11 comments/ 57335 views/ 9 favorites The Shelter By: bipussyboi This story is completely true and accurate, or at least as best as I can remember it almost 25 years later... I'd always been a small kid, more brains than brawn. From junior high through early high school I was very insecure, awkward, out of place. But midway through high school I was introduced to drugs -- pot, acid, coke -- and suddenly I didn't feel so uncomfortable all of the time. I felt hip and cool and less like an outsider. But it turns out I have an addictive personality, and pretty soon I was high all the time. I was smart enough and had enough structure at home to coast through high school. But when I moved away to college, living in the dorms, with no restrictions on my behavior, I really lost it...getting high pretty much 24/7, going weeks without showing up to class. It is not surprising at all that the year ended with me back at my parents' house, having flunked out of school. Of course, I hadn't learned my lesson yet and was still getting high all the time. Eventually my parents, in an act of tough love, kicked me out of the house. The next couple of weeks were spent couch surfing with friends (or, more accurately, drug buddies), but eventually their goodwill was all used up and I was on my own. Having no money and not knowing what to do, I asked one of my drug buddies what he had done when he'd been homeless a few months prior. He said that the state had converted on of the old prison buildings into a homeless shelter at night, where they would give you a sandwich for dinner and a cot to sleep on. That sounded like a pretty shitty option, but being it was my only option, I walked the 6 miles there and arrived that night, too late for supper, but just in time for bed. Even though I was 19, I was still very small. And despite having spent a few years in the drug culture, I was a relatively sheltered, naïve, innocent kid, with lots of book smarts but very little in the way of street smarts. I was a smart kid from a pretty nice middle-class family; I'd never had to fend for myself before. So being in this old prison building at lights out, laying in a tiny cot in a cold dark room surrounded by about 10 or 15 rough, dirty, homeless men, I was feeling extremely vulnerable and scared. I really felt like I was in prison, that I was the "fresh meat" at the mercy of these big, rough strangers. My fear must have been extremely obvious to the guy who was in the bed next me. After it had been lights out for about 30 minutes, and most everyone seemed to have fallen asleep, he whispered over to me "hey, are you ok?" I told him I was fine, but we both knew that wasn't the case. The first thing he said to me after that was "don't worry, you're going to be ok" and for some reason I felt instantly better. I didn't know him from the guy on the other side of me, but just the way he said it, and the warm look in his eye when I got up the courage to look him in the face made me feel a lot calmer, like I was safe, like he would protect me. Even though we were in the middle of a crowded room, we were able to talk quietly while everyone else slept. We talked for a long time about ourselves and how we had gotten to where we were tonight. His name was Dan; he was 52 years old, a Vietnam Vet who had been an electrician. He'd always been a drinker, but when his wife passed away a couple of years earlier, he basically became a full-blown alcoholic and cokehead. His drinking and coke habit had driven away his family and cost him his savings and his house. He'd been homeless and staying at the shelter for about 2 months. We talked for hours, with him telling me what the routine was like there (they would bus us out to the city every morning, and then bus us back to the shelter only at night), how he spent his days, stuff about our pasts, and so forth. At one point we started talking about sex. When talking about sex with people back then I would usually lie and tell them about the girlfriends I'd had in high school who I'd had sex with. But the reality was that I was still a virgin. And it wasn't like I'd just not had sex; I had only made out with a couple of girls, and had never even gotten to second base or had anyone ever rub my dick through my pants, let alone touch it bare. I was of course very embarrassed about my lack of experience, which is why I always would lie about it, but with Dan I felt so safe that I had no problem at all being completely truthful. When I told him that no one had ever touched my dick before, let alone sucked it or had it inside of me, he told me he was bisexual, that he thought I was attractive, and that if I wanted he would stroke my dick and even suck it. To this point of my life I'd been completely straight; I don't believe I'd ever thought about sex with guys at all. And when he said it I was completely shocked; maybe it would have been obvious to anyone else that this offer was going to be made, but for me it was totally unexpected. But pretty quickly, it went through my mind: I'm homeless, I'm lying in a cot surrounded by a bunch of smelly dirty guys, I have no friends, no money, no home, I'm a 19 year old virgin...why the hell not? What else do I have to lose? At least it would feel good to have someone touch and maybe even suck my dick, even if it is a 52 year old guy rather than some girl I had a crush on in the dorm... We went off to the bathroom, which was a large public bathroom but obviously empty with everyone asleep. Still, to be safe, we went into a stall and