Daddy's Forbidden Room

He crashed into the wall of muscle, seeking safety in the familiar arms. Sobs unexpectedly erupted from his mouth, and he rubbed his tears off at the front of Sandro’s T-shirt. “I was so scared.”

“It’s okay, he’s gone now. Did he hurt you?” Sandro wrapped his arms around Kevin and kissed his head through the hoodie. Despite the violence Sandro had meted out moments prior, Kevin still couldn’t think of a safer person to be with.

“H-he tried. He t-touched me. And said I was a prostitute. That you wanted a threesome. That you’d let him have sex with me.” Every sentence was a choked sob as Kevin hid in the familiar smell of Sandro’s cologne.

Lemon. Bergamot. Jasmine.

Blood.

Kevin took a deep breath, struggling to calm down. “Who was that man, and what was he doing in that room?”

Sandro leaned forward, only to grab Kevin’s legs and pull them up in a well-practiced move. Hardly the first time he’d carry Kevin. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s gone.”

Sandro took him to the sofa, and Kevin settled into a comfortable position in Sandro’s lap. If he were a kitten, he would have climbed down Sandro’s T-shirt and stayed there for a while in a safe cocoon of warmth.

Sandro nudged Kevin’s chin up for their eyes to finally meet. “I would never allow anyone else to touch you. You’re my boy, okay? Whatever he told you was bullshit. He’s an asshole, but I suffer the displeasure of having to work with him, so it is what it is.”

It was an answer, yet only caused more questions pop up in Kevin’s mind. Sandro’s assurance put Kevin at ease and made him feel that bit less dirty, but it wasn’t able to stifle the need to know more. “He said you’ve shared a boy before…?”

Sandro groaned. “One time. And I assure you, that boy was up for it.”

“You have a shower there?”

“What?”

Kevin swallowed but wouldn’t back down. “There’s another entrance into the house hidden somewhere, and you didn’t tell me? He said you were taking a shower, and you smell like you had. Why? And why didn’t you call me?”

Sandro put his forehead against Kevin’s shoulder. “It’s been a hectic few days, I wasn’t in the right headspace to worry how I might sound on the phone. And I told you not to ask about that door.”

Kevin sat up in Sandro’s lap and this time it was him pulling on Sandro’s chin so that they stared at each other. “Well, I am asking about it since a fucking rapist came out of it on Christmas Eve as if it was your personal gateway to hell!”

Sandro grabbed Kevin’s wrist, his grip gentle but stern. “And I’ve dealt with him, haven’t I?”

Kevin bit his lips in frustration. “That’s not the point!”

He’d been looking forward to seeing Sandro for Christmas. To being praised for his cookies and decorations. To watching silly Christmas flicks under blankets, to exchanging gifts, and to fucking with some novelty candy cane vibrator.

Not this.

Sandro took a deep breath, but the tension between them still sent unpleasant chills up Kevin’s spine. “What is the point then?”

“The point is that I don’t feel safe not knowing what’s in there. You bring other people there but not me?”

“I assure you Roberto is not my secret lover.” Sandro groaned.

Kevin had tears in his eyes again. “You’re not listening!”

“I know I’m late, but aren’t you happy to see me? I worried I wouldn’t make it for Christmas at all.”

And that, of course, pulled on Kevin’s annoyingly sensitive heart strings. Because he craved to be missed by Sandro, to know that he was Daddy’s special boy.

Kevin scrambled off Sandro’s lap, because being close was messing with his head too much. He stood in front of Sandro with his fists clenched, painfully aware that he was wearing a reindeer onesie and couldn’t be taken seriously.

“I’m happy to see you, but I want to know about the room!”

Sandro squinted at him. “No. And you better stop it with this attitude right now.”

The baubles twinkled at Kevin mockingly. He screamed out in frustration, grabbed one off the tree and threw it to the floor. This wasn’t how he’d planned Christmas to go. “Tell me about the room!”

Sandro rose. “No. I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day. Go to your room. And you’ll be cleaning that up tomorrow.” He pointed to the shattered bauble.

Kevin cried out again, and stormed off, wishing he was wearing combat boots not woolen socks, just so he could stomp louder.

Chapter 8

Kevin tossed and turned all night, wishing he was the safe little spoon under Sandro’s arm. He kept thinking back to Roberto emerging from the room that was off limits to him and his annoyance kept rising. The things that could have happened to him were unbearable to even ponder, and he hated the begrudging gratitude he felt toward Sandro for saving him. Because Sandro should have told Kevin there was a secret entrance into the house in the first place.