Caged (rewriting) (boyxboy)

Chapter Nine

Before he can fall asleep I roll over him and put my elbows on either side of his head, legs astride his waist. His eyes go wide but he doesn't move. I flick my gaze over his expression before leaning down and carefully capturing his lips against mine.

He gasps slightly but doesn't pull away, remaining still underneath me. It doesn't help my constant worry that I'm hurting him, or going too fast- does he even like when I kiss him? Does he hate it? Does he wish I would stop? Want me to continue? Is this okay? The questions hit me like a ton of bricks and I stop, disconnecting and looking away silently. I can't help feeling stupid in this position, kissing someone who won't even kiss me back.

I quickly get off of him, moving to the other side of the bed without a word. I can't even please my sub enough to get him to kiss me back when I initiate.

Of course you can't, I remind myself, you've only caused him panic and fear since he got here. All the times he's shaken and begged me to stop enter my mind suddenly, and I feel like ice is in my veins. What makes me any better than the people at the Market, really? I've taken him out of a familiar environment, thrown strange rules at him that he can't keep track of, forced him into situations he didn't want to be in, punished him, made him sick twice, and I expect him to want to be with me? I must be mad. The thoughts swirling around my head start make me agitated, angry, I need to get it out somehow.

I glance over at Jase only to find him asleep, curled in a ball not facing me. Shaking my head, I get out swiftly and make sure he's comfortably asleep and safe. His head is on the pillow, blanket tucked under his chin, and his breathing is even, face peaceful. Satisfied, I decide I'm fine in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, tugging my sneakers on and heading downstairs.

There's a gym on the first floor, and what I need right now is to pound the frustration away. I shut the soundproofed door behind me carefully and make my way across the room to the punching bag, warming up and stretching briefly before sliding gloves onto my hands.

I flex my hands in and out of fists, feeling the worn material stretch over my knuckles as I bounce lightly on the balls of my feet, the steady movement soothing me.

No good for him. My first hit lands solid, sending up a small cloud of chalky dust, the pent up agitation flowing from my fist out of my body.

All you do is scare him away.

He can't stand you.

Why can't you take care of him.

You're a useless Dom.

You made him sick.

You hurt him.

No wonder he doesn't want you.

You're not in control of this. The last thought hits me hard, sending a kick into the bag that makes it slam against the wall. It's my job to be in control. I have to know enough to be in control, and to keep it. I have to manage everything around me. I have to. Because I'm not just responsible for me; I'm responsible for my Jase too. And if I can't control, I can't function. I can't keep him safe if I can't keep a firm hold on the circumstances.

I stand there panting for a moment, then groan and sit down, resting my elbows on my knees and throwing the gloves to the side only to see my knuckles swollen and one on my right hand split. I guess there's only so much the gloves can do for me.

Sighing, I stand and make my way to the door, wiping my head and draping a cloth over the back of my neck.

I make my way up the stairs tiredly, pausing at the top and taking a breath. My Jase. I hope he didn't have a nightmare or anything while I was gone. The thought pushes me to the door, but when I open it I have to pause for a moment in shock.

He hasn't realized I'm here. His entire body is out of the covers, shivering violently, and my pillow is pressed to his chest as sobs are muffled against it.

"Jase?" I murmur, not wanting to scare him. He immediately flips to see me in the doorway, and he's on his feet in a second, shakily sprinting across the room to throw his arms around my waist. His tiny form sags against me, quiet sniffles just loud enough for me to hear. I carefully lift him and wrap his legs around my waist, letting him tuck his face into my neck.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" I ask as gently as I can, cradling him in my arms.

"Master was g-gone," he whimpers, and I wince guiltily.

"I'm sorry pet, I was downstairs in the gym," I carry him to the bed to set him down but he makes a soft protesting noise and hangs on, making me smile and lie down with him, not caring how sweaty I am if he doesn't.

"Was scared," he whispers with a small sniff, and I tuck the blanket around us tightly and then wrap my arms around my pet.

"Don't be scared. I'll always come back for you, darling."

A/N: hey sexy how you doin *wink wink* you look hot, someone as hot as you should have a gr8 Christmas or Hanukkah or whatever you celebrate this time o' de year. See you after the holidays? Maybe earlier, idk.

QOTD: what would you do if Jase showed up on your doorstep, all tiny and scared and depending on you?

AOTD: hug him carefully, get him warm food and a shower, and then cuddle until I died from exposure to my baby.