Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TYLER
Stage Three: Exploration
Panting, Vallie peers out the cabin window, getting genuinely nervous now that the sun has dropped behind the trees, casting the forest in columns of dark and light.
“Where are they?” she mutters to herself.
She always talks to herself when she thinks she’s alone, but we listen in. Does she really think we would let her run around the forest for this long without keeping a tab on her? It’s been over an hour!
Not on her life.
Not on mine.
We followed her the entire way.
Guided by the cracking sticks.
A sheep dog to the sheep.
I love watching her bounce around, the perfect bunny, her blonde ponytail swaying, her arse, tits, and belly jiggling. Nothing masculine about our girl. She is soft, supple skin, to our hard, light to our dark. I hummed, following her.
My talent came to life. In my mind, her soundtrack was energic notes, with deep, held tones of suspense, and her shadow was red, orange, and pink ribbons.
Right now, though, she is getting worried, and my scarred fingers twitch to comfort her.
With a heavy sigh, she spins around, her sudden movement creaking the floorboards above me.
Looking up, I watch the soles of her shoes amble around the derelict ground floor of the cabin.
Taking it in, she probably thinks it’s abandoned.
It’s not. I’ve only been here a few times before. It’s my dad’s old hunting cabin—the ground floor isn’t meant to be nice, not when it’s left for years on end without visitors.
That’s just asking for squatters.
Dexter told me that Dad used to holed up here for months, but that was before Donnie and I were born.
Then he died.
They both did.
Mum and Dad.
I have no memory of my parents.
I sometimes wonder if my mum was like Vallie, then I feel like a fucking pervert because I want to fuck her. I shouldn’t want Vallie to resemble my mum… But…
I’m not fucking right in the head.
I don’t want to fuck my mum. I want unconditional love from a curvy woman who smothers me—literally. The fucking part is just my cock—that has its own mind, thoughts and intent. It wants to see me fail. Gets hard when it shouldn’t. When I used to play piano beside my teacher—she touched it—that’s not my fault. I didn’t ask her to touch it. That’s why I cut it, tried to cut the dirty thing off, tried to be good!
A good boy.
Good boy, Tyler.
Fucking spiralling all of a sudden, I shake my head, dislodge the reel of thoughts. That’s not right. I know that now. None of this is right or wrong; it just is. Vallie accepts me.
Watching her feet move above me, I want to help her. The basement is hidden, locked, and kitted out with everything a hunter would need for a whole month. Guns and knives hang on the walls while hooks and chains dangle from the wooden rafters above, and a large bed, leather rug and fire place are the human elements.
My heart skips, adrenaline in my ears. I feel caged down here. My music and body are paralysed to not ruin the moment and call out to her. Donnie likes her fear while I like her love, but both together harmonise and clash, and fuck me.
My cock grows. Aches.
I haven’t come since Dexter returned.
Tense, I sit on the bed beside Donnie, who is lying on his back with his mask on, fingers threaded behind his head, casual, but he’s already hard, his cock a bulge beneath his denim. I guess he’s ready to.
“Can we?—”
“ Shh.” Donnie leans up, frowning at me.
Vallie stops moving above us. “Hello?” The word rushes out with a shaky breath. Her fear sounds like a piano playing the diminished fifth .
C… F#...
I sit down beside my twin. “Where’s Dexter?”
“He’ll come,” he mouths more than speaks.
In this lower level, the concrete floor and walls enclose sounds from the outside world, but the gaps above us betray the otherwise private space. If she looked down, would she see heated blue eyes following her?
Her shoes stop at the hatch, and she stomps, hearing the baseless echo. She stomps again. “Huh… This isn’t good. Is there someone down there?” She curses under her breath. “I’m coming down. I’m not alone. I have friends—boyfriends. Well, a husband and a boyfriend. Not that you care about the dynamic, but they are close. Close to here. And big. Huge, actually. So… I’m not alone.” I almost hear the ‘Oh, my God, Vallie, shut up’ in the long sigh that trails her nervous rambling.
She tries to work out the hatch, finally lifting it by pressing on the lower righthand side.
Donnie and I stand up and glide into the dark pocket behind the steep stairwell. Sliding my mask on—the happy theatre man—I watch through metallic holes as she hesitantly descends the steps, her hand gripping something…
Light hits it.
A knife.
She is clutching a fucking hunting knife she must have found upstairs.
No, baby.
You might accidentally get hurt.
I step towards her, intent on disarming her when Donnie stops me. But it’s too late; she spins around, brandishing the blade in front of her, squinting around the lower ground floor.
Donnie moves as she does. Quick.
Coming up behind her, he wraps his arms around her body, pinning her elbows to her side while possessing her weaponised hand to lift the knife to her throat.
She fights and sobs—a contralto.
He leans into her ear from behind. “ Shh.”
“Donnie?” She isn’t sure.
He inhales her. “ Mmm .”
“Donnie?” She gasps, the blade nicking her throat as she speaks. Her ample chest pulses frantically, her lungs expanding and deflating, fearful.
But her thighs …
They are rubbing together, massaging her pussy between them. She’s wet. Uncomfortable. “Tyler?” she pleads. “Are you down here?”
She needs me.
I step out of the dark pocket, wearing my mask and a pair of jeans but otherwise naked. My cock is hammering within the denim, and the thrumming makes my head spin.
Donnie purrs, “Caught ourselves a pup.”