Pure Innocence (7 page)

Oliver tipped his head up at him. “I could
eat a little.”

Damon grinned and couldn’t resist a palm to
Oliver’s face. Oliver smiled happily, and Damon was once more
struck with how beautiful he was.

Damon guided Oliver into the apartment, and
enjoyed watching his jaw drop when they passed the kitchen and
continued to the lounge. Oliver’s feet took him straight to the end
wall, which was completely made of glass. “It’s stunning.”

“
Yes, yes it is,” but Damon
wasn’t looking at the view. Something in Damon’s voice must have
given him away, because Oliver turned quickly and caught the way
Damon was taking him in. Pink stained his cheeks, he lowered his
eyes.

Good, thought Damon. It didn’t hurt for
Oliver to know Damon thought he was attractive. “Let’s get you
settled.”

Oliver nodded happily, and followed Damon
into the bedroom. “There’s a small bathroom by the door, and a
cubby hole I like to call an office. There’s two bedrooms, and each
have their own bathroom.” He continued back to the kitchen and
started pulling out some bread and a plastic container. “I have
someone who shops and cleans for me, but this is her homemade
tomato soup.” Damon grinned. “It’s awesome.”

Oliver sat on one of the chairs across from
the chrome and smoked glass table. “Can I—”

Damon glanced up from where he was cutting
the bread just in time to see Oliver’s face flame, and his eyes
fill. He dropped the knife and in two strides, he was stood next to
him. “What is it? What do you need?”

“
I-I.” Oliver heaved in a
lungful of air and his shoulders shook. “I was going to offer to
help, but I can’t, can I?”

Damon dropped to his knees and held his boy
as he sobbed. He’d thought Oliver had cried at the hospital, but he
had been so wrong. This wasn’t crying, it was gut-wrenching,
soul-destroying torture. Oliver sounded like a wounded animal that
was being kicked. Damon knelt, completely helpless, and just
wrapped Oliver up, as firmly as he dared. The last cry was
accompanied by such a defeated slump that for a second Damon
thought Oliver might have fainted, but then he heard a shuddering
breath, and closed his eyes against the relief that made them
sting.

“
I-I’m sorry. You must be
so sick of this.” Oliver slurred the words.

Damon stood up, and bent down and pressed
his lips to Oliver’s head. He didn’t trust his voice to be steady.
He swung Oliver up, and settled Oliver’s smaller head into the
crook of his neck. He carried him unprotestingly into the bedroom,
and scooted on the bed, all the while holding him carefully so as
not to bang his hands. Oliver snuggled close to him.

Damon took a steadying breath. “My foster
mom always said things looked better after a good cry.” He leant
his cheek on the top of Oliver’s head, and just barely resisted the
urge to press a kiss there. “You’re allowed. Something really bad
happened to you, and you’ve been incredibly strong for days over
this.” He paused. “You’ve looked after yourself for a really long
time. I know this is hard—hard to let someone else—incredibly
difficult because being dependent on someone other than yourself
takes a huge amount of trust.” He’d felt Oliver’s body relax a
little. “This is the plan. We’re going to get you well, and strong.
You’re going to be happy. You’re going to figure out what you want
to do with the rest of your life, maybe even go to college.” Oliver
sighed and settled into Damon a little more. “That’s all you have
to concentrate on. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Damon paused, and eventually heard a little
snore. He blinked slowly, and leaned his chin on Oliver’s head. He
took measured breaths, concentrated on the fact that Oliver was
safe because the bastard was behind bars, breathed, and tried
hard—tried incredibly hard—not to want to put his fist through
something.

****

Oliver blinked slowly. For a second, he
wondered where he was, then memory rushed in. The other half of the
bed was empty, and he wondered where Damon was. Probably out
calling a psychiatrist to come and cart Oliver off after being
cried all over.

Then the door opened and Damon smiled as he
walked in carrying a tray. “You never got any soup.” He put the
tray on the side table and very efficiently helped Oliver to sit
up.

Oliver was pleased. He was able to take a
little weight on his elbows to help Damon get him up. He glanced
over at the bathroom longingly.

“
Do you need to
pee?”

