by Luna, David
Thornton murmured in his ear, soft, reassuring words that helped him gain back control so he could continue, “Anyway, I started losing my shit every time they’d try to take me somewhere with a crowd or try to get me in the car when they’d been drinking. But they were always drinking. To this day, I can’t get into a car without some spike of panic.
“By the time I was a teenager, there had been several more accidents. None of them were too bad, fortunately. I was fifteen, and god, I didn’t want to get my license. Driving a car was the scariest thing I could think of besides being a passenger in my parents’ car. But I thought maybe, if I had a license, they’d allow me to drive everywhere, and then they wouldn’t get hurt or hurt anyone else. After I got it, I’d offer to drive them wherever they wanted to go. I hid their keys, anything I could do to keep them from getting behind the wheel.”
The steady caress of Thornton’s fingers, such soothing touches, lulled him into sharing more than he normally would. “They were remarkably adept at functioning in real life. For the most part they kept their jobs. I always had food, a roof over my head. But they always had booze as well, so maybe if we’d been starving, they’d have been sober.”
“Jesus. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what to say. I can’t fix this for you, and I want to so badly it’s like a knife in my gut.”
“Don’t. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad.”
“God. I know that. I know, but I hate it all the same. I hate that I can’t go back and be someone you could count on. But I swear to you, I’ll be someone you can count on now. Please believe that.”
“I do.”
He could feel Thornton’s body relax around him. “I’m glad. Do you want to…”
“Finish?”
A soft kiss on his head and a murmured, “Mmhmm,” had him continuing. “They would sober up every so often. I’d get my hopes up. But it was always so random I never understood the timing. They’d last for a week, a month, six months, and then one would inevitably fail and drag the other down with them. It was one of those failures when it all ended.”
Thornton’s body tensed up again, and he rubbed his hand over the man’s arm, laying on his stomach. “I was going to college. Online courses, which was normal for me. When I began panicking in crowds when I was younger, they’d had to take me out of school, and I’d started taking virtual classes where I could attend school with an actual teacher in live video classrooms. I guess I was lucky they didn’t just leave me at home without seeing to my education.”
“Jesus.”
He squeezed Thornton’s arm, reassuring him or perhaps reassuring them both. “Anyway, I was almost twenty and still living at home obviously because I’m nothing if not consistent in my fear of, well, anything remotely related to being a fully functioning adult.”
“Stop it.” The growl in which those words were issued sent shivers up his spine, but he said nothing. “I won’t have you talking about yourself that way.”
The tension left his body in a rush, and he felt almost defeated as he continued, “I was living with them to save money while in school. I worked at the flower shop as much as I could to pay for classes. Anyway, one night they were arguing about some party they were going to, and I went out to find their keys while they were distracted, but they saw me, and Dad waved the keys in his hand and told me he didn’t need a ride from his kid to get where he needed to go. I tried arguing with him and even appealed to my mom, but she just hugged me and said they were fine.”
“Asher…”
It was like Thornton knew this was the end, and it wasn’t going to be good. But he couldn’t stop the retelling. It wasn’t exactly cathartic, or perhaps it was, but it didn’t feel good, just necessary. “They weren’t fine. I kept trying, but nothing worked. When they left, I called the police, and I think they put out some kind of alert, but they couldn’t find them in time, I guess, and I had no idea where they were going. It didn’t work, though.”
Asher took a deep breath and continued. “They were driving home from whatever party they’d drunkenly driven to, their blood alcohol levels through the roof. They ended up on the wrong side of the highway and ran headfirst into a minivan. They died immediately, but the woman they hit? It took weeks for her body to give out. She left behind three kids under the age of eight and a grieving husband.”
He heard Thornton suck in a breath, and he turned onto his side, ignoring the pain in his ribs so he could cuddle into the man who was feeling his pain. “I dealt with their funerals, sold the house, and left town to come here. It wasn’t far, a few hours’ drive, really, but it was far enough away I felt I could make a fresh start. I was stressed beyond what I thought I could handle. I don’t know how I did it, honestly. Desperation, probably. And I think I was in a daze for the first six months.”
“You did something for yourself that you needed to do. That takes strength.”
Asher made a noise in disagreement. “I couldn’t stay in the small town we lived. People knew whose kid I was. And yeah, I rarely left the house, but when I did, even if it was my own paranoia, it felt like I was being blamed by everyone there for what my parents had done, and really, I didn’t even disagree. Not then anyway. I’ve come to realize it wasn’t my fault, but it’s not like it makes me feel any better about it.”
“I’m so glad you understand there was nothing you could have done. They were adults, and mistakes parents make are never a child’s fault. Jesus, you’re so brave, Asher. So strong.”
Asher shook his head, knowing what Thornton said was bullshit. He wasn’t strong at all. He was weak in every way.
“Asher, listen to me. Hear me. You had a shit childhood, and even though you may not see it, you’re living a good life. You have a beautiful apartment and a career you love. You have friends.”
