Page 21 of Trapped

“Not a problem. I have a spacious dorm for the two of us.”

“That’s not what I meant.” But my heart hammers treacherously at those blunt words. “When did you see me that first time?”

“On November second last year.” Rather than taking me to the impressive double-case spiral stairs, he guides me through the narrow corridor of the castle, with its heavily adorned framed photos. Hundreds of students from various years, some even over one hundred years old, stare vacantly back at us.

My eyes widen at his confession. “That’s practically eighteen months ago!”

“Hmm,” he hums.

Enzo leads us to the South Wing, but we barely enter the hall when he surprises me by moving a large, metal knight aside, revealing a door. It carries the same ochre-coloured wall paint as the rest of the wall, but under the bodyguard’s hand, the nob cracks and the door opens with a tired, screeching sound.

“I’m a patient man, mon papillon. Come now, and come home.”

“What do you mean? I don’t—stop. Stop. Please.” Grabbing him by his wrist, I look down at the dark stairs. I’m afraid, the feeling so foreign, so unwanted, that sweat breaks out on my skin.

I dealt with fear a long time ago, and it’s not welcome right now. Yet here it is. And now that I have acknowledged it, it won’t go anywhere. Deep and heavy, it sits in my gut. “This is going too fast. I don’t understand.” My hands tremble, and Arsène must notice, because he grabs hold of my shoulders and pulls me flush against him.

“Dis-moi tout.”

The simplicity of his words make me nearly snort. Nearly. Because there’s nothing simple about this. “How can you just say the things you say?” Pulling back to look at him, I feel strength from my own words. “How can you do what you do? Spiders, and webs, and drugs, and chases.” Inhaling deeply on a shudder, I need to collect my thoughts before I can share them with him. Ironically, he waits patiently. “You had me trapped in a web for fuck’s sake, the entire night! You crawled after me, you t—touched me…”

“And you liked it?” His voice is light as a feather, his fingertips on my swollen crotch barely registering. I jerk away, glaring down, embarrassment crawling through the pit of my stomach, making my cheeks heat. I just came, how is it possible that I’m hard again?

“I—no. I don’t, this is not me.” He meets my scowl with the slightest of smirks on his lips. On those sensual, delicious lips. “You did this,” I snap, “You did this to me.” Touching my forehead with a brush of my fingers, a fresh surge of panic rushes through my body, only to go numb once it hits my mind. That fucking drug still rules my brain, albeit with ups and downs. I yank my free hand out of his, scowling, and seriously considering bolting away once more. “You gave me something, I can’t—I don’t…”

I wouldn’t get far.

“I did, butterfly, and you look so fucking sexy like this. Confused and trapped, nervous and aroused. You look like you’re all mine.”

His words make my stomach flutter.

I won tonight’s Wicked Chase.

What will I tell my dad? My brothers?

“That look,” Arsène muses, nudging my fingers away by placing his own hand against my forehead, rubbing it gently with his palm. “What is it that really scares you? Hmm?” His lips brush my ear. He has pulled me sideways against his front, leaving my eyes to scan the corridor. Perhaps keeping up the illusion that I can get away. When I don’t answer, he moves his hand back onto my crotch, bringing a jolt of desire through me. I hiss at the touch, then tighten my jaw. His lips caress my lobe, then I feel them suckling it on a hum. Oh, fuck… I fist my hand, my eyes glued to the wall. “That I’m a guy? Is that what scares you?”

I give him a forced shake of my head. My tongue feels like it has dried up inside my mouth, caused by the same heat that’s now licking through my insides.

“Then tell me what it is, papillon.” He gives Enzo a slight tilt of his chin, then cups my stiff cock through my pants. I let out a moan, unable to keep it down. My eyes must have slid closed, but they snap open when his strong hands grab my arms and pull them behind my shoulders, tight and nearly painful in their severe hold.

“This!” I shout, wriggling and sputtering as I am once more held captive. “Get your hands off of me!”

A rough laugh in reply.

“You trapped me,” I finally manage, the words sounding thick and croaky.

“Hmm, I did,” Arsène rasps. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” He moves us a little further, then turns me around, my back hitting the wall.

“No, I—” My eyes quiver as the truth hits hard. I did. Yes, I’d been terrified before. But looking back, the suspenseful invitation, the NDA I had to sign in order to partake, the promise that I’d been chosen by someone, it had started something foreign inside of me. Then tonight, the masks, the hallucinations, the chase, that web. Arsène’s touch. Something close to desire.

“You remember,” he purrs, and when I open my eyes I flinch when I see that he’s sunken down to his knees. “I see how your cock flexes beneath your clothes. Do you remember how much you wanted it? Don’t be ashamed, my sweet butterfly. My tragic artist. I’ll give you everything you need.” And while I’m still sputtering, he’s already moved on to unbuttoning my pants, leaving me staring down as the remainder of my garment falls onto the floor in a puddle, leaving me naked from below the waist. “Now, why don’t you put your cock in my mouth, Robin? And I’ll suck it real nice for you.” He looks up from beneath his lashes, making my movements stutter. One of my hands lands on his dark, slick hair. The strands feel even softer than I could imagine, and I inhale greedily, enjoying the texture on my fingers, the picture of Arsène sitting there, his mouth in front of my hard, throbbing cock, as he waits for me, a glorious combination of copper threads and embroideries and full, wet lips.

“Is it that easy, huh?” I ask.

His mouth slowly curls into a wicked smile. “Sometimes it is, mon papillon. Sometimes you know in a fraction of a second.”

“But what about the rest? What about all the other things we don’t know yet?”

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