His Little Lamb || bxb

6.5

"I... that makes me very happy to hear that," he told me in earnest.

"I meant every word," I replied in complete honesty. There was a time indeed when I had frowned upon the sex worker industry but it was true what I had said, my father had revealed to me a truth about our family which opened my eyes.

"May I... may I ask what this revelation was?" Milan asked which I felt was a perfectly reasonable question on his part, even if it involved something personal. But if there was anyone who would understand the story, then perhaps it was Milan.

"My mother died when I was twelve so she was not in my life for very long meaning there were a lot of things I did not know about her. I made a horrible comment, in passing, about a girl once in front of my father when I was a teenager and he became furious. He pulled me aside and told me a truth about my mother that I didn't know: she had been a prostitute. I know that is not what you do, so please do not take offence, but learning of it is what made me change my views," I explained to him.

"Well I respect prostitutes as much as any other sex worker so I wouldn't have taken offence! But wow, your mother was a prostitute?"

"Yes. She was still working as one in Belarus when my father first met her. She of course stopped when they got into somewhat of a relationship but until then, she was poor and famished and supposedly thought she had nothing else to offer the world except her body. I hope you do not feel that's all you have to offer, I can tell already that there is so much more to you than that, your paintings for example." I couldn't wait to see the artwork that Milan had produced. I could see by the way he spread his food on his plate and used his utensils that there was a precision and gentleness in his hands which could no doubt produce masterpiece after masterpiece when given a paintbrush and a blank canvas with paints at his command.

"Th...thank you. So, does that mean you are part Belarusian?" my precious boy asked.

"Part, yes. But I am not close to that part of my heritage. My mother moved on from that chapter of her life completely when my father brought her to England, to live with him, before taking her as his wife. I remember she had an accent of course when she was alive and I remember she would often scold us, my siblings and I, for letting an accent we had learnt from her slip out when we were kids."

My mother's childhood had been cruel and harsh and I think perhaps her complete denial of her heritage once she was free of her motherland was a response to all the trauma she must have faced there. I hope she found happiness here in the end with her family and her new home, and I hoped she died with memories of us in her heart instead of the years of abused she once faced, especially at the hands of her former family; a family I was glad to never know.

"When my father first told me about what my mother did, it took me a while to understand why. Then I started to accept sex work more as I could understand that perhaps some people had nothing else they could turn to. Though, now I also hold the belief that you can do what you like with your own body of course. So, I will never judge you for the work that you do, or for the time being at least the work that you did, and I will never hold it against you. I promise you that Milan," I said meaning every word.

"Thank you," my boy replied with the biggest smile overtaking his features and a subtle blush coating his milky skin.

We chatted, Milan and I, for a while longer after that, even after the waiter came and our food was paid for. I did not want to say goodbye to him just yet and even invited him back to my home in the hopes that I could spend more time with him. I really enjoyed his company, perhaps more than I even expected I would, and I was sad to hear him decline my offer to bring him back to mine.

"I promised my friend that he could stay with me tonight, so I need to get back. I'm sorry," he said looking just as much disappointed as I was. "I don't like to go back on my word to my friends, they're the only family I have now." There was a history there but I did not want to pry, so I told him I understood and gave him a lift to his own home. I walked him right up to his apartment door and before leaving, I could not help but leave a lingering kiss on his forehead before bidding him a goodnight.

"So what did you think of him?" I asked of my friend when we got home. Pietro had a place of his own but he also had a room in my house as it was often easier for him to just stay here.

"Well, I didn't get to interact with him very much but he seemed very sweet and he's definitely your type. You do like the pretty boys," Pietro said with a chuckle. "Hey, remember when you used to like me!"

"Be quiet. Do not ruin my mood," I grumbled before pouring myself and my friend a small glass of whiskey. When a little of the alcohol had hit my system, on top of the champagne I had at dinner, I decided to text Milan.

V: 'Have a good night my darling boy, and sleep well <3'

M: 'You to Valencio :)'

~~~~~~~~~

And they're slowly getting to know each other YAY!

What did you guys think of the date and everything Valencio talked about?

Vote and comment!

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