We were back to the real world of the cabin and penthouse. I observed Harrison closer over the days since we'd recovered enough to come out of hiding. The few clients I had, I'd transferred to other lawyers in the city using the excuse of being in an accident. The breaks healed and the bruises faded, and it was time to get back to work. I'd taken a freelance job or two, and I didn't like that I had to be away from Harrison. I'd decided this was my last for a while. We needed some time to rebuild the trust between us that was broken when he was taken from me.
I'd noticed my unusual attachment to him had intensified. When he was out of my sight, I worried and wondered if he was safe. I kept an eye on the cameras I had in both our homes. His safety had become more important than either of my jobs. I didn't know what it was or how to describe the emotions I felt for my boy. It bordered on obsessive.
Attachment of any kind was the downfall for a man like me. Didn't Cristo taking Harrison from me prove that it was safer to set him free? The thought pained me. I still felt no remorse or empathy for anyone or anything, except for him. I still punished him when he broke my rules. I loved on and fucked him several times a day.
He begged for my whip or flogger. He was the perfect counter for my depraved nature. He was sweet and…loving, I could see the odd emotions in his gaze when I found him watching me. Someone loved me, even knowing what and who I was. He had no reservations about telling me repeatedly that he was mine. I didn't know how to keep him. My own parents couldn't get rid of me fast enough, and I hadn't given a second thought to the moment I killed them. I felt it was only a matter of time that he went the way of everyone else in my life who claimed to care.
I'd taken care of my job—they wanted a public execution. I'd eliminated my target as he'd given a speech about some monstrosity of steel and glass, and then I'd laid low for a few days before starting the twelve-hour trip home. I called or texted him every hour or two, just to hear his voice.
I'd made him lie in our bed and get off as I listened to him on the phone, watched him on my laptop. My cock ached thinking about him, and I was helpless to resist him. I was suddenly a slave to my body’s response to him. He never protested—always so quick to submit.
I connected the call to him.
“Are you on your way home?”
“Does my boy miss me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you been fucking yourself with your toys without my permission?”
“Yes, sir, you know I have. You watch me on the cameras.”
I was shocked by the pull at the corners of my mouth as he made me smile. The first few times it happened I’d had to stare into the mirror as the lines beside my eyes deepened, and I looked almost normal. His bratty behavior should anger me, but I knew why he did it. He willfully disobeyed me just so I would take him in hand.
“How was your business trip?”
It surprised me that he asked about my work as if it was any other out of town business meeting. “Successful.”
“As always. Did you get me a present?”
“Do you think you deserve one after giving yourself orgasms? Do I need to start making you wear your cock cage again when I'm away?”
“No, sir, you know I don't like it.”
“It's punishment, boy, you're not supposed to like it.”
I heard his disgruntled little huff and knew exactly what he looked like when he did it. The way his full lips became poutier. I remember every bad thing in my life, the face of every victim. The ability to remember anything and everything had always seemed more of a curse than a blessing. That was until I'd met Harrison.
“You're quiet. Have you been eating and sleeping?”
“You're not around to take care of me, boy.”
“When are you going to be home? I can make you something to eat.”
I still didn't enjoy food or anything, it was just something I had to do to survive, but I ate and slept because it made my boy happy. While I took care of him, guided him when needed, he took pride in taking care of me as well.
“I'll be home in about six hours, and this will be my last trip for a while.”
“Really, sir, are you sure?”
“I feel that I need to stay close to home. You've been displaying some anxiety and having nightmares. We need to rebuild trust and get you grounded. I can't do that while I'm away.”
“I'd like that, sir.”
I heard the honesty in his words. He liked it when I was around. He sought me for comfort, even if it was just to place his head on my knee as I worked at home or in the office. When I'd order him to suck my cock, he greedily did as I said. When he was anxious, I let him suck to soothe himself like a boy sucking his thumb to fall asleep. His head resting on my thigh and I'd run my fingers through his soft hair. He asked for so little, and I thought I didn't have enough to keep him happy, but every day he proved me wrong.
“I want you to go get ready, bathe, stretch yourself and put your plug in and be waiting in our bed for me when I get home.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is my slutty boy ready for his sir's cock?”
A broken moan filled the interior of my car.
“Yes, sir. The toys you bought me don't fill my ass like you do.”
“And they never will. Be ready, boy.”
I disconnected the call and opened the app for the cameras to make sure my boy was getting ready for me. He was naked per my rules. He was never to wear clothes in our homes. I should always have access to him. He never denied me. He was always prepped and stretched with a plug in when we were at home, and sometimes I even made him wear it at work. If I wanted to fuck my boy, I didn't want to wait to be balls deep in his ass.
He was never to hide from me. I demanded him to be vocal even in the office. I didn't care if someone came in and knew I was using my boy. I owned every inch of him. As far as I was concerned, he'd be mine until one of us drew our last breath. I was just unsure of how to tell him that. I knew the words that were expected. I'd just never said them before, these odd feelings I had had to mean I loved him.
I'd tried to say it so many times, but the words always stuttered on the tip of my tongue. I'd never felt insecure about anything, I'd accepted myself for how I was born, but he made me want to be different for him. The rest of the world didn't matter to me. I didn't care what anyone thought of me except him. I wondered if he felt similarly to me, but he showed me he was mine—that he cared, but he'd yet to confess more in words. It was all in his acts of submission and care.
Love was such an odd concept. To feel more for someone than you do for yourself. That you put someone's happiness and comfort ahead of your own. I'd taken him to study the strangeness of humanity. To analyze emotional clues and in doing so, I'd opened myself to something beyond my own embraced depravity. Yes, I caused him pain, but only to teach him, to let him know that I cared about his safety. I fucked him because his actions showed me that he needed my possession. The satisfaction I received from providing for him was almost as fulfilling as owning his body.
I wanted to give him something to show him that he was mine. On the trip home, I debated what would be perfect for him. In my gut, I knew he'd appreciate whatever reward I gave him. I was in strange territory. I was still lost and confused about the newness, and my brain refused to stop analyzing it. Decades of habit weren't wiped away in a matter of weeks or months. Before Harrison, my life was simple. It was all about the kill and keeping the halves of my life separated.
He changed that. He existed on both sides. The first person I'd trusted and the possibility of his betrayal loomed. Hope was an alien thing, but part of me tried to reach for it—hold onto it. I refused to give him up. I'd killed for him and would do so again if the need called for it.
I pulled off onto an exit to stop for gas and then I would get straight home to my boy.