Pure Innocence (10 page)

Damon smiled, his throat working as if he
was going to say something, but he ended up just nodding and
putting his arms around Oliver’s back.

“
Sir?” Oliver would have to
be blind to miss the flare in Damon’s eyes when he said that word.
“If you wouldn’t mind helping me, now that the bandages are off,
I’d kill to get in the shower.”

Damon grinned. “It would be my pleasure,
boy.” Oliver nearly wept when Damon’s hand cupped his face in the
comforting gesture he’d loved all week. “The same as before still
stands. There are no conditions with staying here, except getting
well… and not worrying.”

“
I know,” and Oliver meant
it. He turned to the bedroom, shooting Damon a look as he walked.
He wasn’t going to worry. He was going to do what he’d been
asked.

“
How are we going to do
this?” Oliver stood doubtfully, looking at the gorgeous shower.
There wasn’t a door or a tatty curtain. Just curved, smoked glass
that trailed around four differently angled shower heads, and large
smoked grey tiles from floor to ceiling. He wasn’t sure he could do
anything apart from stand under the shower, although even that
sounded pretty good.

Damon reached in and turned a knob on the
wall. Immediately water jetted out of all four heads. He turned the
knob back a little so water wasn’t quite pounding out, and in one
fluid movement pulled his shirt over his head.

Oliver’s mouth dried up, and Damon turned
and saw his face. Grinning, he shucked his pants down. “I’m not
going to bother telling you a third time. You can’t manage in the
shower by yourself.” He shrugged. “Let it go.”

Oliver shut his mouth with a snap before he
started drooling. The familiar tingling sensation started in his
balls. Damon reached out for Oliver’s sweats, and eased them down,
chuckling when he had to work them over Oliver’s burgeoning
erection. Oliver hissed, willing himself not to become hard.

He stepped out of them and Damon threw them
on the chair. “I said I didn’t want you to feel obligated, I never
said I didn’t relish a challenge.”

Oliver’s eyes shot to Damon’s face. A smile
was just there, just tilting his lips. He wasn’t threatening and he
wasn’t pressurizing Oliver into anything. Damon was right, he
really needed to let some stuff go.

Chapter Eight

Damon guided Oliver under the shower, and
Oliver gasped from the amazing sensation of warm water pounding his
skin. He closed his eyes and just stood breathing quietly, all the
tension draining from his body. Oliver hummed softly as Damon’s
slick hands smoothed shower gel on his shoulders.

Oliver knew he couldn’t help. Damon had said
he had three things to do, and he was going to start doing the
first one now. He bent his head back in delight as strong fingers
worked shampoo into his hair. Damon rinsed it out efficiently
without getting any in his eyes, and then started to work on the
rest of him. He turned Oliver around gently, chuckling when Oliver
made no move to protest being positioned exactly where Damon put
him.

Damon swept his soapy hands over Oliver’s
chest, and pulled him back so he rested against the flat of his
stomach. Oliver sighed contentedly as waves of warm water caressed
his skin. It had been so long, so long since he had felt really
clean.

Oh,
oh
that was so good. Damon’s hands
slid lower. Oliver’s breath hitched a little. He was suddenly so
exposed, getting hard. What if Damon wanted him to do something? He
couldn’t even touch him. He swallowed noisily, Damon’s hand stilled
its descent, and he sighed.

“
Do you want me to
stop?”

“
I—” He bit the word off in
frustration, because he didn’t know. It had been so good before but
all of a sudden he wasn’t sure.

“
Jeremy will help you if I
am pushing you too hard.”

No, that was the last thing Oliver wanted.
He shook his head. “No. Please. I want you to.”

Damon’s hand slid lower, and Oliver nearly
stopped breathing altogether. Damon paused while he added some more
soap to his fingers.

“
You need to relax. This
isn’t anything else. No expectations.” Damon sighed, and turned
Oliver back around. “I’m making you clean, if you find that
pleasurable that’s completely normal, and it doesn’t mean I want
you to do something back.” Damon’s grey eyes burned into his, until
Oliver gave the consent he was asking for.

