(radmilla and elfreide belong to @dresden-syndrome ; thanks for letting me borrow them ehehehe. cw for noncon kissing, collars, muzzles, hair-pulling, creepy/intimate whumper. this is lady whump, dl;dr. if u saw the version where i mispelled elfreide's name no u didnt)
"you know, kitten," elfreide purrs, "from what i have heard, i expected more from you." she leans down, lifts a strand of radmilla's hair between her fingers, twisting it as if to inspect it.
radmilla glares, even as she can feel her eyes start to water. she wants to scream, to swear, to tear elfreide's throat out with her teeth. she wants to run, run as far from this place that was once her home to anywhere that will take her.
"all that talk," elfreide says, petting radmilla's hair with gentle touches, "and yet, for all you have lost, your precious comrades in arms have gained nothing. at best, they remain the same as they once were. at worst..." she slips a finger below radmilla's collar, a feather-light touch against her skin. "i do so hope they managed to catch the tall one. she would look marvelous on her knees, don't you think?"
radmilla growls, muffled by the muzzle across her face, and tries to swing her head up, pull away. elfreide's hand tightens, cutting off radmilla's growl into a gasp of pain. she pulls the girl's head back, tilts it up until her throat is bared, forces her to struggle to breath against the tension.
"you *lost*, little traitor," elfreide hisses. she flicks the tag on radmilla's ear, smiles to herself at the whimper it draws from the once-proud revolutionary. "now look at you." she forces radmilla's head to turn, angles it so she can see herself in the mirror, a pathetic *thing* kneeling on the floor, collar at her throat and muzzle across her mouth. "bound and gagged at the feet of the very enemy you sought to depose."
tears run down radmilla's face, dripping onto the muzzle. elfreide smiles, leaning down and bringing her lips to radmilla's ear. "*this*, my darling little rebel, is what it means to 'live without the dignity of people'." elfreide brings a hand beneath radmilla's chin, tilts her head so she can lean down and kiss her through the muzzle, licking her lips to taste the savory taste of radmilla's pain that pool there as she throws the girl's own words back in her face.
"i do hope," elfreide purrs, "that you will find it to your liking."
CW: vivisection, reference to gore, medical whump, experimentation whump, vampire whumpee, strapped down, mild non-con touching (NOT sexual)
My name…what’s my name…I have to remember…
The scalpel cuts deep, parting the sterilized skin over his heart.
I have to…to remember my name…and what I am…
Gloved hands and keen eyes follow in the blade’s wake, examining the incision, taking notes. He can hear Dr. Steele muttering instructions, but the words blur together. Only the tone of his voice is clear through the haze that settles over Six’s mind. Satisfaction. Greed. Both somehow, as the doctor’s blade cuts Six open.
I don’t…I don’t remember my name…he took it away…
The young vampire’s heart beats in his chest, exposed. The sensation of air on its surface fills him with sick horror. But Six is completely helpless, strapped down by his wrists, thighs, and ankles. He can’t move, can’t even turn his head under the forehead strap holding it in place. And he certainly doesn’t want to make the doctor angry. So he lies still, teeth clenched, enduring. Being dissected isn’t quite the worst thing that’s even happened to him, but it’s close.
Dr. Steele’s face looms over him as the man examines the pulsing organ.
“Amazing,” he whispers. “The subject’s heart appears…normal. Exposure seems to have little to no effect on its function.”
Six could have told him that without the vivisection part. But his mind is fading out again, taking his senses with it. He shuts his eyes, blocking out the light, the doctor’s face, and disappearing into the familiar darkness he always turns to when he couldn’t handle something.
I can do this…it’ll be over soon…I can do—
His body spasms in a violent, involuntary shudder. The doctor lifts his hand away from Six’s heart, fingers stained with blood.
“Subject exhibits a violent reaction to foreign contact with the organ’s surface.” Dr. Steele frowns, picking up a steel probe. Six shudders again as it touches him. The sensation jerks him back to the present, away from the comfortable numbness. He whimpers faintly, balling his hands into fists at his sides.
Please stop…stop taking me apart…let me go… His own voice, confined to the soundless void of his mind, is fizzling out. He can’t stay awake…
“Subject…losing consciousness…session ended, healing expected in one minute.…”
Cold fingers press on Six’s skin. They’re waiting for the incision to close up. It will, of course. It always does. Healing from faerie poison, on the other hand, isn’t so easy.
