Chapter 13
Bunny
There actually are benefits to being held hostage in your own home.
For instance.
You have to learn to cook.
Or…starve.
Especially once you realize you can’t trust delivery services anymore because the man stalking you has somehow gotten to them.
And while the latter – death by lack of sustenance – has had moments where it seemed like a more viable option, I didn’t take it.
Not because I’ve never considered suicide.
No.
I’ve thought about that shit at least twice a week every week until about a week ago.
I used to believe it was natural.
Wanting to end it all.
Once you take into consideration the alternative of never being able to really live a life outside of the four walls I managed to safely confine myself to, not getting up ever again seemed like a logical calculation to conclude.
Thanks to the monster creeping around every corner and peeking in every fucking window, I had started to transform into an agoraphobic, which – again – meant I had to learn to cook or let myself starve.
And suicide by starvation isn’t easy.
Or painless.
Or even guaranteed to end it all considering how long the human body can go without food.
Honestly?
I’d vow to never eat again if it meant getting to simply make a meal in peace.
To cook without worrying about how much of your movement or whereabouts are being exposed through the narrow openings around bookshelves blocking the windows during a baking or broiling or fucking boiling process.
“Damn, I wish we had more pizza,” Nolan unexpectedly huffs overTalladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, the movie it took half an hour to decide on.
“Same,” Kipp echoes without missing a beat.
“That might’ve been the best fuckin’ pie I’ve ever had, Rabbit,” Nolan compliments with a gentle pat to my ass that’s curled up, facing his direction. “And that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
“Is it really saying anything, though?” I tease in return earning a much harder pop the second time.
“Nolan is a self-proclaimed pizza connoisseur,” Kipp lightly laughs causing me to glance upward from where my head had been resting on his lap.
Additional amusement settles in my expression. “Hence why sushi pizza was the ultimate sacrifice for you?”
“Exactly,” his best friend jeers, fingers now gently grazing the area he recently spanked. “And ten points for GuffleFuff for that Lambo level of a word.”
Throwing him a playful glare masks the way his car choice makes me inwardly cringe. “Do you mean Hufflepuff?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s not what you said,” Kipp warmly jabs, chuckles growing in numbers. “And you would know that if you didn’t fall asleep every time, I put the shit on.”
“You’re a Harry Potter fan?” Amusement floods my stare as it shifts upward to him once more. “Seriously?”
“No, I’m a fan of the 1960 Ford Anglia 105E featured in the second movie.” The Kid’s grin is attached to a faint reddening of his cheeks. “You know I like cars.”
“You love cars,” Nolan corrects, voice filled with mirth. “And you reeeeeally fucking love car history. After you saw that magical piece of shit-”
“It could fucking fly, turn invisible, and never run out of fuel!”
“-you went down a Ford rabbit hole I could’ve easily spent the rest of my life-”
“So, the next…what? Five years, grandpa?” I good naturedly goad getting new laughs out of Kipp and another swat from Nolan.
“Like I was saying…I could’ve happily-”
“You said easily before.” My teasing is met by another sexy hit.
“-never have gone down that rabbit hole.” His dark gaze falls playfully to me. “Unlike yours.”
There’s no stopping the lighthearted headshake that occurs. “Is this really how you fucking treat a lady, Mutt?”
“It’s how I’m treating you,” Nolan impishly bites back.
“Yeah,” more laughter, a sound I swear I’m becoming addicted to, escapes Kipp, “you walked right into that one, baby.”
The childish glare he’s shot is cut short due to his best friend speaking again, “And by the way, for the record, you’re bein’ treated like a fuckin’ queen.”
Disbelief drops my jaw. “What?! How?!”
“I complimented your cooking.”
“Backhandedly.”
“I’m currently rubbing your feet.”
“You mean my ass.”
“And I bought you something to show you how much I care.”
“While I do agree with the ‘If it requires pants or a bra, it’s not happening today’ statement on the classy hot pink coffee mug you brought home, you only bought it so that I’d stop drinking out of your favorite mugs.”
“That’s not true,” Nolan instantly argues prompting Kipp to tilt his head sarcastically to one side. “Fuck, alright. That’s not entirely true.”
“You did the same shit to me!”
“That’s because you weren’t ready for a big boy cup yet, Kid.”
