Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 62 - Cuddlebug 1

"You have something I've been looking for," a drawl sliced up Sebastien's insides and hooked into his flesh. The raiders would kill him slowly and painfully. That might be a kinder after than what the new player planned for him. 

"We aren't selling."

A cough disagreed. A click clank of Player 2's heel and a distinct cough had the grunts reconsider their position. Sebastien forced his head up to see. Director Castell stood in full uniform, blood and dirt splattered across the bottom of his trousers as he walked unconcerned with the mess covering the floor. His look promised a lot and dealt far harsher fates than most gave credit. Sebastien dropped his head as Castell locked onto him and met his eyes. 

Call him a coward, but Castell was too intense for him to deal with while suffering from blood loss and with his head spinning. The grunts spluttered something. Sebastien struggled to focus on the words, too aware of Castell's footsteps as they got closer and closer. 

Two shoes appearing in his sight confirmed it.

Ice-cold fingers curled against his face, sharp nails digging into the skin under his chin. Sebastien lifted his head enough to meet dark eyes. Castell smiled and kissed his forehead before releasing him. 

"I'll be taking my toy back whether you behave or not," Castell said, his other hand scratching through Sebastien's hair but not hurting him. 

He refused to fall apart as they haggled above his head. This wasn't fair—none of it. Finding a soulmate was supposed to be a good thing, not a trauma. His fucking soulmate was married to a licensed assassin. 

His knees hurt. All he could smell was Castell's leather as all his senses tuned to the dangerous man. The sharp nails nicked his ear, and he flinched. The grip turned more gentle but didn't stop the intimate hold. Castell wasn't his soulmate. No one should have his kind of power of him. And yet he couldn't pull away. 

Some agreement was reached above him. The grunts sounded pleased with the result. Castell threw a bag of something at them, and the chains suspending him dropped. He got his hands back under him, his chest to shoulders burning as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. Fingers curled in the scruff of his neck to tug him along. 

"Let's get out of here, pet," Castell cooed. 

Castell didn't let him get to his feet. Sebastien obeyed the silent order. He crawled like a dog out of the warehouse, the sound of jeering laughter following them. The concrete rattled his shins, and his ribs hurt. He'd throw up if he had something in his stomach to do so. 

They arrived at a car where Castell moved his hands to Sebastien's armpits and hurled him up to the car boot, bending him over the metal. His wrists got twisted and handcuffed together in the mockery of a police arrest. 

Somehow, the new position was more humiliating than being made to crawl. Castell's hips pressed against his arse as his hands patted him down and searched his upper body for anything. Castell was physically smaller than Sebastien, but his warmth and hold made him feel larger. 

There was nothing to find, but Castell didn't get to his position by taking risks. He checked methodically, cold air running down Sebastien's spine as his heat vanished as he moved to check his legs. Hands groped and squeezed as he searched for hidden weapons or injuries. He blanketed Sebastien again as he leaned over his back to wriggle his hips against Sebastien's arse and hum in his ear.

"If you were one of my agents, I might put on a show for our watchers. Luckily for you, we don't have the kind of relationship for that," Castell said, dark and low enough that no one else could hear. 

Sebastien trembled and bucked into the hold as Castell's hand slid under him and cupped at his privates. "Sir!"

Castell laughed, kissing behind his ear. "Be good now. This was sloppy, and I do not accept it from someone with your skill set. You can expect plenty of training to fix that."