14. Anders #2
Once Danny has gotten dressed, we pile into my car and head down into town and to a new brunch place that’s recently opened.
Guilt burns and festers in my gut as I internally question myself over and over again about why I haven’t told my brothers that Henry is my man.
But no matter which way I look at it, I can’t find a good answer.
I’ve fallen for him. No, I’ve fallen in love with him. I see a future that’s full of him, yet I’m too much of a pussy to even admit that he’s mine. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Once we’ve eaten and paid the bill, instead of heading back up the mountain, I drive us to the garage, waiting until Oz and Danny are distracted with Parker to slip through the workshop and into the office.
Entering quietly, I silently close the door behind me and lock it, taking a moment to watch my boy hard at work. His fingers are flying over his keyboard, typing quickly as he flicks between papers on the desk in front of him, all of his attention fixed on his computer.
Stepping forward, I cross to the door that leads out onto the street and flick the lock, turning to face him once I’m sure we’re alone and can’t be disturbed.
“Anders,” Henry says breathily.
“Hello, Boy,” I say, my voice rough with guilt. I want to confess to him, to tell him that I love him and want the entire world to know it. But something keeps me quiet, and I’m not sure what it is.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his gaze soft and pleased to see me.
“Did you miss me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“But did you miss me?” I ask again, desperate for an answer.
“So much,” he confesses bravely.
“Good, I missed you too. A part of me wants to make you give up your job, move in with me, and rely on me fully for everything,” I confess brokenly.
I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I shouldn’t be, it’ll scare him off, show him the depth of my control issues, and maybe that’s why I said it. Because he needs to know, he needs to understand.
“I don’t think I can do that,” he admits after a long moment, his voice thick, his expression heartbroken.
“Good,” I say, trying to mean it, even though I don’t. Because the truth is, deep down I want that. I want complete, total power exchange, and that makes me a fucking monster.
Unable to resist, I go to him, lift him out of his chair, then sit back down in it, placing him in my lap. Cupping his cheek with one hand, I collar his throat with the other, watching as his pupils dilate, then fill with lust.
Leaning forward, I capture his lips with mine, kissing him like it’s the last time I’ll ever do it, and maybe it is. I woke up this morning in love, sexually sated, and happier than I can ever remember being. But now I feel hollow and broken.
Henry is mine. I know that down to my core, but although I might have claimed him in private, I’m too much of a pussy to claim him in public, and it’s taken me until now to understand why.
It’s because if I tell my friends, my family, that this boy is mine and then I treat him the way I treated Gabe, I’ll lose everything.
I’ll lose my brothers’ respect, I’ll lose my home and my new family, but more than that.
Bigger than everything else combined, I’ll lose Henry.
He’s young and impressionable and innocent and so, so malleable. He’s already started to allow me to mold him into the kitten, the boy I want, but that’s not fair. He’s not a toy to be programmed. He’s a man. He’s the perfect man. But he won’t stay that way if I get my hands on him.
It’s only been a few days, and he’s already under my control, going where I say, doing as I say, wearing the things I’ve bought him.
I hate him going to work. I know I’ll hate him giving anyone but me attention.
I want all of him. Mine, for me and me only.
I’m a Dom, but he’s not a sub. He was a virgin until yesterday.
He has no idea that every time I show him what I like, I’m actually conditioning him to act a certain way.
Gabe called me on my behavior, but not until it was already too late, and the damage was done.
I promised myself I’d never allow that to happen again, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.
My control, my obsession with Henry, is a pattern of behavior, only this time, this man isn’t mature enough to understand what I’m doing to him.
That’s why I’m going to have to stop. I’m going to have to take a step back. I’m going to have to be the one to end it.
Reluctantly dragging my lips from his, I sigh, stroking my thumb along his jaw as I feel his Adam’s apple move beneath my fingers at his throat. “I can’t pick you up tonight,” I say, hating each word as it falls from my lips.
“Okay,” Henry says easily.
“I have to go out of town for a couple of days.” The lie comes far too easily, but this is for his sake. I’m protecting him.
“Oh.” He sounds so sad that I do what I know I shouldn’t, I kiss him again.
When I pull back, tears are prickling the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t cry because this is all my fault. “I’m on shift for four days from Sunday.”
“Oh.” This time he doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment.
“I’m sorry.” The two words sound so final, and I think he hears it, the things I’m saying without actually saying them.
That I’m sorry about more than just having to work.
That I hate that this can’t be. He tenses, and I know he gets it, or he hears the resolution in my unsaid words. That this is over.