Something had to be wrong with me.
Just days ago, I was flinching at the sound of his voice. Now I was here, kneeling between his legs, unable to look away.
I should’ve wanted distance. Should’ve wanted to be on the other side of the house, behind a locked door, buried in silence.
Instead, I was close.
Too close.
And my gaze wouldn’t lift.
Yeah… something was broken.
Maybe my brain got scrambled when they nearly beat me to death. Maybe this was what damage looked like, wanting things I shouldn’t want.
“What’s wrong?” Vincent’s hand slipped from my hair, settling beneath my chin. He lifted my face gently, slow enough that I could’ve refused. But I didn’t. And that scared me more than anything.
I swallowed hard.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want to be here. Not like this.”
My gaze dropped again, but he didn’t let me hide.
“I was scared of you,” I continued. “Just days ago, I couldn’t breathe when you walked into the room. And now I’m—” I stopped. Because saying it felt dangerous. “I’m kneeling here, and I can’t stop looking at you. And I don’t know if that means something’s broken in me, or if I’m just… confused.”
The words felt raw. Like they’d been scraped out of me.
“I don’t know what’s mine and what’s training. I don’t know what’s real.”
I expected silence. Or correction. But Vincent didn’t speak. He just stayed there, hand steady, gaze calm. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.
“You’re not broken,” he finally said. Just like that. No hesitation or pity. Just a fact like heknewit to be true. “What you’re feeling isn’t wrong. It’s unfamiliar. That’s different.”
I blinked, unsure how to hold the words.
He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You’ve been taught that wanting is dangerous. That closeness means pain. So now, when something feels good, your mind scrambles to explain it as damage.” He paused, letting the silence settle. “But it’s not damage, Charlie. It’s healing. And healing feels strange when you’ve lived in survival.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn't know how to believe him.
His eyes looked too close together. He saw too much, and there was nothing I could do to hide myself. Not from him.
As his thumb swiped over my bottom lip, a reflex more than anything else, he spoke. “What is it that you want? Right this second?”
Too much,I thought. But also,not enough. Push me. Make me answer. Make me your slave where you just can’t live without me in your presence because that’s what I’m almost at.
The thoughts ran on top of one another. A jumbled mess that was more than enough to prove I wasn’t normal.
I opened and closed my mouth, no words forming.
“Is it something you’ve done for another before?” Vincent asked, no jealousy lacing his tone. Just easy words like he was talking about the weather.
I managed to shake my head. No client had ever just wanted me to kneel for them and look pretty while holding something in my mouth. I was never treated kindly like the way Vincent was treating me right at this very moment.
“Is it something we’ve done before?”
Yes,I breathed with a small nod, unsure if it was right.
“Why do you want it?” He didn’t say whatitwas, but he knew. There was only one thing we’d done. The task that he asked of me.
