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8

Hudson

We’d developed a small obsession with the boy. Or… not that small, considering that we’d been borderline harassing him for a while now.

It was difficult to explain my feelings towards him. I simultaneously wanted to fuck his brains out and make him bleed. I kept jerking off to the fantasy of him kneeling, peering up at me with tears streaming down his pretty face, our collar around his fragile throat.

Sometimes, I pictured cutting into that silky skin, carving our names into him so that no one else would dare to taste his screams of agony and moans of pleasure.

It didn’t start that way; we’d just wanted to seduce him, hurt him a little—maybe more, and throw him out.

Hayes and I weren’t used to rejection.

Maybe that was why we needed so badly to own him, claim him, ruin him.

Maybe that was why we couldn’t take no for an answer.

Whatever the reason, a passing desire had quickly spiraled into the land of no return. I started wondering about him in quiet moments. Wondering what his laugh sounded like when he was all alone and watching something funny on his phone. What kind of music he listened to. If he ever thought about us when he curled up in bed at night, cheeks flushed, breath catching. Not because we scared him—well, not only scared him—but because maybe, maybe we thrilled him. Last night, we’d even ordered a custom collar for him; possibly a few other items as well.

It was inevitable that Oliver would give in, and when that happened, we wanted to be fully prepared.

Hayes and I weren’t typically that big into pet play. We were sadists at heart and had never taken care of anything before—be that a person, animal, or even plant. Something about Oliver just inspired new feelings in my twin and me. He seemed like he belonged at our feet, in our house, swallowing our cocks.

We’d even been researching topics that were important for his new owners to be aware of. It’d been a surprise to both of us that Oliver was transgender.

Once we’d realized that neither of us had any issues with still being sexually aroused with him, learning more about his anatomy became high on our to-do list. Neither of us had ever been with anyone who had anything other than the parts of a biological male.

Were we attracted to women? Absolutely not. Were we attracted to Oliver? More than anything, but he wasn’t a woman, so.

The fact that he had an extra hole made sense for someone who was supposed to belong to us.

I took a long sip from my coffee, setting the cup back down after on the kitchen island. I was currently stuck at home waiting for an update from Grey while Hayes was out, most likely checking up on our pet. My luck was shit with coin flips.

The day prior, Greyson had called and demanded sedatives from us. While he hadn’t been in the mood to talk—too agitated—we were able to get some info out of him in exchange for the drugs. After he had asked what the safest dose was for a twelve-pound cat, we felt we had the right to know.

Grey had explained that he was moving forward with “rehoming” his little redheaded boy, Lane, which meant, of course, he had to take the pet cat too.

It wasn’t like him to be preparing for something like a kidnapping so last minute, but apparently Lane had told him that he’d made an account on one of those hookup apps. I felt like there were probably easier ways to stop him from hooking up that didn’t involve kidnapping, but Greyson always needed to go the theatrical route.

I was waiting for the call to confirm everything had gone according to plan. When my burner phone finally rang, I wasted no time answering it. “Morning. All good?” I asked.

Greyson’s smug voice was all the answer I needed. “Good morning to you, too, Hudson. Everything is perfect. I didn’t even need to sedate Chloe for the trip.”

“Chloe?” I thought for a second. “Oh, the cat, right?”

“Yes, the cat,” he scoffed, seemingly annoyed that I hadn’t known the thing’s name.

“Okay… and how’s the human man doing?”

“Lane’s settling in. His first reaction when he woke up was to submit to me like the perfect doll he is, but then he panicked, so I left him in his room to calm down. I’m making waffles for breakfast if you’re wondering.”

“Not sure why I’d be wondering about that, but it sounds great.” I rolled my eyes. “Glad you’re happy, brother.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Very happy.”

* * *

That night, Hayes was on the couch, a book in his hand, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, like we weren’t both going completely feral over the same boy. I stood in the doorway for a while before saying anything.

“You ever think maybe we’ve gone too far?”

He looked up, blinking at me like I’d asked him how to turn on the stove. “Too far with what? There are so many things we have most certainly gone too far with. Like remember when—”

I cut him off. “With Oliver.”

Hayes raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little. “You mean the guy we just ordered a custom collar for?”

I scowled. “Yes.”

“There aren’t any refunds if you changed your mind on the color. You’ll just have to deal with it or order another one.”

“Not with the collar, asshole. With him. Like… fixating so much on him? Why didn’t we stop after he said he wouldn’t fuck us? Why are we putting in so much work and time?”

That got a pause. He locked eyes with me then, his usual smirk faltering just slightly. “Hudson, are you feeling things?”

I rolled my eyes and sank into the armchair across from him. “Don’t be an dick.”

“I’m not. I’m just… surprised.” He carefully set his book down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I hesitated because it felt stupid to say out loud. But if anyone were going to get it, it would be him.

“I feel untethered. I don’t know how to deal with caring for him. I don’t just want to sleep with him,” I said slowly. “I mean—I do. God, I do, fuck. But I also want to know his favorite food or what he looks like when he wakes up. I want… all of it. Even the boring shit. Especially the boring shit.”

Hayes didn’t speak for a long beat. Then he let out a quiet whistle. “Wow. You’re fucked.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting my head fall back against the chair. “I know.”

There was another pause, then he said, “I don’t think you’re wrong, you know,” his voice softer than usual. “I think I might want the same thing.”

That surprised me. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… didn’t want to admit it—didn’t want to say anything about it.”

I let out a breath, half a laugh. “So, what do we do?”

Hayes shrugged. “Maybe we try things his way. Soften our approach. Court him, I guess? Give him a rock like those penguins do?”

“The fuck?”

“He likes animals—likes watching documentaries where they follow wild animals around. I may have watched one or two. And now, if he brings up penguins? Boom. I’ve endeared myself to him. What kind of psycho knows that penguins give each other rocks?”

I snorted, “Obviously the kind that includes you.”

“Oh, fuck off, Hudson.”

Hayes’s smirk lingered even as he tossed a cushion at me, but there was something different in his eyes—lighter. Hopeful, maybe. Like he could already picture Oliver’s surprised, suspicious face when he handed over some shiny little pebble, pretending it meant nothing when it meant everything.

I leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, letting the quiet settle. “You really watched documentaries for him?”

Hayes didn’t answer right away. He shrugged again, more self-conscious this time. “I wanted to understand what calms him down. The world freaks him out. If I can give him a pocket of quiet—something familiar—maybe he won’t look at us like we scare him.”

It was ridiculous. We’d stolen people, broken bones, burned literal bridges—but here we were, talking about courting someone like we were awkward teenagers. Trying to figure out how to get a skittish thing like Oliver to come a little closer, stay a little longer.