Page 19 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

Bodin

The tires crunched over the long drive, headlights sweeping across the dark silhouette of my home—two stories of cedar and glass tucked deep into the trees, far from the noise and eyes of campus, of the city, of… well, anything or anyone, really.

Colby’s head was still bowed, his knees pulled up in the passenger seat. He hadn’t said a word the whole ride, except for a small, stuttered “thank you” when I turned the heat up. I could feel his trust like a tangible weight between us. His utter exhaustion, too.

I cut the engine, and the woods swallowed the last mechanical hum. Only the whisper of wind through branches remained.

It was the perfect haven for my little bunny.

It was the perfect place to hide him from the rest of the world.

“Come on, little one,” I said quietly. He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the dark and shadowy tree line as if expecting something to lurch out and drag him in. “Stay there, I’ll help.”

I slid out of the driver’s seat, hurrying over to open the passenger’s side door. My hand closed over his, warm and firm, guiding him out. He was about to step down when I remembered he was barefoot still.

“Oh, hold on, baby.” I grabbed his bag from the backseat, swinging it over my shoulder, then lifted Colby into a bridal carry, hip-checking the car door closed.

The key turned smoothly in the lock, and the door swung open on a wash of cedar-scented heat. The entryway glowed soft gold from the sconces lining the walls.

“You’re home now,” I murmured against his hair. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t temporary, either.

Further inside, the space opened up into a vaulted den, a high wall of glass framing the forest beyond. The stairs curled upward toward the additional bedrooms, but I took him straight past the stone fireplace and down the hall to mine.

He looked so tiny sitting on the edge of my bed while I dug through the bag for his things. He seemed to at least like the bed, petting the comforter and appearing content with its texture.

“Alright, let’s get you ready for bed. I packed a clean pair of pajamas, your toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, and some underwear.

Your phone charger, too.” I wrapped my hands around his waist, carefully lifting him off the bed and onto his feet.

Holding his small hand in mine, I showed him into the adjoining master bath, setting his things down on the sink counter.

“I’ll be right outside, okay? Feel free to use any of the toiletries in here. Clean towels are in the closet there.”

I released his hand to leave him to it, and was surprised when he grabbed it back suddenly.

He mumbled something I didn’t quite catch.

“Do you need something?” I asked, squeezing his hand in comfort.

He shook his head, bit his lip, then nodded.

“Can you use your words, please, lille prinsen?”

He shuffled his feet. “Pappa, help.”

The possessiveness rolled through me in a slow, warm wave, and I didn’t fight it. Why should I? He was here now. I’d keep him here. I’d help him with whatever he needed, forever.

“Pappa can help,” I answered. “What do you need help with?”

Colby stared at me like he was trying to communicate his needs telepathically.

I chuckled softly and carded my hand through his hair. “Do you want help with it all? I need you to tell me, baby. I don’t want to cross any boundaries accidentally.”

“All,” he echoed.

“You want Pappa’s help for all of it?” He nodded. “Okay, sweetheart. First things first, would you like to take a bath or a shower?”

Colby popped his thumb back in his mouth and began to suck, really testing my restraint. He was so fucking adorable and vulnerable. With his free hand, he pointed to the large tub in the corner of the room.

“Bath, it is. Wait right here for just a second.”

I quickly strode out of the bathroom to the duffel bag still in my bedroom. I reached in, found what I wanted, and went to join Colby back in the bathroom.

“Let’s give your thumb a break. I have your pacifier instead.”

Colby’s now-wrinkled thumb slipped from his mouth. He kept his lips open as he waited for me to pop the pacifier in. Once the nipple had settled on his tongue, his mouth snapped shut, and his cheeks hollowed out at the renewed sucking.

I knelt beside the tub, turning on the tap and letting the hot water steam up into the air, the sound a steady hush that filled the space. I poured in a generous helping of lavender bath soak, watching the foam blossom across the surface of the water.

Colby stood where I’d left him, his pacifier bobbing gently as he sucked, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. He was moving like a wind-up toy winding down—slow, quiet, compliant.

“Arms up, lille prinsen,” I said softly.

He obeyed without hesitation, letting me peel his shirt over his head.

His skin was warm under my hands, and soft in a way that made my chest ache.

The loose pajama pants followed, pooling around his ankles before I helped him step out, one foot at a time.

He shivered faintly, and I caught myself curling a palm around his ribs, thumb brushing his side as if I could warm him with touch alone.

I swallowed a groan as I came face-to-face with his tight white briefs. His dick was of average length and width, the outline of it clear through his underwear.