But it means that Victor—Number Seven—is safe from him. He lifts his head weakly as the gurney wheels past Victor’s room. Maybe…maybe Victor could help him…
A pair of arms lifts Six onto the bed, and he slumps backward, exhausted and weak from being cut open and examined. The door shuts, and the same desperate question fights against the tide of sleep about to overwhelm him.
[First installment of Tiny Whumpee! We’re not quite at the circus part yet, but it’s coming. I’m also gonna tag @pine-lark in this because.... Tiny Sadness... and Arion is why Silver exits.]
“Help! Can anybody hear me?!” He yelled. The call echoed through the trees with no reply. Silver growled and pulled again.
He hadn’t been expecting a trap, so he hadn’t been looking for one. He had smelled the honey and went for it like an idiot. His shoes had stuck first, but he didn’t know that until he tried to take a step and fell out of his shoes and onto his hands and knees.
Right into the glue.
His wings buzzed uselessly, trying to give any strength at all to his struggle. He was stuck; all the way down his shins, the tops of his feet, and both hands - fingers splayed. He groaned in frustration and pulled.
Nothing.
Panic rose in his chest and he pulled harder, yanking and wrenching his shoulders.
“Hello?! I need some help over here! Please?”
Even as Silver screamed pleas to no one, his mind was screaming at him. Stop it! Stop fighting! Calm down! It was the smart thing to do, but his panicked body kept struggling and fighting.
Ignoring the little bell.
Every time he pulled, struggled, every time he yanked at his hands or tried to tear the paper, the movement pulled a thin line connected to a silver bell. It was ringing almost nonstop, alerting whoever set the trap that it had caught something.
But he couldn’t stop himself.
“Please! Somebody? Anybody! Help!”
Silver screamed wordlessly, this time mostly out of rage and frustration. How could he be so stupid? He needed to calm down and figure out the best way to get out of this, but he couldn’t calm down because he was stuck in a glue trap and he. Wanted. Out.
He yanked and pulled and wrenched and screamed, but there was no give. It felt like he was going to tear his own skin before the glue would give. His shoulders and back were already starting to ache, head feeling heavy on his neck.
He was starting to tire, and he let his body sag for a moment of rest. Anger and frustration had overtaken his fear and he dropped his guard.
And his head.
A few strands from his gray bangs brushed against the glue and stuck fast. He shrieked in anger and pulled his head up, ripping the strands out to float down in front of his face. It hurt, but it only fueled his temper and made him struggle more.
“Come on! Anybody? Can someone just get over here and help me!”
~
Corwin stretched and made his way down the woodland path. The carnival was heading out that afternoon, so he needed to go and get his trap so they didn’t leave it behind. It hadn’t caught anything yesterday, and he had forgotten about it overnight. A shame for sure, but he could always set it up in the next spot. Not like he needed any more stock, but it was always good to have extras.
As he rounded the corner, he got a pleasant surprise. It had caught something overnight, after all.
The little sprite was a deep blue with gray-white hair, speckled with little white markings. It had clearly exhausted itself struggling, looking by the state of it. Sad really; it was just a few scant inches from the shallow dish of honey.
It had slumped over onto its chest. It was curled up, slightly to one side, full side of its face and one wing stuck in the glue. The wings were pretty, too. Shimmery light blue in color and looked like large dragonfly wings. Corwin whistled a low tone. It was rare to find Nitebrights this far south.
He must have woken it from whatever sleep it was in. The free wing fluttered a bit, buzzing pitifully, but the poor thing was still all worn out. It looked up at him blearily with its free eye, and Corwin wondered if it could even see him. It looked up for only a few moments before it shivered and closed its eye once again.
“Please let me go,” the sprite whispered, voice raw from screaming. Corwin chucked to himself and unclipped the paper from the holder. There was a hole at the top to attach it to the trigger line, but it was also useful to hang on Corwin’s keyring as he disassembled the rest of the trap.
Silver wanted to struggle. He wanted to pull and fight and bit and scratch, but he was just so tired. The morning light hurt his eyes and he just wanted to sleep. It had been an exhausting night, and he knew it wasn’t about to get any better.
He wanted to kick himself, berate himself even further for not fighting hard enough, but fatigue had drained his temper into nearly nothing. He knew that he had tried his hardest, but that his hardest just wasn’t good enough.
The paper he was stuck to moved underneath him, dragging him along for it ride. Without any sort of warning, the paper dropped down and swung wildly. Silver tried to scream, ironically pressing himself harder into the glue to in fear of being flung off.
