Three Days: Chapter 6
This is a collab with @quietly-by-myself for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from their Mercury and Time series (link here) and my original whumper, Finlay Iver.
This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It's much darker than what I normally post. Minors DNI.
TAGS: @oddsconvert
CW: aftermath of noncon, restraints, references to noncon from previous chapter, past noncon, PTSD, panic attack, pet whump, intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, aftercare, gaslighting, dubcon bathing
Finlay rolled off of Faolan. He’d spent the entire day testing his new boy’s limits and culminating in what he’d wanted to do the first time he saw him with Atticus at that boring party, he’d been tentative and jumpy, barely peeking out from behind Atticus the whole evening. God, he’d wanted to take him right then and there. He slumped back onto the bed catching his breath.
That was amazing. He was pretty sure Faolan had enjoyed himself too. He turned to look at him, where he lay still tied to his bed.
“Faolan? Sweet boy? I told you it would be amazing. You felt so good.” He wiped the sweaty hair from his forehead and kissed him softly. “Open your eyes, Faolan. I want to see your pretty face. Open up.” He tapped Faolan’s face gently, but there was no reaction. And he didn’t obey.
Faolan’s eyes were squeezed shut from the unadulterated fear running throughout his body. His mind had long since retreated far, far away from reality, into that place outside his body where only his soul could reach. It felt like he was watching himself there, on the bed, tied down. It was a familiar scene from this perch; he’d seen it hundreds of times before.
He couldn’t remember who or where he was. He remembered something about the action of that night, but who it was happening to and where it was happening was all a mystery. He allowed the sadness to crash over him in waves, but found himself too numb to cry. Why was this such a familiar scene? Why was it always like this? He just wanted everything to stop, stop, stop.
The stickiness between his legs let him know that everything was over. However, his body didn’t know that. He simply stayed in that state, paralyzed by the immensity of his own numbness and anguish that he couldn’t even put together words to say anything.
He’d came, just like that night. The one where he’d been beaten bloodily for the first time with a bottle. He’d been forced. He’d pleaded with Finlay with his shaking head. Oh, what he would’ve given to make the awfulness end.
Something about the way William did it was better. He was rough and violent. There wasn’t any question of if he had feelings in the moment other than fear and anguish. Finlay tried to make sure he enjoyed it. He asked if he was enjoying it and ignored when Faolan would tell him that he absolutely did not.
Most of all, he’d been gentle, as if he actually cared about Faolan’s enjoyment. Slow and gentle, almost like the few scant times he’d had consensual sex.
The numbness only grew more cold as he laid there, watching his violated body and questioning if maybe he'd betrayed his only boyfriend’s memory by possibly enjoying what had happened with Finlay. He’d been moving just the right way and applying just the right amount of force.
Faolan attempted to force the memory out of his mind, but failed as he felt himself shutting down further.
“Faolan! Open up. I’m telling you to open your eyes!” Finally slapped Faolan when gently tapping him wouldn’t work.
Again, Faolan was blank-faced when Finlay slapped him. It was as though it didn’t even register other than a small flinch.
Finlay wasn’t sure how to rouse him from his daze. Slapping hadn’t worked… He released him from the straps that held him. He was in no condition to run at this point. He put him on the floor and left one ankle chained, just in case. He went to his bathroom and filled a cup up with water. Maybe he needed more of a shock.
He came back to where Faolan was still sitting and threw the cold water in his face.
When the cold water hit Faolan’s face, he immediately began to come to. His eyes burned from the chlorine in the water as he sputtered and coughed. Panic washed over him when he realized where he was. He felt Finlay’s seed on him as he tried not to immediately panic there and then. He remembered well what William had said: panicking and crying made him look ugly, which just pissed William off.
Slowly, the panic washed back into numbness as he felt himself leaving again, though not as completely as before. He just didn’t feel… there. He felt like some cord was severed between his mind, his body, and the world around him.
“Ah, there you are, Little Faolan. Ah, ah, ah. Come back. Focus on my voice. Look at me. Stay here.” Finlay snapped his fingers in front of Faolan. “Listen to my voice. Feel the water on your face. Smell the woodsmoke from the fire. Feel the floor underneath you. Listen to me. Look in my eyes. Focus.”
Faolan obeyed with urgency. He focused on Finlay’s voice, the water, the smells around him. However, he couldn’t look Finlay in the eyes. It didn’t take long afterwards for him to start coming back, though still disconnected to a degree.
He curled up a bit, hugging his knees from where he laid. The adrenaline had numbed down the pain and, he thought, if he could keep it going a little longer, he could soothe himself enough to get Finlay to leave him alone.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” It was an automatic sort of response that Faolan had been used to giving.
