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A rarity was unfolding before your eyes—the display of a man who had perfected the wolf in sheep’s clothing was shedding his skin away. In the dark corner of the room, he hid his tears from anyone wishing to take advantage of his vulnerability. Only the cold unfeeling walls would know the depth of his emotions, and that was something he’d come to terms with long ago.
For a moment you stood there in bewilderment, your mind having a difficult time comprehending what you were witnessing. You weren’t sure if it’d be best to just leave him to cry out whatever was ailing him. However, you couldn’t ignore the pagne your heart shared for him with each sob traveling to you. Although you were far from what he would consider a friend, the term colleague held warmth in its own right, and with that sense of light to guide you, you took a step closer.
A loose tile shifted beneath your foot. Wincing slightly at the faint scraping of the old flooring, your eyes lifted from the granet to the large form that was now much stiller. “Caesar?” You called out with concern carefully wrapping around his name. “Are you okay?” The second question carried past your lips even more delicately.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t turn towards you, nor did he allow his voice to bear the true state he was in—no crack or swolleness. Not knowing much you had seen, he was gambling on you taking his word and scurrying off to leave him in much needed peace.
“Well,” you proceeded with caution, “I heard you… and I just thought I’d ask if you needed anything: something of comfort, someone to talk to—” The hope you held in extending a helping hand to someone you truly admired was pushed onto the stand for his judgment to decide your fate.
His ungloved hands gripped the steel arms of the rickety chair. Unable to take the full force of his despair transferring to it, the metal rattled and threatened to buckle when he used them as his full support. Any other aid you wished to offer him was cut short. As the light from the hallway illuminated his form rising from the seat, the gulp you took was involuntary. Even with him still refusing to face you, you felt his cold cautionary yellow eyes burrowing into your soul. His hair looked slightly knotted, almost as if it had been tangled in the wind or from physical exertion, casting the tender hearted soul who came to do a good deed to await the verdict.
The silence as he stood to full height wrapped around you in its unwelcoming chill. Even if he couldn’t see you, the rising of your hair on the back of your neck and the goosebumps anticipating his response were just as visible as if you were standing directly in front of his face.
“How presumptuous to think I’d seek solace in you.” He finally sliced through the quiet room. His words failed to hold the extent of malice they usually have, instead the events of that day and each one prior alluding to an exhausted soul.
Your ears tuned into that yearning for an escape, even with it being buried deep beneath the surface. “Not my intention to assume you would. Just so happened to have found you when you might need…” You trailed off, not sure what exactly he needed so much as what you could even offer him.
He turned his head slightly, though his face remained out of sight. “Go on. Tell me what you think I need.”
The beats from your quickening heart were pounding in your ears so loudly you worried they were audible to him as well. “Someone to lean on without any strings attached, for starters.” He didn’t respond, but he didn’t ice you out either, so you took it as permission to continue. “No fine print or expectation of something in return.”
You knew him well enough to know that he viewed relationships as transactional. No one ever went to him - nor him to others - without wanting something for their time. His mind raced through all the interactions he had with you, trying desperately to recall at least one instance he could use against you, one that would prove to him that you weren’t offering this out of the kindness of your heart. A loud click of his tongue and snarl at the lack of ammunition if things went south left an already vulnerable man even more exposed to the elements.
He suddenly turned his face to the wall in front of him, staring at the divots of wear and tear that reflected his very own. Cold, hard, and physical trauma worn with anything less than pride: the surface was merely that; nothing below it could be easily chipped away at. Frowning at the cement, he exhaled in grievance.
When he finally shuffled his weight and turned to you, the sight of his smudged eye makeup and discoloration on his neck stirred a reaction in the pit of your stomach. Seeing someone who committed atrocities covered with bruises and bearing a fragile heart would have brought on a sense of justice to anyone else in your position - like all was right in the world because he got what was coming to him - but you couldn’t make yourself think like that. Not in a million years.
