Chapter 46: Trust
Who has broken into Daryl's room? Is it Dad? What do you think of Rogers? Is he creepy? Or is he a real savior to Daryl? I would like to know your thoughts if possible.
The author would be grateful for any reviews.
Enjoy! xxx
Daryl
'Carl? That you?'
My heart sank in disappointment in my chest. He hadn't kept his promise after all – he was just like him. And all the rest. But after staring at the shape in front of me, I realised who was actually in front of me with a shudder.
My teacher wasn't that broad-shouldered or that tall. I barely had time to wonder how he'd found me here – Merle must have told him after all that the teacher who assaulted me was Rogers.
His hateful voice cut through my confusion as Moses parted the Red Sea.
'No, son. It's Daddy. Here to take ya home where ya belong.'
'No! I don't wanna!' I yelled. 'Carl!'
My father strode over to me in a shot and pushed me back down on the bed with alarming force, letting me know that he wasn't bullshitting.
I was really in for it now.
I could barely breathe as he pinned me down with his heavy body. I couldn't help whimpering pathetically either.
'Shut the fuck up!' He was still trapping me, making sure I saw what he was holding in his right hand before he threw it away across the floor disdainfully. He grinned at me when he saw the look of horror and shock on my face.
It was a sharp kitchen knife – used for butchering meat and it was dripping with blood.
'See, Daryl? I killed the sick bastard. So, there's no point callin' out to him.' He stroked my cheek and shot me a smile. 'Just you and me now.'
'No! Never! Get the fuck off me!'
'Did he hurt ya, ya poor boy? That why you actin' up?' Twisting it like he always did. Nothing was ever his fault. His brutality wasn't the reason I ran away in the first place. Of course not. I think he had even convinced himself of his lies otherwise how could he live with himself?
His voice dripped with fake sympathy. 'It's OK, son. Bet he hurt ya real bad, huh?'
'No! Not everyone's like you!' I was almost sobbing with frustration. Not to mention the terror I felt. My teacher who had only taken me in and kept me safe was dead?
'Why did ya...?'
My father shook his head and smiled at me gently. But I knew better than to think that meant he would show me any mercy. I was too distraught to cringe away at his touch, even when he brushed back my hair with his fingers.
Encouraged by this, he took my face gently in his hand. 'It's OK. He can't hurt ya anymore. Sh...It's OK, Daddy's here.'
'Fuck you.' I snarled. He really was crazy. On another planet. No – in another universe. 'I'll tell the cops what ya did and I'll say he was nothin' but kind to me.'
He got angry then. 'Well, that ain't true, is it? Remember how you sobbed in my arms after he…he attacked you? Stop lyin', Daryl. He's got ya all brainwashed, ya poor boy. 'Sides, how could he resist ya – I know I can't.' He sleazily stroked my cheek as I tried to get away from him, but he was ready for every little move I made, almost like he could mind read. For all I knew, he could.
'He weren't sick like you!'
'Ya don't need to protect him now he's dead. I know what he did...he made ya suck him off before he raped ya, didn't he, son? He raped my little boy…' He paused in apparent horror. 'He's the teacher all those rumours are about, I know that now. Ya ain't the only boy he did it to, I'm sure. I did everyone a favour!'
I couldn't believe what he was saying, and what was worse was that I knew he wasn't lying to scare me...Mr Rogers was really dead. He had killed him and all because of me.
I should never haver run away. Thinking Merle would be safe because he was out of the picture for a while. But I'd brought danger to Mr. Rogers and let the devil in.
I kicked out at him besides myself with anger and helplessness: 'No! That's what you do! He ain't never laid a finger on me! Not since I came here! He took me in, been helpin' me! Kept me safe from ya when Merle wasn't around to!'
Dad didn't answer only gave a dirty chuckle and petted my hair.
'Why did ya have to.. Why did ya kill him, you fuckin' bastard!?' I hissed.
'Because he took ya away from me. And ya mine, son, don't ya ever forget it. Always will be.'
'I ain't nobody's!' I couldn't help but snarl in outrage while everything that came out of that bastard's mouth made the hair on my arms stand on end.
He greedily yanked down the pajamas my teacher had lent me to prove me wrong. Too big for me like they were, they slipped down with no resistance whatsoever and before I knew it, they were halfway across the room. I was left in shock at being denied my usual opportunity to resist whenever he yanked down my pants.
I quickly snapped out of it when he started undoing his belt. I tried to get off the bed but he held me down easily.
'And ya Daddy doesn't like sharin' ya with no-one else. You must know that by now.'