The trap was hooked onto Corwin’s belt, and it was torture for the small sprite. Every step the man took, every time he turned or shifted his weight, the trap would swing wildly. Silver’s throat was too raw to scream, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
The trap would swing up, and it felt like Silver was floating without flying. For the few moments at the peak of motion, he felt weightless. Then the trap would fall back down, pulling the blood from Silvers head and making his body so, so incredibly heavy. Fuzzy darkness would creep into the sides of his vision, and the force would make him pass out. He woke and passed out, over and over again, entirely at the mercy of inertia.
By the time the movement stopped, Silver was dizzy and disorientated. He was nauseous and lightheaded, body trembling. His body was still expecting movement, even though no more was coming.
The next thing he knew was water. Warm water poured over his head and down his body. It wasn’t hot or burning, just warm. He closed his eyes and held his breath as it ran down his face. After everything, it felt almost…nice somehow.
A minute or two later, he realized that he was slipping. The warm water washed away the glue that held him in place, and he slid off the paper onto a wooden surface. He made to stand, but his legs were jelly. It took all his effort to simply roll over on his back to look up at the giant face in front of him.
Corwin smiled and reached down to sit the little creature up. It was weak, unable to stay up on its own. He let it lean against his hand as the rest of the water trickled over the sprite’s head, diluting the last little dregs of glue.
“I won’t even have to use the gas on you, will I?” Silver shivered, knowing those words were threatening but unable to follow them to their conclusions. He was tired, and if he wanted to get away, he needed save his energy and outsmart the larger man.
The little sprite didn’t answer; its eyes simply fluttered closed and it gave a resigned sigh. Corwin chuckled and grabbed the towel to dry it off.
Thick fabric was wrapped around Silver, and he was lifted by a grip on his midsection. He went limp, holding his breath and waiting for an opportunity. It rubbed the water away, not painfully, but gruff and uncaring. At least the glue is gone, thought Silver.
He was dropped a few inches onto a worktable, landing on his stomach. He groaned and rolled his head, but that was about all he could do. He was content to just lay there for a moment, until he felt fingers run across his wings.
Another spike of adrenaline shot through him as he rolled to his back and crawled backwards, away from the hand.
“Now now, little bug,” came the booming voice. “One last part and you’ll be done for today.” The hand reached for him again, and Silver bit in self-defense.
Corwin cursed and pulled his hand away from the rows of sharp teeth. Silver smiled back at him, knowing the bite of a nitebright can be painful, especially when they’re scared or angry. Their saliva was venomous, causing the bite to swell and hurt.
But it was made to ward off predators like birds and rats; not humans. It stung for a moment, but it didn’t even bleed.
Corwin grabbed the towel and dropped it over Silver, smothering him with it. Silver kicked and fought, but the man’s hand was large enough to pin him from his head down to his hips. He could kick and hit, but those would be as dangerous as butterfly kisses.
Fingers came and pinched his wrists together over his head, pinning them down under a thumb. The hand that pressed his back down lifted, and Silver heard a loud, foreign noise. A moment later, his hands were taped to the worktable above his head with cellophane tape. The cloth was lifted, and a few moments later his ankles were taped down in a similar fashion.
Silver wiggled and squirmed, but the tape held tight against his weary attempts. He pressed his forehead against the wood grain and squeezed his eyes shut. He was trapped, wings exposed, and there was nothing that he could do about it.
Fingers touched his delicate wings again, and he jerked violently. Oh, no no no don’t do that. If you crumple my wings I swear I will end you.
“Stop it! Don’t touch them! They’re very, very delicate and if you break them, they’ll never heal the same! So. Hands. off!” he growled out in rage. Who did this guy think that he was?
A finger pressed against where the base of his neck met his back. It didn’t press hard, but even the weight of it was enough to quiet his feeble attempt at struggling. Silver whimpered at the pressure as his neck bent outwards, chin digging into the wood and forcing his mouth closed.
“Quiet. I know, I know. You think I haven’t done this before?”
The finger retreated and Silver shuddered. Something about the man’s calm, amused tone turned Silver’s blood cold and sucked the air out of his lungs. He had done this before? How many? Was he gonna die? The adrenaline was fading fast, replaced with cold, raw fear.
“Please,” he sputtered, holding back a sob, “Please be careful.”
Corwin hummed noncommittally as his focus turned away from the pleading of his little captive to his wings.
To the man’s credit, he was very careful. He used a softer, finer cloth the wipe away any moisture from the thin membranes, making sure the touch was light. He only ever used the pads of his fingers, never the nails, inspecting them and finally moving away.