Thornton gently turned his face towards him so he couldn’t avoid eye contact like he’d been doing. “You may hate crowds, and driving might give you panic attacks, but you go to work every day. That, in itself, is amazing with your anxiety. You spend time working out. I saw the equipment in your spare bedroom. So, I know you’re taking care of yourself. You’re healthy, and, in a lot of ways you may not be able to see, you’re thriving.”
“I feel like a failure, every single day.”
The sad noise Thornton made had Asher’s heart aching, and he closed his eyes as the man spoke, his voice a soft whisper. “I wish you’d give yourself more credit.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. What could he say? Maybe some of that was true, but when he was ordering everything he needed online and having it delivered because he was too scared to leave his house for any other reason than needing to earn a living so he could afford the apartment he locked himself up in, he didn’t feel like he was thriving at all.
How could he pat himself on the back when he broke out in cold sweats every time he knew he was going to have to drive somewhere? That wasn’t brave; that was cowardly. That wasn’t strength; that was weakness. He heard and felt Thornton taking a deep breath before he felt a kiss on his lips. Opening eyes that were gritty with fatigue, he took in the man’s beautiful face. Even in the dark he could see his strong features and considered it a minor miracle he was lying in Thornton’s bed, held in his arms, receiving kisses from him.
“I’m going to do my best to help you see how wonderful, strong, and brave you are. But right now, I think you’re exhausted and need some rest. Are you comfortable like this?”
He didn’t want to move, so he nodded. He didn’t want Thornton to pull away. The pain meds were still working, and he was comfortable within the circle of Thornton’s arms. Feeling just a tiny bit of that bravery Thornton kept insisting he had, he brought his hand to Thornton’s chest and gently grabbed the man’s shirt in his fist, needing to anchor himself, or maybe anchoring Thornton to him. As he watched, Thornton’s eyes moved down to his fist, and then the arm wrapped softly around his waist gently tugged him closer.
“Yo
u don’t have to hold onto me like I’m gonna go somewhere. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to. Wrap your arm around me. There you go.”
He still didn’t think they were close enough. God, why was he suddenly feeling so needy? But Thornton either felt his need or was feeling the same thing he was because he reached down and lifted Asher’s leg over his hip as gently as he could, sliding his thigh between Asher’s. And suddenly all was right in his world.
He was being held in an embrace that felt like home, taken care of in every way, and made to feel safe and at ease. Two things that were so rare in his life he could probably count on one hand how often they’d happened… before Thornton. And that made him wonder. Would his life forever be segmented in his mind of memories before Thornton and memories after Thornton? Warmth settled in his chest, something in his brain he barely recognized as hope began to flourish, and he drifted off to sleep wondering how long it would last.
Chapter Fourteen
Thornton
Thornton woke slowly, a feeling like he was being watched bringing him out of his sleep. He knew not to make any sudden moves, wanting Asher to be able to look his fill without worrying or stressing about it, so he stayed quiet and feigned sleep. And he was happy he did because as he lay there, partially curled around the boy’s small frame, Asher’s tentative hands began to softly wander over his body.
He was shy with it. It felt more like Asher was learning something brand new, trying to figure out how it worked. It felt worshipful and yet so tentative. He imagined it was like a blind person trying to learn what someone looked like by touching them. It wasn’t sexual, but it was hands-down the most sensual thing he’d ever felt, and his body was reacting to it.
He hummed a little, letting the boy know he was awake and slowly opened his eyes. Asher’s exploration stopped, and just as he was about to pull away, Thornton moved to capture his hand, which had traveled to his stomach. He rested his palm against the back of it to hold it there. “Don’t stop.”
Asher let out a little distressed noise, and Thornton let go, feeling such loss when Asher pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry. You were asleep. I shouldn’t have…”
“I want your hands on me. I thought you understood that. I would love it if you wanted to explore my body.”
When Asher bit his lip, Thornton clasped his hand and placed it back where it had been. Asher gripped his shirt in his hand and gazed into Thornton’s eyes. “I should have asked first.”
“I’m telling you now: whenever you want to touch me, however you want to touch me, I want you to. If you want to hold my hand, if you want to sit on my lap, if you want my arm around you, you have my permission to touch me however you want. You never have to ask me. If my body can give you comfort, you take whatever comfort you need.”
“But, aren’t you in control of my body? I thought you wanted control of me. I… I read everything you showed me last night on your iPad, and some of it—”
“Everything?”
Thornton was shocked. He’d given the boy a lot of things to look up. Asher blushed and admitted, “Plus more I found on my own.”
Thornton raised his brows. “Asher, did you watch porn last night?”
Jesus. The boy nodded. “A lot of the Daddies wanted a lot of control of their boys.”
God, Thornton’s dick turned to steel at hearing those words. “There is a measure of control I would want over you. I’m dominant in that way, but it’s more about making sure I give you what you need, what you want, within reason, and ensure you and I are doing what is best for your mind and your body.”
“So, you wouldn’t order me not to touch you? I read that sometimes…” The boy cut himself off.
