Page 10 of Collin, Episodes 4-6 (The Residency Boys #2)

“Just three place settings on the table, please, émeric. Collin will be eating at my feet.”

Mr. Moreau’s hand paused for just the barest of a moment. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Reevesworth leaned into the kitchen just long enough to kiss his husband again. He left, his footsteps fading in the direction of his bedroom and shower.

Mr. Moreau returned to the stove. Collin stayed frozen where he was. He had the leeks in his hand, but he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do with them.

“Collin, kitten?”

“Yes, sir?” Collin turned his face toward the Frenchman.

“Oh, Collin.” Mr. Moreau lifted his hand as if he were going to sweep hair out of Collin’s eyes, but he dropped his fingers without touching Collin. Something cold and empty swept through Collin’s skin where he had not been touched.

“It’s nothing.” Collin swallowed. He moved toward the sink and washed the leek on autopilot, spreading each layer and running his fingers down the trough of the plant.

“Collin.”

Collin flinched. The water was still running over his hands even though he had finished washing the leek.

“If Richard’s words bothered you, I can cut the leek myself. You should speak with him.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s not that.” Collin shook himself. “Just a little tired.”

He didn’t have to look to know Mr. Moreau was staring at him. He ignored it, placing the leek on the chopping board. “How did you want this cut?”

Mr. Moreau gave it a beat longer. Collin refused to look. Whatever this was would pass. It wasn’t his place to ask questions. If he could feel a sudden gulf between him and Mr. Moreau, it wasn’t up to him to cross it. He was the submissive. Mr. Moreau was the dom.

Just as it was Mr. Reevesworth’s decision whether or not he ate at the table. All he had to do was cut the leek.

And set the table.

And open the wine.

If there was white static in his ears, it didn’t matter.

“Hey, little brother.” Damian entered the kitchen in soft pants and a ribbed sweater. “Haven’t seen you all day.”

Collin mustered a smile. “You left early this morning.”

Damian shook his head and smiled. “Breakfast meeting at the airport. But we finalized the deal. So, worth it.”

“Did you at least beat traffic?”

“Only on the way there.”

“Too bad.” Collin forced himself to chuckle in a wry sort of way.

Damian put a hand on the back of his chair but didn’t sit down. “I heard you had a bit of an incident at the office.”

Collin pulled a face. “Ash is handling it. As much as it can be handled. Mr. Reevesworth knows more than I do.”

“Ash is handling it.” Mr. Reevesworth entered the kitchen, linen pants draping his muscular legs, and smelling clean and musky.

Collin pressed his nails into the palm of his hand. Where was his inner calm when he needed it? What he wouldn’t give for the blue rope to be back, holding him in place, making something solid.

Mr. Reevesworth pulled out his chair, and Mr. Moreau joined them, bringing the final bowl of soup. Collin stepped away. How was this supposed to work?

“Collin.” Mr. Reevesworth pointed to the floor beside his chair. “I’ll teach you the correct posture later, once you’re cleared for exercise. You may sit however you choose, for now.”

Blood burned Collin’s face. Everyone else was sitting at the table. He would be on the floor. It was both good and also harrowing. If only he could run from the room and hide or, better yet, do that and also crawl under Mr. Reevesworth and hide at the same time.

Neither option was to be had.

He hurried to Mr. Reevesworth’s side and dropped down on his butt.

It was too awkward. He couldn’t keep his back straight, and slouching was just disrespectful.

He tucked his legs under him and knelt like he’d seen characters do in anime.

His fingers fluttered. He shoved them between his legs, forcing them to stillness.

Above him, Mr. Reevesworth addressed Mr. Moreau. “It smells lovely, émeric. Thank you for cooking.”

“Collin was a wonderful help. Please eat.” Mr. Moreau answered.

The white static that had been in Collin’s ears was more like a pulsing haze now, blocking out other sound. The back of his neck burned, and he was dragging in air as carefully as he could. He just had to breathe slowly enough that no one would hear him.

Something touched his lips. He startled, his hands coming up and his elbow slamming into the underside of Mr. Reevesworth’s chair. He curled inward, on the hurt, grasping for his arm. His head slammed into the leg of the table just in front of him.

Cutlery clattered. Something fell from the table. Collin pushed away, his pants sliding on the floor. Mr. Reevesworth stood, his chair toppling back. Hands reached toward Collin’s face.

He threw up his arm to shield himself.

“Collin.”

He shook his head. That hurt. He doubled over, pressing his hand to his eyes.

No one spoke. He rocked, the pain pulsing in his arm and head. It came down slowly, only to make way for shame.

