“Great! You’ve just exhausted him.”
“What do I do?”
“Nothing. Let him sleep, and when he wakes up, make sure he drinks water.”
“Okay. Water. Got it.” I suck in a breath. “Thank you Ned. Sorry I woke you. Sorry for… everything.”
“It’s all good, kid. This is what friends are for.”
The line goes dead and I dump my phone on the bedside table. From his corner of the room, Reginold the stuffed frog stares at me like he knows exactly how much of a fuck up I am.
I glare back at the fairground toy. I know exactly what I am. I don’t need confirmation from anyone else.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Now what? There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep. I guess I could shower, get dressed and then tidy the apartment until it’s time to make Flyn breakfast.
It’s as good a plan as any, I suppose. And it’s not as if anything else is coming to mind. So I take a deep breath and head for the shower.
Five hours later and I’m standing over Flyn as his eyes flutter open. I watch intently as he focuses and finds my gaze. As soon as he sees me, a huge, soppy grin spreads over his face.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
He wriggles a bit and then sighs, “Fucked out.”
“In a good way?” I blurt.
His grin deepens. “The best way, baby. The very best way.”
I thrust the first of the two glasses I have ready at him. “Drink!”
He raises an eyebrow, but shuffles into a semi-sitting position. I watch his face closely, but I don’t see any signs of pain.
He takes the glass and gulps it down. I take the empty one and thrust the second glass into his fingers. Both his eyebrows rise this time.
“Yes, daddy,” he says with a wink.
I nearly grunt as his joking words hit me somewhere, deep, deep inside. Oh my. I think I liked that. A lot. But that’s something to unravel another time. Right now, I need to take care of Flyn.
“I made breakfast,” I say.
Flyn’s blue eyes light up.
“After you’ve eaten, I will help you shower.”
I’ve been Googling while he has been sleeping. I’ve learned that it is called aftercare. Hydration and making sure his blood sugar levels are good is important. After that, being clean will make him feel more comfortable.
Flyn chuckles. A warm sound full of mirth and joy. “I could get used to this.”
“Good,” I say before I can stop myself.
He throws off the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed. As he stands, he winces. My hand shoots out to grab his elbow.
He flashes me another smile. “I’m fine. Baby, I really am.”
My heart does a cartwheel. Baby. He started calling me that last night, and it doesn’t seem like he is going to stop. It’s another wonderful thing that I’m not worthy of.
His fingers trace my jawline all the way down until he cups my chin. “You didn’t hurt me.”
His blue eyes are intense. Somber. Full of meaning. Of understanding. He doesn’t know what I am, but he knows I was in a harem. He understands that I was used. He thinks that is why I’m so concerned. He has come to the conclusion that I believe bottoming is awful and traumatic.
