Free Games Boys Play by Zoe X. Rider

was okay. He had gotten control before he’d shot an embarrassing load in his pants.
    He blinked his eyes open and was surprised to find himself looking at his apartment, to be back in reality, to have it all look so normal.
    He looked over. Dylan— the intruder . The intruder had settled back on the couch, unaware. Just the black bulb shape of his hood visible above the couch cushions.
    Brian eased his head against the wall again.
    Despite the slight tingling in his upper arms and the beginnings of aches in knees that wanted to unbend and walk around, he felt like he could just stay there. Just…on end. For the evening, the night, the week. Whatever. A part of his brain knew he couldn’t really, but the rest of his capacity for reason had shut itself down and sunk into a warm, vaguely vibrating nectar. Like curling up in a honeycomb in an active hive.
    He heard Dylan’s boots again and didn’t bother to look. Felt him approaching. Sensed him standing over him. A few not overly gentle taps on the side of his face brought his eyes open a crack.
    With a thumb, Dylan pulled one of Brian’s eyelids up.
    Half groggily, Brian turned his face away.
    Dylan curved his glove around the back of Brian’s neck. “You still with me?”
    Brian nodded. He brought his face forward, blinked at Dylan, then nodded again.
    Dylan scrutinized his face before patting his cheek—again not quite gently—and turning away, taking a cell phone from his back pocket as he went, tapping in a number, lifting the phone to his ear. Waiting.
    Then: “Hey. Where are they?”
    They?
    “It’s after nine already. They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
    After nine? He had no idea what time they’d started. Shit . He should have paid attention.
    “I’m not a fucking babysitter. That’s not what you guys pay me to do.”
    A longer pause came, Dylan pacing the tiny kitchen, two steps to the stove, turn, two steps to the end of the counter, turn.
    “It’s not like you guys didn’t know this was tonight. You gave me the job info. You set the fucking sched—” He turned away and opened the fridge, its light shining around him as he looked over its contents. “Twenty minutes. You’re sure? You’re sure now? Okay, twenty. You guys don’t show up, I’m taking off, fuck all of you. You pay me to get in and immobilize them—”
    Something hot and slick shifted inside Brian at the sound of immobilize . He fought back a moan.
    “—not wipe their noses and sit around waiting for girlfriends and shit to unexpectedly drop by.” A beat passed. “Twenty fucking minutes, and that’s it .” He tapped the screen, still standing in the light of the refrigerator.
    Brian watched him push the phone back into his pocket.
    “You want anything to drink?” Dylan asked.
    Brian swallowed the spit that had pooled in his mouth, his muscles working against the tape gag to do it. He shook his head.
    With a shrug, Dylan swung the door shut. “Suit yourself.” He left the kitchen, heading toward Brian. At first he just did a check, running a hand over the tape around Brian’s torso, down at his ankles, reaching behind the chair to check his wrists. When he straightened, instead of simply checking the gag, he bent Brian’s head forward and rubbed at the tape end to peel it free, the motions sending shivers skating down Brian’s neck. Dylan tipped Brian’s head up to come across the front, then down to go across the back again. Where the tape was stuck to skin, it smarted coming off, making him wince. At one spot, it had a good grip on some short hairs, and he gasped through his nose as it tore free. Fresh, cool air dissolved against the sweat on newly exposed patches of his cheeks and chin. After one more time around, he was left with just the original three strips Dylan had pressed in place. Dylan dropped the crumpled wad of tape and grasped the edge of those strips. With one quick pull—and a searing sting that made Brian yelp—they were gone, and