by Cara Dee
Reese had put away River’s beer too, because we each got one glass of milk and one glass of lingonberry lemonade, conveniently purchased at the nearest IKEA.
The jam wasn’t my favorite, but I enjoyed the fuck out of the whole Sunday dinner around the table feel. Proper home cooking was something I hadn’t had since my parents died. My aunt tried. She tried very hard, but anything over four ingredients required a fire extinguisher nearby because she became forgetful when she had to concentrate, and so it understandably made my brothers and me freakishly anxious.
“Tell your Swedish friend it’s a great recipe,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Have you worked with a Greek soldier by any chance?”
Reese chuckled and took a swig of his milk.
I went with another question, because kidding aside, I was curious about their past. “So y’all worked as private military contractors, right?” At least, that’s what their hints had told me. Everyone who lived in DC knew someone—or knew someone who knew someone—who never divulged much about their job in the “private sector.” Which somehow often involved single men with a background in the military, and they lived in condos paid for by the government.
“Sort of,” Reese replied.
I could already tell they weren’t going to answer any random questions very willingly. River had gone silent and directed his attention to his meal, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He was a quiet guy. But Reese appeared a pinch more guarded.
It was best to keep it light, I figured. “Did you do any Hollywood-worthy extractions and save a bunch of people?”
The tension disappeared from Reese’s shoulders, and he snorted softly. “The only one I had to save repeatedly was that guy.” He nodded at his twin.
I shifted my gaze to River as he smirked a little and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“We worked in intelligence,” he said. “Or I did. Reese was my security detail. The only thing I extracted was information.”
That still sounded cool. Way cooler than my career goals.
“I guess that makes sense…” In a way. Not entirely. “You’re the observer, and Reese is the…fighter?”
“He’s all over the place,” River corrected. “He thrives on having a lot to do. He’s a safety guy, and he’s both book-smart and street-smart. I’m…”
“Single-focused,” Reese supplied. Then he lifted a brow at me and smirked. “I’m the guy who knows a fair amount about a lot of things. River is a specialized expert in human behavior and profiling. Once he fixes his attention on you, he’ll leave no stone unturned.”
Okay, well… Fuck me, then. I swallowed uneasily and thought about tomorrow.
Now would be a great time to back out of the whole mind-rape thing. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t have this urgency for them to just have a go at me and see what they could find. I shouldn’t want them anywhere near the shit that’d hurt me for the past two years.
A chunk of lead dropped to the pit of my stomach when I realized there was a pathetic, childish hope within me. Hope for them to save me from myself.
Christ, what was wrong with me? And what the fuck had these two motherfuckers done to me?
Reese pointed his fork to my plate. “Eat up. It’ll be the last thing you eat for a while.”
“I hope you slept well last night too,” River said. “Tonight there won’t be any.”
Wait, what?
Seven
Reese Tenley
I descended the stairs the following morning and found Shay on the couch, struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Morning, sweetheart.” I tightened the towel around my hips.
He cast me a dull, exhausted glance before returning to the TV. “Sure.”
I chuckled and headed over to the kitchen. River had already made coffee. Speaking of… “Seen Riv around lately?”
Shay yawned. “He went to a bakery or some shit.”
Excellent. I was starving.
In the meantime, I could catch up on the news and drink coffee. It was going to be a busy day, so I’d decided not to swim or run this morning. As I joined Shay on the couch, I picked up the remote from the table and changed it to a news channel.
“I’m so tired,” Shay complained. “When you said I wasn’t going to sleep, I thought you were gonna play with me.”
“But we are.” I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. “Sleep deprivation is a heady tool—and an outstanding kink.”
He legit whined and hugged my bicep, his forehead falling to my shoulder. “You don’t understand. I need some rest. I can’t—”
“Nonsense. You can, and you will.” I kissed the top of his head. “You’re going on twenty-four hours without sleep. We can talk when you get to four days.”
“Four days!” he exclaimed. “You can’t keep me awake that long!”
I grinned into my mug and took a swig before setting it down on the table. “We’re not going to. I’m just pointing out that anything less than forty-eight hours is nothing.” I draped my arm around him instead and held him to me. “Four days is my record. It was a rainy week in Bangladesh. We were waiting for a Chinese diplomat…”
He didn’t find me funny. He merely snuggled closer and started drawing his fingers through my chest hair. “I heard a joke once saying there’s no such thing as a Chinese diplomat.”
I snorted in amusement.
“You smell good.” He took a whiff from my sternum. “I bet I’d appreciate it more if you let me sleep for a little while.”
I hummed, absently scratching his back. “It’s okay. You don’t need to appreciate it that much today. It’s for a good cause.”
“Good cause,” he scoffed. Then he went quiet for a bit, and I had to look down to make sure he hadn’t dozed off. “River couldn’t sleep down here.”
I wasn’t surprised. They’d looked cozy and cute together last night when I’d headed upstairs. River had been sprawled out comfortably with his legs in Shay’s lap, but my brother got a few minutes rest here and there at best when we slept apart from each other.