“Oh, you haven’t upset me, little pet. You were perfect. Absolutely gorgeous. But I need you to focus. Where do you go?” It was half rhetorical. He wasn’t even sure that Faolan could answer. “We need to get you cleaned up. Do you need some time? I don’t want you going to sleep in your room like this. That would be cruel.” He sat next to Faolan and put his arm around him, pulling him against his chest.
“I…” Faolan knew how to answer, but he struggled to put the words together. “My perch. I go to my perch.”
He still seemed spacey as he was talking to Finlay. His voice was somewhat robotic.
“Will you be there, if I take some time?” The prospect of having to spend more time with Finlay terrified him. Somehow, Faolan found himself longing for Finlay to throw him to the side and let him be alone, where he could cry and look ugly freely, without fear of being punished.
He allowed the gentle touch to try to comfort him. He tried to imagine that it was Atticus hugging him tenderly, pulling him back from a flashback, instead of another master hurting him as badly as the first.
“Your perch? Are you a little bird? I’d like to help you get cleaned up. There won’t be any more pain tonight. But I can see you’re going to need some extra special care at the end of each day. Will you let me do that for you?”
Perhaps Faolan was a bird in a cage. That perch was his only view of a world outside the limited, tortured present. It was his only relief, where he could rest his clipped wings and painful feet.
“Would you let me go if I said no?” Faolan felt that he had nothing left to lose by asking. At the worst, another mark. At the best, he could be alone. “What are you going to do?”
“I was going to let you choose if you’d prefer a bath or a shower? I have both here in the ensuite. I mean, after all, what kind of master would I be if I didn’t make sure all the kinks were worked out and you were all clean before going to bed.” He tilted Faolan’s face toward his. “Would it really be so bad to get clean? To feel hot water on your skin washing the day away? Especially after a day like today?”
Faolan’s hands were beginning to tremble, even if he seemed too numb to be anxious. “Do you have epsom salts? I-I’d like a bath with them if you have them. If not, I’d like a shower.” Faolan shook his head. “It would be nice. Thank you.” He was sort of quiet for a moment before he thought of another question for Finlay. “Will- Will the lights in my bedroom turn off tonight?”
“Of course, little bird. Of course the lights will go off. You’ll be able to sleep. Is that what you were worried about? And I do have epsom salts. Come. Let’s get you in the bath.” He stood and gently lifted Faolan and carried him to the bath.
Faolan’s trembling was more obvious now that Finlay was holding him. He had no signs of fever nor of fear worse than what he’d had before. If anything, he seemed more malleable than the time before the evening they’d spent together.
“Faolan, why are you trembling?” Finlay was careful to keep his tone soft and gentle. He set him down on the bathroom floor next to the clawfoot tub and then stooped down in front of him. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you any more tonight. I’m just trying to help you get cleaned up and relaxed so you can get a good night’s rest.”
“William hit my head against the floor after dropping me. I haven’t stopped trembling since. He put the fear of that moment in me forever.” He cringed back a little at being cornered in by Finlay. “It’s permanent. Atticus took me to a doctor for it. My meds for it are wearing off, is all. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say anything when you begged for your other meds? I could have had my man pick them up.”
“I can live without them. I can’t live without my stomach meds. They aren’t for comfort.”
“Well now, we can’t have you trembling so much that you can't function. I’ll have them picked up tomorrow. Are there any other meds I should know about? Tell me now. No more surprises, understand?”
Faolan debated telling him about his neuropathy medicines and decided on telling him. It would make his mood worse if he got off of them too quickly, anyway. “Propranolol. For the tremor. Duloxetine, for my neuropathy. No more surprises.”
“Good. My little dove. I’ll have them both picked up. The neuropathy? Is that from the burns on your feet?”
Faolan nodded. He didn’t know why he was giving so much information. Perhaps that detachment had lowered his inhibitions.
“Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Finlay stood up and turned on the water. “Does the neuropathy mean that you need the water hotter or colder, or does it not matter? I want you to be able to relax.”
“A little colder, please. If it’s too hot, it’s very painful for my feet.”
“Noted.” Finlay turned the taps on and felt the temperature, turning it slightly cooler than he preferred it. He then rummaged around under the cabinet until he found the bag of epsom salts. He poured a heavy amount of them into the water and swirled it around.
Finlay stood back up and turned Faolan towards the large picture mirror in the room. He held Faolan close, tilting his head to look up at himself.
