Page 39 of Surrender

Asshole.

But Briar will do it, leaving me to be able to focus on the real issue: Fox.

“To compliment you?” I ask quietly, setting my phone down so I can focus on Fox. “I can always hit you, Fox, but I don’t want you associating me with other people. I want you to see me as someone new, as something new.”

“Who the fuck else would you be? I don’t know any other assholes like you.” Fox continues to avoid my gaze. “Are you going to unchain my hands or what?”

“Yes,” I say. “And Fox… As soon as your back is better, as soon as I have a blank slate, I’ll flog you, paddle you, spank you… Anything you want.” My voice has gone hoarse, and I don’t even know why. “But I’m not going to hurt you while you’re already hurting.” I start with his ankles, half-expecting him to kick me, but he stays completely still.

Even when I’ve released his wrists, all he does is pull the blanket closer to wrap it around himself.

A knock sounds on the door, then it opens, and Briar peeks their head inside. They have their hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of their head, and they’re wearing a worn shirt and pajama pants. I’d apologize for waking them, but they get paid high dollar to be on call.

They bustle in, avoiding looking at Fox, and set two glasses of water on the nightstand. A blanket is draped over their arm, and they have a wet cloth in their other hand.

“Thank you,” I tell them, bowing my head in a nod. “That’s all I need.”

Briar glances at Fox, just for a moment, and my protective instincts have me shifting in front of him so they can’t see him well. “Are you sure you don’t need food? Anything else?”

“Are you hungry, Fox?” I ask gently.

“Fuck off,” Fox answers, not moving from under the covers.

Briar scoffs, but after a glance at me, they head for the door. At least they aren’t saying anything negative, which is an improvement. They don’t like being woken from their beauty sleep.

“No, we’re fine. You can go back to bed,” I say.

Briar salutes me, and if the situation wasn’t so serious, I’d throw something at them. They leave the room and close the door quietly behind them.

“You need some water,” I tell Fox. “But let me wipe you down first. You can’t be comfortable with cum drying on you.”

“Better than blood,” Fox says, but he doesn’t fight as I begin wiping him down.

That’s more worrying than if he had struggled against me. I don’t know what to make of this despondent version of Fox. “Better than blood,” I agree anyway. “But even so.” I finish cleaning him up, then toss the cloth onto the nightstand. I grab a glass of water. “Time to get something to drink inside of you.”

I hold out the water to Fox, who gives me a blank look. When I try to place the glass into his hands, he fumbles and spills some of the water before I catch it.

I sigh and slide into bed again, holding the glass steady. “Here, sit up against me,” I say, although I don’t give him much of a choice. I grab his arms and haul him up so he’s against the headboard with me.

Fox finally attempts to fight me, but his struggling is short-lived. After only a few moments, he slumps against me, and I place my arm around the back of his waist.

“I told you to leave me alone,” Fox mumbles. “You’re an idiot to bed me.”

“I’m fascinated by you,” I admit. “Maybe that makes me an idiot, but you’re the first person to make me feel… like this.” Letting out a slow sigh, I hold up the glass. “Drink this, Fox.” I don’t give him much of a chance to argue, pressing it against his lips.

Fox parts his lips for the water, and I feel my cock stirring as I watch him drink obediently. His throat bobs with every swallow, tempting me to kiss it.

After he’s drunk most of the glass, Fox turns his head away, and the remaining liquid spills out over his chin and chest.

I right the glass and set it aside. I reach for the blanket Briar left, and I drape it over Fox. He may not realize it, but he’s shivering. I didn’t have to hurt him physically to get this sort of reaction from him, which makes me wonder just how few people have been kind to him.

If Cresci knew what I was thinking, he’d laugh and laugh.

Cristiano Fiore, being kind to a captive? It really is laughable.

“I’m not your good boy,” Fox says suddenly, his voice still despondent. “You don’t even know me. I’m just a hot twink you managed to tie up.”

“Is that all you think you are?” I ask, my voice quiet, somber. “Just a hot twink? What about a talented assassin? Fearless? Strong enough to get up even when you have to be in immense pain—maybe enjoying that pain, but still able to take it and keep moving like nothing’s wrong. You’re so much more than just physically attractive, Fox.”

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