Oliver took a huge breath and tried to calm
down, but it seemed to be making things worse. Oliver raised
pleading eyes to Damon. How could he explain when he wasn’t sure
himself? Damon had told him repeatedly he didn’t have to do
anything, that there were no expectations. How could he explain he
didn’t know whether he was scared Damon might want to change his
mind, or scared that Damon wouldn’t, that he’d eventually run out
of patience, and Oliver would be discarded again?

Damon fixed a steady gaze on him while he
continued to wash him. He was careful over the scabs on his chest.
His back was completely healed. Oliver took a deep breath, and
Damon zeroed in on it.

“
Let me guess? You’re
mostly worried that me washing you gives you pleasure that you
can’t return? Either because you aren’t capable or good
enough?”

Oliver nearly gasped at how accurate Damon
was. Then he did gasp as Damon’s hands brushed his cock. Oliver
hung his head and moved away slightly.

“
But it’s more than that,
Oliver, isn’t it?” Oliver didn’t breathe for seconds. “This hasn’t
been associated with pleasure for you for some time, has it?”
Oliver was glad his face was wet from the shower because he wasn’t
totally convinced it wouldn’t be wet from tears. Damon was
frightening. Not because Oliver was scared of him, but because he
was damn accurate and taking Oliver to places he wasn’t sure he was
ready to go.

“
Turn around.” Damon pulled
Oliver’s chest against his chest. Oliver’s heart hammered as
Damon’s hands snaked lower. “This is about you being allowed to
enjoy your own body, nothing more. This is you being given
permission to take something back. This is your body Oliver, and
you may not be able to jack off in the shower at the moment without
help, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Oliver drew a lungful of oxygen into burning
lungs. “O-okay.”

“
I’m not going to touch
anywhere you don’t want me to. The nurses can do it.” Damon paused
and Oliver heard the amusement in his voice. “Well, maybe not
that.”

“
No. I—” Oliver wanted
Damon to touch him, but he was terrified of giving consent, as if
that suddenly made him need Damon even more. It seemed to take more
courage to tell Damon he wanted to be touched, than to tell him no.
Why? Why was that? Oliver leaned forward into Damon’s chest, the
warm water running, soothing, filling him. Damon’s hands just
resting by Oliver’s sides. Not touching, no demands, just
patience.

Then suddenly Oliver knew. He knew if he
didn’t say anything, Damon would make no comment, never force him,
never push him, but if he did that he would be taking the decision
away from Damon again, which was ridiculous because he very much
wanted Damon to touch him. He bit his lip.

You don’t deserve
any.
The echo of another voice sounded in
Oliver’s ears. It was the nightmare. He’d told Oliver over and over
it was his fault, he didn’t deserve any kindness; that all the
punishments he got was because he’d asked for them. If Oliver
didn’t allow himself this, it would be as if the nightmare had won.
As if that monster was still in Oliver’s life. He needed courage to
ask for something nice, something he’d never had, never been
allowed to have. And nothing he thought would be enjoyable,
ever.

“
I love it when you touch
me. I worry because I can’t help thinking of something else.”
Oliver drew a shuddering breath and hoped like hell Damon
understood what he was asking for, because he didn’t—couldn’t—say
any more.

“
Look on it as part of your
therapy.” Oliver heard the teasing in Damon’s voice and was turned
back around as the man’s large, warm hands cupped his balls.
Oliver’s legs nearly collapsed under him, and Damon shifted so his
knee was bent and Oliver could lean back, supported. “Let it
go.”

Oliver whimpered, but not in pain. It was in
complete and utter surrender to Damon. That Damon knew best. He had
tried so hard for so long, letting go was such a heady feeling that
brought its own type of power. Damon drew a firm hand up the length
of Oliver’s dick and he shook as he was swamped with pleasure. He
felt himself swell and throb, as the strong fingers pulled and
petted.

