Stockholm Syndrome [01] - Stockholm Syndrome by Richard Rider Read Free Book Online

why all them fucking bank workers keep complaining." He kisses the end of the gun tenderly, then takes it from Lindsay's slackening grip and puts it on the passenger seat. Lindsay's got no strength to resist because Valentine's started licking his own mess off his fingers. He feels slightly like he's going to faint at the tongue sliding down the pad of his thumb, the lips sealing round and sucking gently.
    Valentine says, "There, now. All clean. Told you I'd be a good slave. Wife.
    Thingy," and Lindsay thinks he's never had to come so badly before in his life.
    He can't do anything about it, though. He can't bring himself to move, not just yet, except to lean forwards and press his face against Valentine's chest, breathing in the scent of his sweat and the champagne-damp cotton.
    When he feels less on the verge of passing out, he looks up. Valentine's waiting patiently for a kiss, so he gives it and slumps back in the seat, arms loose around the kid's waist.
    "It's a bit romantic, this, innit?"
    Valentine's too close to be anything but a massive smudge of crooked nose and luminous green eyes, but Lindsay can feel he's smiling, and feel fingers in his hair again, tangling and stroking, clinging, possessive.
    "I don't know what you mean." He darts forward to kiss him again, to shut him up and get him away from such a stupid dangerous topic, but the kid's even quicker; he bumps against the horn when he jerks back, then collapses into hooting laughter when the sound blares out and frightens birds out of the trees.
    He laughs like lemonade. He's all fizzy. Lindsay feels his nose wrinkling up like 43

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    it always does when he's amused or confused, and he grabs Valentine by the hair and sets about giving him a proper kiss, thorough and insistent and determined, but it doesn't really work. Doesn't work at all . Valentine's smiling wider than ever when he finally wrenches himself away.
    "I mean it, though," he says. "It's like off a romcom. Me and you, windows down, roof rolled back, wine, parked up a cliff, sound of waves, sun setting..."
    "...and fellating an illegal gun in a stolen car full of ransom money?"
    "Don't spoil it, you fucking wanker." Another kiss, forceful, shoving him back against the headrest, then Valentine's looking at him again, but in a way that's less about seeing than pleading. "Do you love me?"
    "What?" Lindsay bursts out laughing, he can't help it, bemused and slightly horrified. "Slow it down, okay?"
    "Cos, I think you do." He's going on like he didn't even hear Lindsay speak. "Even if you don't know it yet. Cos it's like, it's fate or something, innit?
    Me and you. A hundred million ears in England, and your gun went and raped mine. That's storybook, that is. That's fairytale."
    There are several things Lindsay wants to say to that, but he decides they can wait until after he's come. Priorities.
    "You can have the car," he says on an impulse. "If you want it. It's yours. I feel like a tit driving this."
    "Oh, that's generous, innit? We bought it with my ransom money!"
    "Excuse me. My money."
    "Our money?"
    "Mine."
    "Ours," Valentine says, nodding his head like a corporeal full stop. He begins to clamber into the back seat, awkwardly because his jeans are still trapping his knees together, limbs poking Lindsay in the stomach and face. He's

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    all sticky from his orgasm. Lindsay gives his softening cock a quick hard suck as the kid's hips wriggle past his head, and he stops there for a second, trapped between the headrests, panting and giggling. "Do you mind? Fucking hell, help me, I think I'm stuck."
    "What the hell are you doing?"
    "I wanna... come on, help me, don't just sit there, gimme a push."
    He tumbles onto the back seat when Lindsay shoves him, and then he's ripping at the knot in one of the bags with his fingernails and teeth. It's like a massive plastic pass-the-parcel; they triple-bagged the cash to keep it secure and burned the suitcase it