Pure Innocence (8 page)

Warm breath and quiet words seemed to move
him closer to Oliver. He was lulled by the sound of Damon’s voice,
and his clean scent. Oliver wanted to look away, but the pulse he
could see slowly beating in Damon’s throat was beating hypnotically
in time to his own heart.

“
It’s always the
submissive’s choice, to give everything over to their
Dominant.”

Oliver took a breath. The word “but” was on
the tip of his tongue.

“
Ask me.”

Oliver glanced down. He knew what Damon
wanted him to ask—if he could be his boy. But Oliver wasn’t sure he
had the courage to be anyone’s boy, despite how much he longed to
be Damon’s

“
I want you to ask me,”
Damon insisted.

He looked back up into steady gray eyes, the
same ones that had been giving him courage all week. “I don’t
understand what you are getting out of all this.” Oliver paused. He
wanted to get this right, it was important. “I saw
Dominants…sadists.” The second word slipped out unbidden. A scary
word, because that was in itself a whole other question. Damon
nodded solemnly, and Oliver knew he understood what Oliver was
asking. He wanted to know Domination didn’t mean pain. He
desperately wanted someone to convince him of that.

“
There. That reaction,
right there.” Damon pinned him with his eyes.

Oliver looked questioningly.

“
You don’t just expect me
to know the answers, you expect me to supply the questions. You’re
quite happy to give me that control as well. That’s power exchange
in its simplest form.”

Oliver bit his lip, not because of nerves,
but because he felt they were at a pivotal point of…something, an
understanding.

“
You don’t know me, not
really. You’ve just been told you have a choice of care. You’ve
just been told that I never gave you the opportunity to make that
choice, that I considered my decision the best for you.” Damon
grazed a thumb over Oliver’s abused lip and his teeth let it go.
“You gave me that decision. That’s a gift. That’s an immense leap
of faith from someone who has no reason to trust anyone. And you
trust me to cherish that gift, to look after your body and your
mind.”

Damon moved forward, and
wrapped his two large arms gently around Oliver, supportive but not
suffocating, just enough so he could rest in Damon’s strength. His
warmth. Oliver breathed in and out with Damon. This big man with
his beautiful eyes and gentle hands was pulling the oxygen out of
Oliver’s lungs in a rhythm. Each breath seemed to pull them closer.
Each heart beat softened the smile that tugged at Damon’s lips.
Damon’s tongue licked at the edge of those smooth lips, and Oliver
felt like he stood outside his body, like the rush of heat to his
groin belonged to someone else, like it was someone else’s cock
that heated and filled because it couldn’t be his. He hadn’t felt
his cock so much as stir in weeks. The bastard—
the nightmare
—had used that as
another excuse to beat him, and Oliver shivered a little at the
unwelcome memory, tried hard to bury it again.

The hand on his face tightened slightly and
Oliver tuned every other thought out. Those lips were so close, and
an urgent need to touch them swirled around him. Then, just as he
knew he would get his wish, a velvet touch grazed his lips and
unbelievably Damon’s other hand settled over Oliver’s leg. The bare
touch through Oliver’s sweatpants nearly made him weep, and the
thudding of Oliver’s heart echoed the answering pulse in his
groin.

He heard an answering moan from Damon as his
lips closed over Oliver’s. Damon’s hand stroked Oliver’s thigh
through the material, all the more burning and erotic because he
made no attempt to move his hand inside them, or to nudge higher.
Oliver angled his head in line with Damon’s lips, wanting more of
the luscious sensation. He loved the scrape of Damon’s chin, and
lifted his arms. He could do no more than rest them on Damon’s
shoulders, but as his hands fluttered down he heard Damon’s
pleasurable sigh.

Damon broke off suddenly, and with closed
eyes and a heaving chest, rested his forehead on Oliver’s. Oliver
bit off a frustrated noise, but couldn’t help the slight push of
his hips.

He stilled when he realized what he was
doing. Oliver gazed at Damon’s closed eyes and heaving chest, felt
the slight tremble of Damon’s arms. This was…the first time Oliver
had wanted someone to touch him for his own pleasure. All those
years, at best it was a way to earn money, at worst it was just a
way that led to fear and pain. This never happened. Oliver had
never ever wanted someone to touch him because he got off on it,
and he couldn’t let it happen now. He knew better.