Oliver’s face flamed, and he nodded.

“
No problem, we need to
work this out.”

Oliver had just peed into a plastic
bottle-like contraption while he was still in bed, after the
catheter had come out. The last day in the hospital a nurse had
taken him to the bathroom every time.

Damon carefully helped him out of bed and
steadied him. Oliver followed him to the bathroom and Damon quickly
and efficiently pulled his sweats and briefs down. Oliver sat,
unable to force any words out, trying hard to keep his face
averted, and trying hard not to just want to curl up and die. Damon
left him, but in a couple of minutes he was back to help Oliver
stand and pull his pants back up. “There, easy.”

Damon seemed pleased. Oliver was just too
embarrassed to reply.

Damon guided him to the big easy chair in
the corner, where there was a bowl of steaming soup resting on the
table next to it. Oliver inhaled appreciatively and his stomach
growled. Damon chuckled. “I’ve had mine. Sorry, I couldn’t
wait.”

“
Do you like dunking your
bread in the soup?” Oliver settled in the chair while Damon drew up
a smaller one to perch on and fed him. He wrinkled his nose at the
thought of soggy bread and Damon had laughed outright. It had been
a good sound, and it warmed Oliver up as he ate. In no time, Oliver
glanced down, amazed at the sound of the spoon dropping in an empty
bowl. Damon grinned again. “I thought you’d get your appetite back
when you were eating proper stuff.”

Oliver smiled back happily. Damon fished a
couple of tablets out of a bottle and held a glass of water to
Oliver’s lips so he could swallow them.

“
There are a few people who
are wanting to see you tomorrow,” Damon said. “Agent Kinley from
the FBI who I have been managing to put off all week. He just needs
a statement.”

“
Of course he does.” Oliver
sighed. “But I don’t remember much.” A shiver raced up Oliver’s
back, and the room seemed suddenly cold. Damon immediately frowned
and his large hands rubbed up and down Oliver’s arms.

“
You cold?”

Oliver shook his head, and Damon nodded
understandingly. He had a sudden thought. “A few? You said a few
people wanted to see me?”

“
Adam and Lee.”

“
You mentioned Adam. He-he
got taken too?” Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted any reminders of the
last few weeks.

Damon got up and moved the tray. “You comfy?
Thirsty?” He nodded to the pitcher of iced water he’d brought in
with the soup, and Oliver shook his head.

“
I’m fine.” He waited
patiently for Damon to explain. He knew Damon was going to tell him
some things.

“
I told you I’m a private
detective?” Oliver nodded. “Adam and Lee are both submissives at
the club I belong to. It’s getting a good reputation as being LBGT
friendly.” Damon paused, as if it were important Oliver understood
that. “Oliver, what do you know of the Dominant/submissive
lifestyle?”

Oliver stared at Damon, shocked at the
question. When Damon calmly met his eyes, Oliver dropped his, and
mumbled. “It’s a lie.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his
voice.

“
Go on.” Damon prompted
gently, sitting on the bed.

“
It’s an excuse for guys to
be bullies. I saw it at Ecstasy.” He had. Some of the boys loved
it, it got them extra money to let some guy play at being the big,
bad boss. Who was he kidding? He’d been just as bad.

Oliver shuffled restlessly, no that wasn’t
exactly true. When he’d originally seen it he was awed, awed and
jealous. He’d so desperately wanted it to be true, but it seemed
the more Oliver gave of himself, the more the Doms took. Oliver
remembered a couple that had come to Ecstasy once, just after he
had started there. He’d never seen such contentment, such pleasure
that they took and gave each other. The sub had awed Oliver, he
seemed to anticipate everything the Dom would ask and have it
happen even before words were spoken. They’d only been there once
though, and he wasn’t surprised. They had been far too good for
Ecstasy.

This was it. This was where he was going to
find out that Damon wanted exactly what everyone else always did.
His breathing hitched, and he trembled in dread.

Damon rested a steady hand on Oliver’s
shoulder. “Breathe.”

Oliver obeyed, taking a shuddering
breath.

“
And another.”

Oliver relaxed, his limbs pliant,
trusting.

