10. Tatum

CHAPTER 10

TATUM

" I wish you'd just tell me," I groan ten minutes later, sitting in the passenger seat of his car. "For fuck's sake, you're acting like a toddler."

"Nyet." His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly, I'm surprised it hasn't shattered into a million pieces—kind of like the way he's shattering my patience by behaving like a tantrum-throwing child.

"No," I say, my irritation rising. "No to your ‘nyet.' You don't get to ignore me!"

He pulls up to a stop sign, and because I'm dealing with a giant man-baby, he dramatically sticks his fingers into his ears, turns to stare at me, and says, "Nah-nah, nah-nah, boo-boo. I cannot hear you."

I lay my head back and groan. "You're adorable, but my Goddess, you are insufferable at times. Just fucking spit it out. What did I do?"

He pulls his fingers out of his ears and grabs the steering wheel before heading across the intersection. "Fake boyfriend," is all he says, and he might as well be speaking gibberish as far as I'm concerned, because I haven't the slightest clue what he's talking about .

"What?" I ask, but he ignores me, turning his attention back to the road ahead. He flicks on his blinker when he reaches Second Street. I don't know where he's taking us, considering this a residential area, but that's not what matters right now. "What are you talking about?"

His jaw works—left to right, then right to left—his teeth grinding. "That is who I am to you, is it not?" he says bitterly. "It is what you said at the inn."

I study his face like I'm studying for a test, trying to understand why he's so upset. "Abi," I say, reaching out and taking his hand. I half-expect him to shove me away, but he doesn't. He just turns his hand over and allows me to weave our fingers together. "Baby, please, look at me. I can't make it right if you won't even meet me halfway."

He jerks his head in my direction, his eyes widening. "Baby?" It feels like every muscle in my body has ceased functioning. He looks just as surprised by the endearment as I am. In fairness, I didn't mean to say it, but now it's out, and he just looks so fucking happy. With one word, I ripped him out of his darkened headspace and thrust him into the light. He grips my hand fiercely. Furiously. Fucking painfully, but I never want this pain to stop. I want it to consume me. Just let it linger as a constant reminder that for one small, insignificant moment in time, I was his and he was mine. "May I speak freely, Tatum?"

"You can tell me anything. You know that."

"I do not know that." He shakes his head insistently. "Not always." The car comes to a stop, but I can't tear my eyes away from him long enough to see where we are. It's like he's a black hole, and his presence is pulling me in. "You keep me at arm's length. Sometimes you make me feel like I am everything. The sun. The moon. Every star in the sky. I cherish those moments. They're the ones I hold on to when ..." He lays his head back on the headrest and sighs. "They're what I cling to when you shut me out." His grip tightens, and I can feel his nervous sweat against my palm. "I do not wish to be your fake boyfriend. I want this with you. All of it." He tilts his head in my direction, not speaking, just studying my face.

"All of what?" I finally manage to ask, though there's no need. I already know what he means. My voice is shaky and broken with nerves, and it's only now I realize I feel just as pained as the expression on his face. He says nothing, just gives me a pleading stare. "You want to be my boyfriend?" I whisper, like saying the words quietly enough might not make them real. "Real boyfriends?"

His head seesaws up and down. "Would you want that?"

I swallow the lump in my throat, wanting to tell him. Wanting to scream it from the rooftops, but I can't get my fucking voice to work. I don't know where we're heading or what we, as a couple, would even look like. And there he is, staring at me, his mouth slowly falling open. I'm too scared to make a fucking sound, and he's sitting there looking like I've just broken his heart.

"Abi, I don't . . ."

He shakes his head, and I can tell he's trying to mask the hurt. It might work with someone else—with anyone else—but it doesn't work with me. I've spent six months literally curled up at his side. I know this man, and I know he's close to breaking.

"Nyet. You do not need to answer. Take all the time you need. I am not going anywhere."

I squeeze him, because I need him to know. "I'm not saying no. I care for you. Deeply. I just need a little time." In a last-ditch effort to drive the fact home, I dive forward, pressing my lips against his. It isn't anything special. It's hardly the kiss to end all kisses, but it's a kiss that shakes me to the core. I think he feels it too. No. I know he does. It's there, sparkling in his love-drunk eyes. It's in the way his hand rests flush against my heart, his nails digging in ever so slightly. Mostly, it's in the way he pulls away, brings my hand to his lips, and kisses my knuckles, one by one.

"Thank you," he says .

When he releases my hand, I catch him off guard, tickling his palm. "I'm happy to be of service. Now, where are we?" Tearing my eyes away from him, I'm finally able to see where he's parked. The moment I see my ex-boyfriends' townhouse, the blood feels like it's drained from my face, and my mouth goes dry. "Why?" is the only word I can get out. I startle when he takes my hand.

"Before we met, when I was stalking your social media activity?—"

"You still stalk my social media activity, big guy," I say, tickling his thigh.

"Correct," he says. Fucking shameless. "But when I first started stalking you, before I knew the real you, I had your life's story written in my head. You amongst a sea of boyfriends, each worshiping you endlessly, the way you deserve. To me, you were a strong, impenetrable fortress no one would ever dare breach." His Adam's apple bobs. "Then, I found out that was not the case." He reaches for me, his thumb brushing softly across my cheek. "They had the whole world in their hands, and they threw it away. And do you know what I say to that?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Good," he says. "I am glad they threw you away, because it meant getting to claim you as mine." His hand drifts down the side of my face, not stopping when it reaches my chest, nor when it passes my navel. It only comes to a halt when he reaches my soft cock. His hand wraps around my bulge, giving me an affectionate squeeze. "Benito broke you. He stole the Bens to break your heart. He cost you this mysterious Austin, who you rarely speak of. Now, I am going to break Benito's neck."

As I try to understand the words he's just said, he opens his door and steps out of the car. Moments later, my door opens, but I can't make myself move. His words are ridiculous. What the hell is he even talking about?

"Do not worry," he says. "If you do not wish to watch, you may stand outside." He unbuckles my seat belt and picks me up with minimal effort. I'm still trying to process everything as he walks us to the front porch, lifts his leg, and kicks the door off its hinges with ease.

My body jolts at the sudden crash, and mental images of Benito mistaking us for robbers and gunning us down cloud my head. I'm shaking in Abi's arms, and all I can do is bury my face in the crook of his shoulder and hold on for the ride.

"Knock-knock," Abi yells. "Hope you cry, hope you die, Benito." Though his use of my newfound catchphrase makes my heart race a bit faster, all I can do is whimper into his shirt. Part of me wants to demand he takes us away from here right this second. There's another part, though. The darkest part of me. A part that wants to see this thing through. To watch as life drains from Benito's eyes. "Do not be scared, Tatum. I will not allow him to harm you. I have a grenade launcher in my pocket. Would you like to watch his body turn to pink mist, sweetheart?" Before I can respond—not that I could even get a word out if I wanted to, because what the fucking fuck?—he chuckles into my ear. "I am only joking."

