Dangerous Savior

by Wulff, Carson

  “The locks are to keep you locked down here?” Ethan clarifies, horror plain on his face. “Why? For how long?”

  Tom frowns at Ethan for the longest moment, then says, “Take after my father. Look just like him is what my mother says. He was no good. Bad man. Like the bikers. Like all men.”

  Ethan’s heart grows heavy with the implications. Has Tom really been kept locked in the basement like a prisoner for his whole life, simply because he looks like his father? Because other men gave his mother a disdain for men generally?

  “How long?” Ethan whispers, terrified of the answer.

  “Long as I’ve been allowed in the house,” Tom says, voice entirely blank. He shrugs. There’s no indication that he understands why this information upsets Ethan. “Used to be all day and all night. Until I got old enough to be useful, then they put me to work. Let me keep staying in the basement, long as I did my work.”

  Ethan flounders, his concern dying in a frustrated syllable. He has no idea what to say, what can be said.

  “Have to go,” Tom says, gently now. He turns to leave.

  “Wait,” Ethan says, dashing forward to kiss Tom. He has to stand on his toes to even reach the other man’s lips.

  Tom’s brows knit in confusion, but he returns the sudden kiss.

  “Thank you,” Ethan says, pulling away. “For making me feel good.”

  Tom nods and leaves Ethan, walking past the curtain and up the basement stairs.

  When he’s gone, Ethan feels numb. True to his word, Tom left him untied. Alone and unmonitored in the basement. Surely the door is locked. Ethan isn’t even going to attempt to check, because he can hear the telltale footfalls of activity in the house above him. He can’t risk an escape attempt with Tom’s family around.

  Tom’s knife collection hangs docile on the wall for display. Ethan could easily slip one of those knives from its mount and…

  And…

  Ethan sighs.

  What does it mean that Tom left him alone down here, untied and free to access the weapons lying around?

  What does it mean that Ethan has no desire to take one of the knives from the wall?

  He doesn’t want to know.

  14

  Ethan spends the rest of the day snooping around the basement, hesitant at first, then bolder. He forces himself as silent as possible as he goes through boxes stored in the basement, full of junk and old knickknacks, the kinds of normal things one would expect to find in storage. It’s almost disturbing to know that this family maintains any sort of normalcy. That, apart from the dead body in the freezer and the two live captives, this would be a normal basement.

  All the while, Jed is half-conscious, moaning and grunting behind the tape today. Ethan tries his best to ignore the man. He feels like a bad person despite what Jed has done to him, but the guilt lessens some when he catches sight of Jed’s incredulous stare, the disgust in his eyes as he watches Ethan explore without trying to escape.

  It takes Ethan a long time and a lot of willpower to venture onto the half of the basement with the metal butchering table and the freezer.

  Powerful tools hang from the back wall. A drill. A chainsaw. A bone saw still caked with flaky blood. Ethan averts his eyes from the tools, the weapons, the options they give him. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to think about that method of escape. Doesn’t want to think too hard about what’s best for him, right now. Because what’s best is probably taking one of those tools and trying to blaze his way out of this house. He doesn’t want to know what it means that he doesn’t want that kind of escape. Not if it comes with waiting at the bottom of the stairs and attempting to run Tom through with a blade the moment he least expects it.

  Ethan… can’t do that.

  Can’t think about doing that.

  The freezer hums ominously from its position against the wall. Ethan has to look inside. Has to know whether Tom was lying to him about how frequently he kills for his family. The freezer opens with a plastic suction sound that makes Ethan cringe. Inside, there are boxes and boxes of packaged frozen food, on top of which lie the hunks of Ricky’s body wrapped in butcher paper. No other bodies. Bile rises in Ethan’s throat at the sight of the frozen food. Somehow, that’s worse than if he had found several other corpses. It’s worse knowing the heinous things this family has done intermingle jarringly with normalcy.

  Boxes of old family trinkets stored away in a basement where people are butchered.

  Grocery store food stored in the same freezer as a dismembered body.

  Ethan stumbles back, disturbed. The freezer lid snaps closed.

