Page 38 of Under Your Care

“So soft and sleepy, hm? My angel.”

He gently lowered my aching body into the porcelain bathtub, turning on the faucet and running his fingers through the stream until the temperature was just right. As the tub filled, he walked over to one of the cabinets under the sink. He carried back a small bag of epsom salts and poured a good amount into the warm water. Kneeling next to the side of the bathtub, he wet a cotton washcloth and began cleaning the evidence of my punishment off. I leaned into his touch, eyes closed in bliss. Once he determined I was all clean, he had me lean into his arms for support as I carefully stepped out of the water. I giggled softly as he dried me off with a fluffy towel, ruffling my damp hair.

My heart squeezed as I watched the focus in his eyes while he chose which pajamas to dress me in. Logically, I knew we weren’t healthy. But, God, I’d never wanted anything in my life more than I wanted to keep Greyson. Is it healthy to tell your significant other that they can’t live without you? Obviously not. I wasn’tthatoblivious. But, it was true. The moment I laid my eyes on him, my stitched-together heart knew that I’d never survive without his love.

He was my oxygen.

Chapter 17

Greyson

As I sewed the small cut I had made at the base of his skull, I felt thankful that Lane didn’t ever seem to have an issue with me drugging him. Sure, this was only the third time, so I supposed we would see if he’d get upset later on. I personally didn’t see the issue, but I understood that most people would see it as a massive violation of his bodily autonomy. I saw it more as, “I own his body and I’m responsible for taking care of him, so if drugging him makes that easier, why not?”

I’m sure Oliver would beg to differ, but I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Hayes and Hudson were nowhere near as benevolent as I was. I found it rather amusing that he’d gotten trapped in their web. I was pretty sure he wasn’t getting designer lingerie and being waited on hand and foot. My brothers’ styles were more… strict? Sadistic? I wouldn’t be surprised if Oliver had spent a few nights in a dog cage.

Whether I liked it or not, Lane needed Oliver, so I couldn’t get rid of him completely. I could, however, patiently wait while my brothers broke him. Then, Lane would be able to hang out with him again like old times and I wouldn’t have to worry.

My greatest concern currently was dealing with Lane’s parents. Ididn’t want to have to limit Lane’s interactions with them, but I would have to if they didn’t accept me in his life. They’d either see me as too controlling and dangerousoras the perfect man to hand their son over to. I had the means to provide him a more than comfortable life. The issue was that they would know I was Lane’s therapist - they paid his bills, after all.

I sighed as I sat beside Lane in bed. He’d be waking up soon, so I greedily took in his sleeping form. In the morning glow of my bedroom, I admired the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. His chest rose and fell with the rhythmic cadence of peaceful slumber, each breath a soft whisper of contentment. Soft red, tousled hair framed his face; stray curls brushed against his forehead. Beneath the delicate arch of his eyebrows, long lashes cast shadows upon his beautifully freckled cheeks. His arms were wrapped around another pillow, holding it close to his chest. He looked so small, so vulnerable. I pulled him into me, enveloping him in my arms. He - of course - did not let go of the pillow he was clutching. He snuffled in his sleep, pushing his body even closer to mine as he unconsciously sought out the comfort I provided.

“Are you awake?” I whispered into his hair. He let out a small grumble, scrunching his nose like a rabbit.

His eyes remained closed as he sleepily answered, “Mhmm.” I pressed a quick kiss on the back of his head before pulling myself out of bed.

I went about my normal morning routine; brewing coffee, locating the cat, giving the cat a small piece of meat to win her affection, then going back to the kitchen to make our breakfast. I briefly wondered if there was such a thing as a service Dom. I didn’t want Lane to ever have to lift a finger - that was my job. Lane’s only concerns should be looking pretty and loving me. He belonged to me, and I was incredibly protective of my belongings. I provided Lane with the best care I could, relishing in him becoming completely dependent on me.

As I cooked and bustled around the kitchen, I brainstormed moreways I could tie him to me. I could lock his pretty little cock up and hold the key. I could create a traumatic situation so that he'd have a trauma bond with me. I could tattoo my name into his skin. I could…

Lane shuffled into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around my waist, snuggling into my back. I laughed as he squeezed me as hard as he could before letting go and hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter. His brilliant smile caught me off guard, filling me with so much warmth. I knew that I didn’t feel love in the same way that neurotypical people did, but this felt pretty damn close. I stood between his dangling legs, leaning in to meet his lips. We shared a passionate kiss, tongues dancing together to a slow melody. I pulled back as his breaths began to grow ragged. His lips chased mine, hungry for more. I took a minute to admire the way his face was lax, eyelids drooping. As I looked into his sparkling eyes and fell into their depths, all I could see was devotion. He gazed at me like I was his god and he was worshipping at my altar, nothing in his heart except boundless love for me.

“Grey, the bacon is burning,” he chimed, his laugh calling to me. I turned to the stove behind me, groaning when I saw the strips of charred meat.

“You’re too distracting sometimes,” I tittered as I started on a new batch. He watched me with amusement from his perch. “Go get ready for the day while I finish this,” I instructed, pointing my spatula towards the hallway leading to his room.

“Are we going out?” He tilted his head, looking at me curiously.

“Yes, we’re going on a date.”

His eyes widened. “Really? What should I wear? Where are we going? Should I bring anything?” He babbled, eyes lit up with adorable excitement. He slid off the counter and hopped from foot to foot.

I smiled and ruffled his messy morning hair. “Yes. I already laid out your outfit on your bed. It’s a surprise. Just remember your cell phone. Now go, after we eat we’re leaving.” He giggled as he rushed past me to the hallwayand disappeared.

Lane returned as I was placing breakfast on the table. I had chosen for him a deep blue halter top, white shorts that left about one-third of his porcelain thighs bare, and white canvas shoes. Lane was - well, Lane - so he had added a glimmery, pearl barrette to his hair. He was stunning. He ate faster than usual, his body brimming with anticipation. The moment I took the last bite of my breakfast sandwich, he was up out of his chair and tugging on one of my arms.

“Comeon,” he whined, puppy dog eyes out to play. I shook my head in amusement, the corners of my mouth tipped up in a small smile. We were out the door quicker than I thought Lane could move.

“Sweetheart, patience. There’s no rush,” I promised. Lane pouted, but stopped tugging my arm, opting to link our hands together and walk side by side.

???

“The aquarium!” Lane beamed, jumping in pure glee next to me. I chuckled and placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into my side. I led us through the front entrance before stopping at a small counter, which was manned by a smiling young woman. Her bright blue t-shirt identified her as a volunteer.

“Welcome! Are you Mr. Cohen and Mr. Bennett?”

Lane's eyebrows raised at the surprise of our names being used. I let my arm drop from around his shoulders to his low back.

“We are. Here’s my confirmation number and ID.” The girl didn’t seem to know how to stop smiling, but I appreciated her as I could tell Lane was becoming comfortable with her peppiness.

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