Chapter 47: Seduction
Well, let's hope that Rogers is a relatively 'nice guy' in Daryl's world and that he helps him heal. With a bit of luck, Daryl can stay out of Dad's way until Merle gets back. I hope he can find the words to tell him then.
What do you think of Rogers?
Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you can. xxx
Daryl
I woke up with a start – but not from bad dreams this time. Gasped in surprise when I saw who was watching me.
''Mornin', Daryl. Sleep well?' He greeted me pleasantly.
All my previous distrust returned in full force.
'How long ya been sittin' there, watchin' me?' I snapped, ignoring his polite greeting and question. It came out more aggressive than I meant to – after all the guy had taken me in. Saved me from Dad – I should have been nicer to him.
My heart fell as I contemplated the most obvious ways to make it up to him. What he would eventually expect even if he didn't force me despite how much he denied that was what he wanted.
What had happened last night? I couldn't even remember getting into bed or falling asleep. Then it hit me. I kissed him!
Shit! Then what had happened after that? I grew red when I remembered that I had offered to give my teacher a blowjob. And he refused because I wasn't really into it.
More importantly...
'What the fuck did ya do to me while I was sleepin'?' I snarled at him.
Waking up to him looking at me all dewy-eyed like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen creeped the fuck out of me, to be honest. I decided I was going to leave that day ...maybe Dad was actually worried now and realised that he'd gone too far. Be apologetic and eager to make it up to me like he used to be…
I couldn't let myself finish that thought...it was too twisted – too raw, too painful.
And I didn't really believeit.
'It's OK. No worries – I didn't – we didn't do anything, promise you. You fell asleep was all because you were pretty upset.' He stayed exactly where he was.
'I could watch you sleep forever, just looking like a beautiful angel and never touch you. Wouldn't make any difference to me.'
I didn't believe that or his cheesy line and only glared at him in answer because he thought I was so easily fooled while he continued:
'Do you remember crying, poor boy? I put you to bed myself.' He got up to come over to me but I shot him down.
'No! Stay the fuck away from me! And shut the fuck up 'bout that!' I snarled. 'I'm a Dixon – I don't ever cry...even when ...when he's...' But my words failed me.
But that wasn't strictly true – crying and 'spoiling his fun' during - was one of the reasons he'd really gone to town on me with his fists and his heavy boots and...and other things - forcing me to turn up on my teacher's doorstep like that. I shuddered at the memory, usually I could control myself but I hadn't been able to that day. Also, I'd broken down enough times in front of the teacher when I'd been exhausted and just couldn't resist any longer.
'Oh, Daryl.' He said in a tone full of horror even when he thought he knew and didn't think he could be shocked by anything I told him about my Dad anymore. For my part, I couldn't finish my sentence. Couldn't put the things my father did to me in words. 'It's OK, baby, it's OK.'
He was reaching out to touch me but I screamed in his face to stop him in his tracks.
'And stop callin' me that!' I shivered. 'I ain't ya fuckin' baby or ya boyfriend! I'm ya student and ya my teacher!'
He stopped where he was and lifted his hands up in supplication. 'Fine.' He managed to keep the anger and disappointment I knew he must feel out of his voice.
I glared daggers at him, still not trusting myself to believe him.
'Sorry, didn't mean anything by it...Didn't know you were going to react like this otherwise I would never have stayed in your room. Was just watching over you, was all. Promise, never touched you.'
I sighed as my anger and fear faded away because I did believe him. He'd done nothing since I'd been in his home to make me believe that he was trying to take advantage of me. The opposite, in fact.
'No, I'm the one who should be sorry...here ya are just helping me and giving me somewhere safe to stay. You never did nothin' wrong and I jus' accused ya of...'
'It's OK, son. I can't blame you for being suspicious – what with my reputation. I scared you before, didn't I?'
'No, but jus' the same. I should know by now that ya ain't like him.
He shrugged his shoulders. 'What do ya want for breakfast?'
'Toast. And eggs if ya got any...'
'I'll have a look. Coffee?'
'Yes, please, Carl.'
'OK.' Just like that, it all blew over. Like I hadn't said those things or accused him of shit he would never do.