  Later, Ethan finds a box of old family photos, none of which contain Tom. Not even as a child. As if he’s been unwanted since the moment he was born.

  Ethan eyes the gas cans stored under the stairs. Wishes he had a lighter to burn every smiling photo of this family that happily excludes Tom.

  Next to the box of photos, Ethan finds an old wooden chess set, which he digs out and places on Tom’s bed. He waits there, napping.

  Tom returns sweaty again from the day. Ethan wakes blearily from his nap and reaches for Tom instinctually. Tom obliges, hovering over him. Ethan can’t help it. He wraps his arms around Tom’s neck and greets him with a kiss.

  “Can we play chess?” Ethan asks when his lips part from Tom’s with a soft suction noise.

  “Don’t know how,” Tom replies, but he lowers himself onto the mattress on the opposite side of the chessboard.

  Ethan frowns. How much did Tom miss out on, locked away his whole life? It’s a wonder he even knows how to speak, with how little human interaction he seems to have had. Though, maybe that explains why he’s so short with words, as if there’s a discomfort with using them.

  “I’ll teach you,” Ethan says gently, smiling when Tom nods to accept his offer.

  They spend the rest of the night playing chess. Surprisingly, Tom picks up the rules quickly and immediately resets the pieces for a rematch whenever Ethan puts him into checkmate. It’s exciting, somehow, watching Tom chew the pad of his thumb in thought, or growl in frustration when Ethan wins again.

  Throughout the whole experience, Tom can’t keep his hands to himself, constantly reaching around the board to run his hand absently up Ethan’s thigh, or slip it beneath his shirt.

  After their last game, Tom leans over the chessboard, scattering pieces to the ground and captures Ethan’s lips roughly. Ethan moans into the kiss and pushes the board carelessly to the ground. Tom’s hand grips Ethan’s shoulder, shoving him down hard onto the mattress.

  Ethan lies back, pupils dilating as he stares up at Tom, breath heaving. Why does being manhandled arouse him so much? Shouldn’t Tom’s strength terrify him? It doesn’t—god, it doesn’t.

  Tom insistently tugs at Ethan’s shirt until Ethan raises his arms and lets him rip it off.

  “So beautiful,” Tom mutters, voice thick and husky with arousal.

  With strong hands on his hips, Tom flips Ethan over so that he’s lying on his stomach, ass in the air. There’s something incredibly vulnerable about this position, even though he’s clothed, and Ethan can feel his face burning red.

  “Looks so good,” Tom grunts as he runs his palms up the length of Ethan’s back, shifting so that his erection pushes against Ethan’s ass through their clothes.

  Ethan whines with need, pushing back against Tom’s hips and grinding into him. His own cock is almost fully hard, straining at an awkward angle in his pants.

  Luckily, Tom reaches beneath Ethan and tears open his fly, hooking thick fingers into the hem of his pants and pulling them down with his boxer-briefs in one rough movement. Ethan shudders, utterly exposed, cock free to push achingly against the mattress now.

  Tom grabs handfuls of Ethan’s ass and squeezes, a growl of deep wanton rumbling from his chest.

  “The—the lubricant,” Ethan manages, not worried so much about having the lube as having the request let Tom know explicitly Ethan’s consenting
to this. He wants this, badly. Wants Tom to take charge, to use him as he sees fit. “Please, do what feels good for you. Whatever you want.”

  Tom pulls away for a moment and comes back with the lubricant bottle, previously discarded on the floor. He slathers his fingers and wastes no time tossing the bottle aside and slipping his thick fingers between Ethan’s ass. Ethan moans and arches against his fingers, which rub at his hole but refuse to penetrate. Tom’s fingers are gone as quickly as they came.

  The next thing Ethan knows Tom is positioning the blunt head of his cock against Ethan's ass and pushing in without warning. Tom’s legs pin Ethan down, his free hand pushing on Ethan’s shoulder to keep him pinned to the mattress. Ethan couldn’t get away if he wanted to.

  All at once, Tom sheathes himself, groaning deeply when he’s buried to the hilt, body flush against Ethan’s ass.