Slowly, I tear myself away from his shoulder and look him in the eyes. There are glints of mayhem swirling in them, and the left corner of his lip is tugged up in a smirk.

"You are not the only one with a sense of humor," he says. "They're not home. You have nothing to worry about."

"What do you mean? Where are they?"

"With any luck, they'll be fast asleep in their hotel room."

"Hotel room?"

He nods. "In Guadalajara. I hope you do not mind that I asked Scotty to give them the tickets you won during the masturbation contest. You said you did not wish to use them, so I thought it would be a good opportunity."

"For what?"

He winks at me. "For what is about to happen. As I said earlier, Benito broke you. Now, we are going to break his possessions. "

My mouth falls open in surprise. "It's the middle of the night and we're in a residential area. I'm pretty sure if the neighbors hear glass smashing, they'll call the police."

"You need not worry about them, either. While I was getting ready, Brody and Scotty went door to door."

"And did what, exactly? Threatened them into silence?"

He snorts a laugh as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two syringes. "You could drop a bomb in the center of the neighborhood, and they still would not hear."

"The entire neighborhood? They've drugged all of them?"

Abi rolls his eyes. "There are only three other houses, it's not as if they sedated thousands."

"You can't just drug an entire cul-de-sac into submission. Jesus, Abi. What if one of them had a gun?" As soon as the words are out I hold my hands up in surrender. "Never mind. Sometimes I forget we're dealing with psychopaths whose arsenal could put the United States military to shame. Forget I said anything."

"I couldn't forget this moment if I tried," he says, his voice taking an affectionate tone. "Now, let's get started. I am going to set you down. When I do, you will take a hammer to everything he owns. Once it is done, I am going to fuck you on their bed." He bridges the few inches separating us and grabs my ass with an unbearable grip. "I am going to make you scream my name."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"You may call me Abi," he says with a ridiculous wink. He leans closer and takes my earlobe between his teeth, flicking his tongue rapidly against my skin. "I am going to come inside you. Fill you up until you're mine." I try to speak—not sure if I want to object or beg him to take me right here, right now—but before I can get a word out, I'm being backed against the foyer wall. As I try and fail to catch my breath, he yanks my shirt over my head, tossing it behind him, Goddess knows where. He falls to his knees and tugs at my shoes, launching them over his shoulder. Finally, he removes my pants, and I'm standing naked before him, my entire body on display. He drinks me in like he's dying of thirst. No one has ever looked at me the way he does. We're standing in a home where I was made to feel like nothing. Where I had to sit in a fucking chair and watch a spiteful, hateful man steal my boyfriends from me, night after night. Now, it's different. Things have changed. Where Benito once looked at me like I was pathetic, Abi stares at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the world. And maybe I am. To him, at least.

"Turn around," he growls, and I happily oblige. I don't know what he has in store for me, but I trust Abi Kincaid with my life. He grabs me by the hips, his thumbs kneading into my cheeks, pulling them apart and leaving me bare before him. "Arch your fucking back, Tatum. Do not make me ask again."

Sweet, merciful Rinna, I cannot. His voice has absolutely no right sounding as sexy as it does when he takes on that domineering tone. It makes me want to please him. So, wanting to be his good boy, I follow his instruction, arching my back and guiding it closer to him.

"I could stare at your hole for days," he muses, but I'm not sure he's even saying the words to me. He sounds drunk on lust. A light flashes behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, he's got his phone aimed at my exposed entrance. I open my mouth, but he quickly shakes his head. "Nyet." He presses his thumb roughly against my hole, making me gasp. "It belongs to me. I will photograph it if I wish." As if he's trying to prove a point, he dives in, swiping his tongue across my pucker, making me cry out his name.

"Abi!"

"That's it," he says between licks. "Scream. I want everyone on this cul-de-sac to know you belong to me." Considering he's admitted to drugging every resident in the neighborhood, I'm pretty sure we're in the clear, but I ignore logic and give in to my inner-slut, screaming his name at the top of my lungs. My cock is leaking something fierce, and I reach down to stroke myself, but his palm stings sharp when it connects with my ass. "Did I give you permission to touch yourself?"

"Please?" I rasp. It's like my body's gone rogue, and all I can do is stand here and let it shake and tremble beneath his touch. "Make me come."

He growls, and then he dives forward again, his tongue teasing my hole. I can't tell if he's trying to slip inside me, or if he's just trying to drive me crazy, but if it's the latter, he's succeeding. He enters me, but he doesn't stay long. A moan escapes him, and I feel my hole clench around his tongue. When he pulls himself out of me, I look over my shoulder, and he's got a feral look about him. His eyes are crazed with arousal, and I'm pretty sure he wants to pull his alleged twelve inches—because, let's be honest, it's big, but there's no way it's that big. Maybe I'll have him measure it for me one day—out and shove it in dry. Much to my disappointment, he doesn't. He just stands up and glares at me. Turning, I take my cock in my hand and give it a stroke, wanting him to see what he's done to me. Needing him to know what he always does to me.

"Fuck me," I plead. "Abi, I want you to fuck me. I need you, Daddy."

He growls at me, then reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a hammer. Honestly, I don't even know he got an entire hammer into his pocket, but I don't have the will to ask, because I can't stop staring at his cock. It's pressed tight against his slacks and the bastard rests halfway down his thigh.

"It's so big," I say, licking my lips.

He nods. "It is. And you will take every inch. Understood?"

"Yeah," I manage, though only just. "Yeah, I'm taking all of it."

He smirks at me, one eyebrow raised as if he's daring me. "Why?"

"Because my hole belongs to you," I answer, hoping it's what he's wanting to hear. Judging by the way his cock twitches in his pants, I'm pretty sure it is .

"Correct." He holds the hammer out for me to take. "Now, let us get started. Break anything you wish. If you would prefer to set the home ablaze, you may do that too."

I blink at him, grinning like a fool. "Okay."

He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss. Our tongues touch and my entire body shudders, my dick twitching. When he pulls away, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun. I'm still staring at his massive bulge when he aims the weapon at my head and grins. There's a flash. A loud pop. Glass shattering. My cock throbbing when I look over my shoulder and see he's shot a photograph on the wall. The bullet has entered Benito's head in the picture, and the sight of him with a gaping wound in the center of his face sends a stream of pre-cum pouring out of my dick.

"Your turn," he says, pointing at the picture beside it. Without question, I turn around and smash the hammer into the photograph, sending glass falling to the floor. "Fuck," he mumbles to himself, but smashing the picture sends adrenaline rushing through me like an ocean torrent. I've never destroyed someone's property before, but apparently, it must be some sort of fetish, because the thought of breaking everything Benito holds dear has my body humming with excitement. I lift my arm to break another picture, but I'm lifted off the floor before landing the swing. I look over my shoulder and beam at Abi.

"Are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?"

