Mates for Quinn

Big and Naughty

Quinn

It all started when I was eighteen. Before that nothing. No visions, no hallucinations, no craziness. Just a scared little kid who was forced to spend his most important birthday in juvie right before they kicked him out of there too. I remember at first I thought they were just a dream, Big and Naughty, the two nameless men who haunt my dreams. They were these faded images in my head, glimpses of feelings, perceptions. Two halves of a soul. A fantasy to help me pass the lonely days, to distract me from all the f*ucked ups in my life and the guilt for causing my mom pain by being who I am.

But then, I was free, and they didn’t go away. On the contrary. Night after night, the dream twisted into something more vivid, more visceral, until I started seeing the two men when I was awake too. It was spooky at first. I mean, I can’t control it and it took a lot of time and effort to train my body and brain to function throughout the days without letting the hallucinations take over to the point other people notice how insane I actually am. I had to hide, to pretend, to bite deeper than anyone else because if someone spotted my weakness, I’d be dead meat. You don’t survive the streets or prison by being the crazy pea in the pot. The thing with pretending though, you can fool the rest of the world, it might actually work, but you can’t fool yourself. And trust me, living with imaginary people in your head is no fun. Except when it is. When it’s hot and bothering, and frustrating and exciting as hell… and scary, because it’s all make believe. It’s f*ucked. I am f*ucked. F*ucked in the head, as Big’s favourite singer in the entire world would say.

Man, the things I’ve imagined about those two men, the things I know. I mean, they are surely made up, I know that, but still. Like how Naughty… Mark, he’s crazy about Big. Madly, desperately in love with the man. All he does is so that he can get a reaction out of his friend. But that reaction never comes. Big’s this closed up, stoic saint of a man who doesn’t care about s*ex and feelings regarding anyone. On the outside. On the inside… god, the things that roam in his mind, the things he wants to do to his buddy. But he can’t. It’s forbidden. After almost three years I still haven’t figured out why, like he’s put a wall in his brain that prevents him from even thinking about it.

And here they are. The two mafia dudes I tried to steal from turned out to be the guys who live in my head. Mark that as a coincidence.

A nervous giggle escapes my lips as my eyes dart between the two of them and Mark just stares at me like I’ve gone crazy. Man, if you only knew… letting my head roll back, I close my eyes, trying to get a grip of myself. To shove the thoughts away and get a hold of myself. I mean, I am either still knocked out back on that basement floor and I am just seeing things, or I am dead? Like in what other scenario it’s possible that this entire thing is real?

It does feel real though. The soft glide of the leather seat against my tied up hands, the way my head spins and the slight nausea I am feeling, the low rumble of the fading storm outside, the glimpses of different shades of dark I see through the window. And not to forget the two angry men in the car with me.

Even Big has turned to face me and as I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, the intense of his scrutiny making me flinch. He’s frowning, eying me like a bug on his window, and I feel small and stupid. I want to look away, but I can’t. There is just something about those big brown eyes of his, like he’s trying to devour me, to make sense of me, but failing. His thick brows are scrunched together in an expression that’s too much, that’s making me feel bare, small, stupid.

The more I stare back at him, the more I realize this can’t be all in my head. Tonight happened. Those two guys happened. Maybe I am projecting on them, maybe they are just some random dudes who my f*ucked up brain decided to trick me into believing that they are a part of my hallucination. But they are here, in the car, with me. That much I know, I am tied up on the back seat of a car with two literal strangers who can’t have any good intentions toward me. And what if it they are who you know they are, a little voice in my head asks. What if the men in my head are real? What if all this time I wasn’t crazy?

“Um…” I mumble, my face heating up as I finally force myself to tear my eyes from Big. “Is there a chance you guys would let me go?”

A sheepish smile lands on my lips and I hate myself for it. I am all over the place and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. Definitely the worst of times to have my little breakdown I’d say. And why on earth of all things I decide to focus on the embarrassing position I find myself in in front of the two coolest dudes I’ve ever known. I mean, I probably look like a total id*iot right now. Definitely feel this way.

“Nope,” Naughty, Mark, says, dragging the word until ending with a pop, his full lips puckering, and suddenly my mouth goes really, really dry as I stare at him.

“Uhm… well,” my eyes dart to Big, but he’s just still observing me, silent, stoic, those heated eyes of his now narrowed to slits at me. I hate that I can’t get into his head the way I usually do. I am dying to know what he’s thinking right now but he looks like an impenetrable wall in front of me, and my mind is quiet for once in almost three years. Because they are no longer just in my head, they are right there in front of me.

“He’s not going to help you any more than I am, angel,” Mark shrugs, the mockery tangible in his voice at the endearment. “Well, I guess he’s no longer into shock, huh? Let’s go, Grey.”

And just like that Grey starts the car again.

We drive in silence for no more than half an hour more and I am just sitting there on the back seat, tied and confused, all thoughts of escaping gone from my head. I mean, where the hell am I even supposed to go? I don’t know where we are, I don’t know what their intentions are. I mean, maybe if they are actually who I think they are, they won’t kill me, but in the bigger chance that they are not, I might be in real big trouble. The fact that my head is growing dizzier by the second can’t be good either, right?

