It took a bit of maneuvering, but I got the blanket pulled away, the smell of urine strong as I did so. The boy needed a shower.
After uncuffing his ankle, I debated on what to do. I couldn’t just leave him lying on the floor. Nor could I leave him lying in his filth.
Standing, thankful for the drunkenness to take a back burner this time, I wet a washcloth before going back to the boy, who didn’t move other than to breathe.
Moving the blanket aside, I undressed the boy, and wiped him down as quickly as I could, before putting yet another one of my shirts on him.
His body was limp, easy to move, as he took a drug-induced nap. Every so often, his eyes would flutter, like he was still trying to fight demons. For all I know, he was.
Picking Oakley up from the floor, I made a note to try to get him to eat more. He weighed next to nothing. I knew he was small, but I didn’t want to focus on that. Heck, I wasn’t planning to keep him for more than a few days as it was.
I was such an idiot.
Laying Oakley down on the bed, his eyes fluttered open for a single second before they closed again. He muttered something about a monster before turning to his side, sticking his thumb back into his mouth.
That thing was never going to heal at this rate, not when there was a new row of teeth marks, and a few places bleeding.
I pulled myself away from him, something in me so drawn to the boy. It wasn’t right. I was a monster, but I had limits. I didn’t mess with minors, no matter what. But my heart hurt, torn apart, at what lay before me.
I needed a stronger drink, I thought.
First, I got a new blanket, laying it over the boy. I made sure to leave the closet light on, closing that door enough that only a sliver of the light would shine into the room. Then, because I was either one of thestupidest people on earth right now, or just…something that I couldn’t name, I went to the room across the hall. The one room that had been set up for years, but never used formy little one.
Flickering the light on, and almost tripping over the pile of books that sat there in the way, I let my eyes linger on the bed. The bedding could probably use a wash again, to keep them fresh, but what was the point? No one used it. Not even the friends that came by.
It was there as an option, but never used.
Maybe, it was time to redo this room. Get rid of all the reminders of something I couldn’t have. I didn’t need someone to love.
I had my job and my club. And two hands. I didn’t need anything more.
Bypassing the storage footstool that contained toys, I went straight to the closet. There, on the top shelf, was a box filled with extra things that I’d collected over the years. Most of the stuff were gifts from friends as jokes, just like those books that Oakley seemed determined to read.
I grabbed what I was looking for, pulled the package apart, and tossed it into the trash before leaving the room. This time, I didn’t trip over the books before shutting the door.
Back in my bathroom, I found the bandages once more, then went to Oakley, who hadn’t moved. He still lay on his side, facing the side of the room I was in.
As I removed his hand from his face, a deep whine came from him. He tried to pull away, to put his thumb back where he wanted it. But then, a moment later, he gave up and let me take it.
“Shh, sweet boy. It’s okay.”
Nothing was okay. I knew that, and he probably did too.
Oakley’s nose scrunched up but settled once more. He didn’t fight me as I cleaned up his thumb, wrapping it twice this time for good measure. Once I was done, setting his hand back to the bed, he instantly went to put it back in his mouth.
When the plastic met his lips, he made another unpleased face but kept trying, smacking his lips.
My dick perked up as my thoughts wondered if he’d be willing to suck on me like he did his thumb, but I quickly shot those down.
No fucking way.
He’s a minor,I gritted to myself. Then, my thoughts were kind enough to remind me that, forfew weeks he was not.
I growled, causing the boy to jerk in his sleep, trying once again to stick his thumb into his mouth.
Pulling his hand away, tucking it into the blanket to where he couldn’t get to it easily, which, given his wellbeing, wasn’t likely, he whined again.
Pulling the item from where I sat it on the side of the bed, I pressed the tip of the rubbery end into his mouth, watching, and hoping, that he’d take to it. At least until his thumb healed up.