'Fuck.' He groaned and weighed me down even more as a reminder that I didn't have a choice. 'I've missed this so much – got so damn horny when ya weren't there...I was worried 'bout ya too...wonderin' where ya were, if ya were OK. Who knows what could happen to you with no place to go? How would ya get money? Don't need to be a rocket-scientist to know how, either. Wouldn't want that kind of life for my little boy. The predators who have a fondness for pretty boys would be all over you.' He stroked my hair tenderly.
I couldn't help whimpering. It was all too much when I was grieving for Carl and what he said just got to me. What if Merle stayed wherever he'd disappeared to, for even longer than a month or was never to return because Axe or his crew got to him? I couldn't go back with that sick sadist, and I couldn't stay at my dead teacher's either. He was right - I would end up on the street.
The show of a caring and concerned father that he felt the need to put on for me every now and then was enough to nearly drive me over the edge. I knew that if I tried to analyse what he was saying, I'd drive myself crazy. Might end up like him. When all I knew that he missed and was concerned about was having my 'sweet, tight little ass' available to him again. I knew that he didn't give a shit about me beyond that.
If I'd been on the streets, I would bet everything I got that he would track me down and watch as I made my living to get by every day. Until he was unable to resist his own jealously and possessiveness and claim me for his own again.
But no, I knew how this all would turn out, he would drag me back home with him.
It was my fault for being naive – To think even for a second that I could escape him, even for one fuckin' night. He'd always track me down. He was a Dixon after all – we were born hunters and trackers.
He paused suddenly and that pitying look on his face was back: 'I know he hurt you, son.'
I couldn't stand his sheer hypocrisy and his phony solicitude. 'No, ya the only pervert who does any hurtin' around here!'
'Get back down there.' He drew back his fist and split my lip before he roughly turned me over and carried on what he was doing. To my horror, I saw he had brought along a tub of lube with him.
Of course, he had.
'Stop fuckin' fightin' me. Ya know ya can't win. Think I'll fuck ya here and by the time we're back home, I'll be hard again. See, that's what makin' me wait does. What do ya say to that, boy?'
Bastard couldn't even wait until we got back.
'No! Screw ya! You'll go down for this! And I'll help 'em put ya in jail!'
He cuffed me hard for that while grinding himself against me and moaning in my ear. Getting himself all excited.
For a moment I hoped that he would snap out of it – that it would go against his "code of honor" if you will, to do this under a dead man's roof. Especially of a man he had just killed. Any hopes all came crashing down when I saw him open the tub and stick his fingers into it. I watched him dip his fingers in it and start lubing me and himself up and soon enough I felt his fingers probing inside of me. He was gentle for once - letting me know what was coming.
I squeezed my eyes shut but my hot tears of rage and humiliation dripped down on the pillow in Mr Rogers' guestroom. I regretted not giving him a blowjob or even letting him go the whole way with me before he died. He wasn't ugly or repulsive by any means. If only slightly creepy at times. But I didn't know that Dad would find me so quickly, let alone murder him. The asshole barely left the house these days – only to go to the shop mainly or the bar occasionally when we weren't there to buy his booze and smokes for him.
I took a moment to mourn Mr. Rogers, blaming myself in the process. He'd been kind to me, taken me in and fed me. I wish I could avenge him and kill the bastard who was now in the process of sliding his fingers into me slowly. Like he was savouring me. Of course, he was!
I never could suppress a whimper or two whenever he entered me and he cuffed me hard as punishment. It didn't take long for his Mr. Nice Guy act to vanish into thin air and for him to quickly revert to his usual evil old self. He growled in warning that I should comply and was grabbing my hair now –as he twisted it painfully in his fist as he penetrated me slowly. Forcing more tears out of my eyes but now, ones of pain as well as shame.
I wish I could grab that bloody knife and stick into him. These violent fantasies helped a little, especially when he started moving inside me. Helped confirm that he didn't own me like he thought – he couldn't control my thoughts after all.
I decided the to fight back in the only way I knew how.
'Yeah, ya right! He...fucked me long and so hard that I had his cum drippin' out of me for hours afterwards! Felt good too, he made me like it and didn't have to force me either. I even begged him for it. Last thing that could be said 'bout you!'
'Ya filthy little slut!'
Enraged and out of his mind with jealousy, he started thrusting into me now so violently that I screamed in agony as I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. He reached over for his knife – miraculously it was on the floor near me even though I thought I'd seen him throw it a lot further away. I wish I had seen it earlier. My father reminded me of his urgency as he showed it to me again and this time, I noticed the blade gleaming and rusty red with patches of Rogers' dried blood.
'It's ironic, really.' He mused out loud between pants and gasps of pleasure, 'Wonder what I should do with this. Remember yesterday?'
I cringed.