locked it. He sat down on the toilet seat while I stood in front of him. In the light for the first time I could see him clearly; he looked like a man who had been decent looking when he was younger, but the alcohol and drugs made him look a bit ravaged and older than his years. Still, I was excited. I was tingling from nerves, both still from the lingering fear and uncertainty of the entire situation, the fear that someone would come in at any moment and catch us, and of course from the uncertainty of what it would be like to have a guy play with my cock. But I was more horny than anything else at that point; my virgin dick, which had only felt my hand before this, was rock hard in my jeans. Clearly my erection was obvious through my pants, because he ran his fingers along the outline of my cock for a few minutes before unbuttoning them. Even that felt amazing, my cock felt electric. When he pulled his pants down he saw I had a big wet precum spot in the front of my underwear which he leaned forward and licked, making me moan as I felt his tongue brushing my underwear right on the head of my cock. He peeled my underwear down and my 6" cock sprang straight out. He looked up at me and told me I had a very nice cock, which made me feel proud and sexy. He stroked the shaft a little bit and ran his hands around my cock and balls and thighs, making me moan more (I kept as quiet as I could) and making more precum leak from the head. After a few minutes he stuck his tongue out to lick up the precum and swirled his tongue around it, making me feel weak in the knees. He then opened my mouth, grabbed my ass, and pulled me into him, taking my cock instantly down his throat. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, the wet warmth of his mouth, and I don't think I lasted more than 30 seconds before I was grabbing the back of his head and shooting my cum down his throat. He kept me inside him as I came, swallowing my load, and even after, my cock throbbing in his mouth, my eyes rolling back inside my head, my mind flooded with pleasure I'd never felt before. After a few minutes, when I returned back to earth, he finally took my cock out of his mouth and stood up. Immediately I felt a very overwhelming feeling of warmth and gratitude to him, and I threw my arms around him, buried my face in his chest and hugged him tightly. I felt safe. I felt protected. A few hours I had felt completely alone and scared and unloved, but now I felt like I had someone who cared for me, someone who would take care of me. The way he hugged me back tight, so strong, so warm, let me know that he felt it to, that he wanted to protect and care for me. I needed a daddy to protect me and he wanted a boy to protect, and somehow we had found each other here. Another thing I could feel as we hugged each other tightly for several minutes was that Daddy's cock was hard. Even though I'd never even considered touching a guy's cock before, I had a sudden, serious desire to see his, touch his, and maybe even taste his. I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted to show him how good he made me feel. I wanted more than I had wanted anything before to make him feel good. I sat down on the toilet seat like he had, and looked up into his face to see surprise that soon turned into a big grin. I rubbed the front of pants like he had me, and could feel how thick he was. I fumbled with the button and zipper, wanting to see his cock so bad. When I took it out I couldn't believe how big the head was...although his cock in general was pretty large, the head looked gigantic, so pink and swollen. I was mesmerized by it, hypnotized. Feeling an urge like I'd never felt before, I leaned forward so I could kiss it. I gave it a big kiss and started licking all over it, tasting his thin, salty precum which I hated for about half a second but then loved. I tried to suck him but didn't really know how, and I could only take a tiny bit in before I gagged. So I stroked his shaft with my hand I kissed and sucked and licked on the head until I felt him ready to cum. I wrapped my mouth around his head to swallow like he did me, but the first shot caught me by surprise in my throat and I pulled him out and took the rest on my face, stroking it all out of him, my fingers tight at the base to milk every drop. When he was done I gave him more big kisses on the head until he pulled me up for another hug. As he held me tight, I whispered to him "I want to do that all the time" and he whispered back "oh, you will." To be continued... If you liked or would like to discuss this story, please contact me via the CONTACT tab on my profile. The Shelter Ch. 02 This story is completely true and accurate, at least as best as I can remember it almost 25 years later. The next morning I woke up feeling very strangely. Even though I was homeless and broke and completely out of my element, the depression and fear from the previous day was gone. I felt excited. Last night I had done things that would have seemed completely absurd and taboo to me before now, but at this moment it seemed like I was embarking on a new exciting adventure, and my situation gave me freedom to explore without feeling any moral obligations. Being homeless, on the fringe of society, meant that I could be someone else without worrying about consequences or judgments. I could allow myself to do and feel things without worrying or caring about what people would think. I felt such an extremely strong attachment and attraction to Dan. I wanted his guidance, his