Hooking my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, I sent a questioning glance up at him, double-checking that this was okay.

Colby’s cheeks pinked as he said, “Off, Pappa.”

I sent a silent prayer to the gods for strength as I began to ease the underwear down from his hips.

“ Helvete ,” I breathed under my breath, my eyes drinking up the sight of his pretty pink cockhead.

“Pappa,” he whined, shifting side to side as his cock began to harden from my attention.

Slowly, sliding his briefs down inch by inch, I revealed his balls, salivating at the thought of sucking them into my mouth.

I slid his underwear all the way down, helping him to step out, then suddenly—just like that—I had a very naked boy in front of me.

His hands fluttered at his sides, needing my instruction on what to do next.

Taking a deep breath and reminding myself that he needed nothing but pure comfort after the hard night he’d had, I guided him to the tub. “Careful, it’s a bit hot.”

Colby eased in, the water lapping up to his collarbones.

His head tipped back almost instantly, lashes low, pacifier still in place.

I rolled up my sleeves and took a washcloth, dipping it into the lavender-scented water before running it gently over his shoulders, down his arms. He didn’t flinch, didn’t speak—just let me tend to him like he’d been waiting for it all along.

The more I washed him, the more that sense of ownership coiled tighter inside me. Each little sigh he made, each time his head lolled into my palm when I cupped water over his hair—it wasn’t just trust.

It was surrender.

“You’re so good for Pappa,” I murmured, letting my thumb sweep along his jaw as I tilted his head to rinse the suds away. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you like this. This is just for me. Just for your Pappa.”

He made a small, muffled hum around the pacifier, sinking deeper into the water.

I lingered, rinsing and re-rinsing, because I didn’t want the moment to end. Here, in my home, with him drowsy and malleable under my hands, the rest of the world didn’t exist. And I wanted to keep it that way.

Forever.

When the water began to cool, I pulled the stopper and wrapped him in a thick towel, lifting him from the tub as easily as if he weighed nothing. His damp curls clung to my shirt where his head rested against my chest.

“Bedtime now,” I told him, carrying him back into the bedroom. He didn’t answer, only curled closer, the pacifier still tucked between his lips.

Perfect. He was too tired to argue. Too worn down to run. And now that I had him here, I’d make sure he never needed—or wanted—to leave.

I set him down on the edge of the bed, removing the towel from around him.

Grabbing the clean set of pajamas that I’d pulled from his bag earlier, I helped him stand and held his hips as he stepped into the fresh pair of baby blue briefs.

I carefully tugged the snug underwear over his half-hard cock, taking a mental picture of it for later.

Next, I helped him into a deep navy t-shirt and matching bottoms, decorated with little pale yellow stars reminiscent of the night sky.

I helped him lie back under the thick comforter, tucking it snug around his shoulders so he was wrapped up like the precious thing he was. He blinked slowly up at me, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded, pacifier bobbing faintly with each lazy suck.

“Comfy?” I asked, smoothing the blanket over his chest and brushing an errant curl from his forehead.

A small nod.

“Godgutten. Good boy.”

I stripped down to my undershirt and joggers and slid in beside him.

He shifted instinctively toward the warmth, curling into my side like he’d been doing it for years.

I slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer until his head rested under my chin.

His breath was slow but not quite even, still catching now and again in those leftover tremors of adrenaline.

I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the lavender from his bath.

“You’re safe here,” I murmured. “Nothing can get to you here.”

He made a soft sound against my chest, and I felt it vibrate through my ribs. That sound was trust. It was dependence.

It was mine.

My hand drifted slowly up and down his side, over the soft cotton of his pajamas. Not sexual—though the temptation simmered deep in my gut—but each pass a reminder: I’m here. I’m keeping you.

“God natt min skatt,” I whispered. Good night, my treasure.

The rhythm of his breathing finally settled, and the tiny, unconscious weight of his body settled against mine. I could feel his guard completely down, his mind already drifting into sleep, and that was when the darker thoughts settled in once more, just as they always did.

He belonged here. His fate was bound to mine. The gods had created the perfect creature, just for me.

I would keep him here, no matter what. He needed me.

If he never went back, he’d never have to feel unsafe again. Scaring him out of his dorm had been necessary, but now that he was home, I wouldn’t need to use those tactics again.

And I’d never have to feel this ache in my chest when he was out of sight.

I held him tighter, just enough to make sure he couldn’t roll away in his sleep.

Tomorrow, I’d make sure he had even less reason to leave.

But for tonight… I just watched him sleep, counting each slow rise and fall of his chest like it was the only thing keeping my own heart beating.

Maybe it was.