Games Boys Play by Zoe X. Rider

tugged at his collar. “Move.”
    “I have a computer. A cell phone…” The side of his boot trod on his keys, sending them skittering toward the kitchen. “There’s some money in my wallet,” he said as they moved toward the couch.
    With a shove, he was thrown to the floor, where he landed on his hands and knees, his shoulder banging the table beside the couch, sending the lamp shade rattling. He looked around his arm, watching the intruder’s legs walk behind him. “Take whatever you want. I won’t tell the police. I don’t even know what you look like.”
    The heel of a boot shoved at his hip, hard, and he spilled onto his side, bringing his forearms up to cover his face, his knees up to cover his stomach. “Just finish whatever you were doing before I came in, and go. I promise I won’t call the cops. I haven’t seen you. I haven’t seen anything .”
    The floor bounced as the intruder strode to the other side of him.
    Gloved fingers closed hard around one of his wrists and wrenched that hand away from his face.
    He kept his eyes squeezed shut. “Please. I never did anything to you.”
    A boot against his shoulder forced him onto his back. The intruder dropped to a one-knee crouch, his weight pressing hard on Brian’s shoulder.
    Brian’s fingertips started to throb with blood trapped in his hand from the grip the intruder had on his wrist. Wood scraped his knuckles as the intruder forced his hand down against the floor.
    “Look at me,” the intruder growled.
    Eyes closed, he shook his head.
    The gun jabbed him in the soft area under his chin, forcing his head to tip upward.
    He clenched his free hand in the intruder’s hoodie.
    “Open your fucking eyes, you piece of shit.” The gun pushed harder. Brian gritted his teeth. “Open your fucking eyes, or I’ll roll you over and splatter your brains across your fancy laminate floor.”
    Seconds ticked past, the both of them panting lightly.
    The gun dug in harder.
    He pushed short breaths out his nose.
    Just as the intruder stepped off his shoulder, presumably to carry out his threat, Brian forced out an “Okay.” He squeezed his eyes tighter. “Okay.”
    The intruder’s boot came back, heel against his chest, toe leaned against his chin, the smell of dirt and asphalt coming off it so vividly he could taste it. The boot began grinding into the edge of his chin.
    “Okay. Okay, okay.” He held his palms out. “Okay.”
    He blinked his eyes open. The dark toe of the intruder’s boot loomed above his mouth. There really was a fucking boot on his face. His cock, rock hard, throbbed against the confines of his jeans.
    He let his breath out as he relaxed his head back. The boot stepped away.
    Shielding his eyes from the light with one hand, he looked up at the intruder. Same mouthless ski mask as before, same black hood, same stark-naked eyes searching his.
    “Who the fuck are you?” he whispered.
    The intruder straddled him and dropped in one move, pinning Brian’s arms sharply against the floor.
    He took a shallow breath, the intruder’s weight pressing against his chest. Another shallow breath as the gun pushed at the corner of his mouth. The electrical smell of flash powder made his nostrils flare. Dylan must have found some paper caps for the gun and fired them off.
    “I’m the man with the gun,” the intruder said. “You got that?”
    His eyes were wild. Charlie Manson eyes.
    Brian couldn’t breathe.
    The intruder grabbed Brian by the hair and pulled his weight off Brian’s chest. “Up. Get on your knees.”
    Flinching, Brian grasped the intruder’s wrist with both hands and rolled onto his knees.
    “Over there.”
    He started to shuffle toward the coffee table, one knee in front of the other. The fist in his hair jerked him to a stop, then forced his head forward and down, ignoring the fingernails Brian was digging into the sleeve of the hoodie, the leather glove.
    “Hands on the floor. Now .”
    He had to let go of the intruder’s