Scribbles and Drabbles

Run Little Lamb Remix 2

Lawrie bit his lip as the man swanned into the room. Misha's profile described him as having a boyish charm. The dressing gown made him look like he was bathed in gold. Misha's Icelandic heritage shone through with piercing blue eyes and naturally blonde hair. His facial features were chiselled and angular, yet there was a softness to him, too. His torso was defined but not overly muscular. His stature was lean and slender.

Every doubt, every part of Lawrie that disliked his body ached. Misha was utterly beautiful, and Erick kissed him in a dirty bathroom.

"Erick, you've brought me a present?"

Lawrie stepped behind Erick. He knew that tone; it was a warning tone. Erick ignored Lawrie, walking up to his husband to kiss him in greeting. Misha let him, blue eyes stabbing Lawrie as Lawrie had nowhere to hide.

"Lucas and formed you?"

"That your pet lamb saw you deal with a traitor? Yes. His colour is rather pale tonight," Misha said, clicking his fingers and pointing next to him expectantly.

Behave. He had to behave. If he behaved, they'd look after him. He had to believe that. His hesitation was long enough that Erick coughed in hint. Misha tutted and took his chin to study his face as he got close.

"Little lamb, little lamb, why couldn't you behave for once and look after yourself?" Misha demanded as his fingers dug into Lawrie's skin and against his pulse.

"Misha, don't be mean."

"Hush. Poor thing is shaking in fear, and you expect me to be pleased that you bought them home?" Misha snapped at his husband, not releasing his grip but not paying attention to Lawrie either. "Erick, we discussed this. You're supposed to talk to them before bringing them home to slaughter."

Lawrie wanted to break there and vanish into nothingness. Misha murdering him wasn't off the table.

"We aren't killing you," Erick reassured, eyes on his husband, but a hand rubbed his shoulder. "It would be too much of a waste of your talents."

"That remains to be seen," Misha eyed Lawrie before releasing his grip. "Breathe, little lamb. We aren't killing you. We will be keeping you as far from the family business as possible. Honestly, you're as soft as they come."

Lawrie lowered his head and tried to stop wheezing. Arms gathered him upstairs, and he found himself sitting on an uncomfortable settee worth more than his annual salary with a cup of tea pressed into his hands.

"You can leave."

"Love!"

"Lawrie, little lamb. Why did Erick bring you here? Misha asked in a voice far too sweet. Someone had put a blanket that smelled of Erick's cologne over his shoulders. Lawrie wanted to bury himself in it and pretend none of this was happening.

"I'm not sure. Something about needing blackmail because I have no one suitable to use?"

"What are the rules, darling?"

"You like him, and I would rather keep him."

Misha exhaled and pinched his brow. "We will keep him, but nothing is happening tonight. Look at him. There is no way you'll be able to get the kind of photos you want. He thought we were going to kill him"

"Oh, but he kissed me back."

"Erick, I will go for the consent presentation with you again. Go rest in your room. I'll look after Lawrie tonight."

Another well-practised kiss between them and an awkward pat on his shoulder later, Lawrie was alone with Misha. Misha sat opposite him and tapped his fingers against the soft surface as he waited for Lawrie to calm down. He swirled a glass of water out of a champagne glass. Misha tried not to wriggle uncomfortably.