Free Pure Innocence by Victoria Sue Page B

think Damon
wouldn’t want to know about all his hurts.
    Damon left Oliver in the
bathroom again, after getting him to promise to shout when he was
done. He walked into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee machine,
opening his fridge to check the contents. Mmm, plenty to make a decent omelet with. Then he smiled as he saw the containers at the back of the
fridge. Miss Luisa had been busy. She always did far more than just
clean his apartment.
    He walked back into the bedroom. Still no
sound. “Oliver? You okay?”
    “ Y-yes.”
    Damon considered what he’d heard. It hadn’t
sounded like he was okay. Oliver sounded like he was in pain. The
boy deserved privacy, but hell. Damon marched to the bathroom and
went in. Oliver was sitting and his face was screwed up in
pain.
    “ Two choices. Well,
no—three actually.” Damon hunkered down in front of Oliver and
moved the brown hair from the young man’s pale face. “We can tell
the nurses when they get here to do your dressings and let them
sort this out. I can go to the store and buy some tablets, but I
have no idea how fast they will work. Or, I can sort this out here
and now.”
    Oliver raised a scarlet face. “Y-you?
How?”
    Damon sighed. “Oliver, I’m a Dom. Some of
the things I like to do with my subs involve them being very clean,
inside and out. I have everything, it won’t take long.”
     
    ****
     
    Oliver was convinced that
after wishing it for so long, his death was finally going to happen
of acute embarrassment. Heat still bathed his face as he tried not
to relive the last half hour in his mind. Not that Damon hadn’t
been kind and scarily efficient. Oliver didn’t want to think about how many times
he might have done this before. Oliver rolled over carefully. He’d
been exhausted afterwards, and he’d been quite happy to just lay
here and nap at Damon’s suggestion. Damon had cleaned him
afterwards as well, but he longed to be able to get in the shower.
His hair felt greasy, and— ugh —disgusting.
    Oliver raised his head at the door opening.
Damon entered, followed by a guy he hadn’t seen before carrying a
bag. Was this the doctor? The guy smiled. “Hi Damon, I’m Jeremy,
your nurse. I’m here to change your dressings.” Damon gave him a
knowing smile and Oliver settled immediately. He could cope if
Damon was staying. Damon went around the other side of the bed and
sat quietly.
    Oliver averted his eyes as the nurse
unwrapped the bandages. He moved restlessly, unsure of what he
wanted.
    The nurse paused. “On a scale of one to ten,
what’s your pain level at?”
    Oliver didn’t want to answer. It was
something else that would make it all real. Why couldn’t he just
zone out? Why did they need him to be involved? All the doctors
seemed to think Oliver wanted to be involved, but he didn’t. Every
time he had to acknowledge the damage to his hands, the memory of
how they had got that way threatened to surface.
    “ Oliver. Jeremy’s just
trying to see if the tablets are working.”
    Oliver dragged his gaze back to the nurse.
“Four, maybe five. Not so bad.” He caught the frown Damon made and
immediately wondered what he had said wrong. But Damon was frowning
at the nurse, not him.
    “ It shouldn’t be that high,
surely?” Damon said.
    Oliver sighed quietly and relaxed some more.
“It’s better when I relax,” he said. The words surprised him as
they left his mouth, but he was right, he’d felt a little pain
leave with the tension.
    Jeremy grinned and looked at Damon. “That’s
important, Mr. Kerrick.” Jeremy seemed to be talking to himself,
and Oliver certainly wasn’t joining in. He was too busy keeping his
eyes averted.
    “ There. Not too bad at
all.”
    Oliver stared, shocked. While Jeremy had
successfully distracted him, he had unwrapped both hands. Oliver
stared at them. They weren’t as swollen as before, but they were
still fairly fat and bent oddly. The left…he could see the wrinkled
skin, red and scarred where