Chapter 9

The next cube in the boy’s mouth. He took the last, warmed it against his palm, slicking his fingers, and wrapped his hand around the boy’s straining dick. That he was so beautifully needy, despite the punishment, wasn’t lost on Jared. Fisting his length, he jacked him off in slow strokes, careful not to press too hard, not wanting to abrade tender tissues. Precum leaked over his fingers, adding a stickiness to the damp that he was tempted to clean away with his tongue.

Soft flesh, cold and heat, all of the sensations he’d denied himself for so long wrapped around him, constricting his breaths. Wren pressed back against him, the chilled wetness seeping through his trousers, playing with the dangerous line of a wordless request Jared wanted nothing more than to grant them both.

“You may not come.” He whispered the words to himself, but Wren went still.

He hadn’t meant the directive for the boy, though the restraint would serve them both. This was a punishment—too much pleasure had been taken and given already. Next time, he’d remember his gloves, wouldn’t get lost to the sensations this one flooded him with. Control would be easier to maintain that way.

The last of the ice melted away. Jared breathed deep, forcing his hand to still before pulling it away. Refastened dark slacks to brush the placket smooth. Nostrils flared, Wren breathed in harsh pants, his arousal dancing through the flames of his distress. He regarded the boy’s puffed cheeks and watering eyes, his struggle not to swallow.

One corner of Jared’s mouth lifted, unbidden. “Beautiful.”

Wren’s brows drew together with his whimper.

Lifting the cup, he took pity and held it under the boy’s mouth. “Spit.”

Water cascaded into the glass.

Holding Wren’s gaze, he brought the cup to his mouth and drank down the melted ice, swallowing every drop of the boy’s submission, consuming his distress until there was nothing left. “Forgiven.”

Wren sagged, sinking into his lap, forcing him to bring up his arms or risk his tipping over backward. Hands hovering, he froze, unable to complete the embrace, but equally unable to pull away.

The boy’s soft “I’m sorry, sir” was a puff of sweet breath over his cheek.

“What made you do it?” Sincere consternation prompted the question.

He had to know any pain or pleasure would be at a Dom’s hands, that those things weren’t for him to take for himself. Or had Noah been playing darker games with the boy than he realized? Remembering some of Noah’s lessons at his own hands, Jared could believe it, but still the man had never exhibited those sorts of inclinations with anyone...outside of some particular necessities with Curtis in the beginning.

Huffing in a breath, Wren looked down at his wrist, fiddling with the string. “I wasn’t thinking at all, I was just...the order was simple so I followed it. I didn’t want you to have to tell me to get away from you so I wasn’t annoying you and I know you’ve had a rough day and I figured the easiest way to make everything go smoothly was to do what you said. Kinda forgot the tea was still so hot.”

“Who taught you not to question badly worded orders from idiot Doms, boy?” He was beyond tired, so he’d give himself a pass. Except for the fact that he’d misjudged Wren’s reaction to the command so badly that he knew he’d had no business issuing it at all.

Wren blinked at him. “Idiot Doms? That’s not...it’s my fault...I should have—”

“Do not contradict me.” Jared tipped his forehead so it rested briefly against Wren’s temple, gentling the reprimand. “If I say it was my doing, it was my doing. Never follow a command to do yourself harm again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Wren traced his tongue over his bottom lip. “Do you want me to go to my room now?”

Jared’s arms tightened reflexively. What part of ‘you’re staying in my loft’ had Wren not understood? Or...had something else prompted Wren’s question. His stomach fell and he scowled at the sensation. “You’re under observation for twenty-four hours. If you want to get away from me that badly tomorrow afternoon, you’re free to go.”

Horror filled Wren’s eyes as he shook his head roughly, winced then brought his hand to his head. “I don’t want to get away from you. It’s me. My aunt always said I was a lot of trouble, and I know I can be when I screw up, and then I’d go to my room and it would be okay. She’d tell me when I could come out and it’s better that way. I just thought I should let you know...not that I need to be telling you anything but I don’t mind being out of the way, you know? Then you can do your thing.”

My...thing?

There were so many layers of wrong with Wren’s tangled stream of consciousness, the words snarled in Jared’s mind. Too many options, too many places where hurt lurked, that he knew better than to touch. Not when doing damage—his vocation notwithstanding—came as naturally to him as breathing. He had no business splinting this bird’s broken wings.

“You’re staying with me until Noah returns. No more needs to be said about it.” Placing Wren away from him, he went to the kitchen to grab a dish towel for each of them and handed one to Wren on his return. “I’m sure he’ll know better how to comfort you, pleasure you, than I could.” The last part slipped past his lips and pressed them firmly shut.

