“Easy,” I mumbled, keeping my voice low. “You’re alright.”
His gaze flickered towards me, not quite meeting mine. His pupils widened, his breathing stuttered, and for a moment, just a single moment, I thought maybe he’d speak. Instead, he forced his body to relax as he awaited orders.
When seconds ticked by, and no orders came, he slowly forced himself to sit up. His arm was weak, barely holding his weight up.
“Hey there.”
He dipped his head, refusing to meet my eyes.
“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up?”
His eyes flickered towards me, then dropped to the mess drying on his stomach and legs. A flush rose across his cheeks, deep and immediate, as if the simple fact of me seeing him like this was something he should be ashamed of.
If we weren’t here, if we weren’t trapped in these roles of Omega and Alpha, I might’ve found the blush endearing. Sweet, even. A reminder of the boy he used to be.
Instead, a pit opened my stomach.
Disgust. Not at him. Never at him. But to myself.
At the fact that I’d let any of this happen. At the fact that he’d responded to the way he had, not out of desire, but out of conditioning so deep, he probably didn’t even understand it.
He’d done exactly what he’d been trained to do. And I let him.
Kasey gave a tiny nod before trying to slide off the bed. His movements were slow, shaky, like he was running on instinct alone.
The moment his feet touched the floor, his knees buckled.
I caught him before he hit the ground, his weight collapsing into my chest. He felt too light, too weak, too worn down to be standing at all. And holding him like that, limp exhausted, embarrassed, made the guilt settle even heavier in my bones.
I should have protected him. Not added to the damage.
After another moment, after Kasey found his feet and stood to his full height, head bowed and hands at his sides, did I let go.
With a hand on his back, I led the way towards the bathroom, each step slow as Kasey fought to keep his body going.
“When we get home, you can take a nice long bath. My tub has jects, and I probably have some bubble bath.”
I didn’t expect a response from Kasey as we stepped into the bathroom, and I didn’t get one. He moved beside me like he was still half-asleep, half gone, following only because I guided him.
“Sit, sweetheart.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I eased him down onto the closed toilet lid. He obeyed without hesitation, without even lifting his eyes. That alone twisted something in my chest.
I turned away for a moment, searching for something, anything, to clean him up with. A stack of folded towels sat beneath the sink, neatly arranged, untouched. I grabbed one and ran it under warm water, watching the cloth darken as it soaked through.
The simple act of preparing it felt strangely intimate, strangely heavy. I shouldn’t have been doing this. He shouldn’t have needed anyone to. But here we were. And he was too quiet. Too still. Too trained.
I wrung out the cloth and turned back to him, a heart tight in my throat.
Kasey didn’t resist when I lifted his chin or guided his posture. He didn’t even blink. He just sat there on the closed lid, hands resting loosely in his lap; eyes lowered in that empty, practiced way.
I knelt in front of him, bringing the warm cloth to his skin. I started with his hands, wiping away dried residue. His skin was cold, almost clammy, and far too thin beneath my touch. He watched me work with a distant, unfocused gaze, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to move.
“You’re alright,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure he heard me. “I’ve got you.”
I moved slowly, cleaning the mess from his skin with gentle strokes, trying not to think about how he’d gotten this way. Trying not to think about how easily he’d slipped into obedience. Trying not to think about how he’d passed out afterwards, like his body had simply given up.
He stayed pliant the entire time, breathing shallowly; shoulders rounded in quiet submission.
This wasn’t the boy I remember. This wasn’t Kasey who used to laugh in my mother’s kitchen.
