Chapter 6 Jace #2
By the time I turned onto the last street, Elior had straightened a little in his seat, his eyes open and taking in everything passing by.
Neat lawns. Parked cars. A kid’s bright purple bike tipped over near a driveway.
Ordinary things. I watched his reflection in the glass, noting how each mundane detail seemed to fascinate him.
I slowed as the house came into view.
It was one story, with dark-blue siding, and had a small porch with two wicker chairs and a railing that needed a fresh coat of paint. Empty planter boxes sat waiting to be filled on both sides of the steps.
I pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Elior stared ahead, lips parted. “This is… this is it?”
“This is it,” I said, watching him carefully. “What do you think, cherub?”
He leaned forward slightly, hands braced on his thighs as he took it in.
“I love it,” he breathed, like he was afraid saying it too loudly might make it disappear.
Thank God. “Let’s get you inside then.”
I got out first and rounded the car, opening his door and offering my hand. He hesitated just a beat before taking it, his grip still careful, not quite trusting yet. I didn’t comment on it.
We walked up the short cement path together, hand-in-hand. Once we reached the front door, I let go of him, unlocked it, pushed it open, and stepped aside to let him enter first.
Elior paused on the threshold.
Inside, the house was quiet and clean, sunlight spilling across dark hardwood floors. To the right was a modest living room with a couch and a throw blanket neatly folded over the arm. And off to the left was the kitchen, the fridge and pantry full.
He stepped in slowly, like he was testing whether the floor would hold him.
“Oh,” he whispered.
I watched his shoulders tense, then ease. Watched him take it all in with wide, uncertain eyes.
“You can take your time,” I said. “There’s no rush.”
He nodded and wandered a few steps farther, fingers brushing the back of the couch, the edge of the counter. Proof it was real. Proof it wasn’t going to vanish if he blinked.
“Do you want the tour?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said quickly, then blushed. “Please.”
I showed him the living room first, then the kitchen, then the back door that led to a small screened-in patio. He listened closely, nodding along, committing it all to memory with a fragile sort of excitement.
Then I led him down the short hallway.
“This is the bathroom,” I said, opening the door. “And—” I gestured to the last door at the end, “—the bedroom.”
I opened it.
The room was simple—a large bed with clean sheets, a dresser, and two nightstands.
Elior stepped inside, then stopped, his ears turning red. “There’s… um,” he said, staring at the bed. “There’s only one.”
I leaned against the doorframe, arms folding loosely. “Sure is.”
He swallowed, hands twisting together. “But… we’re not married.”
The words came out so earnest, so sincerely concerned, that they caught me off guard. I laughed—a low, surprised chuckle that slipped out before I could stop it.
Elior startled, eyes flicking to me as his ears reddened. “I-I didn’t mean—”
“Hey,” I said gently, straightening. “It’s okay, baby. I know what you meant.”
He ducked his head, mortified. “I mean, I know we’ve shared before, but—but that was different.”
“You’re so fucking adorable.”
Elior’s head snapped up, eyes wide, blush deepening instantly. “I—”
I held up a hand, chuckling softly. “Sorry. That slipped. I didn’t mean it like…” I stepped away from the doorframe, giving him space again. “I just mean—you’re earnest. It’s a good thing.”
He nodded, still flustered. “I’m not even sure why…
I mean, at home, the men and women live separately, even if they are married.
I don’t know… Maybe… Well, when I was really, really little, Father read me stories, and the families all lived together in one house, so maybe that’s why…
? You know… the—the parents… I’m sorry, Daddy.
My thoughts have been all jumbled up recently… ”
I gritted my teeth at the mention of Malachi. I placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling it tense then slowly release under my touch.
“This is your home now, cherub, remember?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he said quietly. “I know.”
I squeezed his shoulder gently, my eyes softening. He glanced up at me, searching my face. For what, I didn’t know.
“How about a bath, hm? Then I’ll make us something for lunch.”
“I haven’t had a bath in so long,” Elior answered softly. “Father had one in his house but… well, you know.”
Again with Malachi. I swallowed my frustration, instead smiling at him and leading him to the bathroom.
“Here you can take as many baths as you want, baby boy.”
A small smile tipped his rosy lips up as he followed me without complaint.
Our bathroom wasn’t huge by any standards, but it was nice and recently remodeled. It was undoubtedly leagues better than Elior’s old bathroom in the chapel.