Silver was too focused on his wings to notice the light touch of something that slipped over his back. The second the man’s hand let go, he pulled wings in and tucked them tight against his back. He didn’t realize that was what the man wanted him to do until it was too late.
Corwin folded the paper up and around the wings, making sure the resulting envelope was long enough to not fold the tips. He creased it sharply, tucking the sides in and around like he was wrapping a little present. With the wings encased in paper, he took another strip of the cellophane tape and tapped the paper down, winding the tape once around Silver’s midsection for good measure.
His wings were secured tightly to his back, but in the moment all Silver could think of was how grateful he was that there was a layer of paper protecting them from the tape. However, once that thought had finished crossing his mind, the larger realization of his wings were taped down to his back reared its head.
He sobbed, pressing his head harder against the tabletop.
The tape that trapped his hands was peeled up with a fingernail, his ankles freed a moment later. He tried to sit up, but the new counterweight on his back pulled him off balance and he fell onto his back with a pitiful, confused and surprised yelp; hands grasping for traction in the air in front of him.
Corwin laughed and scooped him up again, taking him off to the gilded cage in the corner of the room.
Non-Consensual Touching on bthb, and “Stop Please“ on Whumptober (Day 6)!
about: Vera experiences the big hair chop ft. Neon
cw: non-con touch, caged, traumatic haircut, very reluctant head shaving, affectionate whumper(?), burns, permanent damage, minor cuckoo-ness(?), restraints,
word count: 694 words
ps: this isnt in order im actually writing and planning as i go so ill probably add numbers to the series once im more sure of stuff
“Vera~”
The all-too-familiar voice made her blood run cold. Vera grimaced as the artificial white light of the basement hit her eyes for the first time in a while, canvas sheet rustling as it was whipped off the cage she was confined in.
“Did you miss me?” Neon’s hand reached for her through the bars of the cage, and she shivered a little as he stroked her hair, pushing a stray lock out of her face. She knew better than to pull away or fight back. Memories of the creature that had once inhabited this cage slumping over in a pool of its own blood caused her to shudder.
“N-Neon, I-”
“Of course you did.” He ran a thumb across her cheek, wiping away some of the grime that had accumulated. “Vera, you’re in for a treat. Today’s the day. 12th of March. Today, you die, and rebirth, as a new you. A you, ready to take the world head-on.”
She froze. Already?! How long had it been since she had been kidnapped and shoved in here? “N-No… No, please, no!”
“Say goodbye to the Vera you once were. You’ll be stunning. Even more so than you are now.”
The cage was unlocked, and she backed into the corner, desperate to get away from the hands reaching to drag her out. The cold bars of the cage dug into her back, until she was yanked forwards, out of the cage. Neon was disturbingly cheerful as he tied her to the chair in front of the sink, angling the mirror such that she could see every little scar that marred her face and neck.
She tugged against the restraints a little, the zip ties digging into her wrists. “Let me go… Neon, please, you don’t have to do this-”
Neon merely plugged an electric razor into the socket in the wall, putting it aside for now and picking up a pair of rusted scissors. “Of course I do. Your hair’s in the way. How else am I supposed to give you your new look?” He grabbed a clump of her hair, hacking away at it with the scissors.
Vera could only sit in the chair, tears dripping down her cheeks as she watched her brown locks drift to the ground. “N-Neon, please- I don’t want this- stop it! Stop it, please!” She glanced at the mirror through teary eyes, upset. Her eyes looked too big for her face. Her head didn’t seem like it was a nice shape. Suddenly aware of every imperfection she had, she let her head fall, sniffling.
“Chin up.” Neon yanked her hair, causing her head to snap backwards. “Here’s the fun part.” He tossed the scissors into the sink, picking up the razor, and switching it on. A low buzz filled the basement, and Vera paled, shaking her head. “No, no, no… P-Please… Please stop...”
Neon was oddly silent, holding her head still and running the razor across her scalp with a look of intense focus until her hair was completely gone. “...All done. Hm… Yeah, I imagined you’d look better than this. Kinda disappointing.”
Vera sobbed quietly, as Neon brushed the remnants of her hair off her head and shoulders. “There there… We’re not done yet. There’s something I still have to do.”
“W-What…?” She barely managed to squeak out, looking at him in horror. “W-What… What now?”
“I have to make sure it doesn’t grow back, duh.” He opened the cabinet under the sink, retrieving a device and some cream which he slathered onto her head, any sensation she felt there gone. “Numbing cream.” He explained, rubbing it in before producing a lighter. “...Hold still.”
