Rayn: Have a good day.Mature

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. Because I’d thrown up, I’d technically had nothing to eat all day, and it’d gotten pretty busy around lunch time. That and it was draining having to be around Matt.

My dreams didn’t care how tired I was; they woke me up in the dark hours of the morning like always. Kyle was still awake, apparently. His fingers tangled in my hair.

“What?” he asked when I let out a little whine. I complained about still being tired at him. "Go back to sleep, then," he said with a little chuckle.

“I can’t,” I said sadly. He pulled me into a cuddle, planting a kiss on the top of my head.


I nodded, “You should know the drill by now,” I flashed him a small smile.

"What was it about this time?"

"Same as always.” He kept cuddling me, kissing my forehead when I couldn’t help clinging to him a little. He managed to fall asleep properly, whereas I sort of drifted in and out of sleep, feeling possibly more tired every time I woke up. Kyle was still snuggled up to me when my alarm went off – and fast asleep – so I turned it off and got ready for work as quietly as I could. I was so hungry that I got through three bowls of coco pops before I was even dressed.

As I was going up my shirt, Kyle finally woke up, looking all confused.

"You're getting ready a little early, aren't you?"

"I have to go in ten minutes," I told him. He rubbed his eyes, looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"You should've woken me up."

“You needed the rest,” I smiled.

"I like being up when you go, though," he reminded me, smiling back.

“You’re cute,” I kissed him on the cheek, “but I’d rather you didn’t pass out from exhaustion just because you wanted to see me go in the mornings.” He laughed a little.

"Don't worry, I go back to sleep once you've gone." I giggled a little. “What?” he asked, looking amused.

“You charmer.” He grinned widely at me. “Right, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you this evening,” we shared a kiss.

"Have a good day, gorgeous."

“I will,” I lied, forcing myself to bounce out of the apartment with the same enthusiasm I had been for the last two weeks.

“Morning,” Matt greeted me with a smirk. I stayed quiet. "How's the husband?"

“He’s fine,” I muttered, doing my best to mentally prepare for another day of being miserable. He was on top form today. He didn’t even have to touch me to make those coco pops reappear.

"If I didn't know any better,    Honey    , I would've thought you were pregnant," Matt’s voice said from behind me. I’d heard someone come in, but I didn’t think it was him. I rested my head down on the toilet seat, not really caring what sort of diseases I’d be picking up from it. I was honestly more concerned with the fact that Matt was crouching down next to me, playing with my hair.

I looked up at his smile. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have smiled back at him.

"Want me to look after you?" he asked with another of his smirks. I looked up at him, my eyes wide and bit my lip a little. I didn’t like the sound of that. "I've got some special medicine to make you feel better." I just kept looking at him. I knew where it was going, but I didn’t know if I could get out of it somehow. The manager was upstairs, and we were the only two on shift in the mornings. I was totally on my own with this one. "All you've gotta do is suck and swallow," he looked like he was about to explode from all the smirking.

I sat up and tried to shuffle away from him somehow, but he was blocking the doorway to the stall I was in, effectively trapping me. I didn’t really have the energy for getting around him and running the fuck out of there. I shuffled back anyway, backing myself up into a corner. Maybe the wall would swallow me and take me away from him.

He didn’t look amused by me trying to get away from him. “Get over here,” he demanded. I shook my head, sniffing back the panicked tears that threatened to make an appearance. “Why not?” he glared.

“Dun wanna,” I squeaked, my vision blurring a little as those tears got closer and closer to spilling.

"But how am I s'posed to make you all better if you won't get over here?" All I could do was do my best not to break down into tears. That’s easier said than done when you’re essentially looking up at a younger, blonder version of your father. He grabbed a handful of my hair, "You have to do what your doctor tells you. And if I'm gonna make you better, that makes me your doctor.” When I tried to get away from him again, he stopped me and I started to panic. "Are you gonna be a good boy and take your medicine?" I shook my head as best as I could with him still holding onto my hair, the fear taking hold of me as he undid his pants. Please, not again. He tutted, "Guess I'll have to force you to take it, then."

I let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a whimper, trying to avoid looking at him as he pulled his pants down enough to get it out. He forced me to look at him and at that point, there was no way I could’ve held back those tears any longer. The only way this could get worse was if he decided he didn’t want my mouth anymore. As he started to get it out, I closed my eyes, trying to avoid what was coming.

"Open your mouth," he said. "I said open your fucking mouth," his tone got irritable when I didn’t do anything. I let my jaw hang looser, opening my mouth a little. It’d be okay, I told myself as he forced my mouth to open further with his free hand. It’ll all be okay, because someone’ll walk in, in a minute. Someone will walk in, and see what he’s doing, and make it stop.

He shoved himself down my throat, not caring as I gagged. By the time he finished, I thought my gag reflex had tied itself into a huge knot. My throat ached and stung with the bile he’d brought up.

"Swallow it like a good boy," he told me, pulling out. I just sat there crying, trying not to spit out what he’d left behind. "Swallow it," he growled angrily. I forced it down, wishing I had a toothbrush with me. He was still all over my teeth and tongue. "Good boy," he said with a smile, ruffling my hair as I leant back on the wall. I was doing my best not to be so fucking pathetic. “Get back to work,” he said grumpily, like all of that had just been me wasting time. I bolted out of there, wiping my face.

I got a lot of odd looks from people as I served them. I couldn’t tell if it was because my shirt now needed washing, or if it was because I was still kind of crying.

The End

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