“
Oh. Oh.
Damon...please...please…” Oliver was babbling. He’d felt so lost
for such a long time, but this strong man suddenly felt so much
like home. Tingling burst in his spine, and his balls tightened so
quickly he couldn’t even get the words out to warn Damon, and
felt…

Cum bubbled out of Oliver’s cock. He didn’t
shoot. It was as if his cock didn’t have the strength to react
properly, and he slumped back, completely spent, heart pounding
like he’d just run a marathon or something. His cock was limp in
seconds, like it had tried too hard and was exhausted. He suddenly
thought longingly of something he’d seen in the clubs. One of the
subs being edged, it had taken so long, and Oliver wanted that,
wanted what that sub had been given. Like it was a gift.

Damon had got him out of the shower and
dried Oliver thoroughly before he even realized it. Damon very
gently eased his fingers apart on both hands and dried them
carefully. They were sore, but Damon was so gentle. That, in
itself, was such a turn-on. Oliver glanced down, and was stabbed by
guilt...to say Damon was hard was an understatement.

“
I—” How could he say
it?

“
I get my pleasure from
your pleasure,” Damon said almost conversationally as he steered a
dry Oliver back to the bedroom. “I explained why I know you are a
sub, but I haven’t explained why I’m a Dom.”

Damon quickly dressed Oliver and settled him
in the chair. He held up a bottle of fresh water for Oliver to sip.
“The same sense of peace you get from giving me your questions and
letting me answer them, I also get pleasure from…satisfaction
really. Being a Dom is hard work, but it gives me a tremendous
sense of accomplishment. I have a friend who is a Dom and also a
very talented chef. He likens it to preparing a meal. He finds out
the likes and dislikes of his customers, but then he decides what
to prepare to make it the best meal experience of their lives. The
customers don’t choose from a menu in his restaurant, they trust
the chef to decide for them.” Damon grinned. “He’s booked out six
months in advance. As soon as you feel stronger, we will go. I can
get us in.”

Oliver smiled. He didn’t doubt Damon’s
ability to get him anything, and if going to a fancy restaurant was
what Damon wanted to do, he was okay with that.

****

Oliver was floating. Somewhere in the
bathroom he seemed to have lost his legs and most of his brain
cells, and he giggled at the errant thought.

“
That’s a nice
sound.”

Oliver opened his eyes, and smiled at Damon.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep again.”

Damon grinned and put down the clothes he
was carrying on the bottom of the bed. “You slept straight through
again. Sleep is good, but food is also important, and you need to
get dressed too. You’re gonna have visitors soon, and I bet you’re
hungry.” Oliver’s stomach growled in response and they shared
another smile. In no time he was dressed in some loose fitting
shorts and a soft t-shirt. Going to the bathroom hadn’t been bad,
as Damon had left him alone, but brushing his teeth was impossible.
He felt about two years old when Damon had to do it for him.

Oliver followed Damon to the kitchen, which
smelled incredible. As soon as he was seated, Damon brought out a
plate from the oven and then another, and another. He gulped “How
many people are eating?”

Damon grinned as they heard the doorbell,
and disappeared. Oliver had been joking, but people were obviously
coming here. Oliver didn’t have time to start panicking as he heard
voices and laughing and two seconds later the kitchen seemed very,
very full.

Oliver’s eyes were drawn immediately to the
two huge guys laughing with Damon as they walked in, that by the
time two other younger men walked in Oliver wasn’t sure he could
breathe.

“
Oliver this is
Mas—”

“
It’s Joe, just Joe.” The
guy grinned and absently patted Oliver on the arm. Oliver
swallowed. The name, that name…

“
Oliver, it is so good to
see you,” Adam squealed and Oliver’s vision was filled suddenly
with a memory. Green, luminous eyes stared at him, and he was
suddenly back there. Trapped, tied. He could hear voices, people
talking, lips moving. Pain, so much pain. He could always feel the
pain, but his mind was like sludge. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t
breathe. Damon was talking to him and he strained to hear, but the
pounding from his heart drowned out anything else. He tried to
stand on shaky legs.

He had to get out of here. He was trapped,
imprisoned.

Oliver, Oliver, such a good boy.

No, no, not again. He was here, he had to
move. Large hands caught him and blindly Oliver struggled. He was
being pushed into a suffocating black tunnel, he was going to die.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not again, not ever again.

****