The Bone Collector - The Watch #1 - Ch. 12 (Patreon)

Here you go, unbeta'd and unedited. Yes, I know you guys were probably expecting the sexing. But I promise, next chapter. All of the smut. 

Park

Park stood underneath the frigid water of his shower, one hand wrapped around his dick and his other forearm braced against the tile, forehead resting against it as he worked himself at a punishing pace. He’d hoped the icy water would quell his desperation a bit, but it had done no such thing. His traitorous brain seemed determined to replay everything Gift had said to him that morning on a loop.

So now he’d resorted to jerking off, trying to clear his head enough to get through the day. To face Gift in a room full of people. Fuck. His sweet Gift, his soft boy with his pretty brown eyes and plush cheeks that looked so pretty with his lips stretched around Park’s cock.

Kiss me, hia. Please…

Park’s breath came faster. Kissing Gift made Park feel again. He’d become jaded years ago, he’d long ago stopped caring about the nuances of sex, the build up, the tension, the foreplay. He’d always wanted to get in and get out. Period. But with Gift it was different. Park was never in a hurry. Kissing Gift was like nothing else. Feeling him tremble, hearing him whine, the way his fingers would fist in Park’s shirt and he would beg so breathlessly. Park could spend hours doing just that.

You want to punish me so badly, hia. Yet, you never do…

His hand moved faster over his cock, eyes closed, pleasure pooling low in his belly. He would. He’d punish Gift if that’s what he wanted. If it’s what he needed. Park had always needed to maintain some semblance of control during sex. He liked to call the shots, liked watching others bend to his will, liked even more when they failed to please him and he could dole out their punishment.

He’d never imagined he could have that with Gift. He’d never imagined Gift, his sweet, pliant boy, would want to be controlled, punished, used. But he’d begged for it, had whispered all his dirty fantasies right up against Park’s ear, daring him to break through that carefully curated version of himself he’d created just to keep Gift safe.

But Gift wasn’t safe anymore. He’d opened Pandora’s box and that box was full of deep seated fantasies that involved twisting Gift into knots, bending him and shaping him and making him behave by any means necessary.

If you had any idea how often I jerk off in the shower thinking of you…

Park widened his stance, groaning as he twisted on every upstroke as he let his imagination take control. The idea of Gift on his bed, feet planted and legs parted, hand working himself as he moaned Park’s name had him almost there. Gift was so beautiful, so sweet, so innocent looking.

I’m really your good boy…

Was he? He pretended he was. Pretended he was Park’s perfect boy. Until he opened that sinfully perfect mouth and taunted Park with his deepest, darkest desires. Then he wasn’t his good boy at all. Park wanted both. Craved both. Needed both. He was tired of fighting the inevitable. What was he supposed to do when Gift was there, all day, every day, all but begging—no, literally begging—Park to take him apart a piece at a time?  And he would. Fuck, he so would.

It’s what Gift wanted, what he needed. He’d spent hours taunting him with thoughts of letting someone else have him. The idea of Payton having access to what was Park’s had him growling his frustration, face twisted in a tight grimace. That…child couldn’t give Gift what he needed.

But Park could. Park would. He would lay Gift down and worship every inch of his body until he cried, until he begged, until he understood exactly who he belonged to.

Is that why you won’t…bend me over the bleachers? Spank me? Give me what I deserve…

What he deserved. What he deserved?  He deserved everything. He deserved to be loved and fucked and punished, to be torn apart and put stitched back together again and again. To be used for Park’s pleasure and his own.His thoughts had him breathless, blood rushing loudly in his ears, over the sound of the heavy spray, his toes curling as his release built, pleasure pulsing deep inside him.

He pressed his forehead to the cold tile, gritting his teeth, hand almost painful as he worked himself impossibly fast without any lube, the friction just this side of painful, a punishment for being weak. He’d never wanted anyone as bad as he wanted Gift. Ever. Hadn’t even known he was capable of a want this gripping. It wrapped around his heart like a vine and squeezed until he was all but choking on it.

Is it because I’m still a virgin…

Park came with an aborted shout, biting down on his forearm, watching his release coat the tile then wash away. He was so fucked. He stood there, panting, goosebumps erupting along his skin now that he didn’t have jerking off to distract him from the chill. He yanked the spray too hot, hissing as the sudden temperature shift made it feel like a thousand needles stabbing him at once.

He scrubbed his body quickly, then shampooed his hair. He was going to give Gift what he wanted. He knew that now. Park was weak. He was fallible. He was everything Anchali would call him for later once she knew what Park was about to do to her baby boy. Her only child.