He chuckles. "Soon. I just need to get you away from this broken glass. I wasn't thinking earlier, when I removed your shoes." He sets me on the sofa and shoves my shoes on my feet before pulling me back up. "Now, let us fuck shit up."

For the next thirty minutes, we hastily smash and crush everything Benito owns. The flatscreen he bought when he swiped my debit card and drained my bank account last year. The record collection he purchased using Bennet's tips from the bar. I don't stop until the carpet is littered with broken glass and shattered dreams .

All I can think of are the many ways Benito humiliated me during the last few months of our relationship. How he would force me to sit in that uncomfortable chair across the bedroom and watch as he stole the Bens from me. As he drove a wedge between Austin and me. I was an unwilling cuckold, and it seems I still have a bit of residual trauma left from the ordeal.

Turning around, my chest rises and falls heavily, my hard cock bobbing and jittering as I stare at Abi. He takes a step forward and wraps his hand around my shaft. "Good boy. Now, upstairs. We will destroy his room, then I will fuck you. Would you like that?"

"No," I whisper, rolling my hips forward until my cock is pressed against his crotch. "Down here. Don't think I can wait any longer."

He bites his bottom lip and smiles shyly. "What baby wants, baby gets." He lifts me up until I'm pressed against his chest, my cock snug between us. I roll my hips, not stopping when he mumbles, "Naughty boy," into my ear. He scans the room, his smile fading by the second. "It appears I didn't think this through. There's glass everywhere."

I nibble his earlobe. "There's a guest bedroom on the other side of the hall."

His fingernails dig into my ass, and I kind of want him to dig in deeper. To slice my skin to ribbons so I feel his presence tomorrow. Considering his alleged twelve inches are about to be inside me, I'll be feeling something, I'm sure.

When we reach the bedroom, Abi kicks the door in, making the walls rattle. I kiss his jaw, making my way up and down the side of his face. No matter how many times my lips touch his cheek, it isn't enough. It never is.

He lays me on the bed, lording over me like a predator about to devour his prey. Good. I want him to fucking consume me. To take away any trace of resistance still in me. To own me. To keep me forever.

"I'm yours," I whisper. "You know that, don't you?" The smile that splits his face is one for the record books. If there was any doubt before, it's gone now. In this moment, I am his. He is mine.

"And I am yours," he agrees. His hands reach for the tail of his shirt and lift, gifting me the sight of endless black fur covering his stomach. The hairs grow wide and wild, covering every inch of his pale skin. It climbs up to his collarbone, ending abruptly in a straight line where he keeps it trimmed. Needing to feel a connection, I hold my arms out for him.

"Closer."

He snickers as he leans in, hovering over me with one hand on the bed while the other unbuttons his jeans. "I want you to let go tonight, little one. Anything you wish to say or do—I will not tease you for it tomorrow." He leans closer, licking a stripe up the side of my face, making my entire body tremble.

I touch his cheek as he pulls away, not wanting the moment to end. "Will you kiss me?"

He chuckles softly, his breath warm as it gusts across my face. "It would be my pleasure." His lips graze mine, but he doesn't linger. When I try to follow after him, he presses his finger over my lips, stopping me. "I'll start by stating the obvious. I love you, Tatum."

My eyes water at the admission. He's said it so many times. It's nothing new. So, why does it feel like the first time? And why do I really, really want to say it back? He removes his finger from my lips, replacing it with his mouth. His tongue slides in with no resistance from me, and when we meet, it's like the rest of the world slips away. In this bed, there are no broken hearts or worries of where we're headed. Only the truth.

I am his. He is mine.

His fingers feather through my hair and I have to stifle a moan when he tugs mercilessly. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends my cock throbbing against his thigh. Rutting against him, it feels as if I'm coming undone at the seams. I just hope he's willing to stitch me back together, should I let myself fall apart in his arms.

His lips engulf my nipple, biting down hard, making me moan in a voice I don't even recognize. As he teases and tortures me into submission, I wrap my legs around his back, pulling him closer. He grinds against my ass, and Rinna Christ, superstar, it feels like he's rubbing the handle of a sledgehammer against me. His cock is fucking massive, and it makes me twitch with nervousness. The biggest dick I've ever taken wasn't anywhere near his size. I'm going to feel him for days.

Good.

When he pulls away, I let out a needy whimper that I am in no way proud of, but there's no judgment in his eyes once it's out, only Abi's encouraging smile. I watch as he stands and shoves his jeans down to his ankles. His underwear offends me on every level. They always have because they're essentially shorts that hang halfway to his knees. I soak in the sight of him, I finally realize why he wears them. His bulge extends halfway down his thigh, and there's a wet patch of fabric at his tip, which is less than an inch away from making its grand entrance. Jesus. The realization that I'm the reason for the current state of his massive erection makes my cock twitch and jitter like a severed power line. His eyes are locked on mine as he reaches for his underwear and slowly slides them down. Second by second, inch by inch, it feels like I'm coming out of my skin. I want to see it more than I've ever wanted anything. The longer it takes to unleash his beast, the heavier my heart pounds in my chest. I know I've seen it a few times, but each time he whips it out, it feels like the first time all over again. When he lowers the underwear until all that's left hidden is the head, he pauses, clearing his throat.

I lift my gaze to meet his and watch as he mouths, " All twelve ."

He pushes his underwear all the way down, sending his cock bouncing free, slapping against his stomach. The tip reaches well above his belly button, and my hole clenches on its own, because ... fuck. How is that supposed to fit inside me? It's a third fucking leg.

"Touch yourself," I find myself saying, not having meant to say it. The motherfucker must realize I'm high-key in awe, because he smirks as he wraps a hand around his shaft, staring down at it throbbing between his legs.

"Have you ever had one this big?"

I lick my lips, shaking my head. "Aside from when I sucked you, no."

Slowly, his hand moves up the length, and he rubs a pearl of pre-cum into his skin. The sound of slick skin fills the room, sounding absolutely obscene. "Are you going to take it all, Tatum? Do you think you can manage?"

"Please?" It's the only word I can say. The only one I can think of.

"Such a good boy," he whispers, releasing his cock as he climbs on the bed. He's on his knees in front of me when he points at the headboard. "Lie down. Let me open you up, sweetheart."

Fuck yes. Don't mind if I do.

I scurry back, not wanting to waste a single second. Once I'm on my back, he grabs the back of my thighs and pushes them forward. "Hold your legs for me." I do what he says, because I'm his good boy. He said so.

Grabbing my thighs, I hold them in place, whimpering when he slides between my legs, resting on his stomach. He's staring at my hole, but my eyes are locked on his ass, now fully visible. I've always been a strict bottom—it's the reason my relationship with Austin and the Bens never fully worked—but, with Abi, I kind of want to switch sides. He's got the nicest ass I've ever seen, and I'm struck with a mental picture of me knelt behind him, spreading his cheeks, his hairy hole on full display. In the past, he's admitting to wanting me to fuck him, and I think I'm game. For now, though, I want to be owned. To be dominated. He must realize how hungry I am for him, because, as his finger slides across my opening, we lock eyes, and he gives me a nod.

