Page 19 of Daddy's Muse

He just didn’t know it yet.

I clenched my jaw as I quietly left his room. It was becoming increasingly difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch.

I desperately wanted to map every inch of his body with my lips, to paint his body with my blood and cum, and drown him in unimaginable pleasure.

But he was such a fragile thing, and I worried that going too fast would break him.

He needed to be tended to, not torn open. Nurtured like a sapling just beginning to stretch toward the sun after seasons of shadow.

I stood outside his door for a long moment after it closed behind me, just staring at the number stenciled on the wood. Assoon as it was possible, I would be moving him out of this dorm. Obviously, it wasn’t very safe if no one had questioned why a full-grown man kept coming and going from his room in the middle of the night.

No one had taken care of him properly in years, maybe his entire life.

But I would.

I would learn what foods soothed him when he was anxious, what music made him hum under his breath, what colors he liked to wear, even if he rarely got to choose.

I’d already started.

The woman who worked the early shift at the diner said he took his coffee with hazelnut creamer and too much sugar.

One of the young cashiers working at the nearby dollar store had told me that sometimes Colby would buy a bag of caramels as a treat, but that normally he was buying granola bars and sports drinks.

7

Colby

Bryan wasn’t answering his phone, and at first, it was a relief.

The silence was…strange, a little unnerving, but welcome.

I’d come back from the library a few nights ago and noticed his gym bag untouched in the corner, his bed empty, and his backpack gone.

That first night, I’d figured maybe he’d gone to crash with a friend or was passed out drunk in one of the many frat houses on campus. It wasn’t unusual for him to stumble into our room after a night out.

But by the second night, I had started to grow a bit concerned.

I’d texted him yesterday. Just a short,“Hey, everything okay?”

He hadn’t responded.

I even tried calling him.

He hadn’t picked up.

As much as he hated me, he had never just disappeared on me before.

I opened our last conversation thread again now, staring at the empty “delivered” status beneath my message—no “read” receipt.

The dorm felttooquiet now.

I glanced around the room; my desk was tidy, as always, the corners of my notebooks lined up with obsessive precision. Our shared mini fridge still had his energy drinks inside. His coat still hung by the door, and his side of the room was still littered with his dirty clothes from the week before.

I shivered slightly even though the heater was on.

Lately, I’d been waking up in the middle of the night with the oddest sense that something—or someone—was watching me. Not from outside the window, or the hallway, but from inside the room.

The first night it had happened, I’d written it off as stress, or maybe even Bryan coming back for a minute to grab something. But in the morning when I’d seen his stuff completely untouched, I wasn’t sure anymore.