It didn’t seem like anyone was speaking or even moving. He raised his head and forced his eyes open.

Mr. Reevesworth was on one knee right in front of him. Damian was standing by the table. Mr. Moreau stood just to the side of his husband but giving him space.

“Sorry.”

“Not the time to worry about that, kitten. Take a moment.”

Collin closed his eyes again. He pressed his head to his knees. Another minute and he felt like he could raise his head.

“Collin.”

“Yes, sir.” He blinked at his dom.

Mr. Reevesworth moved his hands toward Collin’s face, moving slowly. “I’m going to touch you and check your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Just to see if we need to worry about the concussion.”

“Oh.” Collin held still.

Mr. Reevesworth took his chin in the tips of his fingers and then lifted the lids on each of Collin’s eyes. “I think you’re fine. Damian, will you phone Dr. Haverty and ask him up just in case.”

“Yes, sir.” Damian pulled his phone out of his pocket and left the kitchen.

“I’ll get ice for his head.” Mr. Moreau stepped toward the refrigerator.

Mr. Reevesworth touched the aching place on Collin’s forehead, just above his left eye. “We should get ice on this. If you hadn’t just had an injury, I wouldn’t be concerned. At least it’s not in the same place.”

Collin wiped at his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt much.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Reevesworth sounded less than convinced.

Damian stuck his head in around the archway. “Dr. Haverty is just downstairs. He’s coming up now. Says it’s probably fine, but he’ll take a look.”

“Good.” Mr. Reevesworth stood and held his hand out to Collin. “Think you can walk into the living room?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Haverty arrived within a minute and a half. He shone a light into Collin’s eyes and checked his movement, then pressed all around Collin’s head.

“I think you’re fine, but try to go easy on the skull, please, young man.” Dr. Haverty shook his head and smiled ruefully in Collin’s face. “How did you do this?”

“Hit my funny bone and jumped,” Collin answered, touching his elbow. “Forgot where I was.”

“It happens when you move into a new space.” Dr. Haverty shook his head again and chuckled. “Try to stay in one piece for me, will you, before I have to order you a crash helmet.”

“I’ll try.” Collin grabbed one hand with the other and dug his thumbnail into the side of palm where no one could see.

“Well, then, I’m going to head back downstairs. There’s a lovely crème br?lée with my name on it.”

Damian saw the doctor out. Collin hung his head. Even the doctor was scolding him now. And he’d made more of a mess for everyone.

Mr. Reevesworth turned to Mr. Moreau. “Let’s do this again, shall we. I wouldn’t want your lovely cooking to go to waste.”

“I’m sure everything is still warm.” Mr. Moreau led the way back to the kitchen.

Collin swallowed and played with the seam on the side of his pants.

Mr. Reevesworth pulled out his chair, farther back than before, and sat down. “Let’s have you here, Collin, that way I can protect you from the table and chairs.” He pointed to the place between his feet.

Collin dropped down and crawled under the table.

He had to sit sideways, one arm and elbow in Mr. Reevesworth’s lap.

His dom arranged them until they were both comfortable.

He had to reach over Collin to reach his plate, but he announced the arrangement to his satisfaction and encouraged Damian and Mr. Moreau to settle in.

Collin kept his eyes on Mr. Reevesworth this time. He wasn’t going to be surprised again. Mr. Reevesworth cut into the roast, taking a long slow bite and then going back to cut another mouthful. This second one he took in his fingers and lowered it down to just in front of Collin’s mouth.

“Open, pet.”

Collin parted his lips. Mr. Reevesworth pressed the fragrant meat between Collin’s teeth and tapped the bottom of his chin with one finger.

Reflectively, Collin closed his mouth and began to chew.

The taste was divine. It mixed with the absolute mindfuck of being hand-fed on the floor.

Collin felt his body spinning off into space.

Humiliation mixed with comfort, leaving him suspended in unexamined confusion.

Without Mr. Reevesworth’s legs pinning him in place, he would absolutely be floating past Mars.

He dropped his head to Mr. Reevesworth’s lap and tightened his arm around the man’s leg.

Conversation slowly started again above the table.

Nothing mattered but his dom. If he didn’t think anything else, then the tears burning behind his eyes wouldn’t fall and the panic in his chest wouldn’t crush his lungs.

Here, below the table, hidden from everyone else, was safe.

He couldn’t see Damian. He couldn’t see Mr. Moreau.

And no one could see him either. Not the people who had broken into his computer, not whoever had photographed him without his consent, no one.

If only the meal would never end.