16. Jag Takes Care Of Niall

16

JAG TAKES CARE OF NIALL

Jag didn’t see hide nor hair of Niall over the next few hours.

Evan had stopped by right before he left, to pick up the laptop Niall had forgotten in Jag’s truck. He hadn’t said anything about Niall, though.

And Jag had been left to stew over that kiss, how he’d slipped up and overstepped, and now Niall was hurt because of him.

He sent a text.

Jag

Would you accept some apology muffins?

The reply came more quickly than he’d been expecting.

Niall

You don’t have to apologize for anything.

Jag

I do. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable with my kiss. I should’ve asked what you wanted first. I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d be okay with everything.

Niall

It’s okay. I panicked.

But it’s because of my own hang-ups

Jag

If you want to participate in any kissing again, sit down with me, and we’ll talk about what I should and shouldn’t do.

Niall

You want to kiss me again?

Jag

Yes.

Niall

Why?

Jag

Because I find you attractive. And sweet. I would like to hold your hand and make you smile.

Niall

But I’m not... whole. You know that.

Jag

And I’ve told you before. It doesn’t matter what you’re missing, or what you look like. I appreciate you as you are.

The next text took a lot longer to arrive.

Niall

I want kisses but I’m nervous.

And I have nightmares but I don’t want to kick you in my sleep.

Jag

Let me wake you up from your nightmares.

Niall

I’m a piece of work, Jag.

Jag

What’s your favorite muffin flavor?

Another long pause.

Niall

Chocolate. With chocolate chips.

Jag

Give me an hour or two, and I’ll be there with muffins.

Jag waited until Niall replied with an Okay. Then he was off.

The lunch from Olson didn’t make it through the whole ordeal at the ER. It sucked that Jag had to throw it away, but at least it wasn’t something that Niall had been looking forward to.

At the store, he grabbed chocolate chips and a box of muffin mix, along with milk and instant coffee to boost the muffins’ flavor. He added sweet potato fries and ranch dressing to his cart. Then he got ambitious. Teabags, lemons, and eggs joined the fray.

When he got home, he prepared the muffin batter first. When the muffins were in the oven, Jag popped some teabags into a jug of water, to let them steep. He poured some fries on a tray to get them ready for baking, and cracked some eggs into a pan to make scrambled eggs.

One by one, he finished up the dishes: the muffins came out of the oven, the fries went in, the lemons were squeezed into the tea, and the eggs went into a container.

When the fries were done, Jag sliced off all their ends and put them into a different container, before adding ice to the tea. He stuffed as many muffins as he could into a third container, stacked them all up, and headed next door.

His hands were so full, he had to press the doorbell with his elbow.

Something crashed further in the house. By the time the deadbolts slid back, Jag wanted to shove open the door and see if Niall had hurt himself.

“Are you okay?” Jag asked, peering at his omega in concern. “I heard a crash.”

“I dropped something.” Niall stared at the boxes in Jag’s arms. “What’s all that?”

Jag stepped in and waited for Niall to shut the door. “I brought you food.”

“I thought you said muffins!”

“There’s muffins in here.” Jag headed to the kitchen and set down all the containers. “But I also baked some sweet potato fries, and made some eggs. In case you’re hungry.”

Right on cue, Niall’s stomach rumbled. He squirmed and flushed.

“What would you like to eat first?” Jag opened all the containers to show Niall his gifts. “You can have a bit of everything, or all of something. Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry they’re not all made from scratch. I was in a hurry.”

Niall’s mouth fell open. “You—you made a lot of food. For me.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry.” Jag smiled. “You don’t eat a lot, do you?”

Niall shrugged and looked away. “You have to eat some of it.”

“Sure.” Jag opened the cabinets, setting two plates on the table.

“Um, I prefer the bowls,” Niall mumbled, waving at some wide bowls with prominent, outward-curving edges. “They’re easier to hold and scoop food out of.”

Jag swapped out one of the plates for Niall’s bowl. “What about cutlery?”

Niall opened a drawer. In there lay several bulky spoons with adjustable silicone straps. “I can wear these.”

“Did Evan adjust those straps to fit your casts?”

Niall froze, blinking rapidly. “Uh, no. I guess we both forgot. Damn it.”

“I’ll do it,” Jag said. “But in the meantime... Is it okay if I feed you instead? I don’t want you putting pressure on your hands this soon.”

Niall’s gaze snapped up to his. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.”

Niall sucked in a sharp breath. He swallowed hard and looked at the floor. “Are you sure about... me?”

