Chapter 16
How did I not think about his fucking bills?
I’m constantly stressed enough about mine, and I didn’t even think to check if his shit needed to be paid.
I’m a fucking idiot. What if people from the bank show up at his place?
Do they even do that? I have no idea how any of that works, but if he doesn’t pay anything for long enough, surely someone would show up there? A landlord at the very least.
He made it seem like he’d help me make sure everything was paid though…
which is so fucking weird. Why would he do that?
I know he’s claimed he doesn’t hate the situation, but that’s a whole other level of him embracing being kidnapped.
If someone did realize he was missing, there’s not much to connect us, but I did go to get his dog, and just in general the fact that no one is looking for him makes things a lot easier for me if I do decide to kill him.
Obviously, I need to get his art supplies if he’ll help me pay his bills, but I just don’t have it in me to deal with that tonight.
I fucked around at the brewery for long enough, delaying having to face Mason after thinking about him while I got off, and now it’s nearly midnight.
I have no idea how long it’ll take to load up all his supplies, but it seems like tomorrow’s problem.
As much as I don’t want to add another thing to my plate, I still feel guilty about everything.
It doesn’t actually make the reality of killing him any less awful, but I like the idea of his final days being less shitty.
He’s already got the air mattress and the audiobooks.
Now painting can be another thing to help him enjoy this time as much as possible.
I stomp up the stairs, unable to shake the shitty feeling in my gut.
Ugh, why do I feel guilty about being so short with him tonight?
I obviously didn’t know how to act around Mason after jerking off to thoughts of him, but he has been a pretty perfect “kidnappee,” as he called himself, he doesn’t deserve my anger.
I get ready for bed and set my alarm a bit earlier than I’d originally planned, so I have time to go to Mason’s house before I have to grocery shop with Grant.
Fuck, I wish I had more money so I could just order it all new, but I’d imagine someone who sells their art for as much as he does would use nice supplies, which I definitely can’t afford.
It sounded like he might want to keep selling his art… I wonder if he’d want me to post it and send it for him so that we could use that money for his bills… is that what he meant? It really would be convenient if it seemed like he was still posting on socials and paying for everything.
God, what am I doing? How long am I planning to keep him here with me? At some point am I going to have to move him out of his apartment so he doesn’t have another year’s commitment on his lease?
Fuck, I can’t think about this in too much detail right now.
I’ll just have to trust that he tells me about every bill he has, I don’t think I have any other options at this point.
I’m scheduled to close at the restaurant tomorrow, so I guess my morning off will now involve another trip to the apartment of the man I’ve kidnapped and trapped in my basement.
Awesome.
“I got your shit!” I call out as I awkwardly pull the basement door open while also holding a canvas that’s taller than me.
“Well, good morning to you too!” Mason yells back as I carefully descend into the basement. Guess he’s no longer mad at me.
“Morning.” I set down the canvas where I know he’ll still be able to reach it with the length of his chain.
He walks over to run his hand down the blank fabric before he turns to me with that falsely sweet smile.
“Should I threaten to annoy you more often? Was that the key to getting what I want? Or did you finally realize how appealing the idea of using me for your sexual pleasure would be and you want to apologize for being so mean since I took it off the table?”
I roll my eyes. “It was actually the threat of your unpaid bills landing you on a missing person’s list.”
“Huh.” He shrugs. “Whatever works, I guess. I’d offer to help you bring everything down, but I’m guessing my chain doesn’t reach the top of the stairs.”
“You expect me to believe you don’t know how far the chain reaches?” I scoff. There’s no fucking way with all the time he’s had alone down here that he hasn’t tested it.
“I don’t care if you do, it’s the truth. What’s the point? I’m literally chained to the beam; even if I could get far enough to open the basement door, I’m not leaving this house until you trust me not to turn you in.”
Yeah, that won’t be happening, but I don’t bother to remind him of that because he never listens anyway, so I comment instead. “You’re so strange.”
He only smiles bigger. “I’m your little psycho, remember.”
