CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nate
I was having a lucid dream and it felt strange to be aware that I wasn’t actually awake.
I’d had some odd dreams tonight, mostly about my dad.
It was the same dream I’d been having for a while.
I was a kid and we were playing ball. I kept tossing the ball to him and he was never where I expected him to be.
It was confusing and frustrating. I knew he just had to catch the ball one time and everything would be okay. But he was there and gone.
But now…now the images shifted to something else and my body was so very relaxed.
I wanted to stay here in this peaceful, floaty place.
My nose was nestled at the nape of the man’s neck, and I inhaled the scent of sexy sleep musk mixed with fragrant bay leaves.
Oh, I knew that scent. The smell alone made me groan and a swirl of pleasure throbbed in my balls.
I kissed my dream man there, rasping my stubble over his flesh as I licked and kissed at his neck.
He moaned and writhed, pushing his firm buttocks back to grind against my crotch.
Oh yeah, my cock was all in, pulsing with need as my dream man began delicious, filthy hip gyrations, working his ass against me in a drugging, sensual rhythm.
I threw a leg over his muscled thigh, threaded an arm over his chest, grabbed a handful of meaty pec, and pulled him closer, flush against my body so I could get more of this delicious friction as I dry humped him.
I rode the pleasure of the dream, surfed on the sensual movements of this unseen man.
I moaned and let out animalistic grunts as I got closer to the edge.
Sure, I was aware I was asleep and I would cum in my pjs, but I didn’t care, it all felt so good, so simple, so natural.
If I could stay in the dream just a little longer, I’d find my climax.
The dream man in my arms cried out as his orgasm shook him.
My body answered his cry as I shot a warm sticky load into my pjs.
Suddenly, the shapely ass moved away, and my dream man was chanting my name, so soft and sexy, so very British.
‘Nate, Nate, Nate.” And then his voice wasn’t soft and sexy, it was anxious.
“Nate, Nate, Jesus, Nate, babe, wake the fuck up!”
I was being manhandled, physically shaken back to reality. I opened my blurry eyes to see Jack’s face close to mine, his brown eyes wide with alarm. My immediate impulse was to cup his jaw and kiss his perfect mouth, but I sat up with a start and spearing rays of sunlight stabbed at my eyes.
“Damn my head hurts,” I grumbled and flopped down again.
“What the hell did I drink last night?” I groaned.
Then, my body told me I had other desperate requirements that needed to be met so I rolled over, found my feet, and bleary eyed, headed for the nearest door, which happened to be a bathroom.
I grimaced at unzipping my jeans finding my underwear covered in jizz.
Yeah, seems that the libido boost from being with Jack had me back to the wet dreams phase of sexual development, just super!
I drowsily emptied my bladder before cleaning up the mess with tissue.
I’d take a long, hot shower and change my—oh my god. Where the hell am I?
I stepped, literally stepped because this bathroom was so small, to a tiny sink, turned on the faucet, and tossed some cold water over my face.
My god, I was thirsty, so I drank several cupped handfuls too.
Feeling completely out of it, I stared at myself in the mirror.
The man glaring back at me looked like shit warmed over.
I was wearing the same clothes as last night, a tight-fitting tee and jeans.
I’d sweated a lot on the dance floor, and so I reeked of flop sweat.
How had I gotten a split lip? Was I brawling?
I’d somehow grazed the knuckles on both hands, so yeah; I must have been in a fight.
I then noticed the stamp from the club we’d gone to, SODA.
Originally the ink of the stamp was blue and now it was…
red. There were also fine lined bruises around my wrists.
Someone had restrained me with cable ties.
I gripped onto the sink and stared at my reflection searching my memories, but everything after leaving the club was hazy.
I’d dreamed about dry humping against a gorgeous firm ass.
I pivoted and staggered back into the small bedroom to see Jack on the bed, fully clothed.
Oh! In my sleep, under the influence of whatever, I’d used Jack to get-off and if my dream was actually reality, he’d come too!
Shards of golden sunlight glanced off Jack’s beautiful, but dishevelled form.
The sun was shining through…a porthole window?