protection, his attention, his affection. The night before, after we had finished in the bathroom, Dan told me that he was very attracted to me, that he thought I was cute and sexy. It made me feel so good to be desired. As we got dressed in the morning, he kept grinning at me, looking at me with a gleam in his eye, which made me feel warm and gushy inside. The shelter was for sleeping only; every morning a bus would come to take us to the downtown area of a nearby city to spend the day, with another bus returning us to the shelter in the evening. On the bus, when Dan put his arm around me, a few of the other guys gave us dirty looks and eye rolls, but I didn't mind at all...I felt happy and proud. Dan told me that most of them were probably just jealous that he had found me before they did. As we rode downtown, I put my hand on his thigh, my fingers teasing the inside of it, watching with fascination as his cock visibly grew and moved around inside of his jeans. The bus dropped us off at a soup-kitchen kind of place where Dan and I had a free breakfast of runny eggs and toast. Dan and I then went on a hike through the city, walking mostly silently through what must have been a couple of miles until we reached a woodsy area on the outskirts of town. We walked a ways into the woods until we found a clearing where we could lay down. We lay down next to each other and Dan pulled me into him, my head on his chest, his hand rubbing on my back and ass. I ran my hand over his belly to the crotch of his jeans and felt his cock grow against my hand as I rubbed him lightly. I could hear him sigh and moan quietly as my fingers played on his cock. I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and moved down to between his legs, my eyes wide while admiring the big bulge of his cock and balls in his tight white briefs. I could see the outline of his big mushroom head and I bent down to lick it, which made his cock squirm and jump. I lay down on my belly so I could get my face deep into his crotch. I rubbed my cheeks against his covered balls, nuzzled my nose against them. I felt so playful and childlike, so warm and happy. I kissed on his balls, then all over his crotch, feeling wetness against my lips where his precum had leaked out and soaked into his underwear. I reached up with both hands to pull his underwear down to let his big beautiful cock free. I slowly stroked the shaft of his cock as I examined it all in wonder. Last night that bathroom had been fairly dark and we had been pretty rushed, but now I was able to really get a good leisurely close-up look at another man's cock for the first time. He was circumcised like me, but his head seemed much shinier than mine, like there was a coat of lip gloss spread out on it. He was about an inch longer than mine, but much, much thicker. And while the head of my cock was about the same width as the shaft, his flared out to almost twice as wide as his shaft, which I found fascinating. His ball sack hung a lot lower than mine, and was sparsely covered with white hair. The feel of his cock in my hand was amazing, it felt so alive. I loved how I could feel his pulse as I squeezed it tightly. I moved my head up to kiss and lick his big shiny cockhead, and looked up into his face. He had a giant smile. He ran his hand through my hair and told me I looked beautiful with my mouth on his cock, that I was a beautiful boy, which made my heart jump. I blushed. If you had asked me a few days before how I would feel about having some old guy's cock in my mouth while he told me I looked beautiful I would have answered that I would feel repulsed and disgusted. But now that it was happening I felt nothing but warmth, joy. It felt completely right, completely where I belonged. I looked at Dan's smile and the look in his eyes and I wanted nothing other than to make him feel good, to give him pleasure, to show him I appreciated his strength and manliness. My own cock was rock hard in my pants, but I was so much more concerned with his cock. It felt like the center of the universe, the only thing that mattered. Yet after a couple of minutes of kissing and licking on his head, Dan pulled me up and told me to undress so he could get a look at my young body. I stripped down completely naked and stood before him as he ogled me. He made me turn around slowly like I was a model so he could get a good look at me as he sat on the ground. He had me squat in front of him, my hard dick jutting towards his face. I thought he was going to stroke and suck me like he did the night before, but instead he grabbed my balls and tugged on them for a minute, and then moved his fingers underneath my ball sack and started rubbing. I'd never touched myself there before; I couldn't believe how good it felt. I moaned loudly, whimpered really, while my cock started dripping like a faucet. After a few minutes he told me to get on my hands and knees, then wet his fingers in his mouth and started rubbing them on that place again. As I moaned in pleasure, I instinctively pushed my ass out towards him and he brought his fingers up to my anus. He ran a finger in circles around my asshole, making me cry out even more. What he was doing to me felt better than the blowjob last night. I'd never felt anything like this before, I felt like my whole body was going to explode. He started squeezing and pulling on my ass cheeks, telling me what a nice ass I had, calling it my "baby fat" ass. I'd never been even partially naked in front of anyone before, and yet here I