Human Bait

Bonus #2: Ether Day

For the next hour, Rekkan plucked out a tune on the guitar while Pakket fed Fluffy #2 and told her about all five minutes of his sledding adventure.

"It would probably be too scary for you," the boy informed the bug. "But luckily, I'm very brave."

The doorbell rang. We had barely left the couch when the door burst open, and familiar voices flooded the hall. The loudest voice came from Pakket's grandmother.

"It's colder out there than an Infected's tits!" said Figgel.

Pakket broke into a run and met her in the entrance. "Grandma!" he said, burying his face in her stomach.

She patted his head fondly. "Look at you, already taller than a dragon!"

"Dragons aren't real, Grandma."

"Much taller, then."

While Figgel continued to talk to Pakket, the others greeted me and Rekkan. Nine-year-old Fennikk proudly showed off her Ether Day gift—a laser beam built into her bionic arm—and eight-year-old Razalu watched on with big eyes. Rekkan's aunt Serigg told us about the latest developments in her blossoming town. Then Serigg and Figgel took Pakket, Fennikk, and Razalu for their weekly kids night.

Before leaving, Pakket gave me a hug. "Bye, Daddy," he said.

I squeezed him tight. "Have fun, buddy."

Next, Pakket wrapped his arms around Rekkan's hips. "Bye, Papa."

"Be careful," said Rekkan, returning the hug much more gently than I had.

We waved goodbye from the fortress window. When the group disappeared from sight, we prepared for something I had been fantasizing about for far too long.

I sat down in a chair in the living room—the same one Rekkan had tied me to nearly a year ago after I stole from him. Now we would have a repeat of events, but one I would enjoy much, much more.

While I waited for Rekkan, I stripped off my pants. When my fingers closed over the hem of my shirt, I stilled, ensnared by old instincts. The shirt stays on. Why expose those ugly scars?

But Rekkan liked seeing me with my shirt off. And if I wanted to see all of Rekkan, it was only fair to allow him to see all of me.

I pulled the shirt off over my head and tossed it over the glass jar on the coffee table. "Sorry, Fluffy. You don't get to watch."

Rekkan entered. He managed several steps toward me before he froze. His eyes roamed over me and darkened.

"Fuck, Zaf..."

Not exactly an eloquent speech, but his deep, throaty voice and the way he looked at me did funny things to my stomach. As usual, his gaze made the ugliest parts of me seem not so ugly after all.

With renewed confidence, I leaned back in the chair and ogled the masterpiece before me. The broad shoulders, the sprinkling of chest hair. Boxer briefs hugged his solid hips, his muscular thigh, and his bionic leg.

His eyes fell to the flimsy white rope in his hands, and his brow furrowed. He scratched the stubble shading his jaw. "Are you really sure about this?"

"Very sure. Anyway, it's not like you haven't done this before."

My attempt at humor backfired, deepening his frown. "I don't think this is a good idea. What if after we start, you want to stop?"

"Then I'll tell you to stop, and you'll untie me."

"But what if you like it in the moment and then regret it later?"

Regret something I had been dreaming of for months? Not likely. I started to laugh, but when I saw the troubled squint of his eyes, I blew out a sigh.

"Rekkan... do you want me to tie you up, instead?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his lips hooked in a crooked smile. When I first heard his deep bass a year ago, I had been struggling against a net, fearing for my life. Now that same voice rumbled through me, sparking hot desire.

"Yes, please."

A minute later, Rekkan sat on the chair while I fumbled with the rope. Tying someone up was not nearly as easy as I had hoped. It didn't help when that someone was too large for the chair where they sat and too muscular for the soft, delicate rope. By the time I finished, rope snaked over the plane of his abs, coiled over his solid chest and shoulders, and strapped his thighs to the chair legs, but it all looked more decorative than restrictive. I had the sneaking suspicion that he could tear free as easily as shedding a shirt.

Rekkan appeared quite amused by my efforts but made no attempts to free himself from the pitiful bindings. He leaned back, watching me with that sexy half-smile and dark eyes. I realize that he was indeed fully restrained—not by the bindings, but by respect, trust, and adoration for me.

I could accept that.

I raked fingers through his hair, trailed them down his neck, traced the corded muscle of his shoulders. When my fingertips grazed his chest, he grated out a low groan that pulled my stomach tight. A good part of me wanted to shred through those bindings right now and pulled him up to standing so I could feel his whole body flush against mine.

Drawing a breath, I recentered and remotivated myself. I had not fantasized about this for almost a year just to abandon it when we had barely started.

I knelt in front of him and hitched fingers in the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down his waist.

For the next ten minutes, I delighted in the gasps and moans of the poorly-bound and overly-muscled man before me. When he threw his head back and closed his eyes, hips jerking against the restraints, victory surged through my veins and heat pooled in my core.

He drew a shaky breath and reopened his eyes, but his voice was husky and rough. "So, when are you going to untie me so I can return the favor?"

"Are you begging yet? Because I didn't hear a 'please.'"

A dark chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

Instead of answering, I got back to work.

*This is part of an anthology of lovely short holiday stories by my writing group, Flirtingwith30s

Come check out the other stories by clicking on the link in the comments!