Chapter 21 #2
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I don’t want to get rid of him. I like having him around. Even though it’s only been a day, I liked how he looked in my bed.
Like he belonged there.
Before I left for work this morning, I took out my sketch pad and drew him, my dick stirring as the charcoal formed new lines of his body on a page.
It was some of my best work, something I hope to recreate in the coming days.
If I don’t pace myself, I’ll have a stack of sketch pads with Lane as my only model.
It gets cooler as night falls, and Lane shivers. “Ready to go in?” I ask, rubbing his arm to give him some warmth.
He nods. “Can we…can you hold me when we get inside?”
“I need to feed you first.”
As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. He laughs in embarrassment. “Yeah, okay. But…after. Can you hold me, please?”
“Yes, sweet boy. Let me take you upstairs and get the cuff back on you. Then I’ll cook you dinner.”
Lane sighs but doesn’t complain as we head inside. When we get to my room, he sits in the chair by the window, and I cuff the chain around his ankle.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
Lane smiles and nods. I kiss him quickly and smile against his mouth when he wraps his arms around my neck to draw me in.
Chuckling, I untangle his arms and back away. “None of that until you’ve eaten. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” he whispers and sits back in the chair. Lane turns toward the window and looks at the night sky as I leave the room.
When I’m downstairs, I make him a protein shake first, agitating it with one hand as I rummage through my cabinets for something quick to prepare him. Fuck, I need to start a grocery list.
The food I bought during my last trip went bad because I left them in my car overnight.
After the bullshit with that fucking tweaker, I wasn’t in the mood to bring them in from the trunk, so I don’t have much in my kitchen right now.
I’ll go shopping tomorrow when I get off work and make sure I’m not being stalked by someone trying to rob me before I pack up the groceries.
I manage to rustle up a quick meal for Lane, adding as much protein as possible.
When I get back upstairs, I find Lane in the same spot I left him, his legs pulled to his chest as he stares out of the window.
He looks over at me and smiles. “Another shake?” he asks, holding his hand out for it.
“It’ll help you gain weight. I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow. Make a list for me tonight, yeah?”
“Okay, Daddy.” He drinks the shake, and I can’t help but watch how his Adam’s apple bobs with the motion.
I rearrange myself in my pants and look away.
It’s his first full day being free of the cell.
I’m sure he’s tired from our walk. He won’t be able to handle the things I want to do to him just yet.
He finishes the protein shake, then eats the food I brought up for him. We sit in silence as I watch Lane devour all his food. When he’s done, I take the plate and put it on my dresser to return to the kitchen tomorrow.
Then I hand him a notepad and a pencil, and he writes down a quick grocery list of things he likes. I look over it, smiling that I had a lot of the items in my cart when I went grocery shopping. I was right—Lane has a sweet tooth.
Setting the notepad on the nightstand, I walk over to Lane and hold out my hand. “Come on,” I say, pulling him from the chair. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Lane yawns widely, his eyes drooping. “Tired.”
“I can tell. Shirt off?”
He nods, and I pull it over his head and toss it to the floor.
“Sexy, Daddy,” he murmurs with a soft smile on his weary face. I chuckle as I pull the covers back and lie down. Then Lane climbs in beside me, tucking himself close to my side and throwing his chained leg over my thigh. His sigh is long, and I practically feel him melt into me.
“Hold me tight,” he whispers, and I do, wrapping my arms snugly around him. He clings to me, his arms like iron.
I can feel his tears against my chest, but he doesn’t look at me when I try to lift his chin. “What’s wrong, baby boy?”
He sniffles and shakes his head but doesn’t let me go. I rub his back and try to calm him, but I’m not sure why or even if I’m comforting him how he needs me to.
His sudden mood shift might have a lot to do with his ankle being chained and him being cuddled up to a serial killer, but I think it’s more than that. Especially since he’s holding me like he never wants to let me go.
When the tears stop flowing and he relaxes, I say, “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
He lets out a long, tired breath. “Just…a hard childhood. It’s been fucking with me. When you hold me, it’s like…you’re fixing something that was broken so long ago.”
“What—”
Lane shakes his head again. “I’m too tired to get into it now, Daddy. Can we talk about it later? Please?”
If it were anyone else, I would push and push and push until the person gave me what I wanted. But I have to take care of Lane. Even though I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, I don’t want to upset him when he begged so sweetly.
“Okay,” I say, but I know that I’ll ask again, and he’ll tell me. Whatever the issue is, I can make it better for him.
After a few minutes, he says, “Daddy?” I hum in response. “Can I have a few books, please? You don’t have a television up here.”
With a kiss to his forehead, I nod and say, “I got you, boy. Anything you want.”