She might actually kill him. She could. She had a list of kills almost as impressive as Park’s and she’d been in the field nowhere near as long as him, thanks to Kendrick benching her as a punishment for getting pregnant.

Park wrenched off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, exiting the now steamy bathroom for his bedroom, the cold air of the air conditioning almost as punishing as his shower. His gaze fell to his phone.

He’d lied to her last night. He’d sat right on his sofa, phone in hand, and promised her he would protect Gift. That he would take care of him, make sure he ate and paid attention in class. And he’d agreed. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He was doing all of those things. He was just also currently planning to defile and deflower her precious baby boy.

She’d admitted they were truly no closer to determining who it was that had attempted to take his life, the one who’d started this whole mess in the first place. How hard were they truly looking? Why had this attacker even been able to get that close to Gift in the first place? Park would have never let that happen.

Did it even matter now? Park wasn’t giving Gift back. He sat heavily on his bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He sounded like a maniac. A horny maniac preying on a naive younger guy. But it was Gift who’d started this. Park had done everything in his power to keep himself in check. It was Gift who’d punched a hole in all of Park’s defenses. And now they were there. Park agreeing to finally take Gift’s virginity, like some ancient right of passage.

It was such an antiquated concept. The most logical, rational part of Park knew that. He knew it shouldn’t matter if Gift had given himself to someone else before him. It had no bearing on his character or his self-worth. But the thing was, whenever Park thought of someone else being the first to show Gift everything sex had to offer, he went feral. It made him want to kill.

Park knew—deep in his core—Gift was his. The ha belonged to Park in a way that was animalistic and instinctive. In a way that made Park willing to kill to defend and protect what belonged to him. He should feel guilty about it but he didn’t. It should tug at his conscience, but it didn’t. Park knew every emotion he was supposed to have in this situation and in others, but they just weren’t there.

He had spent this whole time trying to force himself to think like a normal person, to feel like a normal person. But he wasn’t normal. He hadn’t been for a very long time. And now that he’d made this decision, flipped this switch inside himself that had marked Gift as off limits, he felt like himself again, like the Park he’d been before Gift had arrived, wrapped up like every wet dream Park had ever had, on his doorstep.

He shoved his legs into black boxer briefs, then stood in front of the slightly foggy mirror. He stared at his reflection. He usually put his contacts in, then styled his hair into some sleek business appropriate look, but today he just towel dried it roughly, then trudged into the kitchen grabbing the container of Khao Tom, eating it cold while leaning against the counter, simply because it was the closest thing at hand.

He stuffed a bite in his mouth, chewing contemplatively. Park wasn’t that strong. He wasn’t a good person. It had been easy to pretend he was when Gift was faking it too, playing along, being his good boy. But now, the gloves were off and Park found it was much harder to fight who he really was, when Gift no longer wanted to play his part. Though, to be fair, Gift hadn’t asked to be cast in the role of blushing virgin, it had been assigned to him.

By Park.

By Gift’s mother.

Gift wasn’t a child. He was an adult, in every conceivable way. He’d only treated Gift as fragile because he’d believed Anchali when she said he was. And Gift’s behavior had confirmed it. But now…now it was different. Gift was a person who knew exactly what he wanted and went for it. Demanded it, even.

Would it be the end of the world if Park gave him exactly what he’d been begging for? He would ease him into it, of course. He wouldn’t go straight to the punishments and restraints, no matter how much Gift begged. He needed to walk before he could run…so to speak. Park would take care of Gift. Park was exceptionally good at caring for his things. And Gift was his. His to fuck. His to use. His to love.

Anchali had given Gift to Park and he knew now he was unwilling—maybe even unable—to return him. Gift had given Park something to look forward to. Seeing him lit up something deep in his core, something that he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling. Gift was the best part of Park’s life. Gift was just that…a gift. And it was rude to return a gift.

He snorted at the thought.

Once back in his bedroom, he put on a pair of steel gray trousers, then pulled on a black button down, checking himself in the mirror before he grabbed his gold rimmed glasses and slid them on. Gift seemed to prefer Park like this. And Park had decided he was going to give Gift whatever he wanted.

And God help them both.

###

Park went about the majority of his day on auto-pilot, only fully checking in whenever Gift appeared in his line of sight, enjoying the way the boy blushed and ducked his head whenever he saw him looking his way. It was cute. Gift was cute. Both insanely bold and enticingly innocent. It was dizzying in the best possible way. Park never knew what he was going to do next.

They only saw each other in passing until the meeting in the Peregrin pod to learn of any new leads. Park sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, expecting the others to take their normal seats as well, but Gift plopped down to his left and gave him an innocent little smile that made Park instantly suspicious.

