Finder's, Keepers. | Scomiche

Chapter 9

     "Ugh!" Mitch hit the ground hard and winced at the scrapes on his knees. He tried to sit up before he was pushed back down and he could feel his feet being grabbed. He kicked them around violently, hitting something hard.

     "Stop moving around you little...ugh!" The grips on his ankles dug into his skin and his legs were forced together and tied with rope. He sobbed into the sack over his head. He was dragged across the cold concrete floor and he flipped onto his stomach, digging his fingers into it, hoping to find something to grip onto. He heard laughter.

     "Why are you doing this?" Mitch cried. He yelped as he was lifted and sat in a chair, his wrists zip tied to the legs of it.

     The bag was yanked off of his head and he squinted into the bright light shining in his face. He heard the slap before he felt it, his whole face was knocked to the side. The sting only made more tears spill onto his cheeks.

     "You only speak when you are spoken to. No asking questions. Do you understand?" Mitch nodded his head. The man talking to him still wore his ski mask and his wild green eyes stood out against the dark fabric. "Someone else wants to talk to you, but I don't know how long until he will decide to show up. In the meantime, try not to struggle against the restraints too much. It'll damage your skin and I was told to deliver you without a scratch."

     Mitch stayed staring at the ground until the man walked away, the chuckle in his voice making his skin crawl. His whole body shook violently with sobs and he wished he could just open his eyes and all of this be a dream. He squeezed his eyes tightly and opened them over and over. His sobs made his chest heave heavily. He pulled his hands hard against the sharp plastic and ground his teeth at the way it dug into his skin. It made him angry. Using everything he had, he shoved his feet around in the small space allowed harder than he had ever fought against anything and his body collapsed after the spent energy.

     His chin hit his chest and he blinked to clear his eyes. Big black NYPD letters spanned across his chest and he zoned out staring at the same shirt Scott had slipped over his head the night before. I want Scott. I want to be back in the bed wrapped up in his arms. Mitch felt another wave of sobs. He closed his eyes and just waited. Waited for a different man to come talk to him. Waited for Scott.

***

     "You are so beautiful." Mitch smiled and rolled over to face Scott, the man's pale skin twinging pink. "I thought you were still asleep, sorry."

     Mitch pressed himself against the warm body and let his hands explore, fingers dragging lightly over Scott's chest and ribs. "Thank you, Scott. You are very handsome." Scott adjusted his arm, and Mitch's cheek squished against his bicep. He felt Scott curl it around his head and press it into him, sighing heavily. A kiss was pressed lightly to the top of his head. "What time is it?" Mitch's voice was muffled into warm skin.

     "Well past noon. I am very late to work."

     "I don't want to leave the bed. Feels good here, with you." He hugged Scott to him.

     "We can stay a little longer."

     "Yeah?" Scott let Mitch pull his head back slightly and they beamed at each other, both aware of their not quite acknowledged feelings for one another. Scott's hand brushed Mitch's bangs back and drifted down his cheek, his palm resting gently there before it slid around to the back of his neck and tugged forward. Mitch's eyes fell shut as soft lips pressed to his and he parted them, lightly sucking Scott's bottom lip into his mouth. They pulled apart with a light smack.

     "You need to wake up now." Mitch's brows furrowed and he leaned back to look at Scott. He was just looking at him, that same soft expression on his face.