was completely bare, my cock and balls hanging between my legs my ass in the air and opened up so that my asshole was fully on display for Dan. But again it felt perfect. I'd never been so turned on in my life. After a few minutes of squeezing my ass and teasing my hole, Dan stood up and pulled my head up to his cock, which was so hard and swollen that it looked like it was going to burst. I cupped my hand under his balls and went to work on his cock. The night before I hadn't been able to take much of his cock in my mouth, but with no time pressure now I was able to slowly work my mouth down it, taking my time to get accustomed to it on my tongue. Dan let me go at my pace, keeping his cock still, letting me work my way down it. I gagged a few times with his huge head hitting the back of my throat but I kept at it until I was able to keep at least a few inches in. I bobbed on his head as he ran his hands over my face, rubbing my cheeks, telling me how good it felt, what a good boy I was, that I was a natural at this, all of which made me feel proud, and happy that I was making him feel good. I slurped noisily on it, loving the sound of his wet cock as my lips moved over it, drool dripping down my chin. After a few minutes I felt his body stiffen and his cockhead swell and then he yelled out as his cock spit out cum into my mouth. I closed my throat and closed my eyes tight, doing everything I could not to gag and ruin his orgasm. I kept my lips moving over the head and shaft as I felt the pulse of his cock and the squirt of his jizz inside of me. After a minute his body relaxed and I pulled my mouth off his dick. He looked down at me and laughed and told me I could spit it out, but instead I looked up at him while I swallowed it down, putting a big smile on his face. I went back to his cock and loved on it for a few minutes, cleaning off the remains of salty thick cum that I immediately loved the taste and feel of in my mouth. He lay back on the ground, pulling me into him again. I buried my faced into his chest, holding him so tight. I told him I loved everything we just did...I loved his sucking his cock, I loved being naked in front of him, I loved him playing with my ass, I loved his cum. I told him how good it made me feel to give him pleasure. My own cock, which had been completely untouched this entire time, was throbbing like crazy against the side of his leg, but he ignored it, rubbing only my back and ass as I snuggled into his broad chest, me purring like a cat, in a state of sheer bliss like I'd never felt before. To be continued... Any feedback on this story, positive or negative, is appreciated! The Shelter of Your Heart Disappointment Alert: There's no sex in this story. I'd conceived this on a day when I was ill and alone, and wished I had somebody to care for me that way. Just plain and simple love. Enjoy! ***** The doorbell pierced the silence of the darkened house and bored right into my head, making me groan. I kicked my heels in the mattress, fisting the sheets tightly in my palms. Life was hell at the moment. My head throbbed violently, a terrible nausea flowed through my body, and a nagging ache clenched my lower abdomen. And fuck, I was also running a temperature. I hadn't bothered to bring out the thermometer and check but I was sure it was pretty high because my legs were wobbly. Why did all three enemies have to attack me at the same time? The loud ding-dong filled the house again and I almost cried. Who the hell had come to disturb me in the evening? Didn't they know I was in no position to get up and answer the door? Of course, they did not. Oh hell. I pushed the duvet aside and scrambled into a sitting position. My skin broke into goosebumps the moment it came into contact with the air in the room. I was so damn cold. I wished I had his arms to hold me in a protective embrace, warming and soothing me. But alas, he wouldn't be back in another two days. The doorbell came again. As difficult as it seemed to cover the short distance to the front door, I knew I had to get up because whoever was at the door wasn't in the mood to leave me alone. I slowly, painfully, crawled down from bed, turned on a bedside lamp and held the night-stand for support while I struggled to get on to my feet. Once I was sure I wouldn't tumble, I slid my feet into the slippers and tucked the drawstrings inside my pyjamas before tugging at my long-sleeve t-shirt to hide the waistband. I knew I looked like the bride of Frankenstein's monster but couldn't care less if it scared away the person at the door. I hobbled through the living room, wincing at the brightness as I switched on a couple of lights and by the time I reached the door, the doorbell had rung twice more. Without caring to look who it was, I opened the door. "Jesus! I was about to call the police!" With two long strides, he had entered my flat, dragging his luggage behind him, while I tried to figure out if it was really happening or was I dreaming. I shut the door and kept staring at him while he placed his luggage in a corner. "Were you sleeping?" he came closer and pulled me against his chest, "I'm sorry I woke you up." "Where did you come from?" I frowned, "I thought you were arriving the day after." "Took an early flight," he explained, his face taking on a slightly annoyed look, "You've been a naughty girl. Had it not been for Mrs Robinson, I wouldn't have got to know you're unwell." "Mrs Robinson?!" "Yes, your neighbour. Bless her. She called up Mark and admonished all of us for leaving