“Stop- Stop, please-” Her breathing came in faster gasps as the flame licked at her scalp, skin blistering and reddening under the fiery onslaught. She couldn’t feel anything, despite the beads of sweat rolling down her face from the heat.
“Well then, I think we’re done for now.” He finally took the lighter away from her skin, sliding it into his pocket. Vera’s eyes were puffy from crying, and she trembled under Neon’s touch. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry. You’ll be saved, very soon.”
Here's my ask : Drugged and ofc with Lyra and Adam
Happy Writing!!!
OC soup Bingo
Calculations
TW/CW: Non-con drugging, threats, non-con touch, maybe a tad tiny bit suggestive language but its SFW, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, non-con kiss
Word count: 1'259
Adam clasped the tiny test tube filled with the yellowish powder. It had been a hassle to get it but it would be worth it. He mixed all of it into a tiny water flask and shook it. He would make damn sure of that…
…
„Oh absolutely not!“, Lyra said when she saw Adam approach her with a sadistic grin painted on his face and his hands behind his back.
„Funny how you act like you have a choice in the matter.“, he replies coldly.
Lyra gulps, a hard look in her eyes. „Well at least I’m not gonna let you win without sacrifices.“
Adam scoffs. „See this is exactly the problem.“ Then he suddenly lunges at her. He grapples her to the ground but struggles to restrain her completely. Then he has an idea. He sneaks his hand over her head and manages to cover her eyes and nose. Now shredded in darkness Lyra's trashing slows down a bit.
"What are you doing?", she asks nervously.
"Oh, don't break your little head about it just open up."
Lyra's mouth snapped close.
Adam sighed theatrically, strengehing his graps on her nose. "See where that get's you."
Lyra’s fought to throw him off but without sucsess. And her movements were becoming more and more frantic.
“You think you can fight me but you can’t.”
Lyra’s eyes widened as the need for oxygen got worse and worse.
“So just admit it to yourself.”
Lyra gasped and Adam instantly shoved the flask into her mouth. She coughed but in her desperate gasping for oxygen couldn’t prevent the weird tasting water from going down her throat. Adam still not letting go of her face turned her head around and kissed her. Stealing her only source of oxygen again. Eventually he let go of her and allowed her to sprawl out on the floor.
Adam laughed as she pushed herself away from him fear and disgust. He didn’t say anything only checked his watch.
Lyra breathed heavily. “What did you do to me? What was in there?”
“Just a little funny drug. I think I used way more than what I was instructed to use but ah well. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”, he grinned.
Lyra opened her mouth but the look on Adam’s face made her close it again.
“Good girl.”, Adam commented smugly.
Lyra grit her teeth in anger and tried to stand up instinctively. But her knees buckled underneath her weight and she fell over again.
Adam walked up to her with slow, deliberate steps. “Now, now. What was that supposed to be?”
“I just wanted to give you a much needed punch in the face!”
“Hmm. No that wasn’t it. Try again.”
“What?”
“Try. Again.”
“I tried to stand up?”
“Yes. And why would you do that?
“Because you were getting on my nerves and being a bastard?!”
“Hmm. And do you see what’s wrong with that behaviour?"
“Your unbelviably fragile ego can’t handle it?”
Adam was now standing right in front of Lyra. He grabbed her jaw with a grip he was sure would bruise and tilted her head up so she would look at him.
“This. Do you see this right here? This is how the power dynamic is.”, he was speaking ever so calmly now, “Over all my little games I allowed you to play and all my generiosity it seems that you forgot who actually has the power here.”
Lyra struggles now to keep her body upright and Adam seems to notice it. Suddenly he let’s go of her jaw and her body betrays her by simply dropping to the floor. She can hear him laugh over her.
“Oh that’s just beautifully pathetic. Here let me help you.”, he adds and crouches down. He grabs her gently by the arms and turns her around so she now lays on her back, looking up at him as he stands up again.
“Now…This is much better…”, he purred.
Lyra can only move her eyes by now, everything else won’t obey her commands.
“What do you think of this change, Thyma?”
She tries to open her mouth-to talk-to give a snarky remark but her tongue felt like it had turned to lead.
“Oh right.”, Adam laughs, “You’re too weak to talk right now.”
“You wanna know what I think about this change?” He sat down again next to the lying Lyra and gently moved a few stray strands of hair out of Lyra‘s face. Seemingly deep in thought. „I think it’s quite charming. You’re so helpless like this. Vulnerable for me to do whatever I want.”, he mused and caressed a nail over the length of her arm.
