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He follows Lincoln to the top floor where the office of his husband is. The building seems eerily empty today, and he realizes it’s a Sunday.
Lincoln has gone quiet and serious by his side. It delights Rian that his cockiness only inflates when he’s not in direct view of his boss. Even a massive animal like him fears his husband’s wrath. He doesn’t follow Rian when he enters the office.
Harris is at his desk as usual, but Rian can tell he has been expecting him. He looks rattled and tired. This unraveled state of his is new, something Rian has seen only a handful of times during the time he has known him. All recently in fact.
They stare at each other for a long moment before Rian says, with confidence surging from some unknown corner of his soul, “I want a divorce. I’m taking Bran. I don’t want anything from you. I never want to see you again.”
His husband stands up and runs his hands through his messy hair.
“That’s not going to happen,” Harris mutters as he approaches Rian. He won’t even look him in the eyes.
When Harris is close enough, he finally meets his eyes. His cold bloodshot blue eyes chill Rian to the bone. “I’ll never let you go. You will never have Bran. I won’t allow it.”
But Rian knows he doesn’t need to beg him to get his way. He has no reason to plead with this man. He has people in his corner now. He has friends who can help him. One last look at Harris tells him everything he needs to know – this is war now, and neither of them will back down. The time for talking is over and he promptly turns to leave, calling over his shoulder, “I’m contacting the police. If Bran or Margarita are hurt in any way––”
Rian only gets a few seconds of the illusion he is in control of this situation before his husband reaches him and spins him back around. Harris shoves him down on the couch.
For once, his demands seem impossible to comply with. Rian simply refuses to obey him any longer. He lifts off, trying to leave once more, but Harris simply grunts and shoves him harder.
Self-preservation stops Rian from making a third attempt as he looks upon Harris with wild eyes. The wheels are finally turning – Harris is determined to force him into submission. He knows Rian is plotting his escape. Not just from this fucking office, but from their miserable co-existence. From all the pain and suffering Harris has to offer.
This man is sick. He is twisted and perverted. He is evil and unhinged, bound by no morality or scruples. Rian has had enough of his abuse and refuses to be the sacrificial lamb to his depraved fantasies.
Harris looms over him, observing him. It suddenly dawns on Rian, he hasn't hit him yet. He looks weary like he is waiting for something.
“You're not going anywhere.” Harris shoves an iPad in his hands. “I’ll ruin your life.”
The dark, grave look in his eyes gives Rian a pause. His racing mind slows down. He follows the motion of Harris’s arm, extending past his face reaching for the tablet. He taps on the iPad screen, bringing the device to life and presses the play button in the middle.
Rian knows exactly what he's watching even if the sound of the video is muted. After all, he had been anticipating Harris fucking Rick for months now. Only he can't take his eyes away from the screen. When the face of the other man comes into the shot, he realizes this isn't Harris at all. It's his bodyguard Lincoln, fucking Rick. He looks up to Harris in confusion. “How is this going to ruin my life?”
Harris adjusts the volume on the device and the growls of Lincoln, brutal slapping of skin, and Rick's moans flood the room. Rick is not entirely in the shot. He whines, “Say my name, baby.”
Rian's blood boils as he watches Lincoln tighten his hold on Rick’s hip, then reaches to circle his throat with his big hand, as he is slamming fast into him from behind and grunts, “Rian! Oh, fuck! My perfect whore Rian! My perfect little slut Rian!”
Rick’s short pink cock is slapping on his flat tight abs. His waxed balls are flushed with heat and drawn tight. So tight that they hardly bounce even though Lincoln is slamming into him with brutal force. Rian can see his mouth quiver. Rick definitely looks like he’s enjoying himself. Is he that good of an actor? Is Rick aware, that what he’s doing would hurt both Rian and Bran?
In the video, Rick moans biting his lower lip and roughly fisting his cock.
Most of Rick's face is out of view. As the shot widens, Lincoln flips Rick around, getting him to ride him next. His thick muscular arms clamp down Rick's ass and he fucks into him, the slapping of skin almost as loud as their obscene groans.
Rian wants to throw up. He knows exactly where the video had been filmed. It's Bran’s room. They are fucking on the floor near the cot. The wall of family portraits of him and Bran is in crystal clear panoramic view.
He jumps out of his seat, and even Harris looming over him is not enough to scare him. He shoves him with all his strength and to his surprise his husband stumbles, taking a step back.
“What the hell is this? Are you insane? Have you truly lost your mind?”
Harris glares at him, startled at his outburst. “Bran wasn’t there.”
“What. Is. This?”
“Insurance. In case you’re getting any ideas.”
Rian narrows his eyes, fury taking over him. He lunges forward and slaps Harris hard across the face. A print quickly forms, but before he can make another move, his husband gets his bearings and grabs him by the throat. Rian turns to his side and is able to loosen his grip just enough to pull free. Rian stumbles back, then quickly rights himself and stands tall, panting in the middle of the office.
They regard each other in silence for a long moment, before Rian blurts out, “This isn't me. No one will believe I would ever ––”
“Oh yes, they will! And who cares if it isn't you? By the time you’d be able to prove anything, your reputation will be ruined. All those charities that you sponsor with your books will withdraw their support for you. You won't sell a single book ever again!”
