Beautiful - o2
[Masterlist]
CW: Intimate whumper, collar, denied air, asphyxiation, non con touch (nonesexual but a lot), oxygen mask,
They had been too distracted the last few days, too preoccupied with their new little pet to get any actual work done. But the boy was doing better now, nearly all of that defiance bled out of him. In fact, he was kneeling at their side as they worked, temple resting on their thigh.
Taking a break for a moment, they peered over and reached a hand down to card through his dark hair. Weak thing barely moved, barely reacted. They smiled privately, pleased by such a reaction - or lack thereof.
He had started out as such a handful. Kicking, screaming, fighting at every turn. Bit one of their guards, broke the skin. But now the boy was kitten weak, unable to pull away or even react to the fingers that softly skimmed his cheekbones and across his dark straight hair.
The collar buckled tightly around his throat made sure of that.
Air was a silent necessity. The weak and the mighty both fell without it, every corner of life required it. They took a deeper breath with the thought, quietly basking in what he couldn’t. Such a simple thing.
“Look at you. So still and good for me.”
The boy’s eyes fluttered lightly, but he wasn’t strong enough to open them fully. Fingers twitched, brows barely furrowed. The most movement he showed was the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
The boy had been in the tight collar for nearly three days now and his strength was gone. Their hand slipped down farther to his nose and mouth. The soft puffs of air on his skin were barely noticeable, save only the slight warmth. Gently, they thumbed across his bottom lip. A slight jerk, eyes opening a bit farther, but no other defiance.
So good.
“Mmmh look at you know,” they murmured, pulling the limp boy up into their lap. “You’re so perfect like this, so soft and dazed for me. Isn’t this better? Better than all that screaming and fighting and swearing? Don’t you like it more?”
The boy’s back was to their chest, head lolled back to rest on their shoulder. They wrapped their arms around his waist, nuzzling into the side of his head. A light wheeze, a twitch, a painful swallow followed by a wince. Enthralled, they buried their nose into his black hair, fingers starting inching up to his ribs and chest.
Practically no movement; no breath.
“The marks around your neck will be so dark, so beautiful. Do you know what makes them beautiful?”
Just as he should, the boy couldn’t respond. They continued.
“They’re beautiful because everyone knows what they are. Everyone knows how they got there, what you went through to earn them. They’re beautiful because of the face you’ll pull when you see them. The way your eyes will harden and your jaw will set. So much turmoil in those green eyes, so much hate in your face. That’s beautiful.”
They wrapped a hand around his chest, holding it down to stop the shallow rise and fall. His lungs struggled, pushing up against their arm in a desperate attempt to continue their endless pattern.
It failed.
“Emotion is what makes something beautiful, is it not? Anger, fear, grief, joy, excitement - there’s no real difference. Not to me, anyway.”
Regrettably, they released his chest to allow breathing again. As the boy started to regain his rhythm, they reached down to the side of the desk to pull out the oxygen mask and canister.
“Just a bit longer, I think. I want them to be dark - stark against your skin. But I don’t want to kill you, so this will help.”
They adjusted the straps and fit the mask around his nose and mouth and opened the line to the canister. A soft hiss, a little fog on the inside of the clear plastic. They repositioned his head against their neck, snaking their arms back around to get back to work.
Moments later, they felt the sensation of his lashes on their neck. They smiled and squeezed his arm in affection. There was an unhappy huff but that was it.
Still too weak to do anything about it.
“Don’t worry, o2. I’ll make sure to put the straps nice and tight around your chest while the collar is off. Wouldn’t want to let you get too comfortable, now would we?”