"I'm going to eat your ass like a fucking buffet, then I'm going to fuck you." It's not a request, it's simply fact. As if wanting to drive the fact home, he inches closer, and lifts my balls with his hand. His breath is warm against my hole, and then there's the sensation of wet pressure against it. Fuck. I love the way his tongue feels form-fitted to me. It's as if we were made for each other. Maybe we were.

His tongue slides against me, rougher this time, and there's a good bit of pressure against my hole. I know what he's trying to do—to work his tongue into me—but he can't seem to breach the barrier. I stare at the ceiling, trying to relax so I can grant him passage. It takes a while, but once I feel the tip of his tongue break the entrance, my entire body relaxes.

This is home. This is where he belongs. It's something he's told me so many times, and, yes, maybe I felt it before, but right now, I realize how true the words are. I don't want another day to go by without some part of him inside me. I want him in there as a constant reminder that I belong to him.

He's tongue-fucking me with force now, his hand reaching up and wrapping around my shaft. As he pumps me feverishly, I feel the edge drawing nearer. I'm not ready, though. I don't want to come yet.

"Abi, baby, you've got to give me a second," I plead. "I'm close. Please don't make me come."

He looks up at me and winks, not slowing down in the slightest. If anything, his grip tightens, and his stroke game intensifies. My eyes widen when I realize he has no plans of slowing down. His tongue slips out of my ass and travels the length of his lips. Staring at my cock, his hand moves faster.

"I will make you come. It is going to happen, Tatum. Come to terms with it, because the sooner you come, the sooner I can use it to fuck you. Does that sound good to you?" I bite my lip to stop myself from letting out a needy, desperate sound, and nod. " Good." His hand rises and falls, pumping my cock with abandon. I feel my balls draw closer to my body. Then, the pressure eases, and he takes my balls in his hand, squeezing. The pain is unbearable, but in the best possible way. I writhe beneath him, unable to form words. "I love you, Tatum. Tell me you know."

I nod frantically, needing his hands around me again. Needing to come more than I ever have in my life. "I know. Fuck, yes. More."

"And you love me, little one?" he says, gripping tighter.

The question takes me by surprise, and my eyes shoot open. "Abi." It's the only word I can get out. I can't tell him I love him. Not yet. Not now. The worst part is, I kind of want to say it, because I'm pretty fucking sure it's true.

There's a look of disappointment on his face, but it only stays there a second. He wraps his hand around my shaft and strokes me faster than before.

We work together, matching each other's rhythm with ease. Every time his hand reaches the tip, he circles his thumb around the head. I'm leaking like crazy, and each stroke sounds louder than the last. As I approach the edge, I reach up and grip the back of his neck, digging my nails into his skin. He groans, and whether it's from pain or pleasure, I'm not really sure, but he makes no attempt to stop me. The longer he strokes, the more I want it. Our eyes are on each other, and though there are endless declarations in each of our gazes, the only word I can get out is, "Close."

Fire flashes in his eyes as he drags me across the finish line, growling, "You need it, don't you? You want to shoot your load all over my cock so I can use it to fuck you." As if he's trying to prove a point, he crawls forward and grinds his massive cock against my hole, making me scream.

"Fuck," I gasp. It feels like I'm coming, but nothing's coming out. It's like he's taken my load by surprise and snuck an orgasm out of me before my body can catch up. No one has ever made me feel this good. They've never made me come undone so effortlessly. I'm seconds away when he barks my name, startling me. Looking me in the eyes, he nods.

"Come for me."

That's all it takes. His simple instruction is the only thing I need to push me over. My dick erupts, sending shot after shot of my load flying onto his chest. As I unload, he works a finger into my ass, making me cry out. I count three shots before the world goes white around me and the only thing that exists is his unbearable grip and my aching cock.

I try to catch my breath, but it's like sucking air through a straw. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to steady my breathing. His lips are on mine, giving me his air. His affection. The evidence of his love. I don't know how long we kiss, but I know I never want it to end.

When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva connects us, and neither of us move for fear of breaking that tether. Once it snaps and falls into my mouth, I swallow our shared saliva like I'm taking communion. His finger's still inside me, softly stroking my prostate. There's pressure again, and I realize he's slipping a second inside. His eyes tear away from mine when I gasp, and he stares at the place we're connected, his face downturned.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"You're so tight, little one. I don't think I'm going to fit." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm scared I'll rip you open."

"You've fucked me before," I plead. I'm not letting him back out of this. I absolutely refuse.

"I gave you the tip, Tatum. This is not child's play. I could really hurt you. Maybe you could just suck me off again."

The words are like being submerged in ice water. I've never felt this level of panic in my life. "You promised!" I cry, my voice coated in pathetic neediness. If he notices my tone, he doesn't make mention of it. Instead, a third finger breaches my entrance, pulling another moan out of me. "Please? You said you would." I'm clingy and irrational, but I can't stop my meltdown from happening. With anyone else, I might feel self-conscious about my tragic behavior, but part of me—maybe even all of me—knows he won't shame me for it. I'm practically sobbing when I grab hold of him. "Please? I'll so be fucking good for you, Abi. I swear. Please?"

He looks up at me, his face the picture of conflict. His cock has a life of its own, jerking and twitching every which way, proving just how much he wants this too. "I do not wish to hurt you."

I press my hand against his heart. "You won't. I swear to the Goddess, you won't."

He closes his eyes and sighs. "If it's too much, you have to tell me." Leaning forward, his lips touch mine, and I can taste my flavor on his tongue. There's a manly musk from the sweat of the day, and something a bit more earthy. It's a mixture that leaves me dazed, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him closer, because there's not enough tongue in my mouth. I want it to fill every square inch until I can no longer breathe. We can just live off his oxygen, providing each other air for the rest of our lives.

As his tongue tears through my mouth, his hand collects my cum from his chest, and the sound of it being slicked around his shaft fills the room. The tip touches my hole, making my body shake in anticipation. Pulling his mouth from mine, he stares into my eyes and strokes my cheek. "Are you ready?"

I sniffle, my eyes suddenly damp. I have no idea why I'm almost crying, but I remember his words from earlier, telling me nothing I say or do in this room is wrong. That whatever I want is mine, because I belong to him, and he always takes care of his possessions.

"I need you," I admit. "Like the fucking air I breathe, I need you all the time."

His eyes do this funny little thing where they appear dazed and awestruck at the same time. Goddess, why does he have to be so adorable? Why the fuck did he have to worm his way into my heart? And why does the thought of him slipping back out again feel like a sucker punch? He grunts, slowly rocking his hips forward, but stalls before entering.

"Little one?"

"Yeah?"

"I worry your cum won't be enough. Is there lube upstairs?"