'Looks like I need to punish ya for ya acting like a whore and cheating on me. I wonder...Ever been fucked with a knife before, son?'
He was going to kill me! While fucking me at the same time?
'Dad, no! Fuckin' stop! Please! Get off me!' I pleaded and miraculously, managed to get away when I'd never been able to escape him before. I fell onto the floor with a thump.
Where was he? I patted my face gingerly in the dark for injuries – my lip seemed whole again. Where did he go? He would have never have stopped and released me. The pain was gone too – weird – I hadn't felt him pull out.
Then the door slammed open for real... but it took whoever it was two or three shoves to break through the door.
'Jesus, Daryl! Ya didn't have to do that!' Then he saw me on the floor, twisted all up in the sheets. 'I'd never come in here just to hurt you!'
I looked up at Rogers and went red with shame. I'd had a nightmare...had he heard me scream? Had I really said those things out loud? About liking it when he fucked me? I hoped from the bottom of my heart I hadn't.
His face softened when he saw me sitting there on the floor, still looking confused and disorientated, no doubt.
'Sh...sh...Did ya have a nightmare?' He was over by me in a shot and put his arm around me. Hugging me to him and I found myself even clinging to him for comfort as I began to sob like a pussy as I nodded. He stroked my back where I wasn't hurt and rocked me and for once I didn't jump out of my skin. I was a Dixon – wasn't used to babying...except from my Dad back before he turned into a pervert but that was a secret and if my big brother or anyone else saw me like this with Rogers of all people, I'd want the ground to swallow me up whole. But there was something about the man - he got to me. Somehow, the things he said undid me because he saw and broke me apart but not in the way the bastard did.
'It's OK...it's OK. I can guess what it was about...Was it your Dad?'
I nodded again against him. Still unable to control my pathetic weeping. I'd just had about enough of what I could take. I was a Dixon but sure as hell wasn't acting like one right then.
'Poor love. It's OK...Shh...It's OK...' I didn't know why the fuck he was calling me that but I knew now he didn't mean anything by it. Or so he said.
'He'll have to get through me first before I let him hurt you.'
I hugged him back tighter back even though I wasn't totally reassured by his promise, he meant well.
'Do you want to talk about it?' He asked.
'Dreamt he killed ya...Shit! The nightmare meant somethin' - he knows I'm here – he's comin' here to murder ya...I better go.' I looked up at him with dull, burning eyes and shuddered at the thought of going back home to that bastard.
'Thanks for everythin'.'I wiped my eyes determinedly and got up, pushing him off me. He let me go reluctantly but again I was surprised that he didn't pin me down or try to stop me.
'You don't have to do that...He doesn't even know who I am or where I live...'
'You don't understand!' I rounded on him. 'I gave Merle ya name – he could have told him! I'm sorry but he was pushin' and pushin' me! He knew it was you, anyway and he wouldn't let me go until I told him! He was going to come here and kill you himself but I stopped him.'
At his shell-shocked expression, I cried out, 'You don't know what they're like!' I finished abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest in terror for him.
'Merle killed Mike!' I blurted out. Eyes frantic as I started to stuff my meagre belongings back into a bag.
'Well, if he did what I heard he did to you, I don't blame him. You were only 13, right?'
Now it was my time to look shocked. I didn't know he was capable of wishing anyone dead.
'Come sit down.' He patted the space next to him and made as if to pull me down onto the carpet but thought better of it. I didn't do as he suggested, just kept pacing here and there frantically packing.
'I'm not scared of your father -that fuckin' coward – think I can handle myself!'
Again, I was surprised at his voice that was full of contempt and hatred just under the surface and I don't know what made me, but I felt kind of bad for Dad.
'No – ya don't understand. He's dangerous...can easily track ya down. He'll kill you!'
I had almost packed my toothbrush and my wash things from the tiny ensuite bathroom. It consisted of nothing more than a wash-basin and toilet really but much nicer than anything we had.
'Come here.' He'd got up and sat on my bed. 'Calm down, son. It's OK.'
'N... no...' I shook my head, suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of panic.
Because what was he going to do? My old suspicions reared their ugly heads again. What if it was a trick for him to be able to grab me and throw me face-down onto the bed? Rip my clothes off and get on top of me?
I shuddered. No – that was Dad and the dream... I shook my head to clear it. Carl would never hurt me - wasn't like Dad.
'Just stop, son. You don't have to go right now – at least wait until morning. Things always look better then and I don't bite.'
I threw down my bag onto the floor and hesitantly went over, still not convinced.
