Page 11 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Elliot trudged along behind Nikolai, nausea still heavy in his stomach and the sweaty, anxiousness of the morning hanging around his shoulders.

He’d been on the verge of a panic attack since the moment Nikolai had barged into his room this morning, and the fact that he’d already had one wasn’t keeping the possibility of future ones at bay. It was wearing him down.

The house was a labyrinth, if only because of the size.

He followed as Nikolai led them back toward the front of the house.

The man was typing rapidly on his phone, but not for a second did Elliot think he wasn’t paying attention.

Everything about Nikolai screamed competence with exacting precision.

“Ah yes, good,” Nikolai said of the collection of shopping bags that had been tidily left on a catchall table near the front door. He grabbed them all up and then turned back to lead Elliot deeper into the house once more.

They went down the hallway, and through a living room. Elliot spotted photos on the fireplace mantel. He couldn’t see the details from where he was, but they looked decidedly personal. The whole living room looked decidedly personal.

Maybe this was Nikolai's primary residence.

There was a blanket thrown across the couch, books and papers stacked messily on one end table.

There was even a laptop on the coffee table with what looked like a spreadsheet open on it.

For some reason Elliot latched onto those details.

The man was scary, but these little details were a life raft to Elliot.

If this man could tangle his laptop cord and wipe doughnut sugar on his expensive slacks, maybe…

maybe he was telling the truth that Elliot wouldn’t be harmed if he cooperated.

It wasn’t strong logic, he knew that, but Elliot latched on to the feeble hope. If his body kept up this amount of panicky fear, he might explode. Or have a heart attack.

They didn’t stop in the living room, but walked through it to the other side.

Down that hall was an offshoot with a full bathroom.

Nikolai strode into it carrying the bags and dropped them all on the nearby counter.

The bathroom was a huge room, containing both shower stall and bathtub, double sinks, and miles of pristine tile.

Elliot frowned to see how dirty his socks were against the tile. He was a disgusting mess.

“My assistant Meredith has done shopping for you,” Nikolai said, gesturing at the bags. “There is toiletries and clothing for you. Maybe something fits good.”

It took entirely too long for those words to settle in, for Elliot to understand what the man meant.

“Oh,” he said, and then quickly, “thank you.”

He felt like he should say more, but he’d already tried apologizing, and it had only seemed to annoy the man.

“If you are needing anything else, I can get,” Nikolai said. “You just say, maybe after shower, yes?”

“Okay,” Elliot said quietly. “Thank you.”

Nikolai gave him one last long look, and then stepped back toward the door. He didn’t exit the bathroom, stopping just at the threshold and then turning his back to be facing out into the hallway. There, he leaned against the doorframe and pulled out his phone once more to begin typing.

Elliot’s brain felt like it was moving through tar. He was here for…?

Cleaning up. What had Nikolai said yesterday? He’d be given food and showers, supervised. The bathroom in his room was just a toilet and tiny sink, a closet makeover if anything. No cabinets and no mirror. It certainly hadn’t had a shower.

Elliot hadn’t thought about it at the time. Now his belly swooped again, bile threatening to rise back up even if there was nothing left inside him.

He bit his lip, the split tender and sore, but he knew there was nothing he could say. Of course Elliot wasn’t going to be given privacy here. Nikolai might not consider him a risk to his person, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t going to chance Elliot trying something.

Whatever that could possibly be.

After far too long of Elliot just standing there, staring at Nikolai's back, the man shifted, though he didn’t look up from his phone.

“There is problem with shower?” Nikolai asked.

The question was more of a demand, and it jolted Elliot out of his stupor. Right. Of course. Elliot was sweaty and disgusting, wearing days-old clothing with the taste of sick still in his mouth. Nikolai's house was too nice to be mucked up by him if he refused to shower.

“Y-yes,” he said meekly. “Sorry.”

He stepped toward the bags, taking a peek at the ones with clothing first. The bags were emblazoned with the name of a store Elliot didn’t recognize, but inside were several T-shirts, four pairs of sweatpants with drawstring waistbands, sets of underwear in different sizes, and a package of socks.

