There was a wrapped rectangular box on their bed. Well, it was Zain’s bed, technically, but considering that he hadn’t slept in his own bed for the past few months, Aiden was a little justified in thinking of this bed as theirs.
Aiden picked up the box and said, “What is this, Zain?”
Zain didn’t look up from his phone. “Isn’t it your birthday?”
Aiden blinked. His birthday—
Right. It was February already. He had turned twenty-two.
“I had no idea you even knew when my birthday was,” Aiden said, starting to tear the wrapper off. “It’s sweet of you to remember.”
Zain kept his gaze on his phone. “It’s nothing. I had my secretary buy it.”
Smiling, Aiden rolled his eyes. It was kind of endearing, really, how dismissive Zain was of any nice gesture on his part. He’d done the same back in November when he had casually remarked that he’d gotten Aiden’s friends out of the country, as if it wasn’t a monumental thing. He’d done the same in December too: pretended that it wasn’t a big deal to have the house decorated for Christmas and acted as though it was normal to give a small mountain of presents to a sex pet on Christmas—a holiday he didn’t celebrate himself.
Aiden was actually low-key surprised Zain was giving him only one present this time.
But as he tore the wrapper off, Aiden’s smile faded.
He stared at the phone in his hands. “It’s a phone,” he heard himself say.
“Hmm.”
“You’re giving me a phone,” Aiden said.
“Yes. I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”
Aiden lifted his gaze and stared at Zain. “I…” I don’t understand, he wanted to say.
Rationally, he knew it wasn’t really a big deal: security had stopped taking away the staff’s phones months ago. Aiden could have easily borrowed one of their phones if he wanted to.
But it was one thing to theoretically be able to contact his family. And it was completely another to be given the means to do so.
If he wanted to.
Aiden stared at the phone in his hands, both hating and loving the gift.
He hated that now it would always be there, a taunting reminder that he was choosing not to contact his family. He was voluntarily causing them pain by his silence. But how could he contact them? What would he even say? “Sorry, Mom, I’m alive and totally fine, but I don’t want to come back yet”? His parents would never let it be. His dad would have the call traced and then his parents would be here, probably with the FBI, and bring a shitstorm down on Zain. That was why he hated this gift—it was irrefutable proof of his weakness and selfishness. He was a selfish, horrible person unable to let go of a relationship that should never have happened.
But he loved this gift too. It meant Zain trusted him enough to have it. Trusted him not to betray him.
Or maybe he just knows how bad you have it for him. You told him yourself that he successfully Stockholm syndrome’d you. It’s been half a year since he promised to get you home, and nothing happened. Stop waiting and leave. Contact your family at least. He literally gave you the means to do it, you idiot!
Gripping his phone in his hand, Aiden walked to Zain and crawled into his lap. “Thank you,” he said with a small smile, burying his fingers in Zain’s hair.
Zain tolerated being petted for a while, looking at him with an odd sort of intensity. “I put my number in it. I want you to contact me if you see anything strange.”
Aiden’s brows furrowed. “Strange in what way?”
“If you see strangers,” Zain said, putting his hands on Aiden’s waist. “Anyone who acts suspiciously—or even looks at you too long.”
Aiden laughed. “Are you serious?”
His expression vaguely annoyed, Zain nodded.
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Aiden said, threading his fingers through his dark hair. “But you’ve been acting odd for the past few months.”
He had been. He had been smothering Aiden with his attention lately. Aiden wasn’t sure what was up with him, but Zain had rarely let him out of his sight since December.
Not that Aiden was complaining; far from it. He was just surprised. And a little bit relieved too, if he were honest. He couldn’t deny that he’d kind of expected (scared) that Zain would get tired of him by that point. They’d been having sex for nine months. He’d been staying in Zain’s house for eleven months. He’d kind of thought Zain would tire of him by now.
But Zain was showing no signs of it. If anything, for the past few months, they’d been attached at the hip—to the point that Zain did most of his work at home and rarely left the house without a good reason.
“You’re imagining it,” Zain said, pulling him closer and then kissing him, hard and greedy, as though he couldn’t get enough. Aiden could relate: it always felt like he had this unquenchable thirst inside him that couldn’t be sated, no matter how much sex they had or how often they kissed. He wanted this man. So much. So, so much.
God, why wasn’t this getting better?
“Bed?” Aiden panted out, rubbing his erection against Zain’s.
Sighing, Zain got to his feet and carried Aiden to the bed.
“It gives me butterflies when you carry me around,” Aiden said, wrapping his legs around him.
“You have no brain-to-mouth filter, do you?” Zain said with a laugh, dropping him into the bed and climbing on top of him.
Aiden grinned. “Nope,” he said, putting his phone aside and pulling Zain down into a kiss.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, losing himself in Zain’s mouth. He would contact his family tomorrow.
And never mind that he promised that every day—and every day he couldn’t make himself do it.
***
Aiden woke up to the sound of raised voices.
Blinking blearily, he rubbed his eyes before his vision focused on the intruder.
Oh.
Gadiel was yelling something at his older brother, red in the face, his eyes glistening with angry tears.
Zain stood by the bed, his expression blank and entirely unimpressed, as if he hadn’t been caught in bed with another man—a man Zain had initially bought for Gadiel.
Aiden winced. “Look, Gadiel—”
“Shut up,” Gadiel snapped at him. “I’m talking to my hypocrite of a brother, not his whore!”
“Out,” Zain said, his eyes cold. “Close the door from the other side and let me get dressed.”
Looking mutinous, Gadiel opened his mouth but shut up when Zain’s expression turned positively frosty. He stalked out of the room, slamming it hard.
“He’s a bit of a drama queen, isn’t he?” Aiden said, trying to lighten up the tense mood.
“He’s a spoiled brat, that’s what he is,” Zain said, slipping into a thobe. “Stay in bed, it’s still early. Seeing you will just piss him off more. Knowing him, he’s probably halfway to his yacht anyway. I have to calm him down before he does something stupid.” Fully dressed, Zain leaned down, kissing him briefly on the lips. “I should be back before lunch.”
Aiden leaned forward, wanting a real kiss, but Zain was already straightening up. “It’ll take that long?”
Zain grimaced. “Gadiel has quite a temper.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Aiden said, catching Zain’s hand and squeezing it. “He feels hurt. I don’t think it’s even about me. He probably feels like you’ve been lying to him all his life—that you didn’t tell him that you can relate to his situation. He felt alone, and now he feels betrayed.”
Zain looked at their hands and then looked back at his face. “You’re too nice for your own good. He called you a whore.”
Aiden shrugged. “He was angry. And he does have a reason to be angry.”
Shaking his head exasperatedly, Zain let go of his hand and left.
Aiden sighed, his whole body feeling unsatisfied, as it always did when he didn’t get enough of Zain’s attention. He rolled his eyes with a laugh, exasperated by his own clinginess. He was going to have all the attention he wanted once Zain came back.
Aiden had no idea how wrong he was.
