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What the fuck was I thinking?
Casey startles awake the moment I scoop him up in my arms. One of his hands grips the front of my shirt for a brief moment as he tries to understand where he is and what’s happening. Then he quickly uncurls his fingers and moves his lips in a soundless apology.
“You’re okay,” I promise him, even though there’s nothing okay about this poor boy’s life right now. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
He stares up at me with wide blue eyes, too out of it to worry about eye contact apparently. Not that I plan on giving him that as a rule. Since I don’t plan on ever bringing him out of the bedroom to show him off, there’s no reason to give him rules like the other slaves have. The only rules I’ll give him are rules that will keep him well taken care of.
My mind is spinning with chaos and worry as I carry Casey to the compound. He’s too light, his bones sharp and brittle as they jut out, his skin pale and bruised and covered in goosebumps despite the blanket I’ve haphazardly draped over him. Was Carter this bad off when Travis bought him?
No, he definitely wasn’t. I know they had tortured him a little before selling him, but Casey nearly died. He went into mild sepsis. Clearly, this is worse.
He’ll survive though, right…?
He has to fucking survive.
“Close your eyes, little one,” I tell him as I realize he’s squinting in pain from the flood lights coming off the building. We’re going toward the back, where the private entrance is. The lights are dimmer back here, but there’s still no reason for him to have his eyes open and hurting.
The boy obeys the order, even turning his face to hide it against my shoulder. He seems to realize that’s inappropriate a moment later, quickly lifting his head, but I grab the back of his neck and guide him until he’s where he clearly wants to be. “You’re okay. You can find comfort in me, little one.”
He whimpers but doesn’t argue. I feel his cold nose against the skin of my throat. It feels incredibly intimate, somehow. Special. It makes something ping in my chest. A far away, made up something that I don’t allow myself to think about.
The door at the back of the compound acts as a private entrance, opening for the hand scan and code that only Travis and I have registered in the system. The entrance leads to a hall that has two doors - one to Travis’s room, and one to mine. The door is already open as I approach, Travis’s broad frame filling the open space.
He nods at me in a silent, somber greeting before stepping aside. I look past him, expecting Carter even though I practically begged him not to allow Carter to be here. I don’t see him. “Just us?”
“Just us,” Travis confirms.
I’m clearly in a bad mood because I decide to be a dick. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I didn’t,” he grumbles. “His decision.”
“Huh.” I frown, not sure what to make of that. Why would Carter change his mind about seeing his friend? Did Travis actually tell him how bad things are? Are they starting to realize just how reckless and possibly deadly this entire side project is? I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s good either way. Neither of the boys needed to see each other tonight. Not like this. I tell Travis as much before asking him to help me get Casey inside.
Casey whimpers as I carry him down the dimly lit hall, following behind Travis. I adjust him in my arms and gently hush him.
“You’re okay,” I promise. The boy shudders at the words. Probably because he doesn’t dare allow himself to believe them. I don’t mind. I’ll repeat myself every day until he believes me if that’s what it takes. “You’re going to be okay.”
Travis uses his code and handprint to open my door, leaving it open for me after he enters. I try to ignore the guilty look he shoots me before he pulls the blankets down to the foot of the bed, correctly assuming that’s where I want to put Casey.
“You’re alright, little one. I’ve got you.” Casey starts to softly cry the moment his body touches the mattress. I brush his dirty, tangled hair off his forehead and give him my best smile. “You’re okay. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
Casey sucks in a shaky breath, more tears falling down his bruised, sunken cheeks. His eyes are full of panic, yet heavy with exhaustion. He’s trembling hard enough for his teeth to chatter.
“Please,” Casey rasps, his chest heaving with the effort it takes him just to breathe. “Please. Not yet.”
Something sick and heavy twists in my gut as I realize what he’s asking. He’s begging for more time before we fuck him. I guess I can’t blame him for the assumption. I put him in a fucking bed.
“Hey, shh. We aren’t doing anything to you, okay? Just getting you in bed so you can rest.”
“Rest,” the boy echoes, his face twisting like he doesn’t recognize the word. He probably doesn’t anymore. Casey’s dull blue eyes flick between me and Travis, his bottom lip quivering. “N-not suppose’be in Master’s bed.”
I fight a wince. “That was an old rule. I’m your master now, remember, little one? I make the rules. And this is where I want you.”
More tears spill down Casey’s cheeks. I frown, wondering how many tears the boy can afford to lose before it gets dangerous. The IVs we gave him might have helped hydrate him a little, but not nearly enough.
“Nate, can you grab me a water bottle from my fridge? He’s too dehydrated.”
Travis nods, coming back a minute later with a water bottle and a banana from the bunch I keep on top of my mini-fridge for whenever I need a quick snack and don’t feel like going to the kitchen. I start to adjust Casey on the bed, trying to prop him up with some pillows. The poor boy cries out in pain. I hurriedly apologize, guilt sharp in my chest.