I shake my head, pointing at the chest of drawers across the room. "There should be a bottle in the top drawer." When Abi stands and walks away, I'm greeted by the sight of two furry globes bouncing with each step he takes. "Wait, bottom drawer," I shout, feeling fucking frantic, because his hairy ass is doing things to me, and I want to see more. As Abi bends over and roots through the drawer, his cheeks spread apart, gifting me with his hairy hole. I want to run my tongue up the length of his crack and devour every inch. My hand is around my shaft, pumping slowly as he searches for the lube.

He clears his throat, pulling me out of my horny headspace, and when I look up, he's staring at me from over his shoulder. "If you wanted to see my ass, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart. You did not need to invent an imaginary bottle of lube to use as your scapegoat." He stands, pulling his cheeks away from each other, his eyes locked on mine. "Do you like it?" I can tell he's trying to play it cool, but I know Abi Kincaid better than I know myself. He needs reassurance.

"I could stare at it for days," I admit.

"You can stare at it for the rest of your life, if you want. Now, is there really lube in this room or do I need to search upstairs?"

"Top drawer."

He snickers, shaking his head slowly like my actions are the most amusing thing he's ever witnessed. Once he finds the lube, he uses a good portion of it to prepare himself for me. I've got my arms around my legs, holding my thighs to my chest, watching as he drizzles some lube down my crack, using the head of his cock spread it across my entrance. There's pressure and pain when he rocks forward, but there's also pleasure washing through me, knowing what's about to happen. In a few moments, he'll be inside, right where he belongs. He's going in bare, which, while we haven't discussed it ahead of time, comes as no surprise. We were both tested a couple of months ago, shortly after Brody killed Scotty's father. Honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. I don't want anything between us. Just skin on skin. Flesh on flesh. His massive cock in my not-so-massive hole.

The head presses against my entrance, and I'm in motion, letting go of one leg and grabbing the hand not aiming his dick at my ass. My grip is firmer than it has any right being, but I've never had anyone this big and I'm high-key freaking the fuck out.

"Scared," I whisper, worried the admission might make him want to stop. I don't want to talk him out of what he's about to do, I just want him to know. I want to share this with him. That's what couples do, isn't it? Share their feelings. Lean on each other for support. "Daddy."

He tightens his grip. "You can do this, Tatum. You are so much stronger than you think." His lips meet mine in a kiss, his tongue slipping inside so he can lick up the whimpers and clicks coming out of my throat.

He eases into me, soft and slow. So slowly each inch feels like a mile. I've had lovers in the past who hadn't cared much for my comfort. With Abi, it's as if my comfort is his only concern. The longer it goes on, the more restless I become, because it's starting to feel like he's got a never-ending dick. Pulling away, I look down to see he's only got a quarter of it inside.

"Are you alright?" he asks when he's roughly halfway in. "Is it too much?"

I close my eyes and shake my head. In truth, I'm not sure how much more I can manage, but I want to give this my all, because it's what he deserves, so I bear down, welcoming him home. With a roar that could put a lion to shame, I grab his furry cheeks and pull him forward. His eyes roll back in his head as he slides further inside, and I don't stop pulling until his pubes tickle my crack.

Closing my eyes, I steady my breathing, trying to get used to him. All the while, he's kissing my face, whispering words of encouragement.

"You're taking me so well, little one," he says to me.

"I've never been prouder of you," he says.

"I love you," he says.

"Tatum," he says. "Oh, Tatum. Such a good boy."

I'm his. Right now, on this uncomfortable bed, Abi Kincaid's cock is inside me, and he's making me his. I look up at him with tears in my eyes, unsure if it's from pain or from emotions over what he's giving me right now. His heart. What we're sharing—there's no taking it back. And, much to my surprise, I don't want to take it back. I want this, and I want it with him.

"Baby," I whisper, my body feeling boneless.

"I'm going to fuck you now. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I breathe. "Fuck me."

And so, he does. He pulls out, then eases himself back in. I'm still not used to the size, but I'm nothing if not resilient. Like a good little twink, I bear down each time he enters, and I clench as tight as I can when he leaves. As his cock owns my hole, all I can do is grip my thighs and allow him to explore these uncharted acres of his new property. It goes on for ages, which suits me well, because the longer it takes, the more I'm sure I never want this to end. I'm being stretched to my limit, but I still want more. I've never felt this full in my life. The way I stretch around him, eliciting gasps and grunts each time I clench, is like a religious awakening in its own right.

"I'm inside you," he says. Our faces are inches apart, and I want to meet him halfway with a kiss, but he shakes his head. "Tatum, I'm fucking you. I can't believe I'm finally fucking you."

"Harder." Every second he spends tunneling into me is like a lifetime. Each time he hits my special place, it sends me whimpering and whining into his neck, but it's not enough. "Abi," I plead. "Fuck me hard. Do I have to beg?"

He pulls away and stares down at me, his hips rolling in rhythm, never stopping. "That's what you need, little one? Do you need Daddy to destroy you?"

"Yes," I moan. "Wreck me. Make it hurt." I close my eyes and hold on for dear life, knowing what he's about to give will ruin me for other men. Good. Don't want them. Don't want any of them. Just Daddy. "So fucking good."

"Fuck, yeah," he groans, his hips moving faster. The fullness is almost unbearable, but I grip his neck tighter, my eyes begging for more.

"All the way out, then slam it back in," I beg. "I want to feel every inch."

"All twelve?" he asks with a wink. "Or are they still alleged?"

"Don't care," I groan. "Could be ten. Could be twenty. Doesn't matter how big, I'm gonna ride it for the rest of my life."

His eyes widen. "Yeah?"

I nod frantically as I reach down and take myself in my hand. "Every day. Every hour. Every second." The sound of slick friction fills the room, coupled in concert with the slapping sounds our skin makes when he's balls deep. He fucks me like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do. What he's giving me—the way he's opening me up in a way I've never been opened before—is like a gift from the Goddess herself. An endless reminder that I'm worthy. That I deserve what he's offering.

"Little one ... I-I'm going to?—"

"Come," I beg. "Abi, I need it. I need you inside me."

His hips are working faster than before, pulling almost all the way out before barreling back in. Every thrust is like an explosion, sending sparks of pleasure dancing up and down my spine. He slaps my hand away from my cock and takes over, pumping my shaft each time he enters and exits my hole. I don't know how he fits so perfectly around me, but my own hand doesn't even feel as natural as his. It's as if in her infinite wisdom, the Goddess knew I would need him, just as much as he needs me, so she sculpted us each with the other in mind.

"Tell me you love me," I cry out.

Our noses touch, and I don't know that I've ever felt as close to someone as I feel right now. "I love you, sweetheart. I'm yours."

"Mine," I agree, meeting each of his thrusts with one of my own. I slide a hand down his back until it rests on his ass. I need it closer. He must realize, because he places all his weight on one hand and grabs my wrist. Bringing it to his mouth, he swallows me to the knuckle and guides me back to where I was. He doesn't stop, just guides me further until my fingers slide into his crack. The next thing I know, he's pressing the tip of my finger inside him, easing me in.