We ate breakfast in awkward silence. I could tell that he was trying to start conversation but he soon gave up at my curt and monosyllabic replies. I didn't feel like talking – I was still pissed at him for watching me all night. I mean, did he actually get any sleep himself? It was fucked up and creepy. After we'd eaten, I went up and had a shower. Still half-expecting him to try and come in.
But he didn't. It was the weekend and even though I'd only just woken up, I was feeling exhausted again and tried to drift off on my bed.
Somehow, I dozed off and didn't wake until later that Saturday afternoon but when I did, I felt a lot better. No bad or good dreams that I could remember and I was fully refreshed for the first time in ages.
I traipsed downstairs to see my maths teacher in a frilly red apron about to put a tray of cookies into the oven. It was quite funny actually, and I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping.
He looked over at me and beamed at me. 'Glad to see you finally awake. I hope you like double chocolate chip. Won't insult you and ask if you want a glass of milk with them.'
I let out another chuckle. My mouth was watering – I'd skipped lunch and he'd let me sleep. It was now about 4.
'Mr Rogers…'
'Call me Carl. We're equals at least here, aren't we?'
'Yes, Mr…I mean Carl.' I had called him by his first name before and while he hadn't objected, he hadn't actually given me permission. Even though in a fortnight it wouldn't matter.
'Smells great!' I sat down at the table with my tummy rumbling.
He grinned and set the egg-timer for 35 minutes. 'That should do it.' He rubbed his hands with a tea-towel. 'But I'll check them before.'
He took off the apron which made me relieved.
'Did you have a good nap, Daryl?'
'Yessir. No dreams, this time.'
'That's real good.' He mused. 'Got any ideas what we should do while we're waiting?' He winked at me.
I shrugged. 'What ya got in ya garden?' It was a small one but with a small shed and sports equipment, I assumed.
'Let's take a look. Didn't show it to you before, did I?'
I followed him out there. He opened the shed's padlock and ushered me inside.
It was a small, cramped space and I don't know why I felt a bit panicky when he followed me in. The hairs on my arms were standing on end.
'Here we have a frisbee – not that I got anyone to play with.' There was loads of other stuff like balls and rackets and when he reached round me to pick it up, I flinched. Especially when a large gust of wind knocked the shed door shut with a bang and we found ourselves in almost pitch black.
I did my best to control my panic, he wasn't doing anything anyway.
'Uh oh.' He didn't seem to notice but immediately opened the door and went out. I followed him, kicking myself for being scared of being alone in the shed with him.
I shook my head. What the hell is wrong with me? How much longer is that bastard at home going to keep on ruining my life? Even though he's just in my head this time and actually there?
He held the purple frisbee in his hand and looked at me quizzically. 'Why do you look like you've seen a ghost, Daryl? Didn't mean to scare you.'
'I…I dunno…Got claustrophobia, I guess.'
'Well, let's get started.' He walked away from me, leaving a suitable distance and when I nodded, threw the disc at me. To my surprise, having never played before, I caught it.
'Good boy.' He praised like I was a lot younger. I didn't mind. 'You're a natural.'
I threw it back, he caught it and we only missed it a few times.
I even found myself laughing and running about, enjoying even such a simple game as frisbee. Rogers smiled at me happily too – no hint of sleaziness or creepiness that I had grown to expect sometimes.
'Cookies should be nearly done by now. Let me double-check.' He threw the disc down and went inside.
Daryl
He put the plate in front of me, piled high with chocolate cookies.
'Thanks.' I was so hungry that I didn't wait for him to sit down and start to eat his. Then I remembered my manners that Mama had taught us.
'Sorry.'
'Don't you worry. No need to wait.'
'Um…they're delicious.' I said between mouthfuls. And it was true – better than store bought ones. Now I had a vague memory of Mama in a white summer dress and apron baking a big large chocolate cake when I was really small. For one of our birthdays? Funny – I rarely thought about her, was just focusing on surviving at home, I guess. But it was nice to be able to remember happier times.
And I still missed her.
'Wanna watch TV?' He asked after we finished. He ate a lot less than I did.
He sat on one end of the sofa and then I sat at the other. I knew he didn't like that but he didn't say anything.
'What do you want to watch?' He flicked through the only 4 channels.
