Page 83 of Body and Soul

When his trembling eased and his breathing evened out, I carefully shifted him in my arms and stood, carrying him bridal-style through the apartment. Eli made a small noise of protest at being moved, but quickly settled again, looping his arms around my neck and tucking his face into my throat.

I carried Eli into the bathroom, his spent body limp and pliant in my arms. He was still floating in subspace, blissed out and trusting, and it was my duty and privilege to guide him back and care for him.

I set him gently on the edge of the large clawfoot tub, keeping one arm around his waist to steady him. He swayed into my solid form, seeking comfort and connection even as I reached over tostart the tap. I adjusted the temperature until it was pleasantly warm before I stopped up the drain, letting the tub begin to fill.

I wet a soft washcloth under the tap before bringing it to Eli's face. I wiped away the drying tears and snot, cleaning him with the gentle reverence one would show a priceless work of art. Eli sighed and leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I need to take the plug out now, sweet boy,” I murmured, setting the cloth aside. “I want you to breathe deep and relax for me, alright? Let me take care of you.”

Eli nodded drowsily, his body loose and open. I eased him forward to lean against my chest as I reached behind him. Gripping the base of the plug, I began to carefully work it out, twisting gently and pausing whenever he tensed or whimpered. His abused hole was puffy and swollen, clinging greedily to the toy.

With one last careful tug, the plug slipped free from Eli's body with a filthy squelch. He gasped softly as his gaping hole fluttered and twitched around the sudden emptiness. I set the toy aside to be cleaned later before turning my attention back to Eli.

Thick globs of my release were already beginning to trickle out of him, dripping down his crack and inner thighs. He whimpered and squirmed, hole clenching as if he were still trying to keep it inside like I’d told him to.

“It’s all right. We need to get you cleaned up now, sweet boy,” I murmured, easing him to his feet. Eli swayed unsteadily, his legs still shaky, but I kept a firm arm around his waist as I guided him into the warm, fragrant bathwater.

He sighed in contentment as he sank down into the tub, the heat soothing his aching muscles. I knelt beside him, rolling up my sleeves before reaching for a soft sponge. I wet it in the warm water before drizzling some of Eli's favorite bodywash onto it, working it into a rich lather.

Starting at his shoulders, I began to gently scrub his skin, washing away the sweat and cum and tears. Eli hummed drowsily, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered. I took my time bathing him, massaging the tension from his neck and shoulders, gently touching him, waiting for him to come back fully.

I washed Eli thoroughly and tenderly from head to toe, cleaning every inch of his skin with diligent care. He floated peacefully, eyes closed, his body utterly relaxed. Soft sighs and hums of contentment escaped his parted lips as I massaged his scalp and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

When he was clean and pruning adorably, I urged him to stand, wrapping a fluffy towel around his shoulders. Eli swayed on his feet, still a bit unsteady, so I scooped him up into my arms and carried him out of the bathroom. He nuzzled into my neck, his damp hair tickling my jaw as I brought him to my bedroom.

I set him gently on the edge of my bed and began to pat him dry, the towel moving in soothing strokes over his skin. Eli hummed softly, his blue eyes blinking open to gaze up at me with open adoration. My heart swelled.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, tossing the towel aside to card my fingers through his hair.

“Good, Sir. Floaty. Safe,” Eli murmured, leaning into my touch. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“It's my privilege to care for you, Eli,” I said sincerely, cupping his cheek.

Eli nuzzled into my palm, his eyes fluttering shut again. “I don't deserve you, Sir,” he mumbled, his voice small and slightly slurred with exhaustion. “I'm a broken mess...”

“Hush now, none of that,” I chided gently, tilting his chin up to meet my gaze. His blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears, full of vulnerability and lingering shadows of self-doubt. It made my chest tighten. “You are not broken, Eli. You are perfect exactlyas you are. A beautiful, strong, resilient young man who has survived so much. I'm in awe of you, truly.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek at my words, and I brushed it tenderly away with my thumb. Eli leaned into the touch like a flower turning towards the sun, desperately drinking in the praise and affection. It was clear he was starved for it, had been told for too long that he was damaged, unlovable. My boy had been so wounded by the world.

But I would show him how precious and cherished he was, one day at a time. With my words, my touch, my unflinching dominance and devotion, I would make Eli believe in his own worth and beauty. No matter how long it took for him to believe it.

Fluorescent lights flickered overheadas I made my way down the hallway deep in the heart of the Twin Valley Behavioral Health Hospital. My footsteps echoed, mingling with the murmurs and moans of the disturbed residents.

I approached the security desk, straightening my charcoal suit and readjusting my crimson tie. The guard glanced up from his crossword puzzle.

“Doctor Shepherd Laskin, here to visit Julian Amsel,” I stated crisply, sliding my ID across the scratched laminate countertop.

To him, I was just another psychiatrist coming to visit one of his patients, as I’d done weekly for the last four years. He saw me every Monday morning, so this Monday would be no different.

The guard barely glanced at them before waving me through the metal detector. It chirped as I passed under, prompting an irritated sigh, just like every week.

“Belt and shoes off,” he droned, finally setting down his pencil. I complied silently, slipping off my oxfords. As I undidmy Italian leather belt, I subtly readjusted the slim plastic shiv hidden along the inseam of my trousers.

The detector remained blessedly silent on my second pass. I redressed efficiently, and was soon being escorted by an orderly, a bored-looking woman in teddy bear print scrubs, down the dim hallway to the visitation room. She slid her badge through the reader and the door buzzed.

“Fifteen minutes,” she said, pulling open the door to let me in.

I nodded curtly and stepped inside the small visitation room. It was bare except for a metal table bolted to the floor and two chairs on either side, also bolted down. The walls were a dingy off-white, the paint peeling in places to reveal the cinder blocks beneath. A single barred window allowed a sliver of gray light to penetrate the gloom.

---