  Ethan can’t help it, he screams as Tom penetrates him, the shout of pain and surprise turning into a long, breathless moan. The pain bleeds into an intense pleasure at the sensation of being filled so fully, so deliberately.

  Desperately, Ethan thinks. Tom is desperate to fuck him. He has been since he first got back today, hasn’t he? How hard was it for him to endure those long chess games without tossing Ethan back onto the bed and fucking him like this?

  Ethan’s once again impressed by the man’s restraint.

  But that resolve, that restraint is gone now. Broken.

  Tom only groans in pleasure in response to Ethan’s pained wail and writhing. He holds Ethan down with a massive hand and unsurprising strength. Tom starts to move unapologetically, snapping his hips back and then forward again in small, forceful movements. He leans forward and bites Ethan hard on the back of the neck, sucking pleasure into his skin. It’s sure to leave a mark.

  Ethan feels like he’s losing his mind, delirious with the pleasure of Tom’s teeth scraping his neck, his tongue, his lips, the glorious, mind-breaking suction of his mouth.

  Tom’s hips move faster now, meeting Ethan’s ass with the force of his thrusts over and over creating an obscene slapping of skin. The noise, Tom’s grunts with every thrust, only makes Ethan’s cock throb with need as it’s pinned between his belly and the mattress, desperate for attention.

  Ethan feels used in the best possible way. He feels like he’s fulfilling a purpose. Like his body is finally being used correctly for the first time in his life.

  As Tom’s thrusts grow faster, more punishing, Tom mutters unintelligibly, close to Ethan’s ear, “Needed you all day. Thinking about you all day. Want this so bad. Got hard just thinking about you. Don’t know what I’d do without you. Don’t know what I’d do without this. Don’t know how I’ve lived without this.”

  Ethan’s groan is more of a loud whine as the words go straight to his cock. Tom’s lust-filled rambling mirrors the thoughts Ethan’s had—wondering what he would do when he escapes and loses this intimacy. He wonders how many online dating sites he would have to scour to find something to replace this. But he knows nothing would ever replace the carnal need they both feel for each other. The glorious savageness of Tom’s touches.

  Despite how blindingly hard Tom is pounding his ass, Ethan comes first, spilling onto the mattress and his own belly. Without even having his cock touched. It’s embarrassing and thrilling and Tom keeps fucking him hard, without seeming to notice or care that Ethan has gone limp beneath him.

  Tom comes soon after, burying himself deeply with one last thrust as he fills Ethan with his come.

  There’s nothing to do but try to breathe again after that.

  Tom falls to the side of the bed, pulling Ethan roughly against him, settling his head on Tom’s chest. Ethan closes his eyes and focuses on Tom’s stampede of a heartbeat against his face.

  Somewhere, distantly, Ethan knows that he should try to stay awake again. Check the locks again just in case Tom’s family forgot to lock them tonight.

  He should be thinking about escape.

  He isn’t.

  He doesn’t want to get up. Doesn’t want to check the lock.

  Doesn’t want to be anywhere but in Tom’s arms right now.

  Most of all, he doesn’t want to think about what that means.

  15

  Ethan wakes to having his naked body suddenly unsheathed, exposed to the cool basement air. It takes him a moment to register where he is—naked in Tom’s bed after a night of rough sex, body covered in marks left by Tom’s mouth. Tom’s threadbare quilt has been ripped off of their sleeping bodies.

  Ripped off by Tom’s sister, Beth.

  She looms over them with unfiltered fury written on her face.

  Ethan is too shocked to move.

  “Well, well, well, little brother. Don’t fucking tell me this is why you’re taking so long to get rid of our guests.”

  The way she spits the word guests makes Ethan flinch. Like he and Jed are nothing more than trash that wasn’t wheeled down to the curb in time for garbage day. Why hasn’t Tom killed them yet? Was he supposed to butcher them all that first day? Well, Ethan knows why Tom hasn’t killed him yet. As for why Jed’s still alive, Ethan isn’t sure. Has Tom just been too busy messing around with Ethan that he hasn’t had the time to kill and dismember Jed? Or is the reason more complicated than that?