There was a cautious trust in his eyes, on edge from the half expectancy of you turning your back on your own word. You didn’t though, instead offering him a soft smile that made his frown more prominent and his heart beat at an uncomfortable pace. His hands clenched into fists out of the fear of betrayal which would be looming over you the rest of the time you spent with him. Not a stranger to the thunderous clouds, you waved them away when they got too thick.
After offering to take him somewhere more comfortable, he hesitantly followed you out of the mouth of the storm and into the brightly lit hall. When you stopped in front of your room, he began questioning your intentions once again.
“All the nice products are in my room,” you said in your defence.
Products ? What on earth would you need those for? After you disappeared into your bedroom, he stood outside the door grumbling to himself. Looking back from where you both came, he had half a mind to abandon this idea. A strange woman who wanted to put gods knew what on him and for what? To just be kind? He nibbled his bottom lip and his fingers twitched while he sat on the fence about this whole ordeal.
“Aren’t you coming in?” You poked your little head out and gave him a fright.
Looking down at you, he couldn’t decide if he hated or loved the fact that your eyes didn’t have an ounce of deception behind them. The new territory of this relationship with you was uncharted much with all the others he had ties to. However troublesome it was, his legs carried him over the threshold.
“Take a seat on this.” You pulled up a cushiony pillow to the side of the bed. Side eyeing you, he muttered something under his breath in irritation at your increasingly peculiar ideas.
What would have been a loud sound of him hitting the floor was softened by the pillow. His irked expression loosened its grip on his facial muscles as he made himself more comfortable—enjoying the feel of it quietly to himself. He froze when you pounced on the bed behind him, though. The jump he made when you started playing with his hair startled you just as much.
“What are you doing? Why are you touching me all of the sudden?” He snarled at you like a dog backed into the corner and ready to snap.
Raising the hairbrush to prove that your actions didn’t falter from innocence, you did your best to calm the rising tensions. “I’m sorry! I just saw how tangled your hair was and thought I’d help you brush them out.” You pulled out some detangling spray in hopes of sweetening the deal. “I was going to use this to help lessen the pull on your scalp.”
The glare he threw at you quickly turned into a huff. “Fine. But give me a damn warning next time! And don’t expect me to start pouring my heart and soul out to you!”
“You can tell me as little or as much as you want.” The lack of confrontation in your response had a bizarre cooling agent on him.
Folding his arms and leaned against the side of the bed and wondered if this would all be worth it; admittedly, he wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was referring to.
Your soft hum was shortly followed by the sound of detangler being sprayed on his raven hair. The scent was slightly sweet. Closing his eyes when you began gingerly brushing his long locks, he attempted to work out what scent that was. It had a hint of a baked good but wasn’t overpowering, and the faint earthiness to it had a relaxing effect on him. As the strokes of the brush lengthened from the lack of resistance in the matted mess, the sigh he let out was of contentment—a rarity for him these days.
“What kind of spray is that?” His eyes were still closed, allowing himself to enjoy this simple pleasure.
“Maple leaf. Do you like it?” Your soft tone pairing with the gentle touches and nice smell made his breaths deepen and steady. He gave an approving noise to your question, making your smile become its own source of warmth. “Would you like me to braid your hair?”
His eyes fluttered open and he cocked a smile in amusement. “If you must.” There was a light-hearted, nearly playful tone to his voice, one which you were sure you hadn’t heard from him before.
Elegantly, your fingers danced through his freshly brushed hair. Folding each section of it over and under another was done with the utmost care. As you finished, your eyes drifted to his shoulders. The rigidness in his posture had subsided, giving you reason to relax a bit more yourself. With the newly exposed skin of his neck and shoulders being caught under your roaming eyes, your heart sank at the sight of bruising: ranges of yellow to purple decorated his pale skin.
“Finished?” He asked somewhat excitedly. You offered him a mirror, although you hoped the bruising being visible didn’t ruin his newly formed good mood entirely. When he held it up, you got to see the front of it for the first time too. You had to admit that his choppy bangs made the hairstyle look even cuter.