'I don't mind.' I shrugged. 'Sport?'
'OK.' He settled on the baseball game.
I pretended I was into it but too be honest, I was sitting on a bed of nails. I remembered last time he made a move and ruffled my hair and although I didn't really want to, I'd got into his lap and kissed him. Offered to suck him off because I thought that was what was expected of me but he told me to stop that I didn't have to do that.
Did I feel like giving him something now? In the back of my head was my nightmare – maybe my father would find out where I was and drag me back home. I had no doubt that my teacher would be dead if Dad found me here. Rogers didn't stand a chance.
He's not that old. Quite handsome really. Would it be so bad?
Wouldn't cheating on Dad feel good?
And if he said I was the one in control – always- what harm was experimenting a little?
Could he make me enjoy it like I had with Eric even though that had only been a kiss. But it was pretty nice.
Suddenly I scooted over to him and just sat there. He apparently didn't notice, so intent was he on the game, just staring ahead.
I just leaned my head on his shoulder.
He still didn't react, just stared at the game.
I laid my head on his chest and felt relief when his arm finally went around me.
Rogers
I was on eggshells as I pretended to be fascinated by the game. I saw him sizing me up out of the corner of my eye and then after a while scoot closer to me and Lord knows what thoughts were going around his head.
And mine.
It took all my self-restraint not to do anything when I felt his head on my shoulder. Still I didn't react.
But then he got closer and leaned his forehead against my chest and I couldn't resist then.
Still, all I did was encircle him with one arm to pull him close and heard him sigh in relief.
Even the incident in the shed was planned by me – well not the wind that blew the door shut and engulfed us in darkness – that was a nice, natural touch. Made it more convincing somehow and I felt him recoil when I grabbed the frisbe from behind me but ignored it.
Another test.
We were making progress despite the little setback in the morning. What was I thinking of letting him see me watching him sleep?
Slow, slow. I drummed into my brain.
During the long commercial break, I brushed back his hair as if by accident. He startled a little and started to get up.
'I'm not going to do anything.' I reassured him, badly wanting to pull him back to me – could have done with a lot of the other boys but with him that would have been a fatal move to make.
Daryl, unsurprisingly, didn't like being pinned down and restrained in anyway.
Not that I could blame him.
I could feel him wavering between running away and staying but I could tell he enjoyed the harmless affection until he perceived it as threatening.
With a sigh, he leaned back against me.
I didn't waste any time.
'This OK?' I ran my fingers through his silky, almost black hair.
He nodded.
'This is all I'm going to do. Unless…'
I deliberately left the sentence unfinished, let him make of it what he would. I felt him shiver but with fear or excitement?
I prayed for the latter.
'Let's change the channel.' I got up to switch to a sci-fi adventure Lost in Space. It was about to start. He pricked up at that.
But he did the same again. Cuddled into me while I petted his hair occasionally.
I could feel him warming to me, trusting me. He clearly liked physical affection on his terms. Surprising, given his history.
I filed that fact away for future use.
I knew that I was slowly winning him over.
Rogers
'How about some beer, kiddo?'
He looked up at me as if he couldn't believe I kept alcohol in the house and nodded. Or that I would offer it to an underage teenager like him.
Well, it was in my own home and I could do what the hell I liked in it.
'Thanks.'
I did but not in the fridge but in the little dark beer and wine cellar that went down some steps under the house. It kept stuff cool even in the fierce heat of the Georgian summer. Somehow it made the booze taste better too. Guessing also that he was probably already hungry again after only a few hours – I quickly made some hotdogs with ketchup.
This was also a deliberate choice on my part.
I came in and he seemed so engrossed in the TV show that he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. Didn't even notice the food. Lost in Space was pretty exciting, I had to admit myself and always made a point of watching it every week.
'Do you have TV at home, son?' I asked him.
'Yeah – if Merle's been paying the bills.'
That told me everything I needed to know.
'Here, take it.' I handed him his bottle of beer and a couple of hotdogs on a plate.
'Thanks! I'm starvin'!'
I chuckled. 'I knew you would be.'
He soon gobbled down the dogs and was already half-way through his beer before I barely started mine.
'Got some sauce there, Bud.' I took the liberty of wiping it away from the side of his mouth with my fingers.
