“Lance was going to ask me to let you stay here?” I’m surprised, but this is actually consistent with the son I thought I’d raised. It’s a little fucked up, considering what’s happened between Silas and me, but at least Lance still cares enough about Silas to make sure he is taken care of. Even if it is his fault Silas needs a new place to stay.
Silas nods. “He said that no matter what happened between us, his dad would take care of me.”
I take a few steps into the room, closer to the bed. “You know that’s true, sweetheart. You knew it when you came here. I’ll always take care of you, if you need me.”
Silas brushes his hair back from his face and looks up at me. “Yeah. He didn’t really like thinking about you taking care of me with your dick, though.”
“No, I expect not,” I say dryly.
I take another few steps closer. Close enough that I can reach out and run my hand through Silas’s hair. He leans his head into my hand and gives a giant sigh, the kind that comes after a big emotional upheaval.
“Come on, baby,” I say. “Let’s have some dinner. You need to eat something.”
Twenty-Two
Silas
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Okay.”
I don’t feel hungry, but after everything that’s happened, I probably do need to eat or something. I feel a little light-headed, maybe. A little disconnected, sort of, from whatever it is that tethers me to the earth.
I look up at Logan, who’s standing patiently above me, holding out his hand to pull me up off the bed.
I put my hand in his. “Daddy?”
It’s not like Logan hasn’t been focused on me pretty much this entire weekend, and yet, the way his attention snaps to me when I say that is…well, I don’t know what the hell it is, but it makes my chest tighten like I’m having trouble breathing.
“Would you…?” I cup my hand over my crotch fleetingly. I can’t really bring myself to ask for it, but Logan’s eyes soften and he brushes some hair back from my forehead.
“Of course, baby boy. Come on.”
His big hand closes over mine and he tugs me to my feet. He leads me back upstairs to his bedroom, and sets me gently on the end of the bed.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
He goes off to—I don’t even know, wherever he put it earlier—and comes back with the cage in his hand.
He kneels at the foot of the bed and drops the cage on the mattress near my right hip. “Let’s get these off, baby, all right?”
He unbuttons my jeans, then works them down my legs when I stand. I put one hand on his shoulder for balance while he strips me out of them, then sit down on the edge of the bed again.
He pushes me gently with the flat of his hand on my chest, and I fall back like the first in a line of dominoes. My legs part and he runs a soothing hand up the inside of my thigh. He knows me well enough by now that if he touches me more than necessary, he’s not going to be able to get me in it, so his fingers barely whisper over my balls before he scoops them into the cage. Then he tucks my barely stiffening dick in through the metal rings and brings the pieces together.
“There’s my good boy.” He tightens the bolt that closes the cage with the Allen wrench and strokes his fingers softly over my skin where it presses between the rings of the cage. My dick is soft and pink and looks so…protected in the cage. Like nothing can get to me to harm me.
Logan holds the Allen wrench out to me.
“You keep it, Daddy.” I look up at him. “Please.”
I can’t handle any responsibility right now. I just want—need—someone—Logan—to take care of me.
Logan’s fingers slowly close over the wrench and his knuckles go white with how hard he’s clenching his fist. He doesn’t say anything, though, just drops the wrench into a pocket in his lounge pants. He stands up and hugs me against his middle, hard, then kisses the top of my head.
“Just a second, baby,” he murmurs against my hair and I nod.
He pulls away and I’m naked, caged, and bereft for a few cold seconds, but then he’s back. He’s got a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt folded over an arm. The sweatpants are gray and look soft and cozy. He kneels in front of me again, strokes a hand down my leg to my ankle, and tucks my foot into one of the legs. He does the same with the other leg, then tugs me to my feet so he can pull the sweatpants up over my hips.
They’re way looser than my jeans, which gives plenty of room for the cage, and they’d probably fall off me if it weren’t for the elastic at the ankles and waist. There’s a drawstring, too, and Logan pulls it snug, then ties it in a tidy bow.
