Page 47 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
“My eyes?”
“Just to see if we need to worry about the concussion.”
“Oh.” Collin held still.
Mr. Reevesworth took his chin in the tips of his fingers and then lifted the lids on each of Collin’s eyes. “I think you’re fine. Damian, will you phone Dr. Haverty and ask him up just in case.”
“Yes, sir.” Damian pulled his phone out of his pocket and left the kitchen.
“I’ll get ice for his head.” Mr. Moreau stepped toward the refrigerator.
Mr. Reevesworth touched the aching place on Collin’s forehead, just above his left eye. “We should get ice on this. If you hadn’t just had an injury, I wouldn’t be concerned. At least it’s not in the same place.”
Collin wiped at his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt much.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Reevesworth sounded less than convinced.
Damian stuck his head in around the archway. “Dr. Haverty is just downstairs. He’s coming up now. Says it’s probably fine, but he’ll take a look.”
“Good.” Mr. Reevesworth stood and held his hand out to Collin. “Think you can walk into the living room?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Haverty arrived within a minute and a half. He shone a light into Collin’s eyes and checked his movement, then pressed all around Collin’s head.
“I think you’re fine, but try to go easy on the skull, please, young man.” Dr. Haverty shook his head and smiled ruefully in Collin’s face. “How did you do this?”
“Hit my funny bone and jumped,” Collin answered, touching his elbow. “Forgot where I was.”
“It happens when you move into a new space.” Dr. Haverty shook his head again and chuckled. “Try to stay in one piece for me, will you, before I have to order you a crash helmet.”
“I’ll try.” Collin grabbed one hand with the other and dug his thumbnail into the side of palm where no one could see.
“Well, then, I’m going to head back downstairs. There’s a lovely crème brûlée with my name on it.”
Damian saw the doctor out. Collin hung his head. Even the doctor was scolding him now. And he’d made more of a mess for everyone.
Mr. Reevesworth turned to Mr. Moreau. “Let’s do this again, shall we. I wouldn’t want your lovely cooking to go to waste.”
“I’m sure everything is still warm.” Mr. Moreau led the way back to the kitchen.
Collin swallowed and played with the seam on the side of his pants.
Mr. Reevesworth pulled out his chair, farther back than before, and sat down. “Let’s have you here, Collin, that way I can protect you from the table and chairs.” He pointed to the place between his feet.
Collin dropped down and crawled under the table. He had to sit sideways, one arm and elbow in Mr. Reevesworth’s lap. His dom arranged them until they were both comfortable. He had to reach over Collin to reach his plate, but he announced the arrangement to his satisfaction and encouraged Damian and Mr. Moreau to settle in.
Collin kept his eyes on Mr. Reevesworth this time. He wasn’t going to be surprised again. Mr. Reevesworth cut into the roast, taking a long slow bite and then going back to cut another mouthful. This second one he took in his fingers and lowered it down to just in front of Collin’s mouth.
“Open, pet.”
Collin parted his lips. Mr. Reevesworth pressed the fragrant meat between Collin’s teeth and tapped the bottom of his chin with one finger. Reflectively, Collin closed his mouth and began to chew. The taste was divine. It mixed with the absolute mindfuck of being hand-fed on the floor. Collin felt his body spinning off into space. Humiliation mixed with comfort, leaving him suspended in unexamined confusion. Without Mr. Reevesworth’s legs pinning him in place, he would absolutely be floating past Mars. He dropped his head to Mr. Reevesworth’s lap and tightened his arm around the man’s leg.
Conversation slowly started again above the table. Nothing mattered but his dom. If he didn’t think anything else, then the tears burning behind his eyes wouldn’t fall and the panic in his chest wouldn’t crush his lungs. Here, below the table, hidden from everyone else, was safe. He couldn’t see Damian. He couldn’t see Mr. Moreau. And no one could see him either. Not the people who had broken into his computer, not whoever had photographed him without his consent, no one.
If only the meal would never end.
Episode 6
