Leo’s expression is sad, almost resigned.

“Do you want a family?” I ask, curiosity lacing the question. I’ve been wondering about that since I found out Leo was homeless when he was younger. He must yearn for a family of his own, but how does that factor into the dangerous lifestyle he lives? I couldn’t imagine trying to raise a family around all of that violence.

“I’ve wanted one since I was fourteen and homeless. My family didn’t want me anymore, so I desperately wanted to create my own. One that would love me and want me. I realized that a home isn’t a place, but it’s people. It’s a person that you build your life with. I didn’t have that for a while, until Peadar found me.” Leo traces patterns into the comforter draping across my wide shoulders. I can’t tell what he is drawing, but it feels like scribbles.

“Then they became your family,” I finish, already knowing what Leo is going to say. He shakes his head, though, and my brows crease together in confusion before I look down, tracing another scar. I can’t seem to stop my fingers from moving without my command.

Leo is so beautiful; his body is made to be drawn. He takes a deep breath, my body easily moving with it. I drop my head to the side, listening to Leo's heartbeat for a few moments before I right it again.

“It’s still not really the same.” He lets out his breath in a whoosh that makes my hair flutter. “They’re loyal to me. They love me. I have a roof over my head and food to eat because of the organization, but some days I still feel so homeless. Everything around me is fluid, constantly moving and on the verge of slipping through my fingers. It’s like trying to stand in the middle of an earthquake.”

I take a deep, hesitant breath, and ask, “Do you ever wish your life would have gone differently? Like do you ever wish you made different choices?”

“At first, I did. When my dad kicked me out, I regretted them ever finding out about my sexuality. I regretted being gay, and not like, fighting my urges,I guess. Then I realized there wasn’t a point in regretting it. What’s done is done.Sin mar a tá sé, you know?” He looks down at me for a brief moment, and I nod in response. I absentmindedly trace that very same phrase on his chest, my finger swooping over the letters.

“I know I’ve done some fucked up things,” he continues, averting his gaze again. “But I’m alive because of the choices I’ve made. I try not to dwell on what ifs. It just becomes exhausting.”

“Look umm…” he starts, his tone hesitant and unsure. He clears his throat, looking down to pick at a piece of loose thread on the comforter. He can’t seem to look me in the eyes. He’s clearly nervous about what he plans to say, his movements stiff and jerky. I reach for his hand, holding it on top of the comforter.

“I’m um… I’m really sorry for what happened last night. It’s not like me to lose control like that. I honestly didn’t think you would even find me. That’s why I went to the shower. I was just going to calm myself down. I would have gotten over it eventually, picked myself up.” He still isn’t looking at me, his grip tightening on my hand.

“It’s okay. I’m actually kind of glad I found you. You don’t always have to pick yourself up. Others can help you, sometimes.” I rest my head on my free hand, propping it up on an elbow to get a better look at him. His eyes are still downcast, shadows from his eyelashes dancing across his cheeks.