Page 13 of Trapped

“Hey there, butterfly.” I smile fondly at his glazy scowl and watch him shiver as I trace the lines of his mask with a digit. Perfection. “I could let you hang there for hours.”

Tonight’s all about showing Robin my true colour. After all, copper symbolizes positivity and goodness, and is the bringer of good luck. With its tarnished glow, it stands for fire and pride. I may not have shown those traits yet today, but I will as the night goes on. I can be exactly who Robin needs, if my sweet, flapping butterfly can give in, let me blanket his wings and take him home.

To me.

His hands are no longer balled into fists, like before, when we stood across from each other at the start of the chase. Brothers versus participants. Fine laced masks versus plain, dark camouflage. Hunters versus prey.

“And I might just do that,” I decide, trailing my finger through his light-caramel hair, gingerly brushing it out of his face. “Let you hang in here for a bit. Let you think about—” Cocking my head, I pretend to think my carefully prepared repertoire through. Robin doesn’t take long to sputter.

“You can’t leave me hanging in here, man,” he wheezes, leaning in a little so I can brush his hair behind his ear. I don’t think he notices. My dark eyes collide with his wide, gray eyes. Wiggling once more, he tries to wrap his fingers around the glittering thread. When it glues against his palm, he swears under his breath.

“I can, and I will, pretty prey.” Letting my tips tease the exposed, flushed skin of his cheek, I drag them all the way down to his lips. I’d die to feel the pillowy wet treat of his mouth, but knowing Robin, he’d probably bite my finger off. The thought brings a smile to my face and instead I let my digits linger on his chin, dipping my nails just a little into his skin.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Robin shivers, the sound making a flutter brush through the pit of my stomach.

“Getting to know you,” I hum. If it was up to me, I’d stay here, cut him out of his uniform and devour his skin centimeter by centimer, relishing his scent and the texture of his flesh. Fuck, I’m hungry for him.

But a spider isn’t anything if not patient. So with a final brush over his warm, smooth skin, I pull my fingers back and slowly get up until I’m once more standing tall. Since his wriggling has caught him entirely into my web, Robin needs to crane his neck to glare up at me, which he does. Then slowly, he unfurls his fingers, the only part aside his face that is not captured by the thread, as if he’s trying to reach for me. His thumb and index finger end up being glued to copper silk, rendering the rest of his hand useless. His full, curvy lips quiver and his eyes blink a few times though that doesn’t diminish the way his gorgeous, wide eyes stare into the world with a weird emptiness, proof that he’s still pretty drugged up.

“I’ll see you later, papillon,” I chirp, dropping my hands by my side. I catch his desperate gaze and this time my cock jerks inside my briefs. Fuckkk… to see him this way, so lost and completely in my clutches, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Turning around, I grin when I hear him mutter swear words, no doubt pointed directly at me.

“Hey! Come back you!” He shouts, sounding exasperated, right before I'm about to hide into the bushes.

Halting, I contemplate his order for the tiniest of devilish seconds. It’s not part of the plan I wrote out for tonight, but it sounds like a fun game. But no…noooo… honour comes to those who are patient. Fuck, isn’t that partially why I love spiders so much?

“I’m stuck here,” Robin wheezes, panting. The fight must have left him, because his voice is void of the usual sharpness. It actually sounds pretty…sweet. Soft, with a touch of smoothness to it, the tone a little higher pitched than when he utters his usual, one-syllable barks. No, there’s a fragility to this side of Robin and so far, I have only caught a glimpse of how beautifully I will make him fall apart for me. Right down to every delicate crack, before I’ll put him back together, then wreck him for fucking life. Until he understands that he belongs to me.

5

ROBIN

“Come back!” I call out once more, in vain. My voice has turned into a pathetic whisper while I watch him leave in a flutter of black and copper. And I’m still here, caught in a huge spider web. Caught in a horror movie.

My gaze flickers and I blink ferociously to keep my vision from swimming. It’s like the trees are waving at me, with big green claws. Faces are carved into their trunks. Smiling faces, sad faces, angry faces. A rough chortle explodes in my head and the web trembles under my skin and limbs. Turning my gaze, I peer up to the side. What if—

Squinting my eyes, I let out a pained whimper. My skin itches with fear, and if I try hard enough, I can just imagine a monster-sized spider crawling through its web, approaching me. I rattle my body once more, clambering my jaw shut. I won’t give anyone the pleasure of seeing me freak out here. But that spider, I can practically see it coming closer, with agile, gaunt legs and a big, black body. Pitched-black eyes and chelicerae hanging under those holes. Palps, with which they can inject venom, hold me, keeping me trapped in here.

Piégé…

“S’il te plait,” I beg. “Get me out of here.” My mind is playing tricks on me. I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from shaking from fear, unable to clear the fog from my already troubled thoughts.

Do you know what spiders do when prey gets caught into their web?

“I should never have come out tonight, should never have accepted that stupid invitation,” I hear myself mumbling. My heart pangs at the feeling of regret.

Then why did you?

“I don’t know anymore,” I whisper. “Sometimes I ask myself why I let him enrol me in Saint-Laurent in the first place.”

“But that would be a lie.” Those words definitely don’t come from my own mind. I tilt my head back and peer out into the darkness. At the trees. There are no longer faces carved into wood. Instead, the woods look their usual endlessness. Foreign and spooky.

Not a spider, I realize, but it’s the trees’ green tentacles which are approaching me slowly, thoroughly. I cry out in panic, body convulsing against the brilliant threads. We flutter as one in the midnight air, but they don’t release me. No, I’m left to accept the invasion of green feelers, reaching for me in their search for my mind. Probing my memories.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I choke out. But my mind is playing tricks on me, making me remember.

Spiders watch their prey getting trapped, reveling in the sensation of them getting stuck. They can let them hang there for hours.

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