Sniffling into Roman’s shoulder, he let the man lift him and carry him to the bathroom. Once there, Roman put him down by the toilet, letting Luke sag back against him, undid the fly of Luke’s trousers, and said, “You can relieve yourself now.”
Any other day, Luke would have told him to fuck off. But he was exhausted, sleep-deprived, and hurting all over. Maybe he should have felt mortified by his physical and emotional helplessness, but he was past the point of being embarrassed.
“If I step away, you will fall on your ass.” Roman’s voice was dry, with a hint of impatience.
He probably would.
Silently, Luke pulled his cock out with his numb, clumsy fingers. He honestly tried to do as he was told, but with Roman’s wide chest pressed against his back and his hands on Luke’s hips, he just couldn’t relax enough to do it. It also didn’t help that his bladder was so full—it was so full it was difficult to piss.
“I can’t,” Luke whispered, close to tears again. He was so, so tired. He wanted…God, he just wanted to close his eyes and be taken care of.
“You can and you will,” Roman said. “I won’t have you soiling your clothes and stinking my rooms.”
His rooms?
But before he could ask, Roman knocked his hand off, grabbed Luke’s cock and said, “Just relax and do it. I have more important things to do than change your nappies.”
Luke stared dazedly at their reflection in the mirror. He looked like a fragile doll in Roman’s arms. Roman’s hand was around his cock. Roman’s other hand moved up to his belly and started rubbing it in circles. There was something vaguely disturbing about the man’s touch: it was so matter-of-fact, as if…as if Luke was just a thing that belonged to him.
And yet, somehow, it helped. Luke almost moaned in relief as his reluctant bladder finally obeyed.
It was a completely surreal experience when Roman shook his cock a little before tucking it back in. Once again, Luke’s exhausted mind noted how business-like and freakishly proprietary Roman’s touch was, as if doing this was completely normal, as if Luke was a thing belonging to him and that he was doing maintenance on. It should have made him angry, but anger required energy, and he had none. His body was running on fumes, days of starvation making it weak and the lack of sleep making his processing speed much slower.
“Now bed,” Roman said, lifting him again with one arm and easily carrying him back into the bedroom. He dropped Luke on the mattress and said, “Your clothes stink.”
Luke blinked up at him blearily. “Of course they stink,” he mumbled. “Your goons didn’t let me wash them. I have nothing else.”
Roman’s lips pressed together. Between one blink and another, he was gone.
Luke’s eyelids had already closed when he was shaken awake. He protested, turning onto his stomach and hugging his soft, perfect pillow.
“You will sleep after you change,” a familiar, hated voice said. “You stink.”
“Uh huh,” Luke mumbled into his pillow.
He heard some swearing in Russian, but his mind was half-asleep and couldn’t translate it.
“Blya, eto mne chto li nado,” Roman said, his tone irritated, before he pulled Luke up into a sitting position and undressed him quickly. Luke didn’t open his eyes, only vaguely aware of being forced into something long and soft. It smelled good.
He was all but shoved face down on the bed, but then a gentle hand stroked his hair. “Sleep.”
“Uh huh,” Luke muttered before hugging his pillow and falling into a deep, untroubled sleep.
Chapter 7
When Luke woke up, it was well into the afternoon, although if it wasn’t for the clock on the wall, there would be no way of knowing. It was snowing outside the window.
Luke rubbed at his eyes and stretched in the soft bed, feeling deliciously well-rested and comfy. His muscles ached a little, but he felt more comfortable than he had in ages. He still wasn’t sure why he had been moved from his old room to this suspiciously nice one, but he hoped it wasn’t just a fluke.
Then, he recalled something. Had Roman really told him these were his personal rooms?
Luke flushed, remembering the circumstances of it. Fuck. Had he really let that man manhandle him, hold his dick while he pissed, and generally treat him like a thing? His thing?
Luke’s stomach did a little flip-flop. Suddenly, he had a nearly irresistible urge to run. Run somewhere far away from that strange man with cruel eyes and gentle, proprietary hands.
Though…he couldn’t deny that it all had gone rather smoothly. Better than Luke could have hoped. Yes, he had been punished, and it had sucked, and his little clingy breakdown afterward was cringe-worthy, but Roman had been almost nice to him. The guy had taken care of him when he didn’t have to. He could have left Luke lying there, exhausted and helpless, until he pissed himself and fell asleep on the hard floor. He had even changed Luke’s clothes and put him in bed. Granted, Roman had been hardly gentle as he did so, but still. Luke decided to count that as a small victory. He always liked to be optimistic.