“Here, let me get another mirror so you can see the back.” You held it up and angled it, loving the smile spreading on his otherwise tired face. The laugh passing his lips coaxed out your own. “You look so elegant now, ready to be taken to the ball.”
He cackled. “You think so?” Framing his face with a flattering hand pose, he made flirtatious faces at himself in the mirror. However, the different angles drew his attention away from the good humored jokes to the memories he was so rudely reminded of. You barely had a glimpse of his smile twisting into displeasure before he tossed the mirror on the carpet. His chest heaved and his breathing grew labored from the emotions flaring within him. “Take it out,” he demanded, albeit regrettably.
You didn’t argue. It wasn’t something worth fighting over, so you took it out as requested. Not sure what to say, you simply acted: playing with his hair, lightly massaging his scalp and soft caresses of his ears. He was put into a state of relaxation once again. Shifting your legs, you guided him to lean back onto your lap.
Although he didn’t resist, the grumble in his throat was consistent. Resting on top of your thighs, letting you gently stroke the sides of his face and forehead: his expression softened, letting those wrinkles do the same as he enjoyed the way your hands felt on him. After a minute, he opened his eyes. When his gaze met yours, the difference in your appearances didn’t cause either of you to look away. Yours met him with sincerity that shined through with an affectionate demeanor, while he remained unemotional, skeptical even, with his eyes scanning yours.
Recalling earlier, your question opened an invitation to give him something he may have never really had. “Can I give you a massage?” His cheeks flushed pink from the forwardness in your question.
“I guess that’s okay,” he breathed. His response was shaky as his heart rate rose once more.
“I’ll start off slow.” Your reassurance only made him more nervous. His eyes followed your hands as you reached over to grab what appeared to be oil. Watching you coat your palms with it was causing him to grip the pillow. “Just relax.” A voice as calming as calamine that made him comply earnestly. He nodded at those deceivingly simple words.
The oil was warm and those hands of yours were inviting him to open himself up to something that was completely foreign to him. Remaining mindful of the tender areas, you worked his neck and shoulders first. Witnessing his eyes rolling back and fluttering shut gave you a sense of value nothing else could provide.
“Let me take care of you.” Your whisper coaxed a barely audible whine from him. His brow knitted and he pursed his lips in hopes of keeping any moans at bay. “Feel the gentle touch of a woman any time you want… Would you like that?”
“Yes…” He couldn’t stop himself from answering in a hazy moan. His grip on the pillow tightened, and he squirmed a little in his seat to get closer to you. When your hands traveled down and over his chest, the tease of your fingers on the edge of his v-neck left him shuttering.
“You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.” An angelic voice that delivered those words he was praying to hear was making him desperate for more.
“I didn’t?” His eyes opened and held onto yours.
“Of course not. You deserve so much more.” Your gaze deepened and your faces inched closer the more you touched his chest. His racing heart could be easily felt under your hands. You hummed at the way he melted like chocolate to you.
When your hands ventured under the fabric, the moan leaving his lips incentivised you to give him more. Leaning down a little, the gentle caress of your chest against his face couldn’t be helped. With your hands roaming over his pecs and his hot breath bathing your cleavage, there was no denying the satisfaction you got out of feeling up the man you’d been calling Master.
Moving back up his chest slowly, the light pull of his clothing when you left acted as a sad parting gift. Gazing back down at him, you giggle at the blissful blush dusting his face greeting you. Cupping his pink cheeks and stroking them with your thumbs, the gentle sounds of pleasure passing his lips lured you into a possibly risky move.
“I’ll give you everything you could possibly want and need.” You leaned in to press tender kisses on his forehead that trailed up the bridge of his nose. A final peck on the tip left him weak in the knees and craving more of the sweet luxuries you were promising him.
“I’ll hold you to that.” He flashed a sly grin, taking you up on your offer and tethering you to him.