This time laughter leaves us all, filling the room to the brim with so much joy it’s almost suffocating.
A lot like staying put in one place for too long, happiness is a foreign feeling, yet as much as I tell myself not to get comfortable with it, not to get accustomed to it, not to get attached to it…or them…that’s exactly what I’m doing every time they finish a hard day and I make them a hot meal.
Every night they stretch out on the floor to protectively sandwich me between them.
Every morning that they invade my shower or offer to let me take one first.
It’s insane to me that in just a week, I’ve managed to make myself at home here more than I have in the past at any place I’ve ever actually lived.
That includes all my apartments pre the frat douche remake of The Crush that I called my boyfriend for longer than I should’ve.
I know it’s wrong.
I know I have no right to make myself this permanent in a life I can’t live for much longer but what can I say?
It’s nice to pretend I can actually have happiness for longer than the time it takes to finish binge watching a season of Modern Family.
“And why are we giving me shit about the mug I bought you, anyway?” Nolan comically croaks. “It’s still better than the bouquet of pens The Kid got you.”
“That was thoughtful!” he swiftly snaps around his snickers.
“It wasn’t any more thoughtful than my mug shit. You just wanted her to stop stealing your shit too.”
“Not…” his voice wavers, “just…that…”
“Fuck you both,” I girlishly giggle at the same time I sit completely up. “I never told you that you had to share your shit with me.”
“No, but that’s just the shit you do with your…” Our attention soars to Nolan whose mouth seems to be bobbing as if unsure of how he should finish the sentence. “Um…” His throat clearing precedes a small shrug. “Yeah.”
Am I?
Am I the obvious fill in the blank answer there?
I mean…I can’t be, can I?
I mean…I shouldn’t be.
I don’t need to be.
It’s not safe.
Of course not for me, but I meant not for them.
And of all the people I’ve ever met, I honestly don’t think I could live with their blood on my hands.
I have to go.
I have to get away from here.
The second my car is fixed, I have to get the hell out of Death Canyon.
It’s the only way to guarantee they don’t end up in an “accidental” housefire or “mauled” by a bear or “caught” tangled up in their own fishing wire.
I don’t know how that monster never fails to find the people who have been kind or helped me…but he does.
He always does.
“You also take your um…ya know…on real dates that don’t take place on the couch,” Kipp redirects the conversation along with our stares to him, “which we agreed to do next week when we go pick up your parts.”
Yeah, that whole “one week if I’m lucky, two if I’m not” is easily becoming “two weeks if I’m lucky, a month if I’m not”.
Not that I hate being here.
I just hate how risky it is being here.
Crazy thing is…even if I said fuck that car and just rented a new one or took my chances trying to hitchhike…I don’t think the two of them would let me get away that easy.
Hell, after that Toth scare earlier in the week, one has had their sights on me at all times unless I was pissing or shitting and even then, they were literally on the other side of the door waiting to make sure I didn’t climb out a bathroom window and scurry down the side of the building like fucking Gwen Stacy.
Can’t imagine what they’d do to the windows if they ever found out I actually have shimmied down and around more than one fire escape in my lifetime including this last fleeing session.
“Yup.” Nolan extends his arm along the back of the couch behind me. “I’m even taking off of work for it.”
Warmth unexpectedly spreads along the pit of my stomach as we lock eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
Wow.
First, I got him to cuddle.
Now, he’s taking off of work?
Am I really worth this much fucking effort?
Should I do more to guarantee that I am?
“I um…” fidgeting with the red pen behind my ear is nervously done, “I don’t even think I have anything to wear for a ‘date’.”
“I know we don’t,” Kipp sweetly proclaims, capturing our attention once more. “On Sunday, we’ll hit up Clothes Valley, the local thrift store, and then grab groceries.”
“I like the sound of that,” I softly coo prior to pecking him with a kiss on the cheek.
“You know what I like the sound of?” Nolan mischievously inquires, tone darkening. Tossing a curious glance in his direction has me being exposed to a small lick of his lips. “You coming on my cock.”
Not whimpering is impossible.
“That’s a good sound,” Kipp’s agreement is matched with the same delicious cadence, demanding my gaze shifts to him. “I like the one you make when choking on mine.”