I sat away from him on the edge. Deliberately leaving a space between us because just because I'd let him comfort me just now didn't mean I'd let him touch me again. He should know that and he sighed – I think I heard him mutter under his breath – surely, I wasn't meant to hear, 'Fuck, ya so beautiful' but he seemed to understand. Didn't even try to get closer or to put his arm around me but respected the distance I'd set between us.
'You don't have to worry, Daryl. If he comes here, I'll deal with it when it happens. Won't let him get to you. You're safe here.'
'But ya don't know what he's like. We're hunters…'
He shrugged his shoulders, apparently unconcerned. 'If he comes, I'll know. Now get back into bed and go back to sleep.' He got up and motioned me to do the same before he drew back the bed-covers.
'Come on. You need your rest. You're still healing, poor boy. Would you like anything before I go – cocoa with marshmallows maybe?''
'No!' I said a little more sharply than I intended, making him draw back and raise his eyebrows in surprise. I guess I was just pissed off that he was treating me like a little kid, thinking instead what I really wanted was half a bottle of whisky, a spliff to calm me down so I could sleep and my brother, in that order.
I added 'Thanks' as I shakily got out my Lucky Strikes – that name just cracked me up causing Rogers to raise his eyebrows. Feeling bad afterwards, I added 'Jus' tired is all... what with the nightmare...'
'I understand that you're naturally shaken up but you know that you can't smoke in here, son. If you need to...go outside, please.'
'OK. Sorry.' I did know, of course but I badly needed something to settle my shaking nerves since he didn't offer me anything stronger to drink. Maybe he was so squeaky clean he really didn't drink. Anyway, I fully intended to sneak out to the yard after he was gone back to bed but instead, I fell asleep as soon as I lay back on the pillows.
Rogers
I closed his door, making sure that he was tucked up safely in bed even though I suspected he would sneak down as soon as he could for a smoke outside. Couldn't say I blamed him – poor kid - even despite my best efforts to comfort him, he'd been quivering like a leaf. He let me hug him – even clung to me! As much as I felt bad for him, I savoured my little victory because he was definitely letting me in, inch by painful inch.
I couldn't go to sleep after our ordeal with the nightmare. I called it 'our ordeal' simply because it had hurt me so much to see him like that. It was the real him, not the tough, couldn't-care-less-what-you-think act he put on to the rest of the world. Brutalised and violated by his own father. He continued to haunt me because if fear had a face – his would be what it would look like. I kept going over the scene in front of me after I burst in to his room (it was the very last thing I wanted to do but felt forced to). I heard his shouts and screams – a curious mixture of pain, anger and terror and the only distinct words that I could make out were: 'Dad,' and 'Stop'. No guess 'Stop' what. He was Fear personified. But damn, he was also so irresistible as he crouched there – all wrapped up in the bed-sheets where he'd fallen out of bed, dark hair flying everywhere above his rosy cheeks and eyes fever bright.
After I sprawled out carelessly on the couch flipping through the channels on the TV I wasn't really watching, I listened out for him sneaking downstairs for a smoke out in the yard. I decided I wouldn't stop him but I wanted to make sure he went back upstairs again and not home to that monster. That he remained safe under my roof.
Right on cue, I must have dozed off after because I suddenly jerked awake. I heard the familiar sound of one particular board creaking underneath a certain person's light feet, who took a sharp intake of breath when he noticed me. 'Fuck, ya scared me!'
What was the time? I had no idea but the light was growing behind the curtains.
I couldn't help but smile at his surprised expression. 'Sorry.'
I had time to think fleetingly that he hadn't expected me to be up, therefore he hadn't worried about covering his torso. No doubt he'd done that because of the summer heat. Or maybe he'd slept naked? Suited me just fine. Reminiscent of someone who'd just had sex, his hair was mussed again, sticking up all over the place. He looked so adorable then, I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to not say anything suggestive and scare him.
I lowered my eyes – I hoped in a discrete manner – to take him all in all his glory - I just couldn't help myself. The pajama pants were way too big for him, hanging low on his hips. Only those bloody handprints served as reminders of his abuse and spoilt things for me. Yet he'd tied those strings holding those pants up somewhat as tight as possible but obviously carelessly and they only just managed to preserve his modesty. So tantalising - I just wanted to undo them with my teeth, drag him onto my lap and fuck him silly. I could see it all going down in my head so clearly then that fearing he could read my thoughts, I blushed furiously.
I sat up quickly to conceal the result of my inappropriate thoughts with the obvious joy of something as simple as seeing him half naked again. 'You all right?'
'Yeah apart from being thirsty and can't get back to sleep. You?' He didn't seem to be aware of the effect he was having on me or if he noticed, he didn't show alarm. He already knew how I felt about him, despite my denials.
'Me neither. Help yourself to some water and get back over here.'