  Could it be that Tom isn’t killing Jed because he doesn’t want to scare Ethan again? Ethan had been in pretty bad shape after Ricky’s death, despite what Ricky did to him. He had scarcely been able to control his sobbing.

  Whatever the case—Tom hasn’t killed them yet. And his sister is pissed.

  “You haven’t gotten rid of them cause you’re too busy fucking around with this one?” Beth laughs cruelty. “I always figured you were the type to drag them to your bed after they were dead, Tommy. Not before.”

  Beside Ethan, Tom pushes himself upright, every last bit of grogginess washed away by a scowl.

  Beth sneers at her brother. “How many of our other guests have you fucked over the years?”

  Ethan’s heart is flying in his chest. He tries in vain to shield his naked body as much as possible.

  This causes Beth’s eyes to flash towards him. Growling, she lunges forward and grabs Ethan’s arm, ripping him off the bed. Ethan’s body hits the unforgiving concrete with a loud slap.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  They were careless to go to sleep in a state of undress. They were careless to sleep together in the first place. They were careless to ever unbind Ethan's chains.

  No, they weren’t careless. Just Tom was.

  Tom.

  Just Tom.

  Ethan was only trying to survive.

  Tom’s up and off the bed in the blink of an eye. Silently, he slips into his pants, shaking them up his hips and fastening them like his sister isn’t watching him right now.

  Ethan feels like he can breathe again when Tom steps between him and Beth, whose face is red with rage now.

  “I asked you a question!” Beth screams suddenly, voice echoing off the walls. “How many of them have you fucked?!”

  Ethan can tell even from his vantage point behind Tom that Tom’s posture is stiff and roiling with barely controlled rage. His fists are clenched at his sides; Beth’s eyes flick down to them.

  There’s a warning in her expression, cold and frightening. She turns to look around Tom’s hulking form, her expression changing as it lands on Ethan.

  “You poor boy,” she says, tone coaxed sickly sweet. Even the concern on her face is counterfeit. “What has my brother gone and done to you?”

  Ethan’s jaw is locked, teeth clenched and eyes wide in fear. What can he say? What should he say? He’s terrified of saying the wrong thing, getting Tom into deeper trouble.

  “We never wanted you to suffer none,” Beth continues with the same honey sweetness. “Just can’t trust no one, gotta protect our own. Get rid of bad men and witnesses. You understand. Never intended no torture… nothing sick like my brother done to yo
u.”

  Lightning quick, Beth hits Tom in the side of his head. His face snaps to the side with the force of the blow.

  Tom’s shoulders square, but he keeps his face towards the ground.

  Terror seizes Ethan harder, as if he is the one who was struck. There’s something disturbing about watching a man as strong and capable as Tom take his sister’s abuse without complaint.

  Of course he’s going to take it.

  Of course he won’t stand up to his sister.

  Everything Ethan’s learned about Tom points to his family having complete control over him.

  What is he ruled by? Fear? Loyalty? Brainwashing? Manipulation? It doesn't matter. The fact is that Tom has probably never stood up to his family and he isn’t about to start now, not for Ethan.

  Maybe it's time someone stood up for Tom.

  “He didn’t,” Ethan stammers, voice raw and shaky.

  “Didn’t what?” Beth snaps.

  “Didn’t hurt me. I…”

  Beth’s expression grows harder by the second.

  “I wanted to.”

  Tom actually turns to look sideways over his shoulder at him, shock plain on his face.

  The confession shocks him.

  Why?

  Hasn't he known this whole time?

  “He's been sweet to me,” Ethan manages to add despite the fear seizing his body.

  “How long has this been going on?” Beth asks sharply.

  Why does it matter? She just wants Ethan dead. Why is she putting them through this humiliation first? Why, why, why?

  “How long has this been going on?” Beth repeats, this time screaming the question. As if a reply only didn't come because she didn't command it viciously enough.

  Without thinking, Ethan answers hastily, tripping over his words, “Since I first saw him. That's when it started. When he saved me from those bikers.”

  Beth’s anger seems to shift jarringly to puzzlement. She searches Ethan’s face skeptically.