His Baby Boy (BDSM) (ManxMan) ✔️

one

Tired.

My bones were heavy and it felt like I'd been working for more than sixty hours a week. My alarm had been slammed off a couple of minutes ago. It's a bit past six and I had to be at work by nine.

I let out a loud groan as I pulled my self up and out of bed, scratching idly at my tummy as I did so. It took a couple of minutes to shower and get myself ready for the day. I pulled on dark jeans with rips on it and a grey shirt.

One thing I'd learnt after living by myself for so long is, you won't feel loneliness creeping in until you wake one one day with a dull ache in your chest.

I was chased out of home at fifteen after my mother found me kissing Michal, a former friend of mine from school. She had gone berserk, she threw things at me and screamed. I was thrown out of the house with the clothes on my back while Michal stayed behind. Heck, he had even joined my mother to scream at me even though he had been the one to initiate the kiss. I was on my own and moved from one homeless shelter to the other for years, taking up little jobs until I finally got a job at the convenience store.

I grabbed the box of Cheerios and the carton of milk from the fridge. I let my cereal soak in the milk before eating. I didn't have a smartphone or a tv, I couldn't afford to pay rent, light and water bill as well as phone bill. Instead I had a flip Nokia and an old acer laptop that I took to the store. I use the WiFi to download movies and things.

Once I was done with breakfast, I dump the plates into the sink and made my way back to the bathroom. I grabbed a brush and tried to flatten my hair but it was still going every which way, I let out a huff and grabbed my beanie, sliding it on and folding the tip a bit. According to the time on the clock, it was fifteen minutes past eight. I grabbed the bag containing laptop and phone and dashed out of th house, locking the door on my way out.

It took me thirty minutes to get to work from where I lived. I ran all the way to the bus stop and let out a relived breath when I made it. I wasn't late. I sat on the branch, the bag resting on my lap as I waited for the bus. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long.

Once I was on the bus, I leaned my head against the window and watched as the house flew by and things became a blur. It used to frustrate me knowing that some people didn't know that I was suffering in silence someone, existing and not living. It used to frustrate me but then I understood. No one would care because no one knew me, heck, some people don't even know I, Jesse Morris, a twenty five year old with no family or friends or nothing to his name beside his small dingy flat, exist. Nobody besides me know about my pain, the loneliness, the feeling of helplessness I often feel.

It's just me.

And I have to take care of myself.

I've got no one to do it for me.

When I was at the shelter I used to read books where the guy appeared and sweeps the woman off her feet. He'd buy her things, take care of her, they'd have kids and live happily ever after.

I used to dream about finding a love like that. I used to dream about finding someone who would take care of me, someone who i would trust and hand over the reigns of control to.

Once the bus pulls to a stop, I got down from the bus, gripping the strap of his bag tightly. It was a short walk from the bus stop to the store. Once I got there, I went in through the back door which was thankfully open. I found Mr. Dalton, looking through the inventory list he had on his lap.

"Good morning, Mr Darlton." I greeted as I drop my bag in the small locker, he had given me when I first started.

Mr. Stanley Darlton was an older man with salt and pepper hair and square pecs, he had an husband, two children and one grandchild. He liked to talk about them all the time.