“Why are we on a ship?” I said in alarm, my throat feeling painful and gritty.
“Ah, Holmes! Welcome to the land of the living. How very clever to have deduced that we are indeed ON A FUCKING SHIP!” Jack replied waspishly, as if whatever was happening was my fault.
He rolled over, sat up, and groaned cradling his head in his hands.
Then he eased himself up off the bed, passed me, and went into the bathroom. I lurched for the cabin door.
“No point, it’s locked,” Jack informed flatly before he closed the bathroom door, but I grabbed at the round door knob anyway, tried to turn it.
“Fuck!” it was locked. Still dazed and confused, I stood and stared into space until Jack came out of the bathroom.
When he did, I met his gaze to gauge his mood.
He speared me with a dark look, and as a reflex action, guilt automatically coiled at my solar plexus.
I had no idea what I was supposed to feel guilty for.
It wasn’t my fault we were locked in a cabin on a ship, was it?
On a side table there was a tray that held a couple of bottles of Coke, two bottles of water, orange juice boxes, pre-packaged sandwiches and a bowl with mints.
My base instinct was to quench this insistent thirst. I reached for a bottle and to my horror, Jack roared fiercely, “DON’T!
” I was stunned. What the fuck was his problem?
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to shout. Look on the top of the caps…
tiny puncture holes. Fuck knows what they laced it with.
Go on, look,” Jack prompted in a calmer voice.
I stepped to the side table, picked up a bottle of coke and sure enough, Jack was right.
Whoever locked us in here wanted to keep us sedated.
They’d tried to disguise the needle insertion point, but a little liquid had dried around the hole and left a glossy sheen.
I hadn’t thought for a second that the bottles could have been tampered with and I was grateful at least Jack was thinking straight!
“I heard someone, hours ago, they must have left the food and for us. I was so out of it I couldn’t move or speak,” Jack revealed as he slumped back onto the bed again.
“Gah, I’m so fucking angry,” he roared, and I was about to apologize for…
I don’t know what, but then he said, “I’ll have to do a bloody detox now.
You know we were drugged, right?” he held his hand up to show me the SODA club stamp was red, just like mine.
“Fucking abducted off the street like in a Mafia movie and drugged,” he fumed, “Except no one said CUT.”
Oh, so it wasn’t me he was mad with at all, he was upset about the predicament we’d found ourselves in.
“It was a sober night, we didn’t drink alcohol, and we didn’t take any drugs,” I insisted feeling a little foolish as I stated the obvious.
“So how the fuck did this happen?” I asked, holding up my hand to display that my stamp was also red.
“I’m so thirsty, why am I so thirsty?” The suspicious bottle of water on the side table was calling to me, but Jack was right.
We couldn’t consume anything that had been left in this room.
“It’s the effects of Rohypnol. I’ve been roofied before, I recognize the symptoms,” Jack revealed with no emotion in his voice. I sent him a look of alarm.
“Long story,” he said wanly. “Look, we need to drink lots of water and flush the drug out of our systems,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me with him to the tiny bathroom.
We both just about squeezed into the small space, and over several minutes we took turns drinking cupped handfuls of water from the bathroom sink faucet.
“I can’t drink anymore,” Jack admitted after what felt like ages, and not long at all. I stopped drinking too. We returned to the cabin and slumped onto the bed.
“I remember it was a beautiful summer night and we decided to walk back to the hotel. You pulled me into a doorway…we were making out like a pair of horny teens. We were gonna go back to the hotel and fu” I turned and met Jack’s tired brown eyes.
“Oh my god, your face!” I gasped. It was only now, with the morning sun hitting Jack just so, that I noticed the bruising coming up around his right eye.
I tentatively reached out to inspect the mottling skin.
“Yeah, I know,” he said resignedly. “I’ll have to get a make-up artist in to cover this before the première.”
I had a split lip and bloody knuckles, so even though I couldn’t remember what had happened to us, I’d fought back. I was mad about my small injuries, but I was goddamn furious that someone had dared strike Jack’s handsome face!
“We’ll be okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you again,’ I promised.