“Look at how perfect you are like this. Lovely, bruised, broken, flushed from just being fucked until you came. It’s beautiful. Exactly what you were meant to be. What you were meant to look like.” Finlay’s fingers ghosted over the bruises that crossed his cheek, his arms where the cuffs had dug in, the little bite marks Finlay hadn’t been able to resist leaving across his shoulders, chest and neck, when the boy had gone to his ‘perch’ as Faolan called it.
Faolan gasped lightly every time Finlay brushed over his bruises. Each touch hurt the freshly damaged skin.
Hearing those words, feeling the possession on his body, having every mark pointed out so proudly brought him right back to where he was before, tied to the bed with Finlay’s hands between his legs. He grew weak as Finlay continued his exploration, knowing that resistance was futile.
He hated the way he looked. He hated his pathetic face. He hated the trail of Finlay’s cum on his leg, maybe even that of his own. His heart was shrinking in his chest as he looked at the bruised, brutalized man before him. Was this really who he was meant to be?
“Ah, ah, ah, little dove. No flying off to your perch just yet. You’ll be able to sleep soon enough and you can fly away in your dreams. For now, stay here with me, while I clean you up. Remember, when you come here, to these rooms, it’s for your pleasure and release as well as mine. You’re meant to feel good and to let me help you relax.” Finally leaned in and pressed his lips against Faolan, coaxing his mouth open once more. But his kiss was gentle, the barest touch of his tongue to Faolan’s. “Come, little dove.”
Finlay turned Faolan back towards the bath tub and guided him to get in.
“Is the temperature okay for you?” He asked.
Faolan nodded quietly. He was being honest. Though, if the water really was painful, he wouldn’t have said anything to Finlay. He would’ve just borne it, like he had the entire night. He waited quietly to see if he would be washing himself or if Finlay would want to wash him. Like William.
Finlay was learning so much from his new little pet. He kept his hand on the back of his neck, applying a gentle pressure, just enough to remind him that he was there. He took the soap and handed it to Faolan. “You wash off your body and I’ll do your hair. If you need help let me know. I’ll keep my hand here, but you can move. I do want you used to my touch and proximity. No zoning out.”
“Can you wash my hair first? I-I’m used to doing it that way. Hair first, then body.” Faolan dared to question Finlay. He was very different from William - Master. He actually allowed Faolan to ask questions, as long as they weren’t disrespectful. William had found the very premise of a question disrespectful. It was almost a personal insult to William when Faolan would make a request - it was simply a complaint.
Maybe, I can hide this from Atticus. Maybe I won’t look so bad.
“How about we wash your hair twice? I’d like to help you relax before bed. I can do it now if that’s what you’re used to, and then I’ll watch you wash yourself. You’ve been a bit wobbly, so if you need help I can do that. Then I’ll wash your hair again? I like the way you look when you lean into my touch.”
Faolan nodded. “Maybe shampoo first, then the second time, conditioner? My hair frizzes easily.” He was able to give those little suggestions. Those small comments like that offer to help him wash himself were small kindnesses he never got, not even when William tried to take better care of him. The only one who ever did anything like that was Atticus.
Would Atticus even notice something different about me? I don’t want to hurt him. This is all my fault. I don’t want him to think that I enjoyed any of it either.
This is better. It’ll be easier to hide it all. He’ll be upset with me. He told me not to go to the party.
Finlay laughed a small short laugh. “You’re getting to be quite high maintenance, aren’t you?” He enjoyed the little flicker of fear that flitted across Faolan’s eyes for a moment. “We can do conditioner. That’s fine. Now lean your head back. Enough negotiating.”
Finlay coaxed him to lean back on his arm as he directed the bath sprayer over his hair. “Relax, little pet. I’m not going to let you drown. But this will be much easier if you’re not so tense. Just float a little. I have you.”
He let the water soak into Faolan’s hair before grabbing the shampoo. He worked it into a lather and massaged it into Faolan’s hair, his scalp. He took his time, being sure to get all the sweat and grime out of Faolan’s hair from the last day and a half. He worked at the stress knots that he could feel behind his ears and down the columns of his neck, fingers slick with shampoo, making it easier.
He sent the water cascading back over Faolan’s hair, still cradling his head on his arm.
Faolan allowed himself to relax into Finlay’s arm, able to pretend he was Atticus for a few moments. He leaned back into Finlay’s hold, letting his gentle massage bring him back from his perch, even if it was only for a little while. It had been a while since someone had taken so much time and attention to his bathing - he hadn’t needed it from Atticus recently and before, nobody had ever taken so much attention to try to relax him.