you alone here when you're unwell." He paused, his arms coiling around my waist. "Is that why you didn't receive my calls last night?" he frowned, an irate gleam entering his eyes, "So that I don't come to know you're unwell?" I squirmed in his arms, feeling guilty as hell. It's terribly awkward when you're confronted by the person who knows you better than anyone else and there's nowhere to hide. "I... I..." "I had asked you before leaving if you'd be okay," he sighed, leading me to the sofa, "I had a feeling something would be wrong... since that night in the tour bus when you had your nosebleeds again..." He eased me on to the sofa and sat beside me. Even though he was scolding me, I instinctively curled in his arms, seeking warmth. He folded his arms around my small body, only to spring in surprise. "Kitten, you're burning up!" he shrieked, "Wh-what's your temperature? Did you take any medicine? Oh God! I was told you're down with a headache... Jesus!" He bolted from the sofa even before I could get a reply out and disappeared inside my bedroom. Seconds later, he came out of the room, carrying a thermometer. "Open your mouth," he almost commanded, sitting beside me. I obeyed silently, not wishing to fight him. When the thermometer beeped after two minutes, he pulled it out and frowned at the reading. "You're far worse than what I thought," he observed. "Now I realise why you look so distressed." "Look, I-" "Shhh," he put a finger on my lips, planting a reverent kiss on my forehead. "I'm here now. I'll take care of you." "You shouldn't have come away like this... What about tomorrow's interview?" "It's a radio interview and just two of us are needed. The lads will manage it." He ran a finger down the side of my face. "Since when have you been unwell?" "Yesterday morning," I said hesitantly. "Have you taken the medicines for your headache?" "The meds make me so nauseous," I whimpered, hanging my head low, "I've thrown up so many times since yesterday..." "Oh kitten!" He engulfed me in a hug, kissing my hair. For the first time that day, I felt a little warm. His jacket smelled of fading perfume, and I felt his heart beating softly under my palm when I placed my hand on his chest. Just then, a bout of pain spasmed through my lower abdomen and I instantly crumbled in his arms. "What's wrong?" he looked down at my face and asked. Embarrassment rushed through my veins and I was sure my face had coloured. "Nothing," I shook my head, "I'm just a little cold." "Let's get you to bed," he smiled, promptly picking me up in his arms. Oh God! How I hated doing this to him. He had left important work midway and come back home for me. Touching though it was, I couldn't help feel bad. He loved his work. And this wasn't an emergency. I would've got by. "Stop wriggling, will you?" he snapped, putting me down on to the bed, "Why're you resisting me?" "I'm not..." I mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. Once I was nestled under the duvet, he moved closer and planted an affectionate kiss on my cheek. His breath felt warm and made me shiver. "Say you don't want me here," he murmured against my ear, his voice dropping, "Ask me to go away." "I do want you here," I finally gave in to the tears, "Damn, I want you with me all the time... I just don't want to come between you and your work. What will the management say?" "Nothing," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I couldn't just be there in peace when I know you're unwell and all alone here. And I'm the lead singer. I carry the band. They wouldn't want to go against me." He gently cupped my face and smiled tenderly. "Just relax, okay?" he brushed the tears away with the back of his thumb, "I know what I'm doing. Now, do you have any medicine for fever?" "I have the one the doctor prescribed the last time I was unwell," I motioned at the medicine cabinet, "It's bitter but it works well." "Great." He rose from the bed and walked over to the medicine cabinet. He looked through the medicines for sometime before holding up a strip of nasty-looking pills. "This is the one I suppose?" he called out the name and I nodded in response. He put the strip down on the bedside table and shrugged off his jacket. "Have you got anything to eat? Or would you want me to make something?" I sank back against the stack of pillows, holding my stomach with both hands under the duvet. It was bad. It hadn't been that bad in months. My back ached and my legs felt numb and discomfort burned my body. I couldn't take the risk of eating. "I don't feel like eating..." I whimpered again, tears rising in my throat. Folding my legs close to my body, I wrapped my arms around them, burying my face in between my joined knees. "Look..." he sat beside me and pulled me into his arms, dropping a kiss on my head, "I can imagine how you're feeling but you have to eat something to be able to have the medicine." He gently rubbed his hand across my back. "Is your head still as bad?" "My head, my stomach, everything is in a mess..." I blurted out in a whine. "What's wrong with your stomach?" Oh no. I immediately pulled away and lowered my gaze, folding my arms around my midsection. A sharp, nagging pain made the muscles of my abdomen throb, almost rhythmically syncing with the throbbing of my head. "Are you on your period?" he asked calmly. I didn't know why I always tried to hide it from him when he found me out all the time. We had been in a relationship for five-and-a-half years and with time, we had got familiar with each other's bodies