Chapter 35 Sebastian
Chapter thirty-five
Sebastian
The next few days are a blur of work and time spent with my Daddy. But I'm not fooling anyone. Daddy keeps asking me what's wrong, and I keep brushing him off.
At first, I was fine. I swear I was. But slowly, the darkness started creeping back in. Again.
I should've known.
Thinking about my past brings me down like nothing else can. The darkness digs its claws into me and refuses to let go. My thoughts keep turning darker by the minute. I'm just an unwilling prisoner to it.
I hate it.
I despise it.
Usually, I'd take a blade and deal with it myself, but I made a promise to my Daddy. And to be honest, the blade doesn't hold the same appeal anymore. Everything just feels so… blank.
Emotionless.
Pointless.
Useless.
"Hey, are you okay? Do you need a short break?" Conrad asks.
I blink, realizing I've been staring at the alcohol bottles without taking orders. We're not full tonight, but still.
"Sorry about that. I was just spacing."
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. If you need a break, just say the word."
Conrad's such a sweetheart. I wonder how he ended up working for someone like Ethan.
I try to lose myself in taking orders and serving behind the bar, but I'm not feeling it. There's this hollow pit growing inside me, and I have no idea what to do about it.
I think back to what my Daddy made me promise and make up my mind.
I don't know what to do, but maybe Daddy will.
"Hey, Conrad? I'll take that short break you offered."
"Sure. Take your time. We're having a calm night for once."
"Thanks."
I leave the bar and head for Daddy's office. Knocking softly, I wait for his voice.
"Yes?"
Opening the door, I peek inside first before stepping in. Daddy's face lights up when he sees me, and I can't help smiling back. A real smile. Something I didn't think was possible with the way my brain's been acting lately.
"Are you busy?"
"No, boy. Come here."
He opens his arms, and I hurry into his embrace. I settle in his lap, and the second his hands wrap around me, I sigh. This is what I needed.
Always my Daddy.
"What's wrong, boy? And don't say nothing. We've talked about this. I'm your Daddy, and you can tell me anything."
I hesitate, because even I don't know how to explain it.
"Let me take care of you," Daddy says.
It breaks the last of my defenses, and I melt against him.
"Something's wrong. I just don't know what." I take my time to sort through the complex thoughts and emotions. "Ever since I told you what happened to me, I've felt… off."
"Can you describe it to me?"
"It's not the usual darkness. It's different. It feels hollow. I feel hollow and kind of hopeless and empty."
Daddy plays with my hair, slow and gentle, his touch soothing.
"I feel broken," I confess.
"You're not broken. You're not." He kisses my forehead softly. "And even if you were, I'd hold every shattered piece of you."
"You'd really do that for me?"
He tilts my chin up until our eyes meet, "I'd do anything for you."
"I don't know what to do to fill this hollowness inside."
"I have an idea. Do you trust me?"
"I do," I say immediately.
Daddy opens one of his desk drawers and takes out two boxes. One small rectangular, the other larger and square. Both are black and elegant. I wonder what's inside.
I don't have to wonder for long.
Daddy opens the smaller box, and my breath catches. Nestled in black silk lies a scalpel. My pulse spikes, and I look at Daddy for answers.
"From now on," he says, voice deep and commanding, "you'll listen, and do exactly as I say."
Oh, Daddy's using his Daddy voice.
If I weren't already sitting, my knees would've given out.
I nod, mesmerized by the heat in his eyes.
"I want you to take the scalpel, look at the lines on your right arm, and then make an identical one on my right arm."
"But-"
Daddy doesn't let me protest. "No buts, boy. Now do as I said."
With a trembling hand, I take the scalpel. My fingers brush against the silk, and it's such a stark contrast. Something so sharp like a scalpel lying in silk… it almost seems poetic. But can I really hurt my Daddy?
It's one thing to hurt myself, to leave scars on my body. It's another thing to do it to my Daddy. He's precious to me. I will always protect him. Cutting his skin like this doesn't classify as protecting in my mind.
Daddy's eyes soften as if he can see my worry. Actually, I'm sure he can.
"Boy, I'm not telling you to do this so you can fill the hollowness inside."
"Then why?"
"I planned this some time ago."
"You did?"
