“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes I did.” There’s a calm insistence in his voice that makes me feel more protected than I have ever known. And maybe that's been the problem all along. I was only ever in control by default, and now, with Carey, I don't have to pretend. I finally have someone strong and persistent enough to take care of me.
“You’re such a brat.”
Carey’s fingers trace lower down the curve of my spine, then he kisses my shoulder. “You’re shaking.”
“That’s because ever since we first fucked I haven’t had to keep my hands to myself. Now you’re in my old room, with my parents across the hall, and you just gave me the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever…” I taper off into nothingness, and bow my head because I’m so fucking overwhelmed. “You can’t be in here,” I tell him, my voice as thin as it’s ever been.
Carey's body presses against my arm and his hand wraps around my waist from behind.
“That’s not fair.”
His nails drag through the hairs below my belly button.
“I cant… Not with them right there.”
“You worry too much.”
“What if it was your parents?”
“I wouldn’t care.” I turn my head to look at him. “I give them as much thought as they give me. You should try it. You don’t give respect to anyone else who doesn’t give it to you first, your parents should be no different.”
He’s not wrong, but no matter how much sense it makes; “It’s not that easy.”
Carey’s other hand traces from inside my elbow and down my forearm and wrist before taking the gift bag from me. “I just wanna see you wear your slippers.”
He unravels himself and steps in front of me to take out the slippers and drop them at my feet—the sound loud enough to ricochet across the hall.
My heart stops.
My fingers twitch.
He inches closer.
I stand my ground, but I’m not ready for his hand, his touch. It comes up slow and gentle, his thumb just grazing the line of my jaw.
I want him to leave but I need him to stay.
I need to see this through.
I need to know his next move.
I need him to force me so far out of my comfort zone that there’s no coming back.
I need him to make me strong.
“Put them on,” he says.
I shake my head, and he smiles like a wolf.
“Be a good boy for me now. You wouldn’t want me to have to raise my voice.”
My whole body quivers because, him—this; the way he plays me… It’s everything I’ll ever need.
Carey squats down in front of me, his hands reaching out to lightly ghost from the back of my ankles to my calves. Then, looking up at me with eyes so full of want and power, he says, “Merry Christmas, Oppa.”
“Such a fucking brat.”
