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“Fuck the bed.” I blink, startled by the vehemence. “You need something better than this anyway. I’ll get you something better.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t have to. The mattress has a waterproof cover. I just think you deserve something better.”

A strange, giddy relief pools in my chest, so overwhelming that I start to cry again, but quieter this time—small, sniffling hiccups that don’t actually hurt.

Adrien sits on the floor with me, his hand never leaving my hair, rocking slightly. After a while, the moisture at my thighs starts to really bother me again, and I cringe at the feeling, squirming to get away from it.

“Hey.” His palm presses gently at the top of my thigh, anchoring me. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

I nod, but I’m too wrung out to move. Even my arms feel boneless, limp at my sides.

Adrien tucks my head beneath his chin, then shifts to stand. I expect him to set me down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he bends and scoops me up, one arm tight under my knees, the other supporting my back.

He carries me down the hall, boots thumping steadily.

A small part of me feels unsure about being out of the room without my cuffs.

Adrien takes me to the bathroom, and I flush at the sight of the tub. He sets me down on the closed toilet lid and crouches in front of me, taking stock. His hands move to the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down my legs in one motion. He then balls them up and drops them on the floor. He then slips the socks from my feet, adding those to the pile.

A long moment passes, then his palm lands on my knee, warm and solid.

“You did everything right, Kammie,” he says quietly. “You called for help. You tried your best. And you’re telling me what you need. That’s all I ask.”

“I—” My voice is too thin, so I start over. “I ruined your sheets.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “How many times will I have to tell you? You didn’t ruin anything. And hey, when I was in the Navy, I slept in beds that were half mud, half blood, and nobody ever washed the blankets. I can handle a little piss, okay?”

The way he says it makes me want to cry again, but I just stare at the floor, dizzy with relief.

“Let’s get you in the shower, baby.” He stands and helps me up, but I falter as soon as I try to put weight on my legs. My body feels heavy, wrung out, and a little bit floaty.

Adrien steadies me with both hands. I think he’s going to help me stand, but instead, he pulls me straight into his arms and holds me against his chest, naked and smelling of urine. He sits down on the edge of the tub, holding me in his lap, legs sprawled wide so mine dangle between them.

He doesn’t turn the water on. He just holds me, big hands splayed over my shoulder blades and the small of my back, the heat of him seeping through his shirt and onto my bare skin. He rocks us back and forth, humming some tuneless melody I recognize only as comfort.

When my trembling slows, Adrien slides one hand up to cradle my cheek. There’s no disgust in his face, no tightness around his mouth. He looks… proud, almost, and I don’t understand why.

“You’re such a good boy,” he says quietly.

I flush and look away, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second. “But I—”

“Am I going to need to spank you until you understand you didn’t do anything wrong?” His thumb traces the curve of my jaw.

Spank me?

The thought makes my heart thump in a way that confuses me. I shouldn’t want him to spank my butt, right? So why do I kind of want to see how it would feel…?

I’d rather not think about it, so I focus on the way his hand moves over my face—so gentle, his fingers brushing my cheekbone, then tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

He shifts, and my heart stutters when I register the heat of him against my thigh, the way the muscles in his arms flex when he moves me just a little closer. I didn’t realize how much I wanted that until now, or maybe it’s just easier to want things when you’re emotionally exhausted.

Adrien presses his lips to my temple, the kiss lingering a second longer than it should. The air between us turns thick. He cradles my jaw and tips my face up. “Can I kiss you, baby?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, my eyes wide.

He wants to kiss me? After what I did?