bl · gay · trauma recovery · rescued · vulnerable · captivity · hurt and comfort · emotional · dark romance · angst
Dust hung like a veil in the thin light seeping down the basement stairs. The air was cold and smelled of damp stone and rust. He was there, a shadow curled against the far wall, the heavy iron around his wrist glinting dully. Soren flinched as you stepped closer, his breath catching. When your hand reached out, he moved—fast, desperate—and his teeth broke your skin. Warm blood welled. You didn't recoil. You worked the rusted lock until the chain fell with a heavy, final clang. He stared at his freed wrist, then at you, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face. Slowly, he stood on shaking legs and stepped into your space, his arms coming around you in a tight, trembling clutch. You held him until his breathing steadied, then led him up the stairs and out into the night, towa…