Jag’s heart ached for him. “Yes.” He gathered Niall into his arms and gave him the warmest hug he could, stroking his wrists over Niall’s back. “I wish your scent wasn’t so intense, if only so you can smell my scent marking on you.”

“I can smell it. I get desensitized to my own scent.”

“Okay.” Jag trailed his wrists all over Niall, everywhere he could reach. He stroked them down Niall’s arms and sides, then ran them over his hair. “Mine.”

Niall leaned away, his gaze still so uncertain. So Jag brushed his wrists over Niall’s throat, jaw, and cheeks. He rubbed his scent into Niall’s temples and forehead, before slowly bringing his wrist to the corner of Niall’s lips. “I want to mark you in your most intimate places. Is that okay?”

Niall blushed rosily, and nodded.

Jag dragged his wrist over Niall’s soft, damp lips. They felt so good that he had to do it again, and again.

He slipped his hand under Niall’s shirt, trailing his scent up Niall’s belly to his chest, rubbing it over his nipples. Then he pushed his hand into Niall’s pants, and trailed his wrist over his cock.

Niall moaned.

“You sound amazing,” Jag growled, making sure he covered Niall thoroughly in his scent, from his base to his tip. “This is mine. All mine.” He pushed his other hand down the back of Niall’s pants, grinding his wrist against Niall’s ass. Then he eased between Niall’s cheeks, rubbing his scent onto Niall’s hole. “Mine.”

Niall whimpered and rocked against his hands. Jag withdrew his touch.

“Now, time for food,” Jag said.

Niall made a squeaking sound of protest.

“You’re so damn adorable,” Jag growled. He cradled Niall’s face with both his hands and leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Can I kiss you?”

“Just—Just not inside,” Niall mumbled, and blushed. “Inside my mouth, I mean.”

Jag huffed. “But it’s okay for me to kiss inside other parts of you?”

Niall turned tomato-red. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ll save that for another time.”

Jag captured his omega’s lips softly, in the most gentle, chaste kiss. His heart pounded. This was Niall trusting him enough to let him closer. It felt like a step in the right direction.

Without breaking the kiss, Jag murmured, “If you need help cleaning your dentures, I can do that.”

Niall’s breath hitched. “Y-you don’t mind?”

His voice cracked.

Jag pulled him into a big hug. “I don’t mind. You’ll have to tell me how, though. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Niall sniffled. His shoulders shook, and he buried his face in Jag’s chest, sobbing quietly.

This entire time... Had he thought Jag would reject him because of his lack of teeth? Was this what he meant by Jag not accepting his scars?

Jag’s heart broke. “I want you, sweetheart. I want you as you are now, not as you were before.”

Niall trembled against him, and sobbed harder.

Jag kissed Niall everywhere he could reach, holding him tight. He tucked his hand under Niall’s hoodie to trace his wrist over bare skin, leaving more of his scent marking. It would linger even after Niall changed into fresh clothing. “If you want to shower, I can help with that, too.”

“Y-you won’t l-like what you see.”

“I might get angry,” Jag admitted. “But not at you. Never at you.”

“Maybe another day,” Niall said into his shirt.

“Sure.” Jag rubbed his back and held him, until Niall eventually stopped sniffling. Then he cupped Niall’s face, and gently wiped his tears away. “Ready for food?”

Niall nodded.

“What would you like? I’ll have to reheat the eggs and fries, but everything’s good. I’ve tasted them.”

Niall reluctantly pulled away to look at his choices. “Um. A bit of everything?”

“Of course.” Jag scooped some eggs onto his plate and popped it into the microwave. He found a glass and filled it with iced lemon tea, and added a straw to it.

When the eggs and fries were both hot, Jag pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, and sat Niall sideways on his lap. Niall promptly curled up against Jag’s chest, opening his mouth when Jag offered him a spoonful of scrambled egg.

Slowly, Jag fed him a bit of everything. Niall ate a lot of eggs, some of the fries—more when dipped in ranch dressing—and almost couldn’t finish a whole muffin. When he was done, he snuggled into Jag with a sigh, and pride swelled through Jag’s chest.

“Do you feel comfortable?” Jag murmured, kissing his temple.

“Yeah. But you should eat, too.”

Jag ate a muffin, reluctant to take too much because he wasn’t sure Niall would ask for help tomorrow.

Carefully, he set Niall on another chair and got up to put the leftovers away—with the lids barely attached in case Niall had any trouble opening the containers. When that was done, Jag washed the dishes, and put them away.

Niall watched him uncertainly, as though he thought Jag might be some kind of hallucination.