I try as hell to focus on the little details I catch here and there. Like how big the car is, or how we probably moved to a city, with all those big flashing lights that we pass now. The storm is gone, or maybe we outran it, I don’t know, but I no longer hear thunder, or rain for that matter. I think it didn’t even rain here, because I can’t hear the scrunch of wet dirt under the wheels. Mark’s fancy watch showed 2:30 am when I got back online and he removed the bag from my head.

I mean, it’s not much to go on but at least it’s something. Could be much worse. The fact that we are moving toward civilisation instead of further away into the wilderness where they could easily dispose of my body, that should be reassuring, right?

The car finally slows down and after a left turn, we start descending into a large lit up garage. Grey parks and before I even know it, Mark is opening the door on my left, grabbing me by the shirt and pulling me outside like I weigh nothing to him.

My head goes even dizzier from the sudden movement and my legs give up on me, and if it wasn’t for the man gripping my shoulder, I’d be rolling over the cold cement.

“Easy, angel, easy,” Mark drags with his lazy tone as he eyes me under his brows. He looks kind of amused as he holds me by the collar now, that smirk on his face making me want to punch him. Maybe I would, if my hands weren’t tied with damn pigtails behind my back that is. And if I wasn’t feeling like I am about to get sick any second now.

Grey appears into my line of my sight, silent like a damn cat. He just stands in front of me, large chest heaving, and I have to actually lift my eyes to face him. I mean, I am not short by any means, but that guy… he’s like a damn impenetrable mountain in front of me.

“Behave,” he grumbles, his tone holding no room for protest as he pins me with his glare, and I can swear that shudder that rushed through me is the same that made Mark’s hand on my neck shake a little.

I give Mark a knowing smirk, I just can’t help it, and now he’s glaring daggers at me too. Perfect, way to go, Quinny, pissing off the people who hold you captive, great job.

“Move,” he tells me with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitching a little as he stares after his buddy’s back.

I have no other choice but to follow them toward an elevator, which takes us to the twelfth floor of the massive building we are in. The stretching silence between us is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Both men are angry now, probably at me, and I really can’t figure out what the hell I did to piss them off so much. I mean, besides the obvious.

The elevator doors open to a private hall with only one door on the opposite side. Grey punches a code into the security system and I really try not to stare at the piece of art in front of me that the lock actually is, as they drag me inside the apartment. It’s a big loft, open plan on the first floor with large staircase leading upstairs where the bedrooms probably are. It’s large and fancy, minimalistic in that way only really expensive s*hit can be, no way close to the way my own apartment is. I don’t remember this place from my hallucinations, but who knows, maybe my brain is upgrading the level of madness, adding new and new layers to the picture.

I am still a little dizzy as Mark directs me to the kitchen area. Without saying a word, he drags a chair and pushes me towards it and goes to grab something from the cupboards. A rope. I am not even surprised when he brings it back in my line of sight.

“Kinky,” I murmur, eyes cresting at him and Mark actually flashes me a wolfish grin. All the while Grey is standing next to the front door, staring at us, those dark intense eyes of his glued to me like tar. I don’t think he likes me and the realization sits heavy in my stomach, mixing with all the nausea, confusion and fear that rush through me ever since this entire night started.

“Go check on the cousins,” Grey says as Mark reaches to undo the zipties on my wrists and my gaze snaps up to him.

Next to me Mark tenses but he doesn’t look up at him. “You sure?”

“Got it covered,” Grey replies and walks slowly toward me as Mark walks away, handling him the piece of rope.

My heart skips a beat as the large man stands just inches away now, eyeing me like I am a puzzle he can’t solve.

When he reaches toward me, I can see his fingers move, like in a tremble, like he’s unsure he should touch me. Is he… disgusted by me? I mean, I am not that ugly. I don’t like smell or something. What the hell is his problem?

But then, a second later he finally grabs my shoulder, that touch of his lingering like fire through my clothes, and pushes me down onto a chair.

“Arms up,” he orders with that gruff voice of his and my legs budge under me.

“Dude, I am tied,” I protest as my a*ss touches the seat. “Can’t move them up.”

Grey only grumbles, those heated eyes narrowing at me. A second later he’s pulling me to my feet, that grip of his almost painful, then a knife somehow materialises in his free hand.

“Turn around,” he orders and I do as I am told, almost as if compelled by the power of his voice alone.

Swiftly, he cuts off the restraints careful not to touch the bare skin on my wrists. Odd, but… whatever.

Free, my hands are finally free. I shake them off, letting out a sigh of relief, my eyes closing in bliss. For some reason Grey’s still distracted by whatever as I turn to face him. I can see him not exactly noticing me as his gaze stays glued to the spot on my shoulder where he grabbed me just second ago, then trailing back to my wrists.

My heart skips a beat. My pulse races and suddenly I am feeling hot all over. I’d like to think it’s the rush of adrenaline that comes as I push him back with all the strength I’ve got left, using his momentum distraction to take my chance at freedom. Not expecting it, Grey stumbles back and I use his confusion to bolt toward the door.