Some sort of amazement filled him when he noticed that none of the soap, none of the water came in his eyes. Finlay was being very careful to make him as comfortable as possible. It was strange. Faolan, in a different time when he was more naive and vulnerable, might’ve found himself enjoying it. If he could’ve actually believed that it was a change of heart, perhaps.
“I know I was hard on you earlier today. And I will be tomorrow too, but our evenings are meant to be gentle. Think of it as a reward for what I put you through. I told you I’m not unreasonable. You’re here because I have an itch that I need to scratch. But it doesn’t have to be all bad. I’ll take care of you. You won’t die from an infection or anything so nasty. Not while you’re here.” He kissed Faolan’s forehead and then helped him to sit up. Keeping his fingers on either Faolan’s shoulder or neck.
Faolan froze a little at the mention of dying of infection. Does he know? What does he mean “while I’m here?” Atticus, I hope you come quickly. I don’t want to be sold off.
The thought of someone knowing what he’d been through, how his family had died, was somewhat terrifying. Should he accept his fate? Should he accept that his time with Atticus was always going to be temporary? How would Atticus even find him? Atticus, please, I hope you can find me here.
His heart broke into pieces when he thought about being sold. Atticus wouldn’t find him, not for a long time. It would be just like what happened with William. Nobody would be able to find him and eventually, would just come to believe he was dead. Atticus would have a hard time accepting that - he knew - but everyone could eventually come to accept it.
It was approaching 24 hours, right? 72 hours and a person was gone forever? Would Atticus really give up after three days?
“I’ll do anything.” It was a simple plea. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Please, just don’t leave me to die in a brothel. I’ll be perfect for one of your friends. I’ll be perfect for you. I know you’ve probably ensured that Atticus will never find me. I just don’t want to die like my mother.”
Faolan’s eyes filled with tears. “Please. You- you must know how she died. I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’re mother. You’ve brought her up a few times. And always in conjunction with the brothel. Did she die in a brothel? Maybe from some horrible STI? Or was it something else? Tell me, little bird.” He turned Faolan’s face toward him.
“She had kidney disease.” Faolan looked at Finlay, then a bit behind him, trying to piece things together. “Whether it was an STI-related thing, I don’t know. Atticus had me tested when I brought it up and I’m clean of everything.” He gulped a bit. “She lived a miserable life. I was born there. She died after an outbreak of disease in our water. Her kidneys made her dehydrate too quickly.”
“Well, I don’t think that is going to be your fate, little bird. But you are right, Atticus can’t find you. He has no idea you’re here. No one does. We’re not even in the same state as the party. So, little Faolan, you’re here for the long haul. But don’t worry. Like I said, I’ll take good care of you. It’ll be hard at first, while we get used to each other. But I enjoyed myself today. And tonight. So I think I’ll keep you around.” He ruffled Faolan’s wet hair. “No being sold off. Just keep being your adorable self.” He took Faolan’s face in his hands. “Just don’t go zoning off on me. It’s no fun. I need you to try not to do that.”
The subsequent flood of emotions with each word that Finlay added quickly became overwhelming. He forced that part of his brain to shut down. Finlay was being kind right now, but he didn’t know how Finlay would react if he broke down crying again. He needed to focus on pleasing Finlay in whatever way he could.
I’ll never be found. The thought made his heart sink. Finlay was taking mercy on him by allowing him to stay with him. Clearly, something about his reliance on Finlay and pleading had pleased the man. That was a clue to his survival. A very valuable one at that - maybe if he could just continue with that, make it more into a dependency, Finlay would be pleased.
“Ice.” Faolan, now being hit with the tiredness from the day, tried his best to put his words together. “I’d like ice. If I zone out on you, put ice in my hand.” He didn’t know if it was wise to continue what he was saying, but he decided to continue. “I learned that it helps a lot from Atticus.”
“Ice. Okay. I can work with that. What would you do if I were to drop you into a tub of ice water? Not that I’m planning on it, but if it got bad enough… would that pull you out?”
Faolan nodded, though the idea terrified him. The fear twisted his face at the prospect, though. It would almost certainly cause his neuropathy so much pain that he’d try to jump out immediately, but that was probably what Finlay had in mind anyway.
“I can see that scares you. So put it out of your mind for now. You work hard to stay focused and I won’t drop you in a vat of ice, deal?”
It was another one of his deals - like the force feeding and the gag. Faolan couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again, but he had no choice. He knew it was now a rule, not just a deal.
Still, he nodded. “Yes.”
“Easy, little dove. This is meant to help you relax. We’re just talking. I’m just trying to figure out how best to work with you. Let’s take a break. You wash yourself.”