It had been five years since Sean set foot in his childhood bedroom. Band posters still lined the blue walls, movie ticket stubs were still tacked to his cork board. It was almost like he had never left. But he was older now--wiser. Now twenty-three, everything Sean had learned throughout his youth was finally starting to sink in. “Please try to stop moving.” His voice was pleading and soft, always soft. His father never liked him making too much noise growing up. And even though his parents were gone for the weekend on a trip, some habits never died. “The more you struggle, the harder it will be for me to tie these,” he murmured, fastening one of the boy’s wrists to the bed post. "I don’t want them to be too tight. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.”
for @wastedsxns from here