Damon smiled. “You’re submissive, Oliver.
And, no”—Damon held his hand up to Oliver’s obvious objection—“I
don’t mean a push over. Don’t confuse submission with weakness.
True submission takes a strength of character few men could ever
aspire to. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to put your life
in someone else’s hands.”

Oliver looked away from Damon’s gaze to the
movement of his hands. They rested on his knees, palms up.

He swallowed. The meaning and the invitation
were achingly clear.

Chapter Six

Oliver’s heart pounded furiously. Could he
put his trust in Damon? Why would this beautiful man want him? He
would have subs falling at his feet, and he certainly didn’t need
to adopt a useless piece of garbage like him to get his kicks.

He relaxed even more, breathed slower,
raised steady eyes to Damon.

“
You know I would never
hurt you,” Damon said.

Oliver leaned into his hand, and he stared
at Damon as the words washed over him. The man’s full lips were
curved in an easy smile. He thought about Damon calling him boy
again, and how he liked it. It made him feel like he belonged to
someone, like he belonged to him. Oliver wanted this—wanted him—so
much. But how could he possibly be enough for Damon?

Oliver raised his eyes in confusion and
desperation. Damon was smiling. Why did that make him feel
good?

“
I want to tell you a few
things, and I just need you to listen.”

Oliver sighed silently at Damon’s statement;
it hadn’t been phrased as a question.

“
For starters, the monster
who kidnapped you wasn’t a Dominant.” Damon locked eyes with
Oliver. “He’s a psychopath, sick.”

Oliver nodded again, desperately tried to
resist the urge to drop his eyes at Damon’s insistent look. He
could agree with that, but he wasn’t sure that Doms and psychos
weren’t mostly the same.

“
We react to each other in
a certain way. You like it when I take charge, and it’s not just
about making you feel safe.” Damon paused. “It’s about making you
feel at peace, with yourself. You like it when I call you
boy.”

Damon was right. Oliver also liked it when
Damon drew little circles on his arm above the bandage, as he was
doing now.

“
Submissives get incredible
satisfaction from knowing they have given their Dom the right to
make decisions, and to trust them to do so.” Damon half sighed.
“BDSM isn’t just about kinky sex. Actually...Domination and
submission doesn’t have to be about sex at all.”

Oliver looked up at Damon, shocked. Not
about sex? “But—” Oliver stopped, confused.

“
The D/s lifestyle is as
different as people make it, Oliver. Each relationship makes their
own rules, there is no right and wrong.”

Oliver listened carefully.

“
I know you have gone along
with all my decisions about living here,” Damon added. “But it
isn’t that you feel like you have no choice, you could have gone to
Miami.” Damon hesitated. “You agreed because you knew I wanted it.
You barely know me, have been hurt by so many people, but you were
willing to let me make that decision even when you knew there was
an alternative.”

Oliver remembered the urge to please Damon
in the hospital. Was that what he meant?

“
The other reason that you
lean into my touch isn’t just because you enjoy it, it’s because
you know it gives me pleasure.” Damon kept his hand on Oliver’s
cheek, slid off the bed, and knelt by the chair. Oliver absently
rubbed his face on Damon’s palm.

Oliver almost closed his eyes at the
sensation of the firm thumb rasping along his cheek. He wasn’t sure
he agreed though. It was he, Oliver, that got the pleasure, surely?
Got the comfort. Then his mind flashed back to when Damon had been
distressed in the hospital, that he hadn’t caught the guy sooner.
He remembered leaning into Damon’s hand. He knew he got comfort
from it, but now he thought about it, he had been wanting to offer
that same feeling back to Damon.

He gazed at Damon’s face that was so close
as the man still kneeled before him. His breath wafted along
Oliver’s cheek, and Oliver’s heartbeat picked up. The man’s gray
eyes were so deep and calm, Oliver could fall into them knowing he
would be safe.

Oliver swallowed as a wave of heat slid over
his body. “Dominants aren’t supposed to kneel.” He knew that
much.

“
I’m not kneeling in
submission. I’m kneeling to get close to you, to offer you my
strength and my comfort. But it’s your choice whether to accept it
or not.”