The moment I'm engulfed in his warm passage, I lose all control, and I feel pressure mount in my spine. He's going to make me come again. It's been less than fifteen minutes, and I'm ready to shoot the biggest load of my life.

"Abi—Daddy ... I'm gonna come. You're gonna make me come again."

"Do it," he pleads. "Come with me. I'm right there with you." He lets out a growl and throws his head back, lost in his pleasure. "Come on my cock, Tatum."

I explode, painting his chest with my second load of the evening. It's even stronger than last time, going on and on until it feels like I'm shooting nothing but air. When I finally look down, it's still jetting out of the tip. I have no idea how, but it feels like my semen source is never-ending, and I'm truly afraid this moment will never end. We'll be stuck in an unstoppable circle of pleasure.

"Fuck. Tatum. You're milking me, baby. I can feel you ... I feel you—Everything. This is everything." His mouth hangs open, and he's fucking smiling like it's the last thing he'll ever do. "I love you," he manages, and it's the first time I feel the words. Truly feel them. They're tangible, hanging in the air in front of me, bumping and crashing until words of my own work their way up my throat.

"Abi?" I wait for him to look at me, and when he does, I offer something that isn't mine to give. Hope. I cup his cheek. "I love you, too."

The words surprise him just as much as they surprise me. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open like he's going to say something, but the only thing that leaves him is a groan. His hips stop all movement, and he just stays there, his eyes rolling back in his head as he sobs my name. Warmth spreads inside, and it's only now I realize he's coming. There's no protective barrier keeping it out. His cum is coating my insides, making me his.

"Again," he pleads. I've never heard him sound so desperate.

"I love you," I say again, squeezing his cock even harder, milking him for all he's worth. "I'm yours, Abi."

He falls on my chest and wraps his arms around me, holding on for dear life. His body is shaking, and whether he's rocked with pleasure or if he's just overwhelmed by my admission, I can't be sure. I hold him through it, clinging to him like a life raft in the center of the sea. Once his body is still and the only sound in the room is our matching breaths, he pulls away from my chest and stares at me.

My cheeks are warm with embarrassment, because even though I meant the admission in the moment, I'm terrified he's going to question me on my reasoning. I'm pretty sure I still mean the words, if I'm being honest, but I don't think I'm ready to broach that subject yet. He can read me like a book, though, and instead of second guessing my declaration, he leans in and kisses me softly.

We stay like this for a while, me watching him, him watching me. Eventually, he pulls away and moves to stand. My asshole aching, I sit up, bringing my knees to my chest as I wrap my arms around them. Abi turns, and I'm gifted the sight of his cock, coated in our cum which is now white and frothy from the friction. He grabs his gray slacks from where they were discarded earlier, startling and dropping them on the floor again when I shout, "Wait!"

Turning his head, he arches an eyebrow at me. I grab my phone from where I tossed it on the bed earlier and bring up my camera, snapping a quick photo of his ass.

"For later," I explain, locking my phone and placing it beside me on the bed.

He just stands there, laughing to himself as he grabs his discarded pants with his toes and kicks them into the air, catching them with ease. As he slips into them, he lets the waist linger beneath his cheeks, giving me an unobstructed view of the promised land. "If you would like to take more photographs to add to your collection, I'm happy to pose."

My lips curl into a grin as I fall back into my default setting of sassy son of a bitch . "I've seen enough of your big hairy ass to last me a lifetime, thank you very much."

"Perhaps," he says, and for reasons I don't quite understand, he bends over, exposing every inch of himself. Mother of all that is holy, his hole is perfection. A dark dusting of fur that swirls around his pink pucker. Part of me wants to dive off the bed and press my lips against it, offering it a goodnight kiss. Obviously, I resist that urge, because I'm not a wild animal incapable of rational behavior. It's a well-fought battle, though. "Collect your things and get dressed. We will destroy what's upstairs, and then I will fuck you on their bed."

My eyes bulge at the suggestion. "I think I'm going to need a little time to ..." The words die on my tongue when he turns around, showing me his still-throbbing erection. I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped beating entirely. "... recover."

He strokes himself slowly—motherfucking obscenely—as he cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. "You told me anytime I want, earlier, did you not?"

"Yes, well," I huff, forcing an eye roll when really I want to roll my tongue around his cock. "I was in the midst of a vicious buggering. You can't believe a word that comes out of my mouth when I'm being fucked."

He looks pained for a moment, and it takes a second for me to realize he may think I'm alluding to the way I declared my love for him while in the throes of passion. He opens his mouth like he's going to ask for clarification, only to snap it shut and give me a nod.

I could reassure him. I could put him at ease by saying those three words again, but I don't. And, with each second that passes, the silence seeps through the room like a fog, hiding and hoarding the admission I made earlier.

There's hurt on his face, and I'm the one who put it there. The worst part is, no matter how much I want to take his hurt away, I just sit here, letting the silence spread around us.

"I would like to fuck you again, if you'll allow it," he finally says. I look at him, surprised to find him smiling. "Will you let me?"

I can't give him the admission he deserves, but I can give him this. So, I nod. "Yeah. You can fuck me again."

Five minutes later, after we're both dressed, Abi picks me up, places me on his hip, and carries me toward the stairs. My hands cling desperately to him as I suck his neck, wanting to leave my mark. Tomorrow, I want our friends and family to see the purple and blue marks left on his porcelain skin. He can wear it as his scarlet letter, and maybe if I ask nicely, he'll give me one to wear as well.

I continue sucking as he reaches the landing and pauses in front of Benito's bedroom. With a scream that could rival a slasher flick victim, he lifts his leg and kicks the door off its hinges, the same way he did downstairs.

I don't stop sucking his skin. Not when he sucks in a quick breath, not when I hear him mumble something in Russian, and not when I hear another voice whimpering in the corner of the room.

"Please don't hurt me," the voice says, and it's one I recognize, but can't quite place. Reluctantly, I pry my lips away from Abi's neck long enough to look over my shoulder, and what I see makes my blood run cold. "Tater Tot?"

There, in the corner of the room, is my ex-boyfriend, Benjamin. My Benji. For reasons I don't understand, he's inside a large metal cage, his arms wrapped around his legs, holding them to his chest, his body shaking with nerves.

Is he in a fucking dog crate?

"Benji?" As soon as I get the name out, it's like someone's flipped a switch inside his head. He lets go of his legs and lunges forward.

