His Basement, His Office - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading His Basement, His Office, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of His Basement, His Office.
The next day, Maxwell showed up, kissed me, and left without a word.
On the third day, he didn't just kiss me—he took things further, teasing me until I was breathless.
By the fourth day, he'd done everything but the final act.
I was baffled. Had no one even noticed I was gone? Here I was, locked away, and yet somehow, I'd managed to gain weight.
Then came the fifth night.
I woke to the sound of footsteps, blinking sleepily as Maxwell loomed over me in the dark.
He dropped to his knees, burying his face in the crook of my neck like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
"Caleb… Caleb…"
I reached out, stroking his back gently.
"I'm right here, Maxwell. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
His voice was rough, raw. "My puppy…"
"Are you going to leave me too?"
The memory of my third dream—the one where he killed me—flashed through my mind. But I wasn't afraid.
"Puppy won't leave," I murmured. "Don't be scared."
I held him close, then whispered, "Maxwell… do you want to kiss me? I want to hold you."
He clung to me like a child, his face pressed against my chest.
Later, I stared at the ceiling, then down at Maxwell's sleeping face. He looked peaceful for once.
When he woke, his eyes met mine—curious, searching.
Without a word, he stood, expression blank, ready to walk away—until my quiet question stopped him cold.
"Maxwell… last night, did you want to kill me and then yourself?"
He spun around, voice icy. "No."
I pulled out the knife, smiling sweetly.
Maxwell: "…"
My voice was soft. "You love me, Maxwell."
His lips pressed into a thin line. No answer.
I dragged the blade across my palm. Blood welled up instantly.
His pupils shrank. "Don't—Caleb, stop. Please."
Still smiling, I said, "You always keep everything locked inside. You never talk to me."
He looked like he was unraveling, but he didn't dare move—terrified I'd do something irreversible.
I tilted my head. "Next time you shut me out like this… I might not be so forgiving."
Then I dropped the knife.
Maxwell lunged forward, crushing me against him. I could feel him shaking.
"Maxwell," I whispered, "don't ever doubt that your puppy loves you."
"I love you."
"If you're wondering when I knew… maybe it was when you stopped showing up in my nightmares."
He was still trembling. I cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed him.
When I returned to work, everyone assumed I'd been sick. They fussed over me, asking if I was okay.
I thanked them, then glanced at him—standing there with that stormy expression.
Sigh. Time to do damage control.
At lunch, he pinned me to my chair and kissed me hard.
"You shook hands with so many people this morning," he muttered, scowling. "I haven't even held your hand that much."
I laughed. "From now on, my hands are yours only."
Satisfied, he kissed me again.
But then guilt flickered across his face. "Is this… too much? Am I suffocating you?"
I smiled. "Maxwell, control and possession are how you love. I don't need sweet words—I already know."
He froze. Then, looking down at me, he smirked. "And you? How do you love?"
I met his gaze. "Every time I hug you, every part of me is screaming."
"I love you. I love you, Maxwell."
His eyes glistened. He kissed me, voice rough.
"Yeah. I love you too."
On the third day, he didn't just kiss me—he took things further, teasing me until I was breathless.
By the fourth day, he'd done everything but the final act.
I was baffled. Had no one even noticed I was gone? Here I was, locked away, and yet somehow, I'd managed to gain weight.
Then came the fifth night.
I woke to the sound of footsteps, blinking sleepily as Maxwell loomed over me in the dark.
He dropped to his knees, burying his face in the crook of my neck like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
"Caleb… Caleb…"
I reached out, stroking his back gently.
"I'm right here, Maxwell. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
His voice was rough, raw. "My puppy…"
"Are you going to leave me too?"
The memory of my third dream—the one where he killed me—flashed through my mind. But I wasn't afraid.
"Puppy won't leave," I murmured. "Don't be scared."
I held him close, then whispered, "Maxwell… do you want to kiss me? I want to hold you."
He clung to me like a child, his face pressed against my chest.
Later, I stared at the ceiling, then down at Maxwell's sleeping face. He looked peaceful for once.
When he woke, his eyes met mine—curious, searching.
Without a word, he stood, expression blank, ready to walk away—until my quiet question stopped him cold.
"Maxwell… last night, did you want to kill me and then yourself?"
He spun around, voice icy. "No."
I pulled out the knife, smiling sweetly.
Maxwell: "…"
My voice was soft. "You love me, Maxwell."
His lips pressed into a thin line. No answer.
I dragged the blade across my palm. Blood welled up instantly.
His pupils shrank. "Don't—Caleb, stop. Please."
Still smiling, I said, "You always keep everything locked inside. You never talk to me."
He looked like he was unraveling, but he didn't dare move—terrified I'd do something irreversible.
I tilted my head. "Next time you shut me out like this… I might not be so forgiving."
Then I dropped the knife.
Maxwell lunged forward, crushing me against him. I could feel him shaking.
"Maxwell," I whispered, "don't ever doubt that your puppy loves you."
"I love you."
"If you're wondering when I knew… maybe it was when you stopped showing up in my nightmares."
He was still trembling. I cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed him.
When I returned to work, everyone assumed I'd been sick. They fussed over me, asking if I was okay.
I thanked them, then glanced at him—standing there with that stormy expression.
Sigh. Time to do damage control.
At lunch, he pinned me to my chair and kissed me hard.
"You shook hands with so many people this morning," he muttered, scowling. "I haven't even held your hand that much."
I laughed. "From now on, my hands are yours only."
Satisfied, he kissed me again.
But then guilt flickered across his face. "Is this… too much? Am I suffocating you?"
I smiled. "Maxwell, control and possession are how you love. I don't need sweet words—I already know."
He froze. Then, looking down at me, he smirked. "And you? How do you love?"
I met his gaze. "Every time I hug you, every part of me is screaming."
"I love you. I love you, Maxwell."
His eyes glistened. He kissed me, voice rough.
"Yeah. I love you too."
End of His Basement, His Office Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to His Basement, His Office book page.