I sat on the edge of the tub and turned the faucet, testing the temperature with the back of my hand. Once it was warm, I plugged the drain and let the basin fill, turning to look at Elior, who stood in the center of the room, his arms wrapped around his middle as he looked around.
“Do you need help with your clothes?” I asked, amused when he jumped a little at my voice, his cheeks flushed.
“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down at himself. “No, I uh… I got it.”
I smirked. “Well, come on then. Take them off.”
His head jerked up, mouth slightly open in surprise. “N-now?” he stammered. “With you here?”
“Mhm. So be good, yeah? Strip for me.”
“But—”
“Elior, you can’t get in the bath with your clothes still on. I just want to help you get clean, baby. That’s all.”
He bit his lip, eyes flicking up to mine—nervous and as shy as ever—but gripped the hem of his hoodie and lifted it, peeling it up over his head, revealing pale skin stretched tight over ribs that poked out more than they should.
“Good boy,” I praised. “Now the rest.”
He nodded sharply, taking a second to carefully fold the hoodie and place it on the counter.
So cute.
He averted his eyes as he tugged his sweats down, bending as they slid over his hips and past his thighs.
I watched him greedily as his fingers quivered at the waistband of his underwear, then slowly eased the fabric down.
His cock finally came into view, soft and nestled against his balls and a small patch of blonde.
He shivered, whether from the air or my gaze, I didn’t care.
Naked now, he stood there trembling, his hands fluttering in front of his crotch in an attempt to cover himself.
“None of that,” I growled softly, standing and pulling his hands away. “Let me see you. Let me see what’s mine.”
His breath hitched, face burning red, but he dropped his arms. God, he was beautiful—blonde hair tousled, angelic cerulean eyes wide. His light pink nipples pebbled from the cool air, making my mouth water.
“Alright, in you go,” I said, guiding him into the tub with a hand on his lower back.
He stepped in cautiously, then sank into the water with a small sigh.
The water level rose around him, lapping at his chest, and he hugged his knees a bit, looking so vulnerable.
I rolled up my sleeves, kneeling beside the tub, and grabbed the washcloth and soap.
I lathered the cloth, then took his arm and lifted it gently to wash from shoulder to wrist. “Relax, cherub,” I murmured, voice calm. “Just let me take care of you.”
He nodded, eyes timidly watching as I moved to the other arm, then his back, cloth gliding over skin that needed this—needed me. I washed his hair next, fingers massaging shampoo into the blonde strands. He leaned into my touch, tension easing from his muscles.
But I couldn’t keep it innocent forever. Not with him here, bare and warm in front of me. As I soaped the cloth again, I let my hand drift lower, washing his chest with broad strokes. My thumb brushed a nipple, deliberate now, circling it until it hardened.
Elior gasped softly, body tensing. “Daddy—”
“Shh,” I whispered, leaning closer, my hair falling forward as I met his eyes. “It’s okay. Feels good, doesn’t it? You’ve been through so much. Let me make you feel better.”
The cloth moved down, over his belly—flat now from his time at the hospital, but I’d fill it out again, make it soft for my hands. I washed there slowly, pressing just enough to remind him of my strength, my claim.
He squirmed a little, water sloshing. “Wait, please. I… I’m nervous,” he admitted, voice small. “We haven’t…”
I set the cloth aside, hands bare now, cupping water to rinse him. “I know, baby, but Daddy’s got you. Trust me.” My fingers trailed lower, under the water, tracing his hips. “Spread your legs a bit. Let me wash all of you properly.”
He hesitated, then parted his thighs shyly, exposing himself to my gaze. I lathered the soap into my palms and reached between his legs. Gentle at first, washing his balls, rolling them softly in my grip. His cock twitched, starting to harden under my touch.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, voice dropping huskily. “Just relax into it. Feel how good my hands are on you.”
I stroked up, fingers wrapping around his shaft, soaping it with slow pumps. Not rushing, but building—watching his face flush deeper, lips part. He was shy and nervous, but his body responded, his hips lifting slightly into my fist.
“Ngh… Daddy, please,” he whimpered, not stopping me, just needing more.
I smiled, possessive heat coiling in my gut. “Please, what, cherub? Tell me you like it. Tell me you want Daddy to keep touching you like this.” My other hand slid to his ass, finger circling his hole under the water, pressing just enough to tease.
“I… I like it,” he breathed, eyes glazing over.
“I know you do, sweet boy. My good boy. So perfect. So precious. My sweet Elior. Let go for me. I’ve waited so long to have you like this again.”