The others fell into place in formation, the assets and handlers side by side like conjoined twins. Of course, that left Payton on Gift’s left as well, practically glued to his side. Park did his best not to show any outward reaction, but ground his teeth together until his jaw ached.

Once they were all settled around the room, Park looked pointedly at Remi. “What have you g—” Park grunted in surprise as Gift’s socked foot suddenly slipped between his open legs, pressing against his crotch. Park shot him an incredulous look, but Gift was just looking at his phone as if nothing were happening. Park cleared his throat.— “got? What have we got?” he said again, with more confidence, doing his best not to stare at Gift.

Remi opened his mouth to speak, just as Gift’s foot began to move, sending a shock of heat throughout Park’s body. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped as his cock filled out painfully behind his zipper. He coughed, hoping it somehow hid his desperate groan, but the others still looked at him as if he were crazy.

Maybe he wouldn’t ease Gift into punishments after all. Maybe he’d drag him into the nearest bathroom and spank him until he cried, finger him roughly until he was begging, then stuff him full of his cock until he was screaming.  That thought did nothing to quell his hard-on, so he forced himself to try and ignore Gift and his wiggling toes.

He dug his blunt nails into his Gift’s foot, doing his best to dislodge it, but Gift was unfazed, eyelids fluttering like he was getting a foot massage. The fucking brat. Park tried to discreetly move his chair away from the table, but it didn’t budge, stuck on something behind the wheel. Had Gift set his bag between the wheels so Park couldn’t get away? The diabolical little monster.

“I figured out the pixelated cyclone thingie,” Remi said, tone grim, dragging Park’s attention away from his predicament temporarily. “I also figured out why a bunch of teens join the site every time one of these influencers talks about it.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Payton asked, “So what is it?” His exasperation obvious.

Remi picked up the small remote from the conference table and turned on the large television on the far wall. Park frowned at the image on the screen, a very old school looking app with little creatures walking around with conversation bubbles over their heads. Each of the little creatures seemed engaged in conversations set against a theme park background.

“Is this the game?” Park asked.

Remi nodded, using his laptop to control the tiny russet colored dog on the screen.

“I worried I was going to have to wander around forever trying to find this symbol. But it was shockingly easy once I realized those random photos on Instagram weren’t random at all.”

Persephone frowned, fingers playing with her braids. “What do you mean? They’re literally just photos of bridges and parking garages?”

Remi hit a couple of buttons, opening Instagram and searching the chatterland adventures hashtag. “That’s because it's not the pictures that matter. It’s the captions.” He clicked on one of the outlier photos on the screen, blowing up the caption beneath. There were three emojis: a palm tree, a wave, and an umbrella.

“Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Lennon asked.

“Only to people who know what they’re looking for,” Remi said. “See, these emojis are signposts. Directions on how to find the game within a game.”

“What are you? The riddler? What the fuck does that even mean?” Jay asked.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Drake said calmly, staring hard at Jay, before shooting a wide grin at Remi like he expected to be rewarded for coming to his defense.

Instead the boy just rolled his eyes as Luca said, “Then tell your boyfriend to start making sense.”

“Jesus, give him a minute,” Diego said, playing with his inky black hair.

Park closed his eyes and prayed for patience, for those around the table and for Gift whose foot was still driving Park to distraction, giving him the world’s slowest…footjob. Was that even a fucking thing?

“Can you please explain, Remi?” Park asked, voice raw.

Remi nodded. “To find the entrance to the game, you have to find the gatekeeper. A picture is posted and tagged on Instagram with the new location of the gatekeeper at random times.”

“The gatekeeper?” Gift asked. “Who’s that?”

Remi toggled back to the game and quickly took his character to a wave pool with palm trees and beach umbrellas where cartoon animals lingered around. “The gatekeeper is a player that you’ll meet when you follow the emoji’s to the corresponding location. That gatekeeper will tell you where to find the entrance to the real game and the password to get into it.”

“How do you know all this?” Morgan asked.

Remi flicked his gaze to the girl briefly. “Because I found them and asked to enter the game.”

“How did you know who the gatekeeper is? Was?” Dove asked. “I’m assuming they don’t just have a sign over their heads.”

“No. They have a flag,” Remi said. “A pixelated cyclone flag to be exact and their little conversation bubble literally says gatekeeper.”

“How did you figure all this out in one night?” Drake asked, staring at Remi like he’d never seen him before.

Remi stared hard at the other boy, then shrugged, dropping his gaze. “It’s just a logic puzzle. I’m good at puzzles.”

“So once you talk to this gatekeeper and you get the information, then what?” Payton asked, eyes shiny with excitement.