and biological systems. He could read the signs so well that even without my telling him anything, he knew when it was that time of the month. And I still had to try and hide it. Like an idiot. The look on my face must have given away everything because he didn't wait for a reply. "Is it bad?" he moved closer and snaked an arm around my waist. I nodded slowly, my eyes welling up. He hugged me again, softly stroking my head. I tried to bite back the tears but in vain. They were soon running down my face and seeping in to his t-shirt. "Let me make you some soup, okay?" he soothed, "And after you have your medicine, I can heat some water―" "It'll be fine," I murmured against his chest. "I know. Allow me to help make it fine." He wiped off my tears and stared into my eyes. "Will you be okay for two minutes? I think I need a shower. I don't want to go into the kitchen without washing up." The cleanliness freak that he was, he'd never touch food without making sure he was fresh and clean. I nodded and he quickly kissed me on the forehead before heading into the bathroom, singing to himself. Didn't he ever get pissed off with me? And how could the lads just allow him to come away? Ever since my ailment, all of them had become overly concerned about me. I could understand that. But didn't they know all the attention made me feel so guilty? They were the most hard-working band around. I never wanted to pose a problem. I sank into bed, my stomach hurting as I turned to lie on my face. Pulling a pillow, I put it over my face, shutting out the light. My head pulsed with every heartbeat and my body vibrated with each throb. He was home, for me. I knew I'd be better with him around. But what about work? Oh God. I didn't want to be a pest. I must have fallen asleep because when a gentle hand on my head woke me up, I found him seated on the bed with a bowl of soup. His hair was wet and he smelled and looked fresh. He had also opened his luggage and taken out a few clothes. "Just have this and then you can go back to sleep," he smiled, helping me sit up, "I've also got some Ferrero Rondnoir for you." "Ferrero Rondnoir?" "Yes, your favourite. You always complain they are so rarely available here." I couldn't believe his thoughtfulness. He never returned home empty-handed even if it was an unscheduled flight. "Mark had called sometime ago," he said, "He was so worried about you. Now that I'm here, he's a little relieved." I avoided the comment. Over the last six months, I had become an expert at troubling everyone. "What will you have?" I asked, motioning him to come closer. "I've eaten on the flight. I'll make something if I'm hungry." "There's bacon and ham in the fridge. You could make some sandwiches for yourself." He laughingly shook his head. "Don't worry about me," he said, putting the first spoonful into my mouth. He wiped soup from the corner of my lips and waited till I had swallowed before giving me another spoonful. The warm, tangy soup warmed me up as it travelled down my throat and I felt so grateful to be taken care of, that unbeknownst to me, tears spilled from my eyes again. "Don't cry while eating," he said firmly, "I hope the soup's not that bad?" "I'm sorry..." I croaked, letting the tears flow freely. He kept the bowl on the nightstand and wrapped me in his arms, kissing my face. "What's there to be sorry for?" he asked softly. "This..." I sobbed, "Me... Falling ill again and again and troubling others..." "You are ailing, alright? And it's something very serious. You think anyone would be so worried if your headaches were normal?" He paused and made me lean back against the pillows. "That night in the tour bus when you started having those nosebleeds again, did you see how concerned everyone was? You're suffering from a complicated ailment. You need care." "This just keeps happening... I hate being unwell and bothering people..." "It's not in your hands," he shrugged, "Stop blaming yourself, please. You're not bothering anyone." I breathed in and continued shedding silent tears, pushing away his hand when he tried to feed me the soup again. "You don't want to have anymore?" he said, "Okay, then have the med." I groaned softly, making him laugh. "We all become kids when it comes to taking medicines, isn't it?" he remarked, taking out a tablet from the foil, "Here, have it." "It's bitter," I whined. "It's necessary. Come on." I reluctantly took the pill from his hand and swallowed it down with water. The tablet left a bad taste in my mouth and throat and I contorted my face. "Now," he got up and properly arranged the pillows, "Just try to relax, okay? No more crying, please. You need rest." "What about you?" I longingly looked up at him. "I'll be here in five minutes. I saw some dishes in the sink―" "Let them be―" "Why?" he frowned. I turned my gaze away and looked down at my hands. He understood something because he lifted my face up with a finger and smiled. "I'm not as lazy as I pretend to be," he chuckled, "I'll be right back. You try to sleep." He carefully tucked me under the duvet, turned out the light and walked away, gently shutting the door behind him. I curled in a ball and clutched the duvet around my body as the tears trickled past my nose and on to the sheets. Soft sounds from the kitchen floated inside the room. Here was one of the ninth richest celebrities of Ireland, doing dishes in my kitchen. While on other days the stray thought would've made me laugh, on that evening it scorched my heart. I had always lived alone and didn't ever feel