Page 108 of Prized Possession

“What happened here?” I ask him as I scrunch the flannel into a ball.

“My meeting went to shit,” he replies cryptically.

“I need to put pressure on this, to see if I can slow down the bleeding. It’s coming out too quickly right now, but when I press, it might hurt,” I tell him.

Feeling my shins start to burn from crouching for too long, I drop down onto my knees, so I can give his injuries my full attention, while not being distracted by my own body yelling at me.

He nods. “That’s not a pr—holy fuck, that hurts,” he yells, forgetting whatever he was about to say before I pressed the flannel against his deep wound.

It’s not long until the light grey flannel is coated with blood, and I start to panic.

“Maybe you need a doctor. Should I take you to the hospital?”

Marcus shakes his head. “No doctors,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

I roll my eyes at his stupid comment. “Really? Because it looks like you’ve got a fucking hole in you stomach.”

He tries to give me that cocky smile of his, but it turns into a wince as I press the flannel harder, and I almost feel bad for just a second.

“The guy only managed to get the tip in before he was pulled away, which is why the wound looks weird. There’s a stab wound where the tip went in, and then a slice from when he was dragged away from me.”

“And your arm?” I ask, nodding towards the wound on his bicep, where the bleeding, thankfully, appears to be slowing down.

“The arsehole was waving his knife around like a lunatic and I got too close,” he says casually, like getting stabbed is no big deal.

“Do you have any other injuries?” I ask, fixing him with a stare that tells him to be honest with me.

He nods, grimacing as he does. “There’s a small slice across my thigh.”

He looks down at his right leg, pointing towards where his trousers have been cut open.

“Hold this,” I instruct, moving his hand until he takes over holding the flannel, making sure he uses the correct amount of pressure, so we can try stopping the blood flow.

Once I’m sure he’s got the pressure correct, I act on instinct. Reaching up, I begin unfastening his belt, sliding the zipper of his trousers down before popping the button.

I look up at Marcus to find him staring down at me through hooded eyes. His eyes are almost completely black, his pupils blown wide.

It’s only then that I realise what this must look like to him. I’m soaked through, no doubt making my thin pyjama shorts and vest turn almost transparent, and I’m on my knees before him, unfastening his trousers.

He’s clearly ignoring the stab wounds, the blood, and the look of sheer terror that I’m sure I’m not able to hide, but I don’t blame him. Maybe this is a fantasy for him.

Great, now I’m frozen and my mind has gone to dirty places once more.

I must have been stuck there for longer than I should be, my fingers on his trouser button, without going further, as Marcus clears his throat before chuntering loud curse words when the movement hurts him.

Hearing him in pain is enough to snap me out of my lust-filled thoughts, and I waste no time removing his belt fully, so I can pull his trousers off, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes in the corner.

For just a moment, I’m grateful when I notice the water swirling around our feet is more pink now than red, which I’m hoping means we’re managing to stop the bleeding a little.

As I look up at Marcus again, no matter how much I try not to look at his boxers, it’s impossible not to notice the large tent sticking out in front of me.

I pull my lip between my teeth to stop myself from letting out a moan, trying to concentrate on what I’m supposed to be doing. I use my grip on his hips to turn him slightly so I can see his thigh.

The cut’s about six inches long, but very thin, and the fact there’s only a few droplets of blood leaking from the edges confirms it’s most likely superficial.

I cup one of my hands until it’s full of water, before tentatively placing my palm over the cut. I then gently swipe my fingers along all the edges of the wound, rubbing a little harder where needed to clean away all the dried blood.

Although it’s only superficial, I make sure the injury is completely clean, to prevent any chance of infection.

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