Things that would fit him, more or less comfortably. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

The other bag had brand-new travel sizes of shampoo, conditioner, mouthwash, and body wash. There were also two sealed toothbrushes, a pack of floss, and two different kinds of deodorant. Notably, there were no shaving razors.

Elliot busied himself with pulling out a change of clothes.

The T-shirts were all plain cotton in neutral colors and the sweatpants were all black, so Elliot didn’t need to spend a lot of time choosing which ones to wear.

He opened one of the packages of underwear and pulled out a pair, then did the same with the package of socks.

With his little armful of clothing, he turned his head back to Nikolai. The man was just standing there in the doorway, facing away. He seemed focused on whatever he was working on on his phone.

Still, Elliot hesitated. He wanted to believe that Nikolai was going to respect his privacy, but he had no reason to believe the man would . Elliot was a… hostage here. Totally under Nikolai’s control.

Nikolai hadn’t really done anything so far to make him think he was going to look at or touch Elliot. He seemed more repulsed by Elliot than anything else.

But Elliot couldn’t shake the fear of it. Showers weren’t safe or private spaces when someone else was around. Elliot had learned that with Mattia.

It had almost been fun in the beginning, being looked at, wanted like that. The way Mattia would stroll into the bathroom and be unable to help himself, undressing and sliding into the shower stall with Elliot–

Elliot had no idea when it had become so uncomfortable. When he’d started timing his showers to be when Mattia was out of the house or asleep.

This wasn’t helping.

Elliot set the clothing on the floor right next to the shower, so he’d be able to grab them quickly, then got out the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

He had no reason to think that Nikolai even liked men.

So far everything about this situation had been businesslike.

Straight forward. He’d said Elliot was beautiful, sure, but that didn’t really mean anything.

He’d been trying to sell threats to Mattia at the time.

Odds were that Nikolai didn’t give a fuck what Elliot looked like, and Elliot was just getting worked up for no reason.

If that wasn’t the case, well, it… it wasn’t like Elliot had a choice in whatever might happen anyway.

He doubted Nikolai would let him go back to the bedroom without showering, and he personally didn’t want to either.

He hated how the sweat had dried itchy on his skin, how he reeked of fear stench.

Slipping under the hot water might also help to ease the pounding headache he now had from all the crying.

Elliot took a deep breath, and made himself take the bottles over to the shower stall.

It was clear glass, just like Mattia had at his place.

It seemed like all rich people were the same in at least one way.

There would be no hiding if Nikolai did decide to look at him. He’d just have to get over it.

All he could do was get it over with quickly.

Opening the door to the shower, Elliot set the bottles on one of the ledges.

There was a fresh stack of towels and washcloths in the built-in shelving beside the shower, so he reached for the knob and turned the water on hot.

Letting it start to fill the bathroom with steam, fogging up the glass doors to the shower.

He couldn’t help glancing back toward the door as he did, checking to see if Nikolai had moved. He hadn’t.

Elliot took a deep breath, and then another. You can do this.

He started to strip.

Elliot did so quickly, heart pounding as his cheeks flushed.

He kept his eyes on the shower, unable to bear the possibility of looking over to discover that Nikolai was actually looking at him .

He focused instead on getting off his clothes as quickly as possible, leaving them in a heap before he climbed into the shower.

His hands were still shaking as he grabbed a washcloth and the body wash, fumbling with the bottle before he managed to open it and pour soap onto it.

It was one of the quickest showers of his life.

He washed his body with ruthless efficiency, taking a few precious extra seconds to make sure his feet were clean of grime.

He scrubbed the shampoo through his hair and rinsed it out, resisting the urge to look toward the door, even when the hair raised on the back of his neck as though someone were watching him.

If Nikolai was, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Elliot was a captive here.

He couldn’t bear the thought of taking any more time under the water, so he forewent the conditioner, finishing the shower in minutes.

He barely rinsed off the last of the soap before he was reaching to turn the knobs off.

His hand darted out to grab a towel and he hurriedly dried off, the only saving grace being that the glass doors had indeed fogged up with the heat of the water.