the need of a dishwasher. When he came and we started staying over at each other's houses, we either ordered food or ate out because neither of us was too good in the cooking department. Poor thing, I thought. He had never done that before. My stomach clenched again and a low moan escaped my lips. Almost involuntarily, a bout of nausea rose through me and I bolted from bed, making my already heavy bleeding heavier in the process. When I fell on to my knees by the commode and retched my throat to puke the soup I'd just had, my stomach tightened and thick, heavy blood gushed out of my canal. I held the rim of the toilet for support, sobbing, shuddering and grimacing as I vomited. "Kitten!" he rushed inside the bathroom and gathered me in his arms, removing my long hair from my face. The terrible nausea made me keep retching my throat, my vision blinding. If there was a hell, that was it. The only good thing at the moment was his arms, where I disappeared when I had nothing more to eject. "It's going to be fine," he cooed, as he sat on the tiled bathroom floor and protectively held me against his body. I gasped and panted against his chest, the tears still flowing ceaselessly. He reached out and flushed the toilet, before grabbing a towel and wiping my face with it. "Calm down," he reassured me, wiping the corners of my mouth, my cheeks and my nose, "The more you think, the more this will happen." When my breathing became steady again, he put the towel across his shoulder and proceeded to pick me up. I stopped him. "What?" he cocked his head to one side. I gulped uneasily while I wondered how to tell him. The sanitary pad I had on was spilling over and I could feel that the sides of my panties had begun to leak. My pyjamas were black, thankfully. But the moment he put me on bed, it'd be all over the clean sheets. And after doing my dishes, he'd have to do my laundry. "I... um... It's just..." I fumbled, causing his perfectly shaped eyebrows to pucker. He wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead and spoke in his usual calm voice. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said softly, "You don't have to be embarrassed. It's just me. And I think in all these years, I've come to know your body a little too well. There's nothing to hide." There wasn't actually. But the very thought made me flush. "I need to change," I decided to blurt out, "I'm leaking." His expression remained unchanged as he easily lifted me in his arms and carried me to bed. He spread the towel he had on his shoulder on the sheets and gently put me down, making sure my arse was on the towel. I watched, mortified, as he went ahead and took out a fresh pair of pyjamas from the closet. "W-what are you doing?" I asked, unable to keep my voice from trembling. "Helping you," he answered flatly, keeping the pair of bottoms on the bed. Before I could react, he vanished into the bathroom and returned with a couple of wet tissues. I stiffened. What was he going to do? "This is where you keep your things, right?" he asked, opening the small compartment inside the closet where I kept my feminine things. Without waiting for my reply, he took out a new pad from the used packet and shut the door. Next was my underwear drawer, from where he fished out a blue, lacy panty. I almost died. "Please," I recoiled when he approached me. "You don't have to do this." I meant it. I wasn't so unwell that I wouldn't be able to change a pad. He leaned close and pressed his lips against mine in a soft kiss. "Allow me, please." I turned magenta as he gently laid me back against the pillows and proceeded to take off my pyjamas. There was no point fighting him anymore. He'd do what he wanted to do. He slid my bottoms off, revealing my blood-stained panties. I fisted the sheets in both hands, trying my best not to wiggle as he removed my panties with deft but tender hands. I wasn't shaven. I could only imagine the mess down there, with all the blood and everything. "It's okay, kitten," he soothed and I could feel his breath on the folds of my bloody labia, "I'm going to clean you up." I shivered slightly when I felt a wet wipe against my inner thighs and crevices of my lips, cleaning me off the dead blood and tissues. I sighed, feeling comforted and relaxed against my will. He was so good at it. I used to think it was only during sex that he showed how familiar he was with my body. But he had just proved he was skilled at something equally intimate like cleaning my privates and changing my sanitary pad. He spread my legs wider, taking care to clean me in between my butt cheeks as well. When he was satisfied with the result, he discarded the wipes and got busy with the fresh underwear lying by the sides. I heard him opening the pad from the wrapper and sticking it to the panty. Suddenly, I wasn't embarrassed anymore. Instead, I felt relieved that I'd let him do it. How else would I have known how well he could care for me? "Open up, baby," he gently asked, and I lifted my legs in turn, allowing him to slide the new pair of panties up my thighs. He secured the waistband against my flat stomach and traced a finger along the edge to make sure the pad was in place. A course of heat rushed through my body when he kissed my thighs. "Feeling better?" he asked, smiling. I could only manage to nod. Now that it was over, I was indeed feeling a lot better. He helped me wear the fresh pair of pyjamas and kept the unclean clothes in a corner of the room, before carefully discarding the used pad. "I'll take care of