“We have our quirks,” I answered. “He can’t sleep well without me, and I get irritable and restless when I can’t be there to make sure he eats properly.”
It may sound funny to some people, but it was frustrating at times.
Shay pressed a kiss to my shoulder, then eased away to face me better. He blinked sleepily. Cute as fuck. “I’ve known some twins before. I think my neighborhood had a high number of careerists who had children late in life and went the IVF route or something, ’cause my high school had twins all over the place.”
I chuckled.
“I’ve never met anyone who acted like you and your brother, though,” he went on. “I mean, I can see you’re two different people, but you’re also so connected that you’re an extension of each other. He’s a part of you, you’re a part of him.”
I nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong.” Riv and I were private on this matter. We weren’t blind; we knew there were some rumors, and a select few were brave enough to ask blunt questions—not that we humored them. An even fewer number of former play partners had seen more than most ever would, and Shay was already a part of that handful.
“You don’t wanna talk about it.” He leaned forward again and became irresistibly adorable as he nuzzled my neck and placed his arms around my shoulders. “I get it. I haven’t been open, so you don’t see any reason to share in return.”
“We’re not playing tit for tat, little one. River and I just prefer to keep certain aspects of our lifestyle within the walls of our home.”
He nibbled at my earlobe. “I. Am not. A little one,” he whispered. “I’m not a Little.”
“We can argue that until the cows come home.” I pressed a kiss to his arm that was strapped over my chest. “You realize you don’t have to regress and act like a young child to be a Little, right?”
“Sure.” He cocked his head, a curious expression mingling with the sleepiness. He’d
already abandoned the topics of Littles. “So, there are certain aspects about you and River?”
I shook my head in amusement at his teasing little grin. He was about to catch a second wind and feel more energized, but his focus had deteriorated. I bet he’d be distracted by anything shiny at this point.
“For what it’s worth,” he murmured and kissed my cheek, “I like the aspects I’ve seen. So what if you live together and share a bed? And…I mean…if there’s more… I kind of wanna…” He stopped and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, I don’t have to act like a child to be a Little?”
I barked out a gruff laugh and disentangled myself from the sweetheart. “River’s going to have fun with you today.” Then I took a sip from my coffee, and just a beat later, I heard footsteps outside. “It looks like my breakfast is here.”
“River or the food?” he quipped.
“Ha!” I supposed the boy was still sharp here and there too. “Come on. I don’t know if you’ll be allowed to eat yet, but you’ll sit with us anyway.”
“Allowed…” he muttered sourly. “You’re starving me.”
I dragged him off the couch and grabbed his jaw, making him look up at me. Fuck, he was something else, this one. “We’re attacking your senses and basic needs.” I dipped down and kissed him softly. “Just wait till we get to bathroom control.”
He blanched at that.
I smiled.
River and I charged a couple hours after breakfast. Shay had just returned inside after having a cigarette, and while I threw the burlap sack over his head, my brother ignored Shay’s shout of surprise and cuffed him behind his back.
As I removed Shay’s sweatpants and underwear, leaving him naked, he’d figured out what was going on, and he blew out a harsh breath and calmed down some.
“I have to be naked?” he asked. “I’m still hungry, by the way.”
Glad he had his priorities in order.
We didn’t answer him. Instead, River grabbed one of his arms and ushered him out of the cabin and toward the main house.
I trailed behind.
“This is unnecessary,” Shay insisted. “You could just point me in the right direction, and I’ll—”
River cut the boy off by setting a foot in front of Shay’s feet, and he tumbled straight down onto the grass with a yelp.
“Point taken!” he groaned, squirming on his stomach. “Fuck, that hurt. I’ll shut up.”
Wise.
It was best I shut up too. I could already feel the Daddy side of me wanting to make sure he was all right, and then I’d end up ruining the scene for him. Jesus Christ, a play partner had never caused me to worry about going soft before.
Once Shay realized no one was going to help him up, he grunted and hissed as he managed to pull himself into a seated position. From there, he got onto his knees, then to his feet.
It was a matter of seconds before he stumbled again, this time when River climbed up on the deck and neglected to tell Shay to watch his step. Our boy stubbed his toe and sucked in a whimpered breath, but other than that, nothing. No words, no protest.
I jogged ahead and opened the sliding doors to the house.
River ushered him in, and we crossed the empty club area in silence. Much like the exterior of the house, almost everything inside was black too. Floors, walls, equipment, the bar in the corner, the pillars… The foyer was an exception with its hardwood floor and red art on the walls.
As we reached the stairs, Riv tightened his hold on Shay’s arm so he’d be able to keep the boy upright when he—there we go. Shay stumbled on the first step, and my brother righted him.
Psychological terror had never been my forte in kink. The outcome was one of the headiest experiences, when River was done putting a masochist through hell—a masochist who got off on this sort of thing—but I didn’t have the stomach for any prolonged scenes. I preferred the physical variety where the result of a strike happened somewhat instantly. Breaking someone down mentally took meticulous planning and patience in spades.
