Chapter 11
Cesar
As long I can remember, my life’s been guided by strict schedules and demands I was expected to fulfill.
I didn’t have vacations, holiday breaks, nor weekends off.
There were only Fridays, given to me by Sullivan in my early twenties when he realized he’d not be able to keep me in check if I couldn’t let off steam once in a while.
Now I feel like every single day is Friday.
No, better than that, because I’m no longer guided by the urgent need to feed my soul with enough substance to last me a whole week.
Eli sleeps in my bed, shares my meals, reads to me, and laughs at my jokes.
He’s always at my side. Attentive. Sweet.
So goddamn good I dread the moment he finds out how I served Sullivan.
I do hope it never happens, but the possibility is like a splinter stuck in my heel.
I’m not used to being around another person for so long, but I enjoy his chatter, his smiles, the way he always forgets that he should rest his leg and starts trying to do things for me.
I might never be capable of loving him the way normal people do, but I want to stay at his side, make sure he’s comfortable and enjoy the affection he’s offering me so freely.
That’s so much more than I ever hoped for already.
He’s so grateful and praises me for everything.
I washed the shower? Incredible.
I peeled his eggs? Amazing.
I prepared his cold compress? I’m the best boyfriend ever.
The clothes I bought for him? Perfect choices.
I showed him how to handle his gun? I’m so knowledgeable.
Not to mention the compliments on how hot I am, how good I smell, or some minute detail, like him loving that some beauty spots on my back form the shape of a cat.
I don’t know what the future holds, but each day I spend in his company feels like a life won.
I told him there’s a pretty lake nearby, and he instantly wanted to go, so I reminded him he couldn’t walk that much with his ankle still healing.
Maybe I’m a bit too precious with him, but how can I not be?
He’s the apple of my eye. So when I saw his disappointment, I knew I had to get him to the lake somehow.
I found old sleds in the shed adjacent to the cabin, cleaned them up, and took him for a ride through the forest. I’ve never seen anyone radiate such pure joy.
After all he’s been through, losing his mother, his father’s suicide, blackmail and harassment by Sullivan and his men, shitty boyfriends and homelessness, somehow he’s still so resilient and positive.
Even when I drew the line at engaging with pre-Christmas celebrations, he just took it on the chin.
If I didn’t have such a knee-jerk reaction to his request, I would have probably even complied, since letting him make ornaments and cutting down a tree wouldn’t hurt me in any way.
But Christmas was never a good time for me.
I didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t push. And now, I’m feeling guilty over saying no.
I’m desperate not to be a disappointment to him, so it soothed my soul to see him enjoy our trip to the lake, as if he were a kid visiting Disneyland for the first time. It’s quite the walk back and forth, but I am strong, and my muscles have been itching for a workout anyway.
Clouds are gathering above us in a promise of more snow to come.
On one hand, being at the cabin with Eli, my boyfriend, is an amazing experience, but I wasn’t expecting we’d be here this long, and we’re running low on food.
We are snowed in, but I guess if push comes to shove, I’ll make the trek to the closest shop on foot.
I should be able to go there and back within a day.
My stomach rumbles with hunger, prompting me to speed up the hill where the cabin is located. My nose and cheeks feel like bits of ice, and I can’t wait to thaw close to the fireplace while we both fill our stomachs.
“Will you have tea or coffee?” I ask, making a mental checklist of what needs to be done for our meal to arrive at the table most efficiently.
“Hot chocolate?” He grins at me, tucked into a waterproof sleeping bag like the most handsome of worms.
He’s also wearing the new clothes I got him, and a warm woolen hat.
At home he sometimes wears my clothes too and it’s so hot.
Especially if it’s a sweater that barely covers his ass.
Just yesterday, he did that to tease me on purpose.
I walked up to him, bent him over the back of the couch, and when I realized he had no underwear on, I fucked him right there and then.
As promised, he’s always up for it, and that’s so hot even thinking about it makes me horny.
He gave himself to me completely, and perhaps I don’t deserve it, but if he’s willing to offer me this much power and trust, I’ll accept it and make sure he never regrets his choice.
I’ll make him so happy all the suffering in his past will be meaningless.
If I’m lucky, maybe he won’t even find out about mine.
