Snakes by William Maltese

Author:William Maltese [Maltese, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Publisher: MLR Press, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Nine

Ian Was In Deep shit and didn't need the guttural, “The more you struggle, the more painful for you this is going to be!” to know it.

“Let me go!” It didn't come out nearly as vehement as Ian intended, because it was muffled by something—a hand?—over his mouth.

“You want me to break your arm?” In emphasis, Ian's assailant (Jake?) pulled Ian's gun hand higher into the middle of Ian's back.

Yoga had kept Ian limber but not nearly enough to prevent more hurt.

He tried to bite, but his assailant expertly kept fingers flat to counteract Ian's every try. Finally, not only were Ian's lips covered but his nose was being pinched so that he couldn't breathe.

He struggled for his life with no more success than before.

“You want to experience first-hand what major oxygen deprivation does to the human brain?” his attacker warned.

Ian shook his head and hoped he got his answer across in time. He wasn't sure he did until he was finally allowed a long, indrawn breath of air through his nose.

“Now, calm down and quit making such a fuss!” he was instructed.

Ian had never pictured himself subjecting docilely to any situation even vaguely similar to this one, and it galled him that his body complied to the demands made, over the express protestations of Ian's mind.

He waited in vain for his captor to relax his guard. The guy's body (definitely male), was fused so tightly to Ian, and exerted such a feel-this-big-cock closeness and control, that would have seemed obscene if it wasn't so immediately frightening.

“That's better.” The voice never progressed above a gravelly whisper.

“Jake?”

“Quiet, I said.”

Ian's gun hand was pushed even higher.

Ian thought, Now what? There was no way they could stay there forever. He listened for clues of Gerald or Peter's whereabouts. All he heard were his and his assailant's breathing, Ian's by far the more ragged.

Suddenly, the guy's face was pressed against Ian's cheek from behind, mouth so close that it touched Ian's ear. “You're going to keep very quiet when I pull my hand away, or you're going to be one sorry little boy-bitch. Understand?”

Ian nodded, but the guy didn't pull his hand away.

“I want Ian Mylor,” the villain said. “You do know who he is?”

Ian was speechless: Jake would know he already had Ian. Granted, the lights remained out, but...

Ian was given a shake that would have clattered his teeth if they hadn't been so tightly clenched.

“I don't have all day, buddy” Ian was warned.

Ian nodded without the faintest idea where this was going to lead.

“Very simply, very concisely, and very, very quietly, you're to tell me where, in this rabbit-warren maze, I can find Ian Mylor in the quickest possible time,” Ian was instructed. “However, first, nod if he's presently in the very best of health.”

The best of health? Held by a madman in the dark took its toll on Ian's physical and mental well-being already strained by the last few hours. Nevertheless, Ian nodded the lie.

“Good.” The pressure of the hand-gag slackened, accompanied by, “Quiet, now, or pay the sizable consequences.

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