A Kink in the Tail

Chapter 34 - Adios

Cyrus didn't care that it was the middle of the night, more precisely the first dark hours of the day, he banged on the door as hard as he could. When no one came immediately he started a loud methodical drumming on the door.

"Open the fucking door. It's me, Cyrus." There were three apartments or suites on each of the building's 15 floors, and if Lewis and his men didn't open up soon they'd have to contend with curious neighbors.

It was a sour-faced Lewis who finally came to the door, looking uncharacteristically casual, barefoot dressed only in a wrinkled white T and boxers. Opening the door a crack he gave Cyrus just enough space to rush in and bowl him over before he had time to step back.

Lewis quietly and purposefully closed the door, pushing down the frustration he felt. He was dead tired and craved at least one decent night's sleep. He turned toward the human who was standing in the middle of the room looking demented. What was it about humans liking drama? He noticed a duffle bag over one shoulder and another that looked like a drag bag over the other. The kid was breathing heavily and although he was trying hard to focus, looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

Cyrus scanned the room for unpleasant surprises, he was feeling twitchy. He saw a pillow and blanket tossed on the couch and figured that Lewis had been sleeping there. His suit and a fresh shirt were draped neatly over an armchair. The fact everything looked normal finally let him relax. He told himself he was safe. He swallowed his nerves and said as calmly as he could.

"Theodore tracked me down and earlier this evening he was waiting for me when I got home." Cyrus felt like he had let them down and wasn't sure how Lewis and the rest would take the news.

By this stage, a sleepy Barnes and Santos had come out of their bedroom, and on the other side of the apartment, Paul was doing the same. He was in his shirt and trousers, bizarrely tidy for that hour of the morning, but like everyone else in the room, he looked exhausted. Paul pulled out a chair, turned towards the boy, and gestured for him to sit.

Cyrus shook his head, too strung out to sit. He'd planned his speech and had no intention of putting it off. So looking rather stiff, his hands clutching the straps of his bags, he remained where he was, staring at the Guardian. Paul was amused at Cyrus's histrionic stance and sat down, he gave his trousers a little tug at the knees to get comfortable and crossed his legs. Even sitting he looked like he should be on the cover of a magazine.  He wondered why his brain was registering useless detail. As his eyes ran over Lewis and his men, taking in their appearance; then the room with its lingering smell of coffee and pizza he knew his mind was working overtime to restore normalcy and order.  His way of calming the panic he had been feeling all night.  Cyrus finally let out a long drawn-out sigh.

"We await your story with bated breath....don't we?" He cocked an eyebrow at his men, who followed his lead and found somewhere to sit.

"As you're here and alive, I assume you came up with a way to escape." He drawled.

Lewis was not amused, and definitely not a fan of melodramatics. Feeling underdressed he discreetly put on his trousers and shirt and joined the rest with a slight sneer to lips.

"He worked out from my scent that I had been at Shaun's flat and that I must have had something to do with Adam getting away. I didn't know about scent and stuff back then, and apparently, he caught a whiff of me at the back of the building where I left the car. Once he met me he eventually put things together."

He finally dropped the bags with a thud. "He tied me up and kept asking me where Adam was." Cyrus' hands fell to his crutch and he involuntarily covered his genitally. His cock still ached from getting tugged.