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously to scrutinise me – no doubt still weighing-up whether I could be trusted or not. For a while he just stared at me, as if he was trying to figure me out what I meant by that last suggestion – probably it sounded too much like a command. Something like his father would say just right before he abused him, no doubt and I cursed him for creating this minefield of words and actions in his son's mind that I had to step gingerly around. It was a constant struggle to know what could set Daryl off. But the boy couldn't seem to make up his mind, judging by the look of the confusion on his face as he turned back on the balls of his feet towards the kitchen and ignored me.
…
Rogers
I waited anxiously, a part of me couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen my inappropriate thoughts on my face and taken my words in the wrong way? I suddenly felt the need to call out to him that everything was OK, that I hadn't meant anything by it. But I decided not to the last second. It would only look like I had something to hide.
Which I did.
So, I said nothing until he poked his head round the living room door again. I tried to hide my relief. He was holding a large glass of milk and a plate with food on it.
'Is it OK if I made myself a ham sandwich?'
'Sure, Daryl. Take what you want, son. Mi casa es su casa.'
He frowned, not understanding so I translated the famous Spanish saying but he didn't look impressed.
My body is your body. I didn't say this thought aloud.
He approached the sofa but then he remembered his manners, 'Sorry, did you want anything from the kitchen? I can make you one too, if you like.' He even smiled at me!
I smiled at him back and shook my head. 'No, thanks, son. Come here. I said I don't bite.'
I hopefully patted the three-seater sofa on the space next to me.
Of course, he sat down but on the other side – as far away as he could while he wolfed down the food like he hadn't eaten in a week. Maybe he hadn't. Yet he delicately sipped the drink.
We watched the TV in companionable silence – some old Friends re-run at 5 o'clock in the morning. He even let out a chuckle or two and that was music to my ears. Yet I couldn't help but notice how his body was curled away from me, almost hanging off the side. I got the message loud and clear: Don't touch me.
It didn't matter - I wasn't ready to give up as I took care to respect his wishes and show him that I was no threat. I was sure it would all work out in the end but that it wouldn't happen fast. Never mind. Nothing that was ever truly worth it came easily without false starts and setbacks. Daryl Dixon wasn't your typical teenage boy, after all. Was complex and more damaged than most, for a start. In my world he was all worth the trouble and patience.
Rogers
He was too bruised up to go back to school just yet so I tutored him at home in the evenings to get him ready for his exams in just over weeks.
I made sure I was within hearing range though in case he panicked when he had a shower the next night. He had every reason to, and I wasn't surprised when I heard his sobs that broke my heart and I had to stop myself from breaking the door down and rushing in there to hold him. Naked, wet and dripping or not. Of course, proud and strong boy that he was, he tried to muffle them with his hand and by turning on the shower.
It suddenly hit me poor boy must have been sitting on needles holding everything inside like that. Desperate to not give me an excuse to touch him.
Still was.
It wanted so much to break through that door and comfort him, but I thought better of it. Not only would he bite my head off, I would've betrayed him again by not respecting his space.
I had to increase the distance to not hear him as clearly, a few more of those desperate sobs and I was sure I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
My thoughts went right back to how battered he was underneath those clothes. The cut from the knife that was only just now scabbing over. That mark… It had been done with such precision. Not only had the bastard burned him with his cigarette, he had put it out on him. What horrified me most was when realizing where it was, the poor boy must have been forced to face him during everything. The way he told me confirmed my theory. The sick bastard – just because he didn't make enough noises of fake pleasure. It literally made my skin crawl.
Anyway, I wasn't worried that he'd fail his exams. He proved much quicker on the uptake than his brother Merle but maybe that was only because he was genuinely interested in the subject. He knew must of it anyway and anything he didn't, he learned fast. He gave meaning to my days but I couldn't help worrying that he would get scared and go back to his bastard father. I was really relieved to find him still there when I got back home every day.
He even did the cleaning and chores without being bidden and I could see that he really was a well-brought up boy despite what you saw on first appearances. He even made dinner once or twice so that it was on the table for me as soon as I got home.
Still, he didn't let me touch him during this time and luckily didn't have any more bad dreams that I was aware of. The sobbing in the bathroom, as far as I knew but I wasn't there all day – stopped. He went home in between to get a change of clothes and other stuff he said he needed and I held my breath until he got back. Dreading what state he'd come back in. His bruises had only just started to heal but that cut between his shoulder-blades would stay with him for life. He wasn't surprised when I told him he'd be scarred permanently.
'Was your Dad in?' I hoped he didn't notice but I was holding my breath waiting for his answer.
