A Long List of Nevers - 2. Chapter 2

Keith sullenly followed John and Brett back the house. His shoulders ached from the tackle. Running really wasn’t the best of ideas. But why wouldn’t he run? He didn’t even want to be in this party in the first place, and now he gets shoved right into the thing he dreaded the most – the Handcuff game.

The effing handcuff game, a drinking game introduced by a group of French gay tourists in one of the Midsummer parties in Cronek Island back in the 80’s. The basic idea was simple: a couple of people were supplied with handcuffs (designated ‘cops’, which is what John and Brett were apparently for tonight). They set up a little ‘police station’ which people could walk up to and anonymously pay for the ‘arrest’ of someone; an ‘arrest’ being the handcuffing of a person to another person for a specified amount of time. The time they stayed handcuffed together was measured in increments of thirty minutes and they had to be ‘served’ before the persons arrested were released. Sometimes it was used to force people to resolve a quarrel they had with someone that had gone on far too long, sometimes people used it to secure the chance of getting to talk to a person they really like (as a result, the really attractive single people usually end up all arrested before midnight), but usually it was used by people to pair off friends they thought were perfect for each other in a sort of forced blind date.

Well-meaning, but the results of the latter ‘arrests’ were usually painful awkwardness. Aside from that, thus far, nothing serious enough had ever happened to two handcuffed people to require an early release.

The ‘arrests’ also weren’t cheap, back then it paid for the drinks, nowadays it went to charity. While Keith knew that any one of his friends could easily afford to shell out money just to put him through this. He knew that none of them would even dare, knowing how much he hated these kinds of games. At least he can safely bet that his arrest would be relatively short.

Still…

Keith glanced sharply at Kat who had rejoined them. She quickly shook her head in denial even as she giggled delightedly. “I wish I did though.”

Keith just glowered.

“Come on, Keith.” John told Keith as he started to usher him back inside. Both John and Brett were dedicated gym rats and Keith really had no choice but to follow. He knew it was either that or he gets to be carried back inside like a child.

“Come on guys. I have to get home early tonight. You know I don’t stay at Midsummer’s.” Keith pleaded. He knew perfectly well it wouldn’t work, but he could try couldn’t he? “Heck the last time I was here was four years ago!”

John only chuckled at Keith. “You don’t really have a choice, Keith. You know it’s a rule. The only way you could have avoided this is if you had not been here at all. But you signed the guestbook so…” John shrugged slightly as he continued to herd Keith back into the living room of the beach house.

“I suppose agreement to partake in this was in the small print somewhere?” Keith retorted dryly.

“Yep.” John replied cheerfully. “Come on, she’ll be right.”

“My shoulders hurt.”

“Your fault.”

“By the way, you guys look really ridiculous in those outfits.” Keith said, rolling his eyes as he was led past more of his friends. If he had expected help in escaping he wasn’t getting any. Virtually all of them shared Kat’s obvious delight. Traitors.

“I dunno, mate. I think Brett looks quite ravishing in his.” John laughed and slapped Brett’s ass lightly.

“Pantless cops. That’s a new fetish there, mate.” Brett grinned as he slapped John’s ass in return, this time trailing a finger provocatively down the tight V of John’s buttocks.

“Oh god.” Keith groaned in disgust. “At least I know who the top between you two is now.”

They both laughed uproariously as Keith rolled his eyes even harder. Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Brett quickly pulled John to his side and gave him a loving peck on the cheek. In spite of himself, Keith couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the display. He didn’t comment further though, he had a lot more to worry about… like who.

“So… who?” Kat asked, obviously thinking along the same lines. She had trailed behind the little entourage literally bouncing up and down in glee.

“Nuh uh. You know the rules Kat. But boy, you’ll definitely like this one, Kat.” Brett winked at her.

“Oh fuck me.” Keith groaned even louder.

“Hopefully you will be, mate.” Brett grinned cheekily at him before dodging a swat to his head.

“Well, here we are.” John declared abruptly and halted their little march. To surprise Keith, they had deliberately made it look like they were going to pass the guy. Keith hadn’t even bothered looking at the people around them; believing that the guy he was supposed to be cuffed to was in the other room where they had seemed to be headed. Keith let out a yelp as Brett suddenly picked his small frame up from behind and deposited him beside the guy. Belying his muscular bulk, John deftly maneuvered their wrists together and promptly slapped the other end of the cuffs to the guys left wrist. As quickly as they had done that, they both stepped back and saluted smartly.

“Have fun, guys.” John grinned then turned around to leave them alone. Brett grabbed a still giggling Kat on their way out as well.

“Wait, John! How long will…” Keith trailed off as the three of them disappeared out to the deck. Brett actually whistling merrily along to Kat’s excited whispers. Keith slumped back in resignation. “God fucking dammit.” He muttered, avoiding the amused glances of the other people in the room.

“Hi.” A deep rumbling voice beside him reminded him that for at least 30 minutes from now, he’ll have to endure being cuffed to a total stranger. And judging from the deep voice and the apparent thickness of the forearm beside him, tethered would seem more appropriate. “I’m Carl.”

Keith slowly turned to face the origin of the voice. His first sign of trouble were the size 15 shoes and the treetrunk calves lightly peppered with fine wavy hair. He forced himself to slowly bring his gaze up… and up… and up. Keith was only 5’6” and the bloke some dipstick thought was perfect for him was a towering 6’8” muscle-bound god, taller than even John and Brett. Not quite the sharply defined muscles of a gym rat but the lithe padded muscles of someone who was genetically fit. Forget tethered, Keith was simply a keychain on the guy’s wrist, for crying out loud.

The fact that the disarmingly captivating smile on the guy’s gorgeous masculine face was even more appealing than his superhero body didn’t reassure Keith in the slightest. And his eyes…

He was beautiful… and Keith… Keith was in deep, deep shite.