“With marshmallows and syrup?” I ask, parking the sled in front of the steps leading to the porch.
We have excellent weather, and we both take a moment to take in the snow flickering in the golden light of the sun.
But then I pick him up, still in the sleeping bag, just throwing him over my shoulder.
It’s almost a shame we’ll have to leave this place.
I’m halfway to the door when Eli speaks. “Am I now more of a worm or a larva?”
Stalling, I focus on the tips of my boots to think, because this surely is a trick question. “Um… definitely a larva, since you will soon turn into your sexy, slinky form,” I respond, hoping he’ll like that.
“But what if I don’t and I stay a larva? Would you still think I’m sexy?”
Taking into account that he sucked me off at the lake while bundled up in this cocoon, should I say ‘yes’? Or does he mean an actual larva?
“Are you saying you want to stay a burrito for the foreseeable future?” I kick the door open and turn sideways, so no part of his body hits the doorframe.
He groans as if it’s me who isn’t making sense. “No, I mean would you love me if I was a worm? I mean… like, or find hot. Or if you did already love me, would you continue feeling this way when I was in worm form?”
He must be fucking with me, because how does this question make sense in a world where people don’t just become worms, but I go with it, like I do with everything else he brings to the table.
I might never be able to love him, but I care for him, cherish his presence, and desire him more than I’ve ever desired anyone.
I want to make him happy, and him being a worm wouldn’t stop me.
Maybe it’s nice to fantasize of a world in which I’m capable of loving him.
“Would you still have your face?” I ask and toe off my boots. “Or do you mean you’d be the size of a worm? Because I could work with that.”
“No, I’d be a worm. I wouldn’t speak, and I’d be small, and just writhe around in your hand.
” He snickers, so at least I know we’re fooling around about this, and it’s not some trick question deal-breaker like that time when a hookup said they wouldn’t have sex with me if I wore black socks.
I thought it was a joke, so I wore black socks, and he just walked out on me, ruining my Friday.
“Well, I’d fatten you up, so you’re nice and thick. And then, I’d swallow you, so we can always be together,” I say, placing him on the couch. When his eyes open wider, I lean in to kiss his nose, so he knows I’m not being serious either.
Eli stares at me for a bit, but nods. “That’s actually kinda romantic.”
I pull his hat off, but he’s already unzipping himself from the sleeping bag, so I’m guessing he’s not all about staying a larva forever. I did consider going with it a bit longer and feeding him. As soon as he’s out, he gets up to kiss me.
“Thank you for taking me to the lake, that was fucking fantastic. I’ll need to commemorate it somehow. I’m just really hungry.”
“Didn’t I give you enough protein yet?” I ask, swiping my thumb across the sweet lips that sucked out all my juices during our walk.
“Barely. And you know how hungry I can get.” He wiggles his eyebrows to make sure I get the double meaning.
I know I’m hot to a big part of the population, but it’s his desire for me that makes my heart beat faster.
It’s him I want to serve and please. I’ve been conditioned to love and obey my former master, a fact I must begrudgingly accept about myself.
Are my feelings for Eli only an extension of that training?
A sense of loyalty to the man who killed my tormentor?
Or are those emotions genuine? Does it matter when it’s not an obsession I wish to curb?
As soon as I see him go to the kitchen, I’m borderline offended, because I offered him the drink, and I’ll make it for him. Along with the foods I’ve learned he likes most.
“You need to rest,” I protest and follow him. “On the couch!”
He sighs, but doesn’t put up a fight. “But I feel guilty that you’re doing everything.”
“We’ve been over this. It’s my job to keep you safe and comfortable, so don’t complain that I’m not like your lazy exes,” I say and open the fridge, collecting everything I need to make sandwiches.
Eli glances over the back of the couch with a smile. “Okay, but you have to tell me if you feel I’m not doing enough. I guess I can hardly believe you’re this perfect. I keep waiting for something terrible to happen.”
There it is again, the uncertainty I need to weed out of his heart. I’m loyal as a dog, and he treats me with a kindness no one ever bothered to show me. How could I ever think badly of him?
“I like taking care of you. It keeps me busy,” I tell him and start heating the water for our drinks.
“Hmm… I might get it now. Is it the special forces training? You were taught to protect, and you can see I’m particularly useless, so you feel the need to save me?”