Just Like Animals

№ 11

Ricky had dozed off late that morning after a long night awake. He wasn't fully asleep, just enough that he was entirely disoriented and confused when he felt a pair of hands touching his hair and scalp. He lightly swatted around his head, mumbling a bit as he tried to shoo away whatever pest was bothering him.

"It's just me." Chris assured with a short chuckle, pulling his fingers from Ricky's locks and gently taking hold of his hand.  In a slight panic, Ricky forced his eyes open, shifting away and trying to sit up. 

"What are you doing?" Ricky grumbled, getting himself upright and scooting away as far as the chain would allow.  He instinctively felt over his head, making sure he didn't catch Chris in the middle of dissecting his brain.

Chris laughed softly, watching as Ricky ruffled his already tangled hair, "I think you need to shower today." He suggested. Ricky looked around for a mirror, having no idea what Chris was referencing.

Ricky was still incredibly drowsy and rather hesitant to do anything Chris said, especially after Chris had kissed him.  So while a shower would've been nice, he was going to drag his feet as much as possible and stayed seated.  Chris could tell Ricky was purposefully being obstinate, so he started to dig through Ricky's duffle bags, looking for some fresh clothing for Ricky to wear once he was all cleaned up.

"I don't need you digging through all my shit." Ricky huffed as Chris browsed through his underwear.  He had so little control over things so although he knew Chris was the one to originally gather his clothing and brought it to him, he didn't want him more involved than he had to be, especially when it came to his intimates.

With a sharp exhale, as if laughing, Chris pulled a tiny, lacey thong from the bottom of the bag, tossing it at Ricky. "I've already found everything you wouldn't want me to find." He sighed, shaking his head a bit as pulled out a pair of Ricky's soft jersey boxer briefs, finding a cozy pair of socks for him to wear too and adding it to the shirt and pants he had picked out.

Once again paralyzed by shock, Ricky sat with his mouth open slightly, trying to think of what he could say or do to regain a sense of privacy, but there was nothing.  Chris had seen him naked when he had taken the blood soaked off of him and washed him up. He had gone rifling through all of Ricky's drawers and seen all of his sex toys and lingerie. He had been reading and responding to all of the messages from Jaime and presumably snooping through their older texts too.

Against his will, Ricky had let Chris into the most private and personal parts of his life and there was nothing he could do to regain the comfortable cushion of his secrets.

Ricky felt tears on his cheeks and wiped them away quickly, wanting one singular thing that Chris wasn't privy to, even if it was just his emotions and the feeling of being so terribly exposed. 

Waiting patiently for Ricky, Chris released the chain from where it was tethered to the wall, holding it tight as he walked Ricky upstairs to the bathroom.

"Sit." Chris told Ricky, gesturing to the closed toilet seat.  Ricky gave in to the request, curling up on the porcelain throne while he watched Chris set down his clean clothes and dig through the drawers under the sink, eventually producing a hair brush and a few other basic hygiene items.

Before doing anything else, Chris let the chain he held slip through his grip and hit the floor, watching as Ricky flinched at the noise.  He gazed at Ricky, looking for a sign that he would try to flee, but he just sat, knees tucked up against his chest and staring straight ahead.

With hairbrush in hand, he approached Ricky, standing by his side as he started to tend to him.  It had been a while since Ricky's hair was properly detangled, so Chris had to work slowly, first addressing the split ends and carefully moving his way up towards the roots.

It took quite a bit of time, but eventually Ricky had individual strands of hair again, it no longer looking like he was wearing a matted dog pelt as a hat.  Chris was satisfied with the improvement, spending a moment running his hand over Ricky's head, petting him slowly.  He ended up zoning out, snapping out of trance when Ricky shifted slightly and the metal chain clanked against the tile floor.

"Lift your head up." Chris insisted, reaching into his front pocket and finding the small set of keys.  Ricky obeyed, pulling his chin off his knees and adjusting his posture.  He could feel Chris grab the lock that sat on his shoulder, tugging on it ever so slightly before the whole thing came loose.

Perhaps a week ago, Ricky would've been excited.  He would've played coy until Chris turned his back before making a mad dash for freedom.  But he had lived with Chris for long enough now that he knew he wouldn't make it far if he even managed to get out of the room, let alone out of the house.  If he knew he could make it to even the closest neighbors house, he would try to escape, but he didn't want to exhaust himself by running, have Chris grab him anyways, then end up bloodied and bruised in the basement all over again.

"Shower and clean yourself up. I'll be right outside if you need anything." Chris sighed and picked up the chain and lock, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.  He sat right on the floor, back against the adjacent wall while he listened for running water or an attempt at a jail break. 

After a minute or so, he heard the toilet flush and the sink faucet be turned on, a sign that Ricky was listening to him after all.  He didn't have anything to do, so he spent some time recounting the past month, thinking about everything that got him - and Ricky - into this situation.

One thought kept circling around in Chris' mind, desperately wanting to be said aloud.  It was so quiet though that if felt ridiculous to break the silence for something as stupid as the question that kept nagging him.  But then the shower was turned on and the old pipes let out their usual angry hiss and with the silence already broken, it wasn't so intimidating for Chris to speak his mind.

"So do you like boys?" He called out, mentally kicking himself as the words came out of his mouth like vomit.

The only response he got was the sound of a shampoo bottle being dropped and for a moment he wondered if Ricky had even heard him.  He was going to let it go when he heard a rather definitive "no" from inside the bathroom.

Chris didn't know why it hurt to hear Ricky say that, but it did. He wished he didn't open his mouth in the first place.  He wished Ricky didn't hear the question.  He wished that he hadn't responded.

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