Chapter 35 Oren
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
OREN
After Liam and Simon made their grand exit, no doubt to go fuck each other after the way they’d stolen glances all evening, I was left alone with Matthew.
Thorne had retreated upstairs shortly after his episode, and I couldn’t blame him.
I had caused him more misery, but for once, I’d made the right call.
My choice had ended with a rekindled friendship, one I knew he couldn’t have survived without.
Matt was his best friend, and that part of him had suffered since that night in the hospital.
While their friendship was saved, I was going to fucking beat him for ruining his hand once more. It didn’t look shattered, but enough force had been applied to leave it busted. And it caused me to clean up his life force from the tile flooring.
“God, Prince, will you fucking move it?” I said as I lightly shoved him out of the way, his playful demeanor one I was not in the mood for as I scrubbed the remainder of Thorne’s lineage from the floor.
His tongue hung lazily from his mouth, his insistent bark begging for the attention I refused to give him. He was as obnoxious as me, and well, maybe Thorne did have a point. I was definitely bothersome at times.
Tossing the bloodied rag into the bucket, I sighed, unable to stop myself from petting the damn corgi. His smile widened, procuring one of my own before I twisted my head to see Matt staring at me.
Rubbing my hand across my neck, I bit my lip. “How are your… injuries doing?” He had more than one, Thorne unleashing his pent up fury in localized areas. Despite being a professor, that side of him would never leave.
“Safe to say I’ll survive,” he joked, giving me a saddened smile. “I’m sorry for the commotion my presence caused, but thank you. For inviting me. For giving me the chance to make things right with Thorne. You’re a good man for him, Oren.”
“You’re a good man for him, too, Matt. You’re his best friend, and I’m glad you took the opportunity to fix things. He needs you, just as much as he needs me. Just… don’t get any ideas of taking him,” I teased back, hoping to lighten the intensity in his gaze.
His chuckle was soft as he dipped his chin. “I don’t think you have to worry about me, Valens. But him?” Gesturing with his head, he motioned toward the stairs. “He needs you right now.”
I nodded, knowing it too. “Is there anything else I can get you before you head out? There’s plenty of food left, well except for the sliders. Fucking Liam devoured the whole pan.”
With a growing smile, he tucked his hands in his pockets. “No. I believe you’ve given me plenty. I have my best friend back, and ultimately, that’s all that matters. The food was great too, though.” He winked, a genuine laugh escaping him as I tossed a vulgar gesture in his direction.
“Alright, no need for the added sarcasm.” I rolled my eyes as I cracked open the door. “But I’m serious, Matt. You’re welcome back here anytime. Just make sure you give proper notice.” I grinned, letting the innuendo settle between us.
“God, I love leaving here with the image of you two fucking. Real solid imagery honestly.”
“Would you like to add an apron to the imagery? One that says—”
“Alright, alright, alright.” Waving his hand, he cut me off before reaching to squeeze my shoulder.
“I’m glad you have the fire to tame him.
He needed it. And, as I said, he needs you, Oren.
Though it is quite hilarious Mercy beat you up there to comfort him.
Seems you might have stiff competition.”
“She’s a tough one to beat,” I added. “Get home safe, Matt.”
With a final wave, I watched him for a few steps before closing the door, locking it securely before placing a hand on my hip. I was glad Mercy was with him, but she’d have to move over. It was my turn to comfort, and I wanted his company more than anything.
Shoving the bucket to the side, I figured I’d leave it as a tomorrow problem. “Prince?” Where was that damn dog?
A bark echoed from the living room, and I followed. He wasn’t one for listening to commands, and he only proved that more as it took me nearly ten minutes to chase him down, corralling him into my arms to bring him upstairs for bed.
“You know you’re a fucking shit, right?” I mused to Prince as I headed into our room, dropping him gently on the bed. When I didn’t spot Thorne resting on it, I cracked open the bathroom door.
Seated with his back resting against the tub, water droplets still clung to his skin.
The towel around his waist did little to hide his assets, and I was cursing myself for staring like a whore who hadn’t been fed in weeks.
Between his muscled thighs sat Mercy, her attention fixed on him with no desire to pull away.
His large hands rested on both sides of her head, his own craned down as he rested his forehead against hers.