“
I don’t want you to ever
think living here comes with any conditions attached.” Damon opened
his eyes and drew back. Oliver sank into the determined
gaze.

“
I know you’ve struggled
with staying here with me anyway, the last thing I want is to make
you uncomfortable. That is incredibly important.”

Oliver moved restlessly, and Damon frowned.
“I’m going to lay you down for a little while, try and get some
rest,” Damon insisted gently.

“
L-lay.” Oliver swallowed.
He didn’t seem to be able to get the words out properly, but Damon
must have got the idea, because he stood and Damon lifted him out
of the chair with his strong arms and sat him on the bed. Nerves
fluttered in Oliver’s belly, and Damon suddenly seemed very large,
towering over him.

“
I.” Oliver looked down,
helpless to explain that his hands were throbbing. He—

“
The tablets take a little
while to work, but they should be kicking in soon.”

Oliver nodded wretchedly. The guy had been
nothing but kind, and Oliver was useless. He couldn’t even explain
how he felt because he didn’t know himself. He could feel the edges
of misery creeping in, and he tried to zone out when Damon started
talking.

Maybe there was something really wrong with
him? Oliver laughed silently; he wanted to giggle hysterically.
Really wrong with him? Apart from ruined hands, no job, and no
life?

“
Hey, beautiful. You’ve got
that look again. Don’t go back there, stay with me.”

Of course, the word beautiful brought him
back. It was as if sometimes Damon knew exactly what to say. Damon
stepped back, and it was suddenly so difficult, Oliver wanted
comfort but he didn’t know how to ask. There was no warm hand to
lean into, to give up his worry and his troubles to. Lying here
felt too real, he was useless, and he squeezed his eyes tight shut.
He was fully clothed but he felt bare, stripped.

“
You don’t have to do
anything but lie here.” Damon took another step back. “We don’t
even have to do that. We could watch a movie, get a—”

Oliver nearly cried with frustration. Damon
was moving farther away. He wanted Damon close, needed him close
but it terrified him. He just wasn’t sure how long this was going
to last.

Oliver desperately tried to shuffle a little
nearer, but the shooting pain from his hand wouldn’t let him.
Frustration welled up within him.

Damon took a step nearer. “Lie still,
boy.”

Oliver felt the command settle in him, and
he seemed to sink a foot farther into the mattress. Nearer, just a
little nearer. He could beg, if he ever got his mouth to work. His
body suddenly felt weighted down, like movement was such a supreme
effort.

“
I don’t want you to hurt
your hands,” Damon said, lulling Oliver. “I can tell they are still
bothering you.”

Damon looked around. He pulled spare pillows
from the end of the bed up to Oliver. Oliver lay on his side, but
in seconds, he was on his back with an arm resting on a pillow. The
tablets still didn’t seem to be helping much, and after Damon
studied Oliver’s face for a few seconds, he reached for another
bottle of tablets. “You are allowed one of these as a top up if the
first two don’t work.” Damon raised Oliver’s head a little so he
could take a sip of water to wash it down.

Oliver’s breaths were still hurried. Why, he
needed…something. No, not something, someone. Damon. He fixed
agonized eyes on Damon, pleaded silently for him to come nearer.
But he was useless, garbage. He’d been thrown away all his life.
Why would Damon be interested in him?

“
Oliver.” Damon sat on the
bed and Oliver searched his face, begged without making a sound. He
could feel the panic, how it bubbled up inside. If Damon moved away
he would scream.

“
Close your eyes.” Damon
inched closer and smoothed a lock of hair from Oliver’s
face.
Oh.
Oh.
Oliver wanted to close his eyes, but he could nearly taste the fear
on his tongue.

His heart pounded. Yes, yes you could taste
it. He’d tasted it before, drunk it, lived it. He could hear a
whining noise, struggled to think it might be him.

“
Oliver, what three things
do you have to concentrate on?” Damon stroked a hand up Oliver’s
leg.

“
W-what?” Oliver
stammered.

Damon trailed his hand back. “Close your
eyes and listen to my voice. What three things do you have to
remember?” Damon’s hand started on his other leg. Oliver swallowed,
desperately trying to focus, and his eyes slid shut.

