Games Boys Play by Zoe X. Rider Page B

Brian’s fingers being dragged free of each other as that wrist was brought down, out, then behind him, where the intruder pinned it against his back.
    “Bend over.”
    Heat swept Brian’s face. The intruder grasped the back of his head and shoved him. He dropped his free arm to the table to brace himself, his ass bumping the intruder’s hip.
    “All the way.” The intruder leaned forward to knock Brian’s elbow out from under him. His weight pressed down on Brian, and Brian’s scalp went cold as blood surged to other parts of his body.
    This wasn’t happening.
    The table was hard under his chest and cheek.
    “Give me your other arm.”
    He moved it backward until the intruder’s thumb caught hold and held it against the first. He shifted back a little, not wanting to bump his ass against Dylan again but needing to move his hip bone from digging into the table.
    The belt buckle jangled above his back.
    The edge of leather brushed his wrists, and then it was encircling them, loose at first before pulling tight. He flexed his fingers. The intruder’s thighs moved against the backs of his as he brought the leather strap around and up again, then worked the tongue through the buckle.
    The intruder pushed up, using Brian’s back for leverage, and got to his feet.
    Brian tugged his wrists.
    The belt held.
    His fault for telling Dylan about how he’d used his belt in the bus bunk.
    The intruder nudged Brian’s leg with the toe of his boot. “What’d you drink while you were out?”
    “Huh?”
    “While you were out. How much did you have to drink?”
    “A couple beers.” Not even good ones. He turned his head, saw his couch but not the intruder. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
    The only response was rummaging in the backpack.
    Then he was being pulled up by his hair. Something dry and spongy scraped his cheek, his lips. The intruder’s gloved hand pushed it against his mouth.
    Brian tried to turn his face away.
    “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
    Whatever it was, it smelled like foam. Like a Nerf ball, maybe. It probably was a Nerf ball, dug out of Dylan’s old room in Patty’s basement.
    He shook his head free, or the intruder let him shake free—that possibility came to him just as the intruder’s finger and thumb caught his nose, then pinched it shut.
    Fuck.
    He tried to shake that off too, but from behind, the intruder had a good grip.
    The foam ball pushed against Brian’s closed mouth.
    Fuck.
    He kept his teeth clenched but let his lips open so he could drag air in through his teeth. As quickly as his lips got out of the way, though, the foam pushed in to fill up the space.
    He bucked his hips, causing the table to shift forward. The intruder’s weight leaned on his bound arms. The front of his hoodie hung down into Brian’s fingers. He closed his fist, grabbing hold of the fabric, but it didn’t get him any purchase. He tried to reach higher and grab hold of skin too, but he couldn’t quite reach.
    He was getting no air.
    He was trying to breathe in and nothing.
    His body started panicking, bucking.
    The table slipped forward a few inches, pulling their upper bodies with it. His intruder planted a foot on the floor to push more of his weight onto Brian, practically climbing onto Brian’s back.
    The rock-hard ridge that jammed against his ass was unmistakable, and Brian’s cock throbbed in response as he fought to get free of Dylan’s hands.
    His head felt like it was expanding inside an unforgiving steel ball.
    He couldn’t even breathe out . Everything was just stopped. His lungs might as well have been stone.
    Fuck. FUCK.
    His mouth opened almost against his will, just half an inch, but the foam, with the unrelenting pressure of the intruder’s hand, pushed inside, cutting off his air again before he got more than half a breath in.
    He made a choked sound in his throat.
    The pressure on his back shifted as the intruder leaned down.
    “Do you have anything you need