these in the morning," he announced. I turned over and shook my head, hiding my face in the mattress. I'd make sure he couldn't do that. I felt him pulling out the towel from underneath me, before tossing it over to the pile of clothes. The Shelter of Your Heart There was a brief silence in the room and I opened my eyes to search for him. Where did he go? "Lay back, kitten," he implored me, walking into the room with a bottle of water, "What are you craning your neck for?" "What's that?" I asked. "Hot water." And then he was in bed with me, holding me close against him. "How're you feeling?" My headache was still bad, so was the nagging pain in my abdomen, but my temperature had most likely gone down, because I was sweating and not feeling all that cold anymore. When he pressed the bottle of hot water against my stomach, I felt even better. "Thank you," I purred against his chest, finally letting a smile creep across my face. "What for?" he removed my hair to nuzzle my neck. "Everything." He smiled down at me, tenderly squeezing me in his arms. "Still embarrassed?" A shy smile took over my lips. "A little." "You know, sometimes you need to let go and allow yourself to be helped," he laughed softly, "It doesn't make you weak in any way." His words poured into my ears, and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. "I didn't know you were so good at it," I chuckled, entwining my legs with his. "At what?" he teased. I gently smacked his chest and giggled. "I love this," he sighed, still holding me close to himself with one arm and the bottle against my stomach with the other. "I love being home, with you. Love these moments. It's like getting back in touch with my soul... the part of me that just wants to hold you in my arms always." His lips swooped down and pressed against my head in a noisy kiss. The feel of his warm lips against my skin seemed to infuse me with renewed life. "It's not for nothing that I say you keep me grounded," he said. "It's okay," I patted his arm, "You don't have to be so emotional." "But it's true, though. I now know I needed this." "What?" "Your ailment." He let out a deep sigh. "After more than nine years in the business, we've got egos," he said, "Maybe not anything outrageous but it is there. You know, we're like, 'We're the biggest pop act of the UK, we're worth 13 million euros, fuck you, whatever.'" He paused and exhaled. I waited for him to carry on. He looked like he had a lot more to say. "The news of your ailment was like being knocked to the ground," he snorted, "Somewhere down the line, we'd forgotten to stop and sort our priorities. We gave everything to the band. And suddenly, there I was, being told by the doctors that you're suffering from something that could claim your life." He brought his face closer to mine, propping himself on one elbow. "It made me realise how utterly mortal we all are," seriousness dripped from his voice, "Doesn't matter if we've sold 30 million albums or if we hold two world records. We all need times like these when we're jolted back to reality and we realise all over again what's important." "What's important?" I asked softly. He smiled, his hand entwining with mine. "You're important," he said, his voice gruff with emotion, "I've neglected you so many times. I've left you alone, given the band more importance, taken for granted all the love and support you've showered on me. When I came so close to losing you, I realised how much you mean to me... I realised that fame, success, money, everything will fade away one day. But the love of our dear ones isn't transient. Our families, the people who make us what we are, should always come first... That I'm first a son, a brother, a partner, a friend and then the lead singer of the most successful band..." "I'm your family...?" He let out a soft laugh. "You became my wife the day you gave me your virginity," he said, "All we now require is a trip down the aisle." He looked down at my face, kissing the top of my nose. "It's easy to confuse between who we are and what we are. I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt where you belong...if I ever made you feel the band comes before you... because it doesn't." "I know," I answered sleepily. "Yeah, but who doesn't like to be validated once in a while?" I laughed quietly as he kept the now tepid bottle of water away and turned out the light. "We'll be in LA next month..." he whispered, pulling me closer into his arms, "If you come along, we can squeeze in a short trip for a week or two." "That'd be good," I smiled, looking at him with sleep-heavy eyes. "There's less chance of you getting mobbed in the US." "Yes, that's right," he laughed, "So it's easy for me to spend some quality time with you there. There's great comfort in being anonymous, a nobody." I purred like a cat by a bowl of milk and could sense him smile. There was good reason why he called me kitten― in addition to the fact that I was so small and dainty, I could purr better than a feline, particularly when in the warmth of his arms. "I love you, kitten," he murmured, as his loving fingers made their way across my hair, "for ever and after." The words floated into my ears and seeped into my soul. Growing up, I had had so little love in my life that I'd give anything to hear people say that they loved me. And he was one person who never got tired of reminding me every day that he loved me so much. "I love you too, my Irish Charmer," a sleepy smile flickered on my lips as I drifted off to slumber, "Love you always."