“You’re such a good girl,” he hummed, the depth of his voice calming every fried nerve in my body. “Thank you for coming home with me. I know I’m rather reckless, and I’m sure you appreciate that about as much as Oren does.”
It almost seemed too personal to interrupt, his gaze equally as transfixed as hers. She was more than a good girl. She was a piece of his saving grace, and I’d never be able to give her enough treats to show my gratitude.
Taking another step, a small sigh billowed, and I hoped it would provide an easy announcement of my presence. “Everyone’s gone home,” I settled on, the sentence sounding quite dumb after I’d spoken it.
Thorne’s head lifted, and as if they were carved from the same being, Mercy glanced over her shoulder. His honeyed eyes found mine, his tongue trailing over his lips. “How long have you been standing there?”
He almost sounded embarrassed.
“Not long,” I blurted, a deep blush settling on my cheeks.
“I… Well, I did see you talking to Mercy, but it isn’t anything to be embarrassed about.
I also talk to Prince often, though I don’t think he’s as insightful as her.
He’s rather stubborn, unlike Mercy. I didn’t mean to pry, or interrupt your time. I—”
“Oren.”
My lips snapped shut, the hue on my face only growing. “Sorry,” I muttered, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I, uh, your hand.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Using his uninjured arm, he pushed himself up, scratching Mercy’s head on his ascent. “Besides, I was wondering when you were coming up here…”
“I wanted to come up sooner, but I was worried Prince would get into the blood. Then Matt and I talked about the evening… But that doesn’t matter.” I closed the distance, my fingers gently prodding his injured hand. “Did you even attend to the gash in your palm? And your knuckles are battered.”
“If you wish to scold me, could you at least let me get dressed?”
“Absolutely not,” I huffed. “You don’t have to wear anything around me…” The confession slipped before I could reel it back, and I bit my lip hard to keep myself from fainting at my own embarrassment.
A smile crept across his lips, his brows raising with a challenge. “That sounded quite sexual. I thought you were here to reprimand me for my ‘foolishness.’ Seems your thoughts are far more focused on something other than the gash in my hand.”
“Well, that’s… that’s because…” I groaned, peeling my gaze from the seductive towel placement. “Sit on the bed while I get the first aid kit. I can’t have you bleeding on my silk sheets.”
“Our,” he corrected. “And what if I don’t?”
“Do you always have to be so defiant?” I asked, but there was no mistaking the curl threatening to unravel into a grin. “If you don’t, I won’t fuck you for a week—”
“As if,” he laughed, stepping around me to exit the bathroom. “Gather your shit, mother hen. I’ll be patiently awaiting your attentive care.”
“As if,” I mocked, scrunching my nose as I collected the items I needed from the kit. Thankfully, his gash didn’t look like it needed stitches, but it needed to be cleansed and wrapped.
I stuffed a shit ton of alcohol pads into my pockets before stumbling out of the bathroom with a variety of items. Thorne was where I’d told him to be, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide.
That was on purpose, and I refused to give into the temptation to look.
Instead, I settled next to him, tearing open about five alcohol wipes.
“Give me your hand.”
“So demanding.” He still refused.
“For fuck’s sake, can you give me your hand this one time? I’m worried if we don’t clean it, it’ll get an infection, and I quite like you having two hands. Especially since you so often like to use one of them to stroke my cock.”
“I feel I have given you my hand plenty of times. Besides, I took a shower. Therefore, it’s clean. Done and done.”
“Clean? You think a shower would take care of it?” I groaned, running my hand down my face. “Give me your fucking hand, baby, or I’m holding true to my promise. I’ll touch myself alone in our sheets.”
“God, you’re infuriating.” Tossing his hand at me, his knuckles collided with my chest. “There. Happy?”
“I’d prefer without the attitude, but it’ll be fine.” I pulled it from my chest, careful of the opened wounds on his knuckles. Turning his hand over, I grabbed one of the wipes. “It’s going to hurt, but you’re not a pussy, are you?”
“Considering I took beatings from your father for how many years?” The question hit like a punch to the gut. “I’ll be fine.”
I gave him a quick nod before swiping the pad over the gash, cleansing it of any residual crimson.
Thorne was quiet, not a sound escaping him as I dirtied three more.
I wanted to make sure it was clean, because I couldn’t handle it if he got hurt again.
I couldn’t handle it if my surprise hurt him again in physical ways.