“That’s not—umm...thank you, sir.” Wren wiped under his bottom lip with the towel, shifting uncomfortably. “I take care of things around the house for Noah. Sometimes me and Jamie....well, not argue over chores, but he tries to do the ones I’m used to doing and it’s the only way I can be useful so it’s...hard. But then Noah brings him to their room and I can do the chores and get out of the way. We don’t...I mean, Noah doesn’t...need me like that anymore.”

Towel pressed against his damp trousers, Jared stilled, lifting his gaze to take in the spots of color on the graceful curves of Wren’s high cheekbones. Uncomprehending—because no one could see this gorgeous creature, his sublime submission, and not be compelled to get lost in his spirit, his charms—he shook his head. “But I’ve seen him punish you…”

The birching in the dungeon when Jamie had first arrived and coaxed Wren into mischief had been efficiently, brutally delivered. Dispassionate, with all the hallmarks of a punishment that would be as memorable as it had been unforgiving. Jared had clenched his fists, waiting for a moment when he might be required to intervene as Wren had trembled, doing his best to submit to what he clearly thought he deserved. When Noah had walked him to that edge and backed away from the precipice, Jared had been forced to admit the Dom knew how to toe a line, however much it had twisted his guts to watch. That he’d treated Jamie with such care, while issuing unmitigated reprisal to Wren—when the pop star had clearly been the biggest diva to ever darken The Asylum’s door—still rankled on occasion, though not as often since he’d become better acquainted with Noah’s boy.

“Well yes, I belong to him. Why wouldn’t he punish me? Sometimes I…” He lowered his gaze. “Like tonight, I do something and I should know better. But after everything’s okay. He hasn’t punished me in awhile. I’ve been really careful to avoid the things I’m not supposed to do. Like gambling...that’s the biggest one. Or touch cards or dice or look at the scores for different sports. That can be hard, because there were a few sports I actually liked watching and not just to see what the odds were, you know? I love horses. The races, learning everything about each one…” A wistful smile curved his lips. “Maybe one day I can watch them again and not see it the same way. Just...enjoy it.”

A pirate’s bounty of information about the boy fell at his feet, tumbling like spun gold from Wren’s lips. Jared digested the information, tucking it away like the treasure it was. Gambling and addiction, yes, the man would know how to control in the short term, but Wren needed more help than his Dom could give. He’d have to discuss that with Noah. Though there was one thing that troubled him more.

He lowered onto his haunches to look Wren in the eye, hands clasped so they dangled non-threateningly between his own knees. “Are you allowed to pleasure yourself? Has he told you that you can’t play with other Doms?”

“I…” Wren’s brow furrowed. “Touching myself wouldn’t mean anything. And other Doms...I mean… No, he hasn’t said I couldn’t, but it’s not up to me. I know he wants me to find someone, one day, but I have a place where I’m needed and he’s done so much for me and I don’t think I can ever repay that.” He drew in a harsh breath. “He almost died because of me. Sure, he stopped the guy from doing more than slashing him with the shiv, but it was meant for me. He didn’t have to do that. I wish he hadn’t, I hate that he got hurt when I’m the one who did so many things wrong…”

The new piece of information about Noah’s incarceration dropped into a slowly growing picture he’d been fleshing out since the man’s return from prison. Jared passed a hand over his face, breathing deep. It appeared this canary could be made to sing with very little prompting. Noah must’ve had a hell of a time keeping him alive. But…Jesus, to isolate the boy for close to two years? There were political prisoners who were given more consideration. And it wasn’t like the man hadn’t fucked everything that moved for a decade. To ignore the temptation Wren presented, to isolate him so thoroughly, was beyond cruel. It certainly wouldn’t have been a hardship to give the sub he had under his protection, under his thumb, more than a morsel of love and affection now and then.

Any punishment, in the absence of the tenderness of his Dom, would have left the boy feeling less-than-forgiven, no matter what Noah had done afterward. They both knew it, and there would be words said when the man returned.

Schooling features that he realized he’d let grow cold, he folded Wren’s hand in both of his. “You are a treasure, boy. If Noah hadn’t saved you, I would have chased him to Hell. Now come on. Let’s get you clean.”

“Yes, sir. I should go take a shower. I’m a mess.” Wren brought his free hand up to his hair, close to the bandage. “Is it okay if this gets wet?”

The dressing had a clear plastic bandage to would keep any moisture out within reason. Jared nodded, standing, and laced their fingers together. “No shower. I’ll draw you a bath.”

He might not be able to be the Dom the boy required, but he’d make sure, for these few days, at least, that he’d be everything that Wren needed...

That he deserves.