"Tatum!" He reaches through the bars of his cage, sticking one hand out for me, flailing it desperately. I don't understand what the hell is going on, but the facts don't matter right now—Benji does. I rush over, falling to my knees when I reach him, grabbing his hand and holding on for dear life. Benji's got a sleepy smile on his face, and he's staring at me like my presence is the greatest gift he's ever been given. He uses his other hand to grip my wrist, and I have to fight back a wince as his nails dig into my skin. "Where have you been? I looked everywhere!" He pulls my hand inside the cage and holds it against the side of his face just staring at me with his big blue eyes. His hair is longer than when I left. Usually, he keeps it short on the sides with a little fluff of blond hair at the top. Now, it's frizzy all over, and it looks like it hasn't seen a hairbrush in months.

I search for the latch, but my stomach twists into knots when I find it's padlocked. "Benji? Babes, where's the key?"

He shakes his head. "It's okay. I've only been here a couple of days. When Nito gets home, he's gonna let me out. He promised."

I clench the hand not holding Benji into a fist, trying my best to bite my tongue. "A couple of days? He's kept you in here the whole time he's been gone?"

Benji's smile radiates pride. "I told him I could be his good boy again. This is my way of proving it." He bites his lip and looks away, staring at the wall. When I turn to see what he's staring at, I notice a large dry erase board secured to the wall where a picture of the Bens, Austin, and myself once hung. On the board, Benji and Bennet's names are written in large, hastily scrawled letters. There's another name scribbled at the bottom, but I can't make out the handwriting. Green checkmarks and red frowny-face emojis fill the small boxes next to their names. Benji's are mostly sad faces and red slashes. Bennet's column has a little less red and a bit more green, though not by much. The third name has pink hearts scattered all over the place, making it look like a poorly constructed Valentine's Day card.

"What the hell is that?" I ask.

"That's our scoreboard. Nito put it up a few days after you left. He said he needed to monitor us so we don't end up like you and Austin." He darts his eyes away from me and stares at the floor. "I've been a bad boy, Tate. I try and try to do better, but I just keep messing up." He sniffles, and it's a sound that cracks my ice-cold heart in two. "Nito said you left because of me, so I've been trying to be good so Bennet doesn't leave me, too. That's why Daddy put me in here—so I could think about how bad I've been and what I can do to fix it." He forces a smile—the same forced smile I used to wear when I would sit in the chair, waiting for them to finish so I could go to sleep—but it's only now that I notice the tear stains on his cheeks. "He's gonna be so proud of me when he gets home. I just know it."

The trip to Guadalajara was supposed to last a week. That son of a bitch planned to leave Benji in a goddessdamned cage for seven days. It's a revelation that makes me want to burn this fucking townhouse to the ground.

"Where's the key?" I ask, fiddling with the padlock.

"Nito wears it on a chain around his neck. He's gonna open it up as soon as he gets home, though. He said so."

I draw in another deep breath and give Benji a nod. "Abi?" He doesn't respond, just grunts in acknowledgment. "Do you think you can break this lock somehow? "

Benji's eyes widen, and his grip tightens around my wrist. He's shaking his head frantically. "No! You can't. He's gonna be so mad if he gets home and sees I'm not in here anymore."

I growl at him. "He locked you in a fucking cage for a week without food or water. If you think I'm leaving you here, you're fucking high."

"I've got water." He points at a small water dispenser that's been attached to the side of the crate. There's a long silver straw at the bottom for Benji to suck on. An overwhelming rush of anger floods my veins. "And Nito says the human body can go without food for weeks. Besides," he says, letting go of my hand long enough to squeeze his non-existent stomach. "He said I've been letting myself go, so my body can probably feed off my fat for a few weeks if they decide to extend their trip."

"I'll kill him," I mutter. "And Bennet just went along with this?"

Benji shakes his head. "Nito said it's our little secret. I think he took Bennet with him, because I ain't heard from him since they left. Nito took Bennet away from me a week ago because I was bad. I miss him so much, Tater Tot."

The Bens have been best friends since they were toddlers. They're basically brothers, minus the familial relation. When we were together—before Benito tore us apart—the jealous looks they'd give each other when I'd pay a bit more attention to one than the other was always like a cold bucket of water being flung at my face, ripping me out of the moment. They love each other on a deeper level than anything I've witnessed before. If Bennet knew what Nito had done to Benji, I'm pretty sure it would be the straw that broke the twink's back.

"I swear on everything, Abi, if you don't break this cage open, I'll—" My words end with a squeak when Abi reaches over me, grabbing the flimsy bars keeping me from Benji, and pulls them apart with minimal effort. The action creates a gap small enough for Benji to slide through, but he's backing away from us. Thankfully, there isn't much room for him to retreat. I look at Abi. He's grinding his teeth back and forth, and he's got a hand clenched at his side. "Babe?"

He blinks, shaking his head like he's trying to clear a mental fog. "Da?"

"Thank you," I say. He doesn't respond, just kneels beside me and places his hands on each side of the crate.

"Benjamin?" He waits for Benji to look up at him before flashing a smile that doesn't seem terribly genuine. His voice is softer than I've ever heard it. "My name is Kincaid. I've heard a lot about you."

Benji closes his eyes tightly. "He's gonna be so mad when he sees you broke the cage." He sniffles, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "He told me if I tried to get out, he'd take Bennet away forever." When he opens his eyes, they're sadder than I've ever seen them. Benji is normally such a happy, cheerful little guy. During the six months I've been away, Nito has taken that happiness and smashed it down to dust. Where Benji once radiated pride, he's now curling in on himself in fear. "I haven't seen Bennet in so long." His jaw is trembling like he might burst into tears at any moment. "I miss him so much, Tater Tot. He's my?—"

He's Benji's other half. Twin stars sparkling side by side. Beginning to end.

I have to physically bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something that will make him even more upset. "You're okay, babes." Wanting to lift his spirits, I point at the board. "What's that last name at the bottom?" Reaching through the bars, I cup his cheek. "Does someone have a new boyfriend?"

Any hope of having this be a gentle change of topic dies when Benji's lip quivers and his eyes fill with tears. "Parker. He's Nito's new boyfriend."

I cock an eyebrow. "Just Nito's? What about you and Bennet?"

"Parker don't like us touching on him when he's with Nito. He doesn't even want us in the room. Nito tried to make us sit in the chair and watch, but then Parker got mad. We don't get to watch them at all now. We have to stand in the corner facing the wall and wait until it's over."

"The more I hear of this Benito fellow," Abi says, "the less I care for him."

"Don't talk about him like that," Benji responds, but it's clear his resistance is fading. The little guy looks all tuckered out. Whatever happens next, we need to get him out of here and back to my parents' house. Mom and Dad have always loved the Bens. They won't mind him staying over.

"Abi?" I look up at him, my expression pleading. I need him to make this right, because I don't know how to. He's told me I can trust him with my heart, and my heart is breaking right now. "Please?"

He stares at me for a moment like he's trying to read my mind. It happens in a flash. Abi reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe. The cap falls to the floor, and before Benji can react, Abi jabs him in the arm and plunges the serum into his bloodstream. Benji's eyes widen and his body shakes. Having taken the cocktail more times than I can count, I know what's in store for Benji. Warmth. Fear. Peace. Sleep.