"Yes. I'm aware it's psychotic. I'm aware it's not normal. But I don't care. Ever since I saw the darkness in you, I wanted to share it with you."
"Share?"
I'm not sure I understand.
"I want the scars left behind on your skin from your darkest times to be reflected on my own flesh."
My heart hammers and my hands start to sweat. Even now, I don't understand. It doesn't have any logic. Most people would want to erase what I've done on my skin. They wouldn't offer to create a mirror to my twisted masterpiece.
It doesn't make sense.
"You want to know why?" Daddy states, and I nod, uncertain.
"Because I want you to see them on me and know that I'm yours.
Because I want you to know that you're no longer alone in this twisted darkness, and you'll never be again.
Because I want you to know nothing could ever tear us apart and that I'm all yours.
That I want all of you, all of your light and darkness. "
"Daddy…"
"I want you to look at the scars on my skin and be reminded of how I see you."
"How?" I whisper.
"As the bravest man I know. Strong. Beautiful. Incredible."
My eyes mist, and I kiss him. How can I not when he's saying things like this? Normal people would say we're sick in the head, and we probably are. But that's okay because we're together in this.
When we pull apart, I look at Daddy as he pulls up his sleeves and bares his skin for me. Part of me is excited, and I feel like an artist presented with the best canvas in the world. Another part of me is reluctant to do what Daddy asked of me.
"Part of me doesn't want to ruin your beautiful skin, Daddy," I share my feelings with him.
"It wouldn't be ruining, boy. It would be a surrender and claiming. Our surrender. Our claim."
"And would you claim me in return?" I ask.
He smirks at me, and the heat and possessiveness in his eyes make me swoon. I'm the luckiest man alive.
"I will. Once you've marked my skin, you'll see what I'll do."
I shiver and lick my lips.
I can't wait.
But first, I need to claim my Daddy first and accept his surrender.
Carefully, I trace my hand over his right arm. I study the scars on my right arm before doing anything.
I slip off Daddy's lap, but he doesn't protest. With the scalpel steady in my hands, I go behind Daddy and embrace him. Slowly, I bring the knife to Daddy's flesh and make a line on his skin. It's nothing deep, just enough for a little bit of blood and a scar to be left behind.
My mouth waters as I see it, and without thinking, I lean down and lick it. Daddy gasps, and before I know what's happening, he drags me back into his lap and lavishes my mouth. The kiss is passionate, ravenous, dare I even say desperate.
Without breaking up the kiss, Daddy unbuckles my belt, and I do the same for him. We pull out our cocks, and then Daddy wraps his hand around both of us. I moan in his mouth as he claims me completely. I thrust in time with him and choke on a moan.
Daddy knows my body, knows how to claim me and leave me breathless.
It doesn't take long before I cum with a shout, and he follows after me. Our clothes are ruined, but neither of us cares as we keep kissing slowly, relishing in the feelings.
"I love you, boy," Daddy says against my lips.
"I love you, Daddy."
He pulls back with a bright smile on his face, and I promise to always protect this smile.
Daddy looks at the cut I made on his arm in an almost reverent way. It shocks a part of me. I never imagined Daddy Ezrah had such a dark part within him.
We truly were made for each other.
Next, Daddy reaches for the bigger box he pulled out earlier, and I see that inside is mostly medicine and things you would need for small wounds and cuts.
"I bought this for us, so we're safe."
Daddy is so thoughtful.
He pulls out things to disinfect the cut, and I grab them.
"I'll take care of it, boy."
"No way! I'll take care of you, Daddy."
"Boy, that's my job. To take care of you."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Who said I can't take care of you, too? I'll always take care of you!"
He chuckles, and it pisses me off. He pecks my lips and says, "I love your feisty side, and you're right. Just because I'm your Daddy doesn't mean you can't take care of me too, from time to time."
I don't agree with the from time to time, but I keep my lips shut.
Daddy will see how good I am at taking care of him.
Just because he's my Daddy doesn't mean I don't also have the need to take care of him.
Sure, it may look different from the way he takes charge and takes care of me, but it's still meaningful to me.
"Now allow your boy to take care of you."
"Whatever you wish, boy."
All I ever wished for was you. Now that I have you, I'm never letting go.