The bus finally screeched to a stop at my station. I stepped off and walked toward the place I called home—not because I lacked money, but because it was quiet, far from curious eyes and unwanted questions.
Once, I rented a beautiful apartment in one of the city's best societies. The space was large, clean, and comfortable. But neighbors? They were the worst part. Always knocking on my door, inviting me to dinners, sending sweet dishes, forcing themselves into my life with questions about my family.
I didn't care about them, yet they couldn't stop interfering. The worst came when one woman spotted me entering a hotel with a billionaire. By the next morning, the entire building buzzed with whispers. That was enough. I packed my things and left.
Now, I live here—in this cheap, quiet neighborhood where no one cares if you're alive or dead. Peaceful in its own way.
I laughed bitterly as I pushed open my apartment door, only to be greeted by a sight that ruined my mood further. Dust everywhere. The place looked like it had been abandoned, though I'd only been gone for a night.
Cleaning? Forget it. My body still hurt like hell from last night. How was I supposed to move, let alone scrub floors?
"Maybe someone else" I muttered, pulling out my phone from my pocket. Without wasting another second, I dialed a number.
The call rang several times before someone finally answered.
"Hello, Dane?"
I quickly shifted my expression, even my tone softening. "Hello, Jimmy. Where are you?"
"I'm at the clinic. Why?" His voice was steady as always.
"I… I'm so sick," I said, adding just the right amount of weakness into my voice. "Can you come to my place? Please?"
There was a pause, then a sigh. "If you're sick, why didn't you come here instead?"
I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, even though he couldn't see me, and let my voice break into a fake sob. "Jimmy, I feel dizzy… I can't even walk to the bathroom. Please. I need you."
He went silent for a beat, then gave in. "…Alright. Wait for me. I'm coming."
The line went dead, and laughter spilled from my lips. He was the only one left in my life I could still call a friend—maybe even family. Jimmy.
He ran a small clinic, hated everything I did, but never left my side. We had met years ago, when I was starting my new life as a host at a club. He'd been a waiter there, handsome but cold, his orphan past etched into the sharpness of his eyes. Somehow, we got along. For a while, we even lived together. He hated when I came home smelling like sex and money, always saying, "You should work somewhere decent, live like a normal person." But that was never my thing.
When he got a girlfriend, I moved out. Even then, we stayed friends. And now, he was still the one I could trust.
I stretched out on the sofa, exhaustion weighing me down. My eyelids closed, and I didn't notice when sleep pulled me under.
The sound of my apartment door unlocking made me stir. Jimmy's voice cut through my haze, panicked. "Dane!"
I blinked my eyes open to find him kneeling beside me, his face pale. His bag had fallen onto the floor, forgotten. He shook me gently, breath uneven.
"Damn it… you scared me," he exhaled, collapsing to the floor beside me. "I thought you were dead, bastard."
I laughed weakly, brushing off his worry. "You care too much."
His eyes narrowed at me. "Wait—aren't you supposed to be sick?"
My smile faltered, but I forced another expression into place. "Look at me. My body's a mess. It hurts."
Before I could say more, he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing my skin as he unbuttoned my shirt in one swift motion. The fabric slid away, baring the mess of bite marks and red scars left from last night.
His face hardened. "You did it again."
I tried to ease the tension with a casual smile. "Hey, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt that much."
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed his bag and pulled out ointment. Sitting close, he began to apply it carefully, his fingers trailing over my chest, spreading the cool medicine over every mark. When his touch brushed against my nipples, I flinched, heat rushing through me. Instinctively, I grabbed his hand.
"It's okay. I can do this myself."
But he didn't pull back. His voice was low, steady. "Take off your shirt completely."
"Why so serious?" I teased, forcing a grin.
"Because you lied," he shot back. His eyes held mine. "And because you're not fine."
The weight of his words silenced me. I sighed, sat up, and let him slide the shirt off fully. His hands were gentle as he moved behind me, applying ointment down my back, his touch soft, almost reverent.
"Take off your pants," he said suddenly.
I laughed, trying to break the heavy air. "No need for that."
His gaze turned sharp, angry even. He wasn't joking.
"Fine," I muttered, unbuttoning my pants and slipping out of them, even shedding my underwear before turning and bending slightly forward.
His breath hitched, but his hands didn't tremble. With quiet focus, he took more ointment and gently spread it between my thighs, his touch unbearably warm. My body shivered, but not from pain.
I turned my head slightly, eyes catching his face—red, flustered, his ears burning. It wasn't the first time he'd treated my Body, but something was different today. His silence, his trembling control… it unsettled me.
When he finished, I dressed quickly, pulling my pants back on. Jimmy still sat there, his face flushed, lips pressed tight, saying nothing.
And for the first time in years, his silence bothered me.
I stared at Jimmy, guilt prickling in my chest.
"I'm sorry for lying to you," I whispered.
But he didn't look at me. He picked up his bag and stood, his voice clipped.
"Okay. I'm going."
Panic rushed through me. I grabbed his wrist.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," he said too quickly, refusing to meet my eyes.
My gaze dropped lower—and I froze. He was hard.
A slow smile tugged at my lips. "So that's the problem?"
His body stiffened. "I need to go. Urgent work at the clinic."
I tightened my grip on his wrist, not letting him escape. "Really? You can work like this?" I tilted my head, teasing. "Let me help you."
His eyes widened, but I didn't give him the chance to argue. I pushed him down onto the sofa and dropped to the floor between his knees.
"Dane, what are you doing—"
"Shh." I silenced him with a grin. "You always take care of me. Now it's my turn."
Before he could stop me, I unzipped his pants and tugged down his underwear. He is huge, warm, and I couldn't hide my shameless smile. He turned his head away, his face already red.
I leaned forward, licking him slowly, tasting him. His breath caught, a soft moan slipping from his lips despite himself. Emboldened, I took him into my mouth. I choked at first, coughing slightly.
"Dane, stop—" he gasped.
"Stay still," I murmured against him, my voice husky. "It's my first time… but I want this."
I tried again, deeper this time. The sound of his breath quickening, the way his fingers tangled in my hair, only fueled me. My jaw ached, but the heat of him, the way he trembled, made it worth it.
"Ahh… Dane…" His voice cracked, half moan, half plea.
I moved faster, my mouth working greedily until his body tensed and shuddered. He groaned, losing control, and the warmth filled my mouth.
"Shit—don't swallow it!" he choked out, trying to pull me back.
But I did. I swallowed it down, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. "Salty," I admitted with a smirk. "But… kind of good."
His eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across his face.
I reached for tissues, wiping myself casually, but before I could pull away he grabbed my hand, dragging me close. His voice trembled.
"Why are you like this?"
I only laughed, leaning into him. "What's wrong?"
He pushed me back suddenly and fled toward the bathroom, his face still flushed scarlet. Watching him retreat, I couldn't help but grin. We'd never crossed this line before, but his reaction… it was addicting.