he signed.
Colin clenched his teeth, even though he craved a cheeseburger, regardless of how unhealthy they were. Enough was enough. “I’m not hungry.”
Taron huffed, tense as a bull about to charge, which in turn got Colin on pins and needles. Taron’s black beard was messier than usual, even if shorter, and his hair had been cut, but when he took a step to the side, Colin spotted something else. A dark bruise emerged from under Taron’s facial hair and went all the way to his eye.
Some of Colin’s anger evaporated, and he kneeled in the cage, looking through the bars, because if someone landed a punch on a man like Taron, they might have as well killed him, leaving Colin to die here.
Or perhaps Taron had killed his next victim and the bruise had been the last fuck you of a dead man.
“What happened to you?”
Taron spelled out the last word, but abruptly took off his plaid shirt.
Colin hadn’t seen Taron shirtless since that one-time-only fuck that kept haunting him, and he averted his eyes, focusing on the McDonald’s bag instead. “I’m considering a hunger strike. Enough is enough. You don’t let me out, you don’t tell me anything, but somehow you can go to town all. You. Want,” he growled, kicking one of the bars to make the metal thud.”
Taron threw the shirt at the cage, then grabbed a small fabric bag off the shelf and flung that as well.
The itch to take the shirt, which was likely still warm from Taron’s body heat was hard to deny, but Colin had a point to make, and he would never succeed if his resolve collapsed every time loneliness got the best of him. “Let me out of the cage.”
Taron snarled, but it was impossible to miss another dark bruise on his stomach. Colin swallowed, his gums itching to bruise him further, even if just his pride.
“Are you talking about yourself? It seems your next victim managed to fight you off.”
“Why? Saying what I think is the only freedom I have.”
Colin snorted, but the scowl that twisted his face reached all the way to his heart. “You would have to unlock the cage then. Maybe you should try me. And feed me by force while
you’re at it. Because, you know, you wouldn’t want your new pet to die.”
Taron slammed his hands against the cage, breathing hard. Clearly the anger over whatever fight he’d had wasn’t going away.
Colin flinched, but as the handsome face disappeared from view, Colin was faced with Taron’s crotch and licked his lips. “I’m your pet rabbit. You keep me in a cage, and you feed me. If I’m really a pest, where’s the poison? In the burgers?”
Taron hunkered down in front of the cage, his gaze hard.
Colin was hit by the sight of the dark hairs covering Taron’s chest. The meaty pecs promised the warmth of another human being, and if only Taron hadn’t been his captor, Colin would have gladly hugged him, even though he’d never thought of himself as affectionate.
His heart thudded as he leaned forward, raising his chin to expose his throat. “Or maybe you’d rather get rid of me with your own hands?”
There. He’d caught Taron’s attention. Despite the baggy clothes he was wearing courtesy of his captor, Colin had no doubt he held appeal to Taron even the way he was now—ungroomed and inactive.
Unless Taron had visited a lover and let off some steam. Which was doubtful with a personality like his. Colin was Taron’s only option.
That was it. His way out.
He could almost feel the flavor of another man’s mouth on his when he pushed his face between the bars, staring into Taron’s eyes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. It was an act, but once the connection was established, and the tension rose in the silence, the dark green of those irises was like a window to all of Taron’s secrets Colin was yet to unlock.
“Aren’t you tempted to do that every time I annoy you?”
Taron reached out, and when Colin didn’t flinch, the thick fingers grabbed Colin’s throat. They were hot, rough, and while they exerted pressure, they weren’t choking him yet.
Fear crawled up Colin’s back, but it just made his skin more sensitive. “What else would you do with me?”
Taron must have not wanted to let go of Colin’s throat, because for the first time since once voicing Colin’s name, he spoke. “You k-know what I’d do—with you.” Just as Colin remembered. A barely-there raspy whisper interrupted by a choking grunt. For some unexplainable reason, this almost-mute man struggling to speak for him was like a shot of absinthe, and he shuddered, swallowing against the hand.