It happened to be River’s crack.
Today would tell us if it was Shay’s drug of choice too. Or one of them.
Room 5 near the stairs on the second floor had been prepared for our scene. It was a shower room covered in white tile, and it was often used for torture play, watersports, and anything that resulted in an abundance of bodily fluids. In short, it was a slightly more sadistic room than the one next door, which was also a shower room, but it was coated in a black rubber mat instead. More cushion, basically. And cushion was something River didn’t want.
In his own words, “I want his knees to hit cold tile, not fucking rubber. When he thinks he’s alone and wondering when we’re coming back, I want him to hear the waterdrops from the tap that won’t shut properly. I want his voice to echo.”
Combined with sleep deprivation and hunger, not to mention the fact that Shay had recently downed a bottle of water and hadn’t been to the bathroom in a couple hours, it was bound to be a taxing day.
River shoved Shay into the room where every breath and footstep was enhanced by the acoustics of the space.
I stayed in the doorway, even though the first shift would be mine, and folded my arms over my chest. Shay was forced down onto his knees. Legs kicked apart, naked as the day he was born, the sack over his head, some dirt and grass under his feet, hands cuffed behind his back, and a light sheen of perspiration turning his heavily inked back into a gleaming work of art.
“Do you remember your safeword?” River asked, all business.
“Y-yes, Sir,” Shay stammered. “I’ll use it, I promise. Red, yellow, green.”
Good boy. Pride swelled in my chest.
“You’ll also grade the pain in your hands on a scale from one to ten,” River ordered. “This isn’t rope bondage—there’re no nerves getting pinched, so don’t be surprised when your hands tingle and go numb. But if circulation is cut off—if your hands become cold—you call out ten right away. Try to flex your hands and form fists every now and then. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir. I will keep the circulation going. I understand the pain scale.”
“Good. Unless anything goes wrong, just holler when the pain reaches eight on your scale.”
“I will, Sir.”
Fuck, I couldn’t describe the relief at hearing how seriously Shay was taking it. It meant everything and chipped away at a lot of my worry.
“Maybe you’re not completely worthless.” River signaled to me, and I stepped inside the room to take my seat on the built-in tile bench along the western wall. I’d made sure to change into sweats and a tee as a way to guarantee nothing would make a sound. My iPad and a bag of supplies waited for me on the bench. “We’ll be back later,” River told Shay.
On his way out, he tossed me the remote to the stereo, and I nodded in return.
I knew the drill.
Time for River to get some rest back at the cabin. Well, a series of power naps, at least. If nothing else, being in our bed would help.
Before the door closed, I stretched out my legs and crossed them at the ankles, ready to chill out and watch time fly. A silence blanketed the room, the kind that made your ears ring and question whether or not you had tinnitus.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to read Shay’s mind now. It was way too soon for him to feel frightened. He was a smart young man, and he probably knew he’d be here for some time. This was only one of the many tools to fuck with Shay’s head, to make him lose his mental footing.
He cleared his throat. “Are you guys still here?”
I glanced down at the iPad. River had thought of everything. He’d placed the tablet inside one of his rubber cases, another way to prevent noise.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, you know?” Shay went on. “I know you wouldn’t leave me.”
What else do you know, baby boy?
This was going to get interesting, perhaps sooner than I’d expected.
Some people felt the need to f
ill the silence. More often than not—in kink—it was subs. Whether they were nervous about a scene and rambled, or they felt the need to “help out” by killing awkwardness or bridging a gap of any sort, it wasn’t rare to get a sub to talk just by giving them an unwavering stare.
It was fun.
“I guess, maybe… Is that it? Do you have a webcam?” Shay asked.
I felt my mouth twist upward.
It made sense for him to analyze things first. He wasn’t the type to merely wait and see what happened; he wanted to understand and figure things out.
About twenty minutes later, Shay had slumped down on his ass after proclaiming, “You didn’t say I had to kneel the whole time.”
He’d yawned approximately two thousand times…
Safe to say, he wasn’t very worried. Meaning, his guard was probably lowered.
I placed the remote on my thigh, staring at the digits on it. If I pressed four, “Bestrafe Mich” by Rammstein would blare out of the speakers on the highest volume. My brother’s subtle humor would probably be lost on Shay, unless he knew that the title of the song meant “Punish me.” If I pressed five, there would be a recording of a studio audience laughing uproariously. Button number six wasn’t as heart-attack-inducing. That track started with a single breath and slowly morphed into several people panting and gasping.
Those were the three buttons River had designated for this part.
“How fucking long am I supposed to wait?” Shay snapped. “Y’all said we were starting yesterday. And all you did was forbid me to sleep. Great. Just great. Some Sadists you are.”
I pressed a fist to my mouth to prevent any laughter from slipping out. Unfortunately, the urge to clear my throat rose too fast for me to suppress it, so I had no choice but to use the audio. I pressed play on the fourth track, and the shower room was instantly flooded with loud, grinding guitars, furious drums, heavy bass, and dark, German lyrics.