“Asher, these types of relationships aren’t cookie cutter. They aren’t one-size-fits-all. When I tell you what I want you to feel comfortable doing, it will probably be different than what another Daddy or Dominant would want. But it’s not about them. It’s about what works for us. The type of power exchange you are talking about is not the type I want.”
“Okay?”
The questioning lilt to that word had Thornton continuing. “You can tell me if I’m wrong. But what I think you need most is someone to help you feel calm and confident, safe, and secure. Someone to help you when you are struggling and someone to take away some of the hard decisions and things you feel you have to do that bring you an enormous amount of stress. Would you like that kind of help and care from someone, or am I off base?”
“I don’t know. It sounds… good. Too good to be true, really. I don’t even know how that would work. I’m scared I’d do it wrong. I—”
Thornton leaned forward and kissed Asher’s lips, effectively silencing him. He leaned their foreheads together. “That’s the beauty of this type of relationship. You don’t have to stress over doing things right. You don’t have to make those decisions. I will make them for you if you are willing to give up that control to me and let go. But you can always tell me no, Asher, no matter what it’s about. I will always respect your limits.”
“Will I need a safeword? I thought… I’m sorry.” Asher shook his head and closed his eyes. “I’ll stop asking questions.”
Thornton tipped Asher’s head up and waited until he opened his eyes again. “You can ask me anything, anytime. I’m happy for you to pick a safeword if you’re worried about telling me no. Whatever makes you feel safest.”
“I wouldn’t need one?”
“Well, safewords are used a lot in relationships where pain play is involved, and the submissive needs to be able to have a word they’d never normally say in a situation where they are receiving pain. The submissive may say no or stop but not want the pain play to end. The Dominant would know not to stop because they didn’t use their safeword. Does that make sense?”
“I don’t want that.”
“No, and I don’t either, Asher. That is not the type of Dominant I am. But if you feel more comfortable with a safeword, then you can choose one for yourself, and I will always listen when you use it. For instance, something I might do where you might need a safeword is wrestle with you and tickle you. If I found a particularly ticklish part of your body, and you screamed and laughed and said no, but you didn’t really want me to stop because it was all in fun, you could yell out chinchilla, and everything would stop immediately.”
That had its desired effect when Asher giggled. “Chinchilla?”
He chuckled and booped Asher on the nose. He loved seeing the lighthearted look in the boy’s eyes. “Well, it’s not something you’d normally say in everyday conversation, let alone when I’m tickle-torturing you. So, it would definitely let me know you were serious, if you said it.”
Asher let out a snort and then giggled again, grabbing his side when the movement hurt his ribs. “Shit. How do I keep forgetting? It’s a constant pain, but sometimes it dulls enough that I don’t remember to be careful.”
He ran the back of his hand over Asher’s ribs in a feather-light caress. “I’m sorry. How about some pain meds?” Asher nodded and began to move to get them. “Stay, sweetheart. I’ll bring them.”
He crawled out of bed and into Asher’s room, grabbing a dose of the meds and bringing them back with the boy’s water. “Here, take these. I’m going to use the bathroom, and you can do the same if you need to, and then we can continue to chat if you’d like.”
“Okay.”
He used the toilet and brushed his teeth, then helped Asher out of bed to do his own business and ran downstairs to feed Beauty and Beast. Whenever they wandered back inside the house through their dog door, they’d be hungry. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a few things for himself and Asher as well.
When he got back, Asher was just getting back on the bed and turned as he came in the door. His eyes popped wide, and then he was laughing, clutching his side. “Must you keep making me laugh?”
He chuckled. “I’m sorry. Truly. I wasn’t trying to make you laugh. I was trying to bring you a balanced bre
akfast.”
“Pop-Tarts and—what are those—breakfast cookies and juice boxes?”
“Breakfast of champions.”
“You really are a Daddy, aren’t you?”
He knew Asher was teasing, but he couldn’t help but take the question seriously. His face must have shown it too because Asher’s smile dropped, but his face remained open, as if waiting for his response. “I really am.”
“And you like to spoil your boys?”
“On rare occasions when I’m feeling very generous and my boy has been very well behaved.”
He rounded the bed and crawled back in next to Asher, dropping his spoils on the duvet. When he glanced at Asher, the boy was biting his lip. “And was I? Very well behaved?”
Jesus, that hit him right in the chest. Did Asher mean what he hoped he meant? He leaned over, clasped Asher’s chin, and moved in for a kiss. After several chaste ones, he pulled back. “Yes, sweetheart, you’ve been very well behaved.”
Asher blushed at that and broke eye contact, glancing down to the pile of sugar on the bed. When he didn’t appear to want to make a move, Thornton grabbed one of the juice boxes, poked the straw in, and handed it over. The grin on Asher’s face before he began to drink from it was one he’d probably remember for years to come. Thornton grabbed one of the silver Pop-Tart pouches and tore it open a little bit, looking in. Hmm, probably not…
He opened the other and showed Asher, who glanced inside. “What’s wrong with the other one?”
“Oh, nothing. They’re just the kind I like and no one else does.”
“Unfrosted?”
Thornton smiled and nodded. “Yeah, they’re the best.”
