Page 71 of Brutal Captivity

I have only ever tasted cum twice. Once was my own, coating Leo's lips and tongue. The second time was that little taste the day Leo had come on my face, but it wasn’t enough. I want more. I wish I would have done more that day, but I was still too caught up in who I thought I was supposed to be. Now, though, now, I want to swallow Leo. I want a part of him inside me, too.

“You don’t have to…” Leo's voice chokes off because I waste no time taking him deep. I can already taste the salty tang from the precum his cock has produced. He moans again, his hips subtly bucking up into my mouth. I glance down at his stretched hole, seeing my own cum leaking out of it. I refuse to let that happen, so I slowly slide two fingers inside.

“Holy fuck, Callisto. Oh shit,” Leo screams, and my limp cock twitches at the sound. I hum, taking him deeper as I crook my fingers. After a few attempts, I find his spot, his legs twitching around me. I thrust my fingers in as I pull away from his cock, and he is obviously unsure of which sensation to chase. I love it. I love reducing him to this. It makes me feel proud and accomplished.

“Oh fuck. Callisto. Right there. Shit. So close. Gonna. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Leo chants, each word punctuated by the slide of my mouth down his cock. I moan in response, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

Leo's eyes are wide, and a moment later three things happen simultaneously. Leo's cock pulses in my mouth. His hole tightens around my fingers. And there’s a very distinct salty taste in the back of my throat.

I moan again, pressing into his spot, and Leo shouts, another spurt of cum shooting down my throat. I swallow around it, repeating the process until his shouts turn to whimpers, and his body is reduced to a pile of twitching flesh.

I somehow end up in his arms, panting alongside him for a few long moments. I’m sticky, but I don't want to wash any of this away. I am too afraid of washing the memory away with it. With each moment that passes, the seconds of the clock become heavier.

I never knew time could feel so tangible, as if it were breathing and living in this bedroom with us. It’s like a monster breathing down my neck, eachexhale representing a second, and it gets closer with each minute that passes, threatening to swallow us alive.

“We should…” Leo starts, his words cracking in his throat. He clears it, and I want to beg him not to say it. I want to beg him to stay, and maybe we can break the clock. Unfortunately, breaking a clock doesn't stop time. Nothing will, so we will have to let it swallow us and hope we survive something so unforgiving.

I look up at Leo, finding his eyes shiny with unshed tears. I bite my lip, trying not to cry. The paint on Leo’s chest is water-soluble, and I don't want to ruin it even more with something as useless as my tears.

“Callisto. We should… Umm… we should go,” Leo finally says, and the sentence feels like it punches me in the gut. I know we should, but I don't want to. I want to scream and cry and throw a fit. I want to stomp my foot and tell time to fuck off, but I can’t. It won’t work. This is inevitable, and there is nothing I can do about it. It’s frustrating, and I bite my lip to keep my tears at bay. I want to burn the world for this.

“Yeah. I know,” I settle on saying, not having anything to add. Leo is as devastated as I am. Tears well in his eyes, and his body trembles with ragged breaths, struggling as hard as I am to hold his anguish in.

We don’t have time for tears, though. We’ve run out of it. We don’t even have time for showers, but that’s okay because I refuse to wash this moment away. Not yet. So, I slowly get off the bed, Leo following suit. We leave the painting and supplies in the room, going to his.

We don’t speak as we get ready, neither of us seeming to know what to say. I reach into my Gucci bag, deciding to wear something of my own to the final show. I pull out a pair of dark bluish-gray high-waisted bell-bottom pants, a dark bluish-gray sparkly shirt, and dark bluish-gray suspenders. Each item matches Leo’s eyes. I remember purchasing them. I had no idea why I liked the shade so much, but it ended up being a color that changed my life.

“Suspenders? Really?” Leo asks with a sly smile when I turn to face him. I only button up the shirt halfway, leaving my chest exposed. Leo has chosen a pair of black tight-fitting jeans and a black hoodie. He pushes his arms through a green coat as he speaks. I am sad to see my painting covered, but it helps to know that it is still there, beneath the clothes.

“They're fashionable!” I defend.

“They’re tragic,” Leo responds with a laugh. I pout, so Leo walks up to me, pushing his fingers under one of the straps. He grasps it, pulling me down into a soft kiss. He doesn't say anything, giving me a sad smile then walkingout of the room.

I follow him out of the house, the cold night air a direct contrast to the warmth I had felt buried in Leo’s heat. We get into Leo’s car, and I am surprised when Leo doesn’t blindfold me. I don't say anything though, the moment feeling too fragile for words.

The drive to headquarters is dark and quiet, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. The air in the car is heavy, no music playing from the radio to lighten the mood. The only thing that gives me a sense of comfort is the fact that Leo’s hand is entwined with my own, squeezing every few minutes.

It seems we have brought the monster that is time with us, and its presence is taking up every available inch of space, making it hard to move. How could something so fleeting be so imposing?

“Are you ready?” Leo asks, putting the car into park, breaking me out of my thoughts. Our surroundings come back into focus, and I immediately recognize it as the original warehouse I was brought to with Nico, the salty smell of the ocean all around us. I take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be,” I say, trying to smile and put some confidence in my tone. I know I fall short on both counts. Leo grabs his pendant, kisses it, and tucks it into the collar of his shirt.

He looks over at me, his eyes mirroring my own desperate hunger to kiss him. I lean in, but Leo shakes his head, looking around us as if to say that we are being watched. I try not to feel disappointed. If I knew that the kiss in the bedroom would be the last shared between us, then I would have made it last longer. That’s the thing though; it would have eventually ended either way. Everything does. It would have been our last regardless.

“I know it’ll be hard but just try to stay calm. Let me do most of the talking. I promise that the bomb won’t go off. You’ll survive this, Callisto. I swear to you. You will survive,” Leo tells me, his eyes wide and honest. I bite my lip, silently making the same promise to him. I can’t say it out loud. Leo will argue, and I don't want him to. He is worth saving whether he wants to believe it or not. He offers one last small smile before he releases my hand, opening the car door. I take a deep breath, doing the same.

I walk alongside Leo, down a long hallway, then another and another. By the time we reach the door Leo is looking for, we have walked through a maze. Leo is silent as he firmly knocks twice. I try to tamp down the anxiety that has taken over my limbs, making them shake with trepidation. The door opens, and Leo grabs my elbow firmly, walking in.

I look around; we are surrounded by men. I don't recognize any of them, and something in my mind screams at me to run. I can't, though. I had theopportunity dozens of times. I made my choice. That choice is standing beside me.

“Leo. Ah, yes. I was afraid you weren’t going to come. You’re almost late,” a man behind the desk says.

This man has to be the one and only Peadar Delaney. He’s not at all what I imagined with his dark hair and long pointed nose. He is about the age of my father, but he’s had quite a bit of plastic surgery, not wanting time to take its toll on his skin. His voice is nasally, grating on my nerves until I’m sick. I don't even want to look at this evil man.

“I apologize, sir. Forgive me for asking. I could be remembering wrong, but I thought it was just going to be us on this mission,” Leo says, and I can’t even hear a hint of nervousness in his tone. His voice doesn’t even reflect the surprise the words obviously hold. He looks every bit the strong and powerful mafia boss he is.

“I thought we may need some back up,” Peadar responds, and Leo’s brows very subtly draw together, confused. He recovers quickly, nodding his head.