“
I-I mustn’t worry.” Oliver
gasped the words out as Damon’s hand rose higher. It was okay for
him to say that, but the throbbing in his fingers reminded him he
had worries, so many worries.

“
Just listen to my voice.
The pain is going to go away.” Damon brushed the side of Oliver’s
hip, and his leg moved involuntarily. “You’re going to give it all
to me.”

Oliver felt Damon’s lips on the side of his
face.

“
It’s becoming just a
memory.”

“
What, what—” Oliver was
confused. Between the lips grazing his face and the hand grazing
his leg, he wasn’t sure of anything. He felt the bed sink a little
more, the throbbing in his hand eased a little, but Damon hadn’t
moved. It was as if Oliver had got heavier.

“
The next one?” Damon
prompted. Oliver quivered, felt a hand settle on his chest. “What
else do you have to give to me?” Damon’s hand just rested, warm and
heavy over his thudding heart. “I can move my hand. You are allowed
to refuse anything without one second’s fear of any sort of
consequences. That’s also part of a power exchange. No guilt, free
choice.”

“
N-no, please, don’t stop.”
Oliver heard the satisfied noise that Damon made, and it lessened
the embarrassing acknowledgement that he never wanted Damon to move
his hand.

“
What else do you have to
concentrate on?” Damon’s fingers just rested, steadying
him.

Oliver tried to grasp at reason, but
something…something awful was happening, his cock was getting hard.
“Y-you?”

Damon chuckled, and bent to whisper in his
ear. “Close enough.”

Oliver moved restlessly.

“
Lay still,
boy.”

Oliver couldn’t, and whined in mild protest.
His cock was swelling under the sweats, even as the pain in his
hands wasn’t lessening. It confused him, it wasn’t about sex. Damon
had said so, he would never have to...and he was scared, Damon
would see…think he wanted it.

“
Oliver.” Damon’s hand
brushed the hair off his face. “You need to relax.” Oliver opened
his eyes and focused on Damon desperately. His felt so close to
some edge, like he was going to fall. He moved restlessly, and felt
his hands throb.

Damon was gazing at him. As if he was
working something out in his mind. Oliver shook his head, he was
going to leave him, or ask him to go. His heart sped up and Oliver
opened his mouth as his breathing increased. He saw Damon’s frown
increase slightly, his hand reaching for Oliver’s face. “Oliver,
hush. What is it?”

Oliver whined. He couldn’t focus. Something
awful. Something…

Then, the world stopped. Damon’s firm lips
settled over his, and in that second Oliver was safe. Every cell in
his body relaxed as he concentrated on the powerful mouth and
demanding tongue, pushing all his thought and worry away. He didn’t
have the space for troubles. Every inch of him belonged to Damon,
and that incredible possessiveness swept him up and carried him
away. Heat melted his pain, and hands cradled his body, owning it,
like he was being asked to give himself up. To give all of himself
to Damon.

Oliver sighed and just let go.

Chapter Seven

Oliver. Oliver. Come and play. Daddy wants
you to play with him because you are such a good boy. Such a
special boy. Aren’t you lucky because you belong to me? We’ll be
together forever…

No. Oliver heard the voice
of his nightmare, moaned in protest. He was back in the warehouse.
No more, please God, no more. His hands were on fire, his back too.
He was tied again. His brain sluggish with what
the nightmare
had made him drink,
but not quite enough to make him unconscious. He couldn’t get his
heavy legs and arms to fight, but he could still feel the pain. So
much pain. Why couldn’t he just die? He needed to die, begged for
the man to let him die. But the man just laughed, and it started
all over again…

****

Screams jerked Damon awake and he shot out
of bed. Oliver lay nearly rigid, but tossing, sweat sheening his
face and chest, little gasps and desperate moans leaving his lips.
Damon was at a loss. Wasn’t it supposed to be bad to wake someone
from a nightmare? Shit, he had to do something. “Oliver, its Damon.
Hush, beautiful. You’re safe.” Damon cupped Oliver’s face with his
hands, in the comforting gesture they had both got used to. He
pressed his lips to the damp skin on Oliver’s forehead.