Lyra would have shivered if she could have.
“But I don’t really need this to make you feel this way, do I? So…Defeated. You’re quite strong minded I will not lie about that. But…If you know where to apply pressure…” He sneaked his hand under her limp body and pressed into the curve of her spine earning him a sharp breath from his plaything. He locked eyes with her. “You crumble like a sand castle. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. As much as you try you can’t eradicate them, can you? Why else would you still be so scared from the same things as four-five years ago?” Adam went back to caressing his nails over every exposed inch of Lyra’s skin. “Why else do you flinch at my touch even if you tell yourself not to? And why do none of your attempts to escape my clutches sucseed? Whatever you do…Whatever you try…You will always end up in the same position as before. At my mercy. Trembling like a deer in headlights but trying to act stoic. And you’re already breaking, can’t you tell?”
Lyra shot him an outraged look, the fear momentarily dissapearing from her eyes.
“No?” Adam chuckled softly. “Poor, sweet, dumb Lyra. Why else did you so eagerly give up names and intel when I caught you again? Only to spare yourself a bit of pain.” He gently cupped her cheek. “I didn’t even torture you that time.”
Lyra felt tears of shame fill her eyes but she mustered up every bit of energy she had to hold them back. He would not see her cry. He couldn’t also take that from her. She wished he would stop touching her, every touch seemed to burn her skin and the nails felt no different than knifes.
Adam saw how her eyes practically pleaded with him to understand that that was not how it was. And a sadistic grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You from a few years ago would never have done that...I mean, I expected some changes after your short vacation but…You surprised even my with that. By obeying so…easily. So you see, you understood it before, so I’m sure you can do it again. Right?” He brushed his thumb over her lips before removing his hands and standing up. “You’re lucky that I am…patient. For now. But understand that in here I am what counts. I am your government. Your religion. Your…rules. And you will obey or I will stop playing games and get serious with you. Do we understand each other?”
Lyra couldn’t speak.
“Come on, you have other ways of showing me you understood your place.”
They were both just staring at each other, holding stubborn eye contact until Lyra broke it and lowerded her gaze below Adams eyes.
Ryker ▶️ go beg Eric to let you sit in his lap, make sure you ask exactly like the good puppy he wants you to be
CW: Self-loathing, non-con kiss, non-con touch.
Ryker gives you a look that says “Do I have to?”
However, as the command hold of his body he realises, that yes. He has to.
_________
Ryker walked quietly to the living room, trembling. He didn’t even know if he was allowed to do this, Eric had initiated all physical contact thus far, though, in defense, Ryker had tried to recoil. The man scared him. Even like this, sitting relaxed in a red velvet chair in the living room. Flipping comfortably through a book, he did not look up as Ryker entered. The boy approached his chair as silently as he could and kneeled next to it, close to the fireplace. The warmth of the flames did nothing for his nerves.
He waited, staring at Eric, his eyes widened pitifully in the way he knew the man liked. It showed off the warm brown colour to its best extent, framed by long black lashes. Eric lowered the book and looked at him, a small smile on his angled face.
“What is it, puppy?” Condescending tone.
“Um” Ryker replied, quietly as he could. “I would . . . May-may I have hug please . . . Master?”
Eric’s stormy grey eyes widened in surprise but his mouth widened too as he grinned at the words. Placing the book down, on the little table beside him, he leaned back and patted his knees.
“You may. Get on.”
Ryker did as he was told, climbing onto Eric’s lap and feeling his hands wrap around his chest and waist. He felt the man grope where skimpy clothes did not cover skin, rubbing his torso up and down greedily. Despite himself, Ryker melted into the warm human contact, one that was not accompanied by pain.
Then, Eric kissed him on the cheek. Ryker shivered and tried to pull away but Eric pinched him roughly.
“Never” he whispered. “You never pull away from me, do you understand?”
Ryker nodded.
“Good. Now kiss me back.”
He did as he was told, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek. Then, he nuzzled into Eric’s chest and they sat there like that, watching the fire.
► Brody, if you’re with it, and only if you’re okay with it, if your not don’t do it, can I haz hug?
Brody laughs lightly as he gets up. He and Kayla have had many, long, conversations about this. About saying no, about doing what he wants, not what he thinks people want from him.
Aries and Kayla are still a little hesitant, even when he asks.
He appreciates it, he really does. It’s nice to know that they care so much and want to make sure that he’s doing well.
I do still want touch, he thinks as he wraps his arms around you, chin on your shoulder. I would be like this even if I was never a pet.