He shrugged. 'Of course, he was. But he was passed out drunk on the sofa and it was easy.' He laughed and it warmed my heart to see him do it. He almost looked like a normal teenager again, enjoying life carefree without the responsibilities that came with adulthood.
Every time he came back – whole and unharmed without exception, I had to stop myself from hugging him in relief. Another time, he'd gone in to his old house (that's what I thought of it now) after he'd seen his Dad leaving – to go to the bar no doubt even though it hadn't even been noon. Got the key from under the mat and let himself in.
'Ya brother back yet?'
He shook his head before he looked down at the ground. 'No sign - his stuff ain't there and his bed don't look like it's been slept in.'
I know it was selfish of me but I almost wished Merle would stay away and that his little brother would dream about his Dad again just so that I could comfort him. He let me do that last time. A dilemma was weighing on my mind – I knew I should really have told the authorities about the abuse he was enduring at home but then again, I had no hard proof because the poor boy would deny it, especially the sexual abuse to protect his piece-of-shit father. Besides, I liked having him around – he was eye-candy and company, if nothing else.
Didn't stop me hoping though.
I'd just cooked steak, fried potatoes and salad for dinner after school. He'd only picked at the green lettuce but he said he'd enjoyed the rest and did the washing-up afterwards.
I wondered that the rumour-mill hadn't started up – apparently no-one had seen us or they simply didn't care. It also helped living out a little in the country – on the outskirts of town. My place was nice but I could only afford it on a small teacher's salary because of its isolated location.
I was glad to see no more bruises on as his beautiful skin... he started to look better too- his eyes less shadowed or haunted and he was less jumpy as I let him sleep as much as he wanted. I never woke him up before I left for work. It was amazing what a few days without terror and abuse could do. Any reports of truancy would only lead to awkward questions and possibly police involvement but then I laughed when I remembered I'd reported his absences before – obviously because of severe beatings at the hands of his father and nothing had happened. They just didn't give a shit, so I 'forgot' to fill in the paperwork.
Nevertheless, I was a teacher and it was my responsibility. In any case, if he really had a chance of going to college, possibly with a scholarship – he needed to attend classes. It would give him a routine anyway – important for his mind, giving him a sense of security. I would ask him if he was ready to go back next week – there was only 2 weeks of school left.
It was a week since he'd arrived in the pouring rain at my doorstep. Still sitting at the edge of the sofa as we watched the latest soccer game. Without even meaning to, my arm shot slowly out and my fingers walked slowly along the top edge of the sofa until they reached him. I saw him tense but he didn't move when I started to ruffle his hair. I suddenly got bolder and took a chance to run my fingers through it, I simply couldn't resist touching him if he didn't object or move away even though I knew it was wrong and he'd probably run a mile.
To my surprise he didn't. He even closed his eyes in relaxation. In fact, I even saw him grin!
'You can tell me to stop, Daryl, if you want to. Your choice. I won't punish you like ya Daddy or kick you out. Promise.'
Looked like he considered this option carefully before he scooted over by my side in an instant. I took this for the invitation it was – for what I'd been waiting for.
I took the rare opportunity and put my arm around him and drew him close. 'This OK?' It was best to make sure, though.
He nodded but said nothing.
'This feels cosy, doesn't it?'
He snuggled up to me in reply. Before I knew it the boy I wanted more than anything was in my lap.
For a moment he looked at me, incredibly checking for signs that I was OK with this. I smiled to reassure him, with time I knew when and when he didn't need encouraging. Suddenly, he kissed me, hungrily and without warning. I couldn't help responding. I hugged him close as I stroked his hair and before I knew it, I had slid my other hand down his back to cup his ass. I felt him stiffen immediately, and knew I had overstepped his boundaries again, simply gone too far, too quickly. I cursed myself for my lack of self-control. My blindness to the situation.
'Sorry,' I whispered when I returned to 'safe' zones like stroking his back. 'I jus' didn't expect this...'
He startled again and I sensed that it was in surprise that I'd sensed his discomfort and responded to lessen it. But then he laughed deep in his throat as he slipped his tongue back into my mouth, at the same time he let out a little moan, I groaned in reply, suddenly feeling I was dangerously close of losing my self-control when it came to him.
'Nothin's gonna happen unless you want it to. You don't owe me anything – I liked having you here for company. I mean it, son.'
He smirked in reply. Did that mean he was disgusted or didn't believe me? Or maybe he was even considering it? I desperately hoped the latter because I had deliberately left our options open – the ball in his court, so to say. I hadn't given up on us taking things further so that if he felt like starting something, he could. How I wished he would! I slid my hands all over his shirt – front and back before I took a chance and slid my hands under it to get as close to his skin as I could. Better that than do what I really wanted, which I knew he wasn't ready for yet. Groaning in ecstasy at the silky feel of it except when I felt the rough scars. He froze at this and I immediately took my hands away. I watched him closely, keeping myself focused as much as possible as I tried to redirect the anger that I felt towards that monster that had done this to his own son by planting kisses along his jaw.