Suppressing it a second time isn’t any easier.
“She can make both at once…” I cut my eyes back over to the dark stare that’s creating an uncontrollable ache between my thighs. “Ain’t that right, Rabbit?”
Airy whines are followed by trance-like nods.
“Words,” he demands as his hand gives his lengthening cock a hard squeeze over his khaki work pants.
“Yes, Sir.”
His moan is echoed by Kipp who then latches one hand onto the nape of my neck to pull my mouth onto his. Our tongues hungrily wind around one another, using the jewelry like an added toy to our fun, flirty, feathering while Nolan’s hands guide themselves to the band of my sleep shorts where they harshly tug.
And tug.
And tug until I break free from The Kid’s eager mouth only to turn and have Nolan capture it instead.
Unlike his best friend that executes every move with precision and intention, he wildly whips his tongue around, delivering lashes that are accompanied by a hand balling the material of hisold Metallica t-shirt I’m sporting, keeping me completely imprisoned, only allowing me to be liberated when his best friend inches his fingers into my hair and yanks me back into a kiss with him.
Being pulled and yanked and yanked and pulled causes my senses to spin.
My breathing to struggle.
My ability to do anything other than pant to disappear.
The transition from clothed to naked is much slower than the one from sitting to on my knees yet the voracity is the same.
Neither man can hold himself back from bending and molding and curving me into the position they just claimed to be their favorite.
Having Kipp’s dick dart down my throat at the exact same time Nolan’s rams inside successfully gets me shuddering and screaming from the intensity of being double filled.
Split wide from both ends.
“Such a hungry little slut,” Nolan groans on another slam forward.
Cries of objection – or perhaps agreement – have my throat constricting mercilessly around Kipp’s cock, an action that receives a hot hiss prior to praise. “Fuck, baby, you’re such a good girl swallowing me like that.”
Moaning over his words and whimpering from being pounded by Nolan crafts a salacious symphony of spit infused screeches. Wetness profusely drips past my suctioned lips, down my quivering throat, to the same steady speed stickiness from my pussy slathers itself along my inner thighs, painting me in my own juices.
Rather than grab a fistful of my hair to assist in forcing me further down his dick, Kipp glides a hand along the side of my tit.
Uses his thumb to brush my nipple.
Teases it so that I have to buck off of his best friend’s cock faster and faster to feel more and more strokes.
Unfortunately for me, he abruptly abandons the delectable touches to skate his palm across my stomach in pursuit of my pussy.
Bracing myself for the strokes leads to me slowing down my bobbing yet when a loud, body shaking grumble escapes Nolan, I pick up the pace again. “Goddamn Kid, those are my balls.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kipp airily concedes at the same time he stretches them forward to aid in rubbing my clit, “they are.”
There’s no stopping every muscle in my system from swelling and both men instantly note the change in tandem with louder grunts.
“Our dirty little slut really likes that shit,” Sir notes from behind, dick diving deeper and deeper, practically rubbing my knees raw on every heavy pound. “Fuck…Fuck…” he grumbles and grips my ass tighter for more leverage, “Fuuucckkk…”
“Sounds like you like it, too, Sir.” Arrogance in Kipp’s tone is impossible to miss but easy to ignore due to him continuously grinding his best friend’s balls against the little nub that can’t take much more. “Admit it.” Sloppy, wet gagging noises from me are wedged in between demands. “Admit you fucking like me here.” Sweltering juices drench his dick. Trickle past where we’re connected to join the other male’s clutches. “Admit you want me to feel you fucking come.” Both cocks suddenly bulge warning me of how close we all are to the edge. “Admit you want me to make you fucking come.”
“Be a good little cum dumpster and take my fuckin’ load,” Nolan commands through gritted teeth.
Despite all our best efforts, no one can stop themselves from falling apart once those words hit the air.
Blazing bursts burn the length of my throat as scorching spurts splash against my pulsating muscles. Attempting to pull my head off results in Kipp pinning me in my place to choke down every last drop; however, his forceful lunge forward of me instantly has our mixture of cum spilling out onto his fingers.
The same fingers he then carefully removes.
“Put that shit in your mouth, Kid,” Sir gruffly growls while I guzzle down the last bit. “I wanna watch you both fucking swallow.”