Free Pure Innocence by Victoria Sue Page A

melted his pain, and hands cradled his body, owning it,
like he was being asked to give himself up. To give all of himself
to Damon.
    Oliver sighed and just let go.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Oliver. Oliver. Come and play. Daddy wants
you to play with him because you are such a good boy. Such a
special boy. Aren’t you lucky because you belong to me? We’ll be
together forever…
    No. Oliver heard the voice
of his nightmare, moaned in protest. He was back in the warehouse.
No more, please God, no more. His hands were on fire, his back too.
He was tied again. His brain sluggish with what the nightmare had made him drink,
but not quite enough to make him unconscious. He couldn’t get his
heavy legs and arms to fight, but he could still feel the pain. So
much pain. Why couldn’t he just die? He needed to die, begged for
the man to let him die. But the man just laughed, and it started
all over again…
     
    ****
     
    Screams jerked Damon awake and he shot out
of bed. Oliver lay nearly rigid, but tossing, sweat sheening his
face and chest, little gasps and desperate moans leaving his lips.
Damon was at a loss. Wasn’t it supposed to be bad to wake someone
from a nightmare? Shit, he had to do something. “Oliver, its Damon.
Hush, beautiful. You’re safe.” Damon cupped Oliver’s face with his
hands, in the comforting gesture they had both got used to. He
pressed his lips to the damp skin on Oliver’s forehead.
    “ Boy.” Damon echoed the
word, in the one that Oliver always seemed to respond to. “Boy,
you’re safe. I’m here.” Deeper, slower, and the thrashing slowed,
and the gasps became less harsh. Damon sat next to Oliver, never
moving his hand from his face, talking quietly. Oliver blinked a
few times.
    “ That’s better, beautiful.
You’re here, safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
    “ D-Damon?” the words, so
scared, so hopeful, tugged at Damon.
    “ I’m here, boy.” He reached
for the plastic glass with the screw top. It was clever, Oliver
wouldn’t have to sit up without worrying about spilling. This was
just one of the thoughtful things Adam had provided for
Oliver.
    Oliver’s wet lips left the straw and he
relaxed back into Damon’s hand and Damon smiled. The gesture had
started in the hospital because Damon wanted to offer comfort and
he didn’t know where else to touch Oliver that wouldn’t hurt. It
seemed to work for both of them.
    Without saying anymore
Damon reached over and got Oliver’s tablets. When the nurses came
this morning, he had every intention of seeing exactly what was
underneath those bandages on his left hand. He wanted to know when
therapy would start and what he could do to help. He also was going
to speak to Derek Jameson. The psychiatrist was back in Florida,
thank God. Oliver desperately needed some help— Damon needed some help, a little
voice nudged. He did, and his boy had suffered enough. His boy? No, Oliver
wasn’t his boy. Oliver would never be capable of anything other
than a strictly vanilla relationship. Still, would that be enough
for Damon?
    “ Damon?” The shy voice
interrupted his thoughts, and Damon swung his head back from where
he had been gazing unseeing out the window. “I’m sorry I woke
you.”
    “ Do you want to talk about
it?”
    Panic etched lines on Oliver’s face. “No. I
uhh, can’t really remember.”
    Damon winced at the obvious lie, but now
wasn’t really the time. He would call Derek as soon as it was a
decent hour. He glanced at his watch impatiently—five AM. “Do you
need to use the bathroom?”
    Oliver nodded shyly and Damon helped him sit
up and scoot to the edge of the bed. “How are your hands?”
    Oliver sighed. “Better now. I fell asleep,
didn’t I?”
    Damon grinned. “All night.” Kissing
certainly wasn’t a relaxing technique they could have tried in the
hospital. “And your back, your chest?”
    Oliver blushed. “Fine,” he mumbled and Damon
stopped smiling, frustrated because Oliver seemed to