'No...' He breathed. 'It's OK...I know I have 'em. ya can touch me there.' He gasped breathlessly.
'All right then, just say the word.' I kept my voice deliberately neutral but I was beside myself with joy at him taking such a big step, not only trusting me enough to continue this but to let me explore his body inch by inch left me with a feeling of hope I couldn't deny. I even played with his nipples and I could tell he liked that as he arched his back and gasped. He let slip little moans especially when I ran my finger-nails over them.
'Let's get this off ya, son. That OK? I want to see ya.' He nodded eagerly and I was gratified to see no trace of fear in his eyes – only excitement. He wasn't even trembling.
'We don't have to do nothin' else.' I soothed him. 'You say the word and I stop. No questions asked.'
'Do it!' He was gasping in excitement.
I soon had it off him but didn't remove my own clothes, knowing that this would freak him out and give him the wrong idea. I worshipped his beautiful body with my tongue, working on his nipples- grazing my teeth on them. Kissing and licking him all over his chest. Going as low far down as I dared, almost to the line of his navel.
'Oh…Fuck!' He snarled, head flung back. 'Didn't know...it could be like this.'
I chuckled against his throat. 'You just wait, I'll show you.' I held back a groan of disappointment when he suddenly got off me, leaving me wondering again if I had said something wrong. I didn't want him to feel pressured to do anything so I let him be without mentioning it.
'It's OK, we can stop, son.'
He looked at me then with a sly grin on his face, eyes shining and I knew he was willing. But willing to go how far?
'No, don't want to stop...' He moaned.
But beneath the surface I could detect some other emotion and it disquieted me but I waited to see what he was going to do.
So, I let him take full control.
With that he undid my flies and I gasped when his nimble fingers held me in his hand. Of course, his evil father must have made him do this before.
'Let me...' He whispered.
I closed my eyes, anticipating the treat of my life as I felt him take me out but I noticed his hands were shaking badly.
Tempted as I was, I knew he didn't really want to do it so I laid restraining hands on top of his.
He looked up at me then, lips trembling and that dark, haunted look of fear and desperation in his eyes.
'It's OK, Daryl. I know you don't really want to.' I pushed his hands gently away although it took all my strength and self-control to do it and not just give in to the pleasure, I knew he could give me with his no doubt skilled mouth.
'I know.' I repeated just as gently.
'But...but …ya hard!' He looked at me non-plussed with such an expression of sweet confusion on his face that I reached down and stroked his cheek.
'Doesn't matter. Sh...sh... son.'
'But I want to say thank-you! For feedin' me an' everythin'!' He blurted out suddenly. Not mentioning that I hadn't hurt him or forced myself on him but I knew that's what he meant as well.
'You don't have to, baby. Not with me. 'Cos your Daddy makes ya do it to him, doesn't he?'
He looked up at me then and trembled before his gaze fell back down to the ground without answering. Didn't even react to 'baby' when before he would have sneered at me for calling him that before.
'What else does he make ya do, son? You can tell me.' I lowered my voice confidentially but typically, he didn't answer, didn't take the bait.
'Jus' thought...that's what ya wanted...takin' me in an' all.'
'Maybe I do...but not like that. That's not what it should be about. Only if you really want it too. I'd rather we did nothing than you do it just because you think you should or I expect it from you.'
He looked down at the carpet, red-faced now and I hated myself for adding to his sense of shame. The surprised look on his face said it all, he wasn't used to someone actually listening to his wishes, and I felt like crying myself because it was the saddest thing I had ever seen.
I turned around decorously with my back to him to put myself back in and do my flies up. He was still kneeling in front of me, ready to serve like a slave and I felt a surge of hate for the sick fuck – the very person who should have cared for him and protected him – who had reduced him to that.
'Why now, huh? You don't need to do anything. Love having you around.'
He only looked up at me in wonder and disbelief.
'Sh. It's OK, son. Come here.' I picked him up from off the floor as easily as he'd been a child and pulled him onto my lap. He was as limp as a ragdoll. 'Come here, baby. Not gonna hurt ya.'
He whimpered but he went willingly.
'It's OK.' I whispered as I stroked his hair – didn't allow my hands to wander this time. Just held him tight against me as he tried to get himself under control, but failed miserably.
'Fuck, I'm sorry!' He blurted out between sobs.
'What for?' I stroked his hair.