Remi hit a few more keys on his laptop. “Then you go to the game entrance. This is where it got tricky. The gatekeeper will tell you where to find the entrance but they won’t tell you how to unlock it. When I didn’t see anything outside the funhouse, I figured there was an Easter egg in there that I needed to find.”

Park frowned. “An Easter egg?” he managed, snatching Gift’s foot and finally just holding it in place.

“A hidden feature within the game, one that’s not easily noticed,” Remi said. “In this case, its the clown.

They all watched as Remi took them to the fun house, all of them sitting up when he clicked on the broken clown sign resting against two wooden planks in the shape of an X.

“X marks the spot,” Morgan murmured.

Everything went dark and the pixelated cyclone filled the screen, then a box appeared asking him to enter a password. He typed the password and the screen shifted once again to what looked like a…casino?

There were flashing white bulbs around a neon pink welcome sign. It was just as garish as Las Vegas itself. When the screen faded a new one appeared with a simple question.

Enter the game? Yes or No?

“What is this?” Mos asked. “All this for a gambling site? Seems a bit anticlimactic, no? Gambling is legal in Vegas.”

Remi hit yes and suddenly they were in a game. A poker game.

“That’s the thing,” Remi said. “They’re targeting high school kids. Kids who are betting with real money.”

Gift shook his head. “I don’t get it.  What is it about this game that’s worth killing for?”

Remi shrugged. “I don’t know. I think we’re going to have to play the game to find out.”

Diego looked at Park, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. “Isn’t Archer a professional poker player? Can he help?”

“No teachers are allowed to help,” Luca reminded his smile borderline condescending.

“Besides,” Gift said. “If we’re going to play the game, shouldn’t we play the game like we’re a novice high school kid? Not like a professional poker player?”

Park hated to say it, but Gift was right. The key to figuring out the dirty little secret behind the game wasn’t necessarily to win. Nobody ever truly wins in casinos except the casinos.

“So who plays?” Morgan asked.

“We all do,” Remi said. “I’ve created fake accounts in everyone’s name and emailed you the directions for finding the fun house and logging into the game. Everybody plays. Everybody checks in every afternoon with their stats. Obviously if something happens or someone attempts to contact you within the game, you tell the rest of us immediately.”

“How do we bet with real money if we are using fake names?” Dove asked.

“It’s all done digitally. It will walk you through what’s expected of you. If you get to a point where you do need to access money, tell Park. I’m sure the watch can figure out a way to get the funds you need.”

Remi looked at Park for confirmation. He nodded, his fingers starting to massage Gift’s foot still clasped in his hands.

“Is-Is he calling the shots now?” Drake asked Park, irritated.

Park shrugged. “Seems like he is.”

Drake frowned, brows drawn tight. “No vote or anything?”

“What’s the matter,” Dove simpered. “Afraid your boyfriend will start treating you the way you treat him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Drake muttered. “And I treat him just fine.”

The barest hint of a smile played over Remi’s lips. “Then what are you afraid of?”

Drake’s mouth fell open at Remi’s cocky reply, but then he seemed to remember their audience. He scoffed at the smaller boy. “I’m a psychopath, baby. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Remi gave him a tight smile. “Don’t call me baby.” His tone mocking as he added, “Since I’m not your boyfriend.”

“This is so awkward and weird,” Diego muttered under his breath. “Can you guys just fuck already and put the rest of us out of our misery.”

Remi flushed visibly from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Shut up. That’s not going to happen. He’s not my type.”

“Rich and hot’s not your type?” Drake said.

“Narcissistic and douchey aren’t my type,” Remi shot back.

A knowing smile slid over Drake’s face. “Funny, that’s not what you were saying at the bar the other night when I had my hand—”

Remi cut him off with a horrified look. “Finish that fucking sentence and I swear to god I will never do another assignment for you. Ever.”

Drake shot a startled look from Park to Remi and back again. “He’s kidding.”

“Mm,” Park said, noncommittal.

He couldn’t even begin to express how little he cared about their homework assignments. This whole experiment was ridiculous as far as Park was concerned. It was one thing to recruit kids out of college. The CIA and FBI were notorious for it. But to entrust government secrets to diagnosed psychopaths seemed like the worst type of hubris. And believing that having a neurotypical ‘sidekick’ to act as their Jiminy Cricket conscience would deter them from turning into a double agent was even more ridiculous.

The whole program could go down in flames as far as Park was concerned. In fact, he preferred it. That way Gift could find a real job. A safe job. One where Park wouldn’t give himself a heart attack worrying where Gift was at night.

“Is there anything else?” Park asked, more than ready to be done with this meeting and Gift’s wiggling toes.

Remi shook his head. “No, that’s it.”

Park made a sweeping gesture. “Class dismissed.”