“Ready for bed?” Jag asked. Niall shook his head. “Would you like me to clean your teeth now?”

Niall grimaced. “I don’t want to waste your time.”

“You’re not,” Jag said firmly. “I’m offering because I want to help.”

Niall hesitated again, and finally led Jag to the hallway bathroom where he pointed out his cleaning supplies. “You’d need to put your fingers into my mouth,” he said quietly, looking at everything but Jag. “Maybe a video might help.”

“Let me look for one.”

A few Youtube videos later, Jag filled a glass with warm water, and held it up so Niall could gargle with it. Niall spat into the sink, glancing nervously at Jag.

“Close your eyes,” Jag murmured. He turned Niall to face him. “Tip your head back.”

Niall was all stiff, but he obeyed. Jag held his breath as he slipped his fingers into Niall’s warm, wet mouth, gently easing off his lower dentures.

He was so fucking glad he’d put the dentures down before looking back.

Because Niall’s gums were scarred over—white lines on bumpy pink—in a way that looked painful. The scars were everywhere—from the tops of his gums down to the floor of his mouth, on both sides. And they were very likely on his upper gums as well.

How much pain had Niall suffered, and had he been awake for all of it?

Fury sluiced through Jag like a tsunami. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to exhale.

“Jag?” Niall asked, cracking his eyes open.

“I would like to kill someone,” Jag growled. “Violently. But there’s no one around for me to beat up, so I’m just gonna breathe through it.”

“Are you repulsed?” Niall pulled his shoulders up around his ears like he was expecting a blow.

“No.” Jag narrowed his eyes. “Just so pissed. I want to hurt whoever did this to you.”

“But they can hurt you back.”

“We’ll discuss that when they’re within reach,” Jag muttered. He breathed out hard and flexed his fingers, thinking about the punching bag he’d just installed in his home gym.

When he’d calmed down enough to remove Niall’s upper dentures, Niall pointed out his toothbrush. Jag carefully cleaned the dentures, his hands too large and clumsy around the delicate things.

But he managed to get them clean. He dropped them into the glass of cleaning solution, before gently squeezing Niall’s nape. “Now, let’s clean you up.”

He prepared a glass of warm salt water, holding it up so Niall could gargle with it. Then he used a clean washcloth to gently wipe down Niall’s gums and mouth, and helped him gargle again.

He helped Niall wash his face, too, gently patting him dry with a bath towel.

“You don’t have to do this every night,” Niall began, his words a little fuzzy without his teeth.

Jag leaned in and nipped the top of his ear. “Say that again, and I’ll bend you over my lap.”

Niall froze, his gaze darting to Jag in a way that screamed interest.

“No, let me change my wording,” Jag said dryly. “Say that again, and I won’t bend you over my lap.”

Niall whined.

Jag huffed. He dropped a kiss on Niall’s forehead, stepping out of the bathroom. “Now, I’m going to let you spend the rest of your night in peace, unless you want help with the toilet.”

“No,” Niall squawked. “I’m fine.” He followed Jag to the front door. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Take out my anger on my punching bag. And then continue reading Hardcox. I’m on one of the billionaire books. Looking forward to covering myself in come.”

Niall’s breath hitched.

Jag grinned. “Want to come over and witness it?”

Niall opened his mouth like he was about to agree. But at the last moment, he winced. “I just remembered that I have a ton of work I need to catch up on. I wasn’t expecting to spend all that time at the ER.”

“Yeah? Don’t you just write books?”

Niall’s shoulders drooped. “No. Writing books is just part of it. I have to work on the cover, the blurb, the marketing materials. And I need to chat with other authors to get my book on their newsletters, plan out my schedule, answer emails...”

The more Niall spoke, the more anxious he seemed.

Now was probably a bad time to ask what his penname was.

“I gotta go,” Niall said with a wince. “I would love to—to come over. But I can’t. Everything’s gonna be slower now with my hands broken. And I’m kind of behind schedule.”

Jag blew out his disappointment. He brushed his fingers through Niall’s hair and pulled him close, dropping a kiss on his forehead. “If you need any help at all, call me. I’ve got a pair of hands you can borrow.”

“Okay,” Niall said, sagging against Jag. “Thank you for everything.”

“It was my pleasure.” Jag dragged his thumb over Niall’s lips, before stepping out through the door. It was only when Niall had locked all the deadbolts that Jag felt reassured enough to head back to his own house.

Maybe he could email Hardcox and see if the author would ever write a character like Emmy.

It would be an amusing distraction, at least.