I shake my head and go back upstairs. It takes several trips, and my breathing is a little labored after so many flights carrying everything, but eventually all the groceries I picked up during my quick shopping trip with Grant are put away, and his art stuff I took from his apartment has been re-set up in my basement.
I wore big sunglasses, baggy clothes, and a hat to disguise my appearance in case anyone saw me, but I didn’t even see anyone else at his building.
He’s standing in front of the largest canvas with his head tilted and his hands tucked under his chin.
“What? Did I miss something? Why do you still look so pissed?” He shakes his head no but doesn’t elaborate, so I go on. “Do you need anything else? Since apparently you feel like you have the right to demand things while being my literal prisoner.”
He turns to face me again with a satisfied smirk.
“I was actually focusing on how shitty the lighting is down here, trying to think about how that will affect my art, but if you’re offering, can you put our new audiobook on?
I’d also love to lose these handcuffs so I can paint properly, or even to have another opportunity to jerk off.
I’ve been so horny with all my fantasies of how much fun we could be having with me chained up down here. ”
I groan. I seriously don’t need the temptation of seeing him jerk off in front of me again, especially after he was taunting me about how sex with him is no longer an option.
But I need to stay strong and not give him even more ammunition to manipulate me.
He can’t know how close I was to acting on all the thoughts I’ve been having about it.
That the real reason I was so “grumpy,” as he put it last night, was because it was so difficult to face him after being consumed by sexual fantasies of him the entire time I’d been gone.
I jerked off to thoughts of him in the brewery, for fuck’s sake.
“There is no reason for you to get off in front of me,” I mutter as I slowly pull out the ring of keys for all the locks down here.
I don’t take my eyes off him as I carefully approach his outstretched hands.
“I’ll take off the handcuffs though. Like you said, even if you can use your hands, that won’t help you ditch the collar or chain, so I guess that’s fine. ”
“Fuck yeah! Thank you. Best captor ever!”
I roll my eyes and unlock his handcuffs. He immediately rubs his wrists. They’re a little red, as expected, but there’s no visible sign of injury from them.
“I’ll go put these cuffs upstairs and grab food. Then I’ll turn the book back on for a bit, but I need to work again tonight,” I warn him.
“I’m happy with whatever time you have,” he insists cheerily.
I put the handcuffs in my room so if anyone ever did find them, I’d have the perfectly normal kinky sex excuse for owning them.
Once I’m back in the kitchen, I throw together a quick breakfast for Mason and me.
I think I finally figured out what food he prefers, and I’m still feeling a bit guilty, so I make his favorite.
When I bring it down, I’m surprised to see the canvas is still blank.
“I thought you wanted to paint?”
Instead of looking at his supplies, he’s lying on the blow-up mattress on top of the blanket with his newly freed hands resting on his chest as he rolls his head in my direction. “I’d rather hang out with you. I’ll save that for when you’re at work so I can pretend I’m going to work too.”
He’s so strange, but we’ve already established that, so I don’t comment on it.
I connect my phone to the speaker and press play on the audiobook where we left off while Mason sits up to eat his food. He hums in contentment as we listen, and when we’re both finished, I take his plate up to the kitchen.
Instead of trying to make every word out from upstairs, I say, “fuck it” and walk back down to sit on the bottom steps since there’s really no point in pretending I’m not invested in this book.
Mason is lying on his mattress again, and I have to bite back a laugh as I shift uncomfortably on the hardwood stair and realize my prisoner looks way more comfortable than I am right now.
His hands are resting absently on his lower abdomen where my T-shirt he’s wearing has ridden up, exposing his stomach.
It takes me a long moment to realize I can’t pull my eyes away from his happy trail.
He must know that him telling me sex is no longer on the table now makes me want it more.
Reverse psychology or whatever. The audiobook fades into the background as I rake my eyes over him and really consider what it’d be like to touch him.
To grip his pink hair while he’s down on his knees for me, looking up at me with tear-streaked blue eyes, mouth stretched around my cock. I’m hard just thinking about it.