Of course, there wasn't.
He just stopped with an unfathomable expression in his eyes.
I took the risk and wiped his face again before I circled his lips so quick that I hoped he didn't notice.
His chest hitched and I saw his eyes go dark.
I brushed back his hair off his face as if that was what I meant to do before.
He twisted away. 'Let me finish my beer!'
'OK. You're in control.' He looked at me sharply when I said that. But I didn't think I was going too fast – I mean he got my dick out of my jeans yesterday of his own volition.
Even if he hadn't wanted to do it.
We finished our beers and we watched until the end of the episode. I switched it off and looked at him questionly.
'What do you want to do, Daryl? Do you want to go and drink some more beer in the garden and play cards? Play frisbe maybe or watch more TV?'
'None of those.' He growled and looked at me meaningfully. Did he just lick his lips deliberately suggestively at me?
Before I knew it, he'd climbed into my lap and was kissing me! But he didn't make contact with my aching crotch.
I resisted touching him but I did kiss him back.
'Would you be more comfortable upstairs?' I asked when we came up for air.
His eyes darkened with panic. 'No! Wanna stay down here.'
'No problem. Whatever you want.'
He seized my lips again and I returned the kiss just as passionately.
He looked down at my hands and seemed surprised that I wasn't using them on him.
'It's your call, Daryl. From now on, if you want me to do something, you'll have to tell me to do it.'
'What?' He looked at me like he couldn't believe it. I just knew that I had to do everything the opposite of his sick father.
'Fuckin' touch me!' He groaned in need and now he was squirming in my lap. I couldn't help my own moans escaping me.
What can I say? I obliged. Just slid my hands over his clothes at first but he soon guided them under them. I tried to be careful of his bruises and various injuries but he didn't seem to care. And before I knew it, he had his shirt and mine off anyway. But our jeans stayed on. I decided to let him do the undressing part if that was what he wanted to do. I tweaked his rose buds and kissed my way down his chest while he sagged against me, moaning. When I slid my hands down further, he stopped them at his hips and I realised with horror where they were.
They fitted almost exactly the bruises in the shape of that asshole's handprints! Only mine were a little smaller!
He whimpered and I immediately tore my hands away.
'Sorry, sorry.' I held him close to me and kissed his shoulder. 'Sh…I forgot you're still sore there. Sh…sh….Let's stop, hey?' He nodded.
Well, a mood killer right there if ever there was one.
Not for the first time I cursed those brutish men who had violated him, terrified him and were making my job so much harder.
It looked like we'd take a few steps back on the surface but I knew that we'd actually made a lot of progress forward. Because now he was a lot more relaxed and willing with me. That look of fear and panic was gone out of his eyes and he seemed to be going with the flow, knowing that we would only go as far as he wanted to go.
No pressure.
It was just those damn bruises, where they were on his body and the shape of them. They would fade eventually but right now, unlike other wounds he'd received at the same time, they served as a particular poignant reminder of his father.
He was starting to really trust me.
Daryl
I don't know what the fuck came over me. Jumping on him and kissing him like that again. Was it the beer? One beer? I was just so grateful, I guess and he wasn't perfect by any means but he made me feel safe to experiment and find out what I liked which seemed impossible after my first experience with him.
Maybe I was just acting the roles of 'Whore' and 'Slut' that my father had assigned me.
And I couldn't say I wasn't attracted at least a little to my-soon-to-be ex-teacher. He fed me, protected me, took care of me and made me laugh so the good parts of him balanced out when he made mistakes and freaked me out sometimes.
He just seemed to 'get' me even if he came onto strong the first time. Maybe I had given him signals, to Mike too and even my Dad making them think of me like that. Why else were these adult men drawn to me?
But even Dad had said that Mike wasn't my fault. Ironic what he'd said to me after his best friend nearly fucked me when I was 13, 'Ain't none of it ya fault. Ya still my Daryl, my beautiful, sweet boy… Ya always gonna be Daryl. Ain't no one can ever take that away from you, no matter what they do or say. Ya jus' remember who ya are, son.'
Had Dad really said that to me? Not blamed me? It seemed unreal now but I would try to cling onto those words for comfort.
