Page 58 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Elliot knew what he wanted, and it made the beginnings of sickness spread through his stomach. He swallowed on a dry throat and sank down onto his knees.

He watched his hands reach out for Mattia’s belt, but they felt distant from him. Like someone else’s hands moving to start undoing the clasps.

A heavy hand settled on his head, fisting his hair and tugging at it meanly. It jerked Elliot’s head up, and his eyes met Mattia’s.

“After everything I’ve gone through,” Mattia clipped, “I don’t think that’s the right amount of gratitude, do you? Do you know how much money you’ve cost me because you were too stupid to not get kidnapped?”

Elliot opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What could he say that wouldn’t make Mattia angrier?

Mattia used the hand in Elliot’s hair to pull him back up to his feet, and Elliot scrambled to stand, to try to keep the yanking pain to a minimum.

“Go to the bedroom,” Mattia said, letting go of Elliot’s hair to give him a shove in the direction of the stairs. “You’re going to thank me properly.”

Elliot stumbled but managed to keep himself upright, for all that his whole body was quivering, the fear wrapped tight around his heart. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been here, not really, but it felt so different now. So much scarier.

But his feet started moving in the direction of the stairs, and he felt Mattia’s presence behind him, following. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck from the weight of his gaze. Elliot bit his lip again. What Mattia was saying was technically true. He had gotten himself kidnapped, and Mattia had gone through a lot to “rescue” him.

He just hadn’t… hadn’t wanted to be rescued.

When he got to the bedroom, it was the same as he remembered, because of course it was. Open and empty, just the big bed and two nightstands, a lamp on the nightstand of Mattia’s side of the bed.

The lamp was on, the blackout curtains closed tight, so the whole room was dim. Dim and dark and foreboding.

Elliot took quiet, steady sips of air as he went to the bedside drawer where they kept the supplies. He focused on opening the drawer, grabbing the lubricant, and not on Mattia, who he could see undressing out of the corner of his eye.

A cold shiver ran down Elliot’s spine, and his vision tunneled as he pushed the drawer shut.

When he turned back to the bed, Mattia was already sprawled naked on it, and Elliot had to swallow down bile at seeing him. Elliot had once thought Mattia handsome, butlooking at him now, all he saw was a threat. Strength and sharp lines and mean edges.

Elliot set the bottle of lubricant on the bedspread and started to get undressed. His hands were shaking, and he hoped Mattia wasn’t looking too closely, even as he felt his gaze on him. There was no way to make himself stop trembling—all he could do was try and barrel forward.

Get through this.

Still, he was aware as his clothing came off how acutely Mattia was looking at him. Was he looking for evidence? Was he looking for more reasons to be angry?

He was always looking for more reasons to be angry.

But his time at Nikolai’s place had been relatively peaceful, and any markings he’d carried from the abduction those first few days were gone now. The most obvious marks Elliot was currently wearing were from Horatio.

Who Mattia had sent.

It took no time at all to strip himself bare of the flimsy sleep shirt and boxers he’d been wearing when Horatio had pulled him from his bed. Once that was done, Elliot picked up the bottle of lube and crawled onto the bed. He moved himself so that he was straddling Mattia, because he knew that was what was expected of him.

Then he leaned himself back on his heels to sit up.

“Maybe I should’ve made you shower first,” Mattia said suddenly.

Elliot froze. Mattia reached for him, fingers grabbing at Elliot’s jaw and forcing eye contact.

“Do you need to shower first?” The words were sneered. “Or is there anythingelseyou need to share about your time with the Russians?”

“N-no,” he said in a small, tight voice. “No, I—” He would be stupid not to know what Mattia was insinuating. “I didn’t… let them.”

“You sure about that?” Mattia asked. His fingers were pinching uncomfortably at Elliot’s chin, and the eye contact was painful, but Elliot didn’t look away.

“I promise,” Elliot heard himself say. “I’m all yours.”

It must have been enough, because Mattia let go of Elliot and leaned back down on the bed, folding his arms up under his head. “Good. Get yourself ready then. You’re going to ride me.”

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