'Ya took me in, gave me everythin' and all I do is think the worst of ya! This is all the thanks ya get!'
'You don't have to thank me in that way, unless you want to. Just you being there and making my life less boring and lonely and doing the chores is more than enough. Believe me. If nothing happens between us ever again, I'd be satisfied with that.' I blatantly lied just to make him comfortable.
'But…but…' He stuttered. 'He calls me his slut, his…his… whore.' His chest hitched and I knew how much he was hurt by these cruel words.
I suppressed a gasp of horror and tightened my arms around him and kissed the top of his head.
'You're not any of those things. Believe me. He's the sick one.' Seeing him in that state luckily made all my desires fly out of the window. It was good to be reassured that as much as I wanted him, I wasn't sick enough to be turned on by him trembling and crying unlike his twisted fuck of a father. I'd never felt this way about one of my boys before and I did used to wonder if I might lose control with Daryl and hurt him. Like the first time. Would he ever forgive me?
My worst nightmare if I did – make me no better than his scumbag father.
'Sh…you're OK.' I nuzzled the spot above his ear, for a moment lost over something as silly as the softness of his hair. 'You just need some time to adjust. It's a huge thing going from living with that kind of constant terror to a somewhere where you're safe.'
'What about Merle?' He upturned his face innocently at me, eyes big and it was all I could do not to kiss him.
I sighed and cradled him. I couldn't help be jealous and resent the brother.
More that that, I could see that he was missing being coddled and I wondered from who? His mother? Probably he could barely remember her but he sure liked a little innocent coddling even if he pretended he didn't. I doubted Merle or his damn Daddy ever did with him even when he was young.
'See if he comes home. Be wary of me all you want, Daryl. I'm not getting tired of you anytime soon. You don't have to do anything to or with me, that's not why I took you in. I really do care about you, Daryl. We don't have to do anything unless you want to, of course. Probably you don't want to after all the stuff you've been through. That's OK – I understand. That's not what it's about, don't you know? Whatever happens... if something did happen between us, you should enjoy it, too.' I stressed that word for emphasis to make him really understand that I wasn't expecting it but that didn't mean I wasn't dreaming about it at night.
Incredibly that got me a little smile from him and I was glad that I couldn't rule it out happening again as I stroked his arm.
'Sh...sh...Ya don't have to go back to him. He'll never, ever hurt ya again. Not if I've got anything to do with it!' I added furiously.
He glared at me hard in disbelief like he didn't really believe anyone could stand up to his father even through his tears. Of course, he was terrified of the man who terrorised and tortured him on a regular basis.
'Don't tell no-one 'bout this.'He snarled this command at me before he buried his face in my chest again.
I picked him up effortlessly, for a second or two I was surprised at how light he actually was. I carried him up the stairs while he buried his face deeper in my shoulder. I carried him to his room (I thought of it as his room now) making me smile when it made me think of a man carrying his new bride over the threshold for the first time as I lay him gently on the bed.
Before he fully possessed her for the first time.
He looked up at me then and I was more than glad to see no trace of fear or apprehension but then he couldn't read my thoughts. I wanted to rip his clothes off and turn him over and ravish him.
But I didn't.
Only took off his boots and put him to bed like he was my son – if I'd ever had any children, that was. Which was highly unlikely.
'Go to sleep, son.' I brushed back the hair off his face – off his sleepy eyes swollen with crying to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead. A whole lot less than I wanted to do.
'Yes, Dad.' He sighed obediently. Already half-asleep as his eye-lids fluttered and with a sigh of contentment, he turned away from me. Making me wonder if I should really entertain my hopes about him and me because obviously, all he needed and craved was a safe father figure. An adult who wouldn't hurt him or use him. Even more alarming, his words sent icy fingers tracing their way down my spine. That he would call me something he was obliged to call the bastard who in my mind didn't deserve children, in fact didn't deserve to breathe.
It didn't matter. I could be a father to him even if I was a little too young while I waited for ...other developments.
Yet, I sighed in disappointment. This boy was very special and would need a lot of reassurances and careful, patient handling before I could get further with him. But once we got there, I was sure he would prove well-worth the wait.
I debated going to my room then but he looked so peaceful lying there and I couldn't make myself leave him. Anyway, I told myself, I wanted to be nearby if he had another nightmare.
But the real truth was that I couldn't bear to leave him. Couldn't stop gazing down at him in adoration even as he slept, but refraining from touching him, even though my fingers were just itching to stroke and caress him everywhere. He was the most gorgeous fuckin' thing I had ever seen, especially now those terrible bruises were fading. I'd never found them particularly sexy. Best of all, he looked like he had finally found peace.
