The darkness in the room was thick and heavy enough that Noel felt it against his skin like a physical weight. He stood in the centre, blindfold tight over his eyes. The air was cool at first, but it was already starting to warm from the presence of bodies he couldn't see.
For the first few moments, there was nothing but silence.
Then low voices... three distinct male voices... began speaking quietly to one another, as if he weren't even there.
They were close. Too close.
Noel's pulse jumped.
"Hello?" he called, trying to sound uncertain. "Is someone in here with me? Were you also thrown into the nightmare house?
No one answered him directly. The conversation continued... soft words, a quiet laugh, the rustle of fabric as someone shifted position.
His stomach tightened when no one was listening to him. He turned his head blindly, trying to track the sounds. He lifted his hands toward the blindfold, fingers searching for the knot...
A strong hand caught his wrist from behind, stopping him instantly. The grip was firm, fingers wrapping completely around his smaller wrist, pulling his arm upward and pinning it high against a wooden post he hadn't realised was there.
Another hand quickly tightened a long silk around his wrists, securing them in place above his head.
"Wait... What..."
Noel's breath caught sharply.
"Peeking isn't allowed," a deep voice murmured directly into his ear, lips almost brushing the sensitive skin there.
Heat flooded Noel's neck and face.
"Who are you?" he asked, keeping his voice shaky on purpose.
There was no immediate answer.
Instead, someone stepped in front of him. He felt the warmth of a body very close now... close enough that he could feel breath against his lips.
A gloved thumb pressed against his lower lip, parting it gently, then slipped inside his mouth, resting heavy on his tongue.
Noel froze.
His heart slammed against his ribs. The voice in front of him spoke again, low and amused.
"We are your nightmare, Mr Hartwell."
The word nightmare hit him like cold water.
He knew exactly what this game was supposed to be. Of course, the guests are supposed to be locked with their worst nightmare or anything they hate.
The real Noel Hartwell... the one whose body he inhabited... had hated men. He had found their attention repulsive. Their touch would have been the worst possible torment.
This was meant to break him and torment him but Noel's body reacted oppositely.
Heat pooled low in his stomach. His mouth closed instinctively around the thumb, tongue brushing against the leather glove without meaning to.
He caught himself immediately.
'No. They can't know I like it.'
If they realised he was enjoying this, they would stop. The game would end.
He couldn't let that happen.
He bit down... hard... on the thumb in his mouth.
A sharp intake of breath came from the man in front of him. The thumb withdrew quickly.
Before Noel could speak, a large hand wrapped around his throat from the front... not squeezing hard enough to choke, but firm enough to control his breathing, thumb pressing just under his jaw.
His head was tilted back slightly.
"How dare you bite me," the same deep voice said, now edged with warning.
Noel let out a small, trembling gasp, letting his body go tense as if in fear.
"Who are you people?" he whispered, making his voice crack.
A third voice, cool and smooth, came from his left side.
"That doesn't matter."
Hands moved to his coat.
Fingers worked slowly at the buttons, one by one, starting from the top. The fabric parted gradually, cool air hitting his chest through the thin shirt beneath.
Noel swallowed, feeling his nipples harden under the shirt from the sudden exposure... and from the attention.
Someone behind him pressed closer. He felt the hard line of a body against his back, a hand sliding around his waist, fingers spreading possessively over his stomach through the fabric.
Another gloved hand... from the front man pulled his cravat loose, then began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing more skin inch by inch.
Noel's breathing grew shallow. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep any sound from escaping.
The man behind him leaned in, lips brushing the side of his neck, just below his ear.
"You're trembling," he whispered. "Are you scared to scream so people will find you like this?"
Noel was shaking... but not from fear.
The shirt was pulled open completely now, tugged out of his trousers. Hands... multiple hands... slid over his bare chest, palms warm and slightly rough, tracing the lines of his muscles, thumbs brushing over his nipples deliberately.
A low sound caught in Noel's throat. He turned it into a whimper, twisting his body as if trying to pull away.
"Please..." he breathed, letting his voice break. "Stop."
But his hips shifted forward, almost involuntarily, pressing into the hand that had moved lower, now resting just above the waistband of his trousers. The hand slipped even lower, reaching for his pants.
The man in front of him laughed softly.
"Liar," he murmured.
Then his mouth was on Noel's... sudden, forceful, demanding.
Noel's lips parted under the pressure. The kiss was deep from the start, tongue pushing inside, claiming. One hand rubbed his pants, jerking him slowly from the outside, while the other gripped his chest, teasing his nipples.
Behind him, the body pressed harder. He felt the unmistakable ridge of an erection against his lower back, slow friction as the man rolled his hips once, deliberately.
Noel's knees weakened.
The third man... at his side... leaned in, mouth finding the exposed skin of his collarbone, then lower, lips closing around one nipple, sucking gently, then harder.
Noel's bound hands clenched into fists above his head. His back arched, pushing his chest forward into the wet heat of that mouth.
He let out a broken sound... half protest, half plea.
Fingers tugged at his belt, loosening it. The button of his trousers was undone. A hand slipped inside, wrapping firmly around his already hard length through the thin fabric of his underclothes.
Noel jerked, gasping into the kiss.
The hand stroked once, slowly... then again. His hips bucked forward without permission.
The kiss broke as hot breath panted against his lips.
"You're so hard already," the voice in front whispered. "This is supposed to be your nightmare. Not your funfair?"
Noel turned his face away, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
Another mouth found his neck, teeth grazing, then biting lightly.
He thought it was over but the hands were still everywhere... stroking his chest, pinching his nipples, gripping his hips, sliding over his arousal.
Time lost meaning.
He was surrounded, every inch of exposed skin touched, tasted, teased.
He kept up the act as he made small protests after every minute, shaky denials, body twisting as if resisting... but never hard enough to make them stop.
He didn't want them to stop. He wanted it to continue.
Then, abruptly..
"Time's almost up," one of them said, voice rough.
The hands slowed, the mouth on his neck pulled away and the grip on his cock loosened, withdrew.
Noel sagged against the post, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat.
The man in front of him stepped close again, hand returning to his throat but it was not tight. He was just holding.
"Did you hate it?" he asked quietly, thumb stroking along Noel's pulse point.
Noel was breathing too hard to answer immediately.
He reached up with his bound hands, gripping the man's wrist, pulling it away weakly.
Before he could speak, a hurried voice from the door...
"They're coming. We have to go."
The presence behind him stepped back.
One last touch... a gloved hand sliding down his chest, over his stomach, pausing just above where he ached most... then disappeared.
A final whisper against his ear, lips brushing the lobe.
"Next time you try to make our princess cry... You won't get off this easily."
Then quick footsteps retreated.
The door opened and closed silently.
Noel was alone again.
His legs finally gave out.
He sank to his knees on the carpeted floor, trembling all over. With shaking fingers, he pulled the blindfold down.
Dim light from a single wall sconce met his eyes.
His coat hung open, shirt pulled wide, trousers unbuttoned, arousal still straining obviously against the fabric.
His skin was flushed, marked in places... small red patches from mouths and teeth.
He pressed a hand over his mouth, breathing raggedly. His whole body throbbed with unspent need.
"What... what in the world was that?" he whispered to the empty room.
He was supposed to hate it. He had never wanted anything more in his life. He closed his eyes, head falling forward as he covered the grin that couldn't disappear.
"I need to know who those people were," he said quietly.
Then, even softer, almost afraid of the truth...
"And I need them to do it again."