"What was that?" Benji asks, his voice frantic. He looks terrified, and all I want is to cradle him close and tell him it's okay. Abi must know what I need, because he reaches down into the crate and pulls Benji through the opening he's created. Motioning toward the bed, he urges me over. I take a seat on the edge and watch as Abi lowers Benji into my lap. Much to my surprise, Benji makes no effort to scurry away. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and holds on tight.

"Why did you have to leave?" he asks with a sniffle. "You didn't even say goodbye."

"I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, kissing his forehead. The endearment isn't meant in a romantic manner, but when I look up at Abi, he must think it was, because he won't make eye contact with me. I want to reassure him that any chance of a rekindled romance is off the table, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

Eventually, Benji's tears stop, and his breathing steadies. He's fallen asleep on my lap, and I can't bear the thought of waking him. We can't stay here, though. The neighbors will wake eventually. Abi must be thinking the same, because once Benji's settled, he scoops him up.

"Will he try to run when he wakes up?" he asks.

"Probably. If he thinks it'll lessen his chances of losing Bennet or Benito, he will."

Abi nods. "Then we will tie him to the bed." He nudges his head toward the door. "I'm going to take him to the car. Grab anything he might need and meet us out there." He kneels, holding Benji against his chest as he gives me a quick kiss. "I'm sorry I did not get to fuck you again, Tatum."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed too, but getting laid isn't a priority at the moment. All that matters is getting out of this Goddess-forsaken townhouse and carting Benji to safety.

"Don't worry," I say, trying to sound reassuring. "We've got all the time in the world."

He stares at me, his stoic expression hiding away his feelings. As much control as he has over his face, his voice is filled with cracks of doubt. "All the time in the world," he agrees.

Once he's gone, I pack a small bag of Benji's items. Shirts and shorts. Matching outfits for Bennet. Once we get Benji settled, I'll need to head across town and try to find Bennet. It shouldn't be hard, truthfully. Benjamin is Bennet's entire world. He has no friends outside the relationship, so if he isn't sleeping on the pull-out sofa in Nito's office at the bar, he'll be at his mom's.

I rush around the room like a lunatic, collecting anything else they might need. Once I'm done in the bedroom, I head into the bathroom, across the hall. I'm putting Benji's deodorant into the bag when I hear a thud overhead, startling me. There's another thud. It sounds like someone's walking above us. The only room above is the attic, and last time I saw it, it was filled with mementos and boxes from our pre-polyamorous lives.

There's a pair of small scissors in the medicine cabinet, so I grab them, wedging them between my index and middle fingers, pointed outward. It's my only means of protection, and for all I know, there could be a home intruder in the attic. I walk slowly out of the bathroom, then to the end of the hall. The door at the far side of the townhouse leads up to the attic, and when it opens, it squeaks from disuse. Above, a set of feet scurry away, and each step I take toward them fills me with fear. Once I'm upstairs, my eyes bulge.

The room isn't how I remember it. Before I left, boxes and suitcases filled the space to its limit, making the attic look like something you'd see on an episode of Hoarders . Now, it's empty, save for a stained, twin-size mattress. There's no bedding or sheets to be seen, and no pillow either. There's an old air conditioner in the window looking out on the back yard, and it's blasting freezing air through the small room. Everything else is gone. There are no boxes. No discarded relics from the Bens' lives before our relationship.

As I slowly approach the bed, I hear a sniffle, and when I turn around, it feels like I've been pushed from a plane without a parachute. There, in the corner, is Bennet. He's curling in on himself with his knees tucked against his chest, his arms folded around them, holding on for dear life. He isn't looking at me. He's just staring at the floor like a caged animal who's given up hope of ever tasting freedom.

"Bennet?"

His head jerks up, and when our eyes meet, he lets out a shaky breath. Neither of us speak, we remain locked in place, staring. Eventually, I take a step forward, only to pause when I see his face flinch. Kneeling, I hold my arms open like an owner coaxing his fearful dog out from under the bed.

"Bennet, it's just me," I say, but he just stares at me, still in a haze. "It's Tatum. "

He blinks a few times before my voice finally registers. "Tate?" The second I nod, he's in motion, vaulting up from the floor and sprinting toward me. He jumps into my arms, wrapping his body around me. I'm not sure where I find the strength to hold him steady without falling, but somehow, I manage.

He's not saying anything. I ask him over and over what he's doing up here, but he just holds on to me with all his strength. When he refuses to acknowledge me, I know I need to do something. I'm holding him steady, but he doesn't seem to have any plan of letting me go, and I know I'm not strong enough to walk him down two flights of stairs. So I walk us toward the small mattress and ease down until we're seated.

The scent of ammonia is strong around us, and it takes me a moment to realize what the familiar scent is, and where it's coming from. For reasons I don't understand, the mattress smells like someone's soaked it in urine and allowed it to marinate in the Texas heat for weeks on end. It's a vile, unbearable stench, so I make the conscious effort to breathe through my mouth.

"I missed you," I say, kissing his scalp. The longer he sobs, the more my heart cracks at the sound. I notice something on the wall ahead of me, and it takes me a second to realize there's something written on it. The room is dark, so I can't make out the words no matter how hard I try.

I reach into my pocket and grab my phone, typing a quick message to Abi. Less than a minute later, Abi's footsteps echo up the stairway leading to the attic, and then he's in front of me, kneeling. His eyes are focused on Bennet who still isn't speaking.

"We need to get them home," I finally say. "I can't carry him."

Abi nods, and as he does, he takes another syringe out of his pocket. "Will we need this?" he asks me.

Truthfully, I'm not sure. Bennet's never been violent, and I don't see that changing in the near future. He has to be emotionally exhausted, though, and this would go a lot smoother if he were asleep. Then, he could just wake up and all of it would be over. He'd be at my parents' house with people who love him.

He doesn't flinch when the needle pierces his skin. He just sighs, sounding exhausted. Unlike Benji, he doesn't seem afraid. If anything, his body going slack against me tells me he's finally feeling the sweet rush of relief.

It takes less than ten minutes for his snoring to fill the empty room around us. Abi carefully takes Bennet out of my arms and into his, then motions toward the stairs. I follow behind, but pause when I reach the wall. Now that I'm closer, I can finally see what's been written. In white chalk, Bennet has written the words "I'm a bad boy, but I can be better," over and over. The words are small, and he's left almost no space left untouched.

I don't know if the words are a form of punishment from Benito, or if Bennet's simply gone a bit mad during his isolation, but I'm not letting this continue another second longer. I don't give a fuck if we have to tie them to a bed for the rest of their lives, I'm not letting Benito touch them again.

I spot the used piece of chalk resting on the floor. Using the cape attached to my shirt, I wipe away the horrible words Bennet's written. Once I've grabbed the chalk, I leave a warning of sorts in the center of the chalkboard.

They're mine.