The laugh that escaped me was bitter. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be falling apart in a shit motel bathroom."
"Bunny." He waited until I met his eyes. "What do you need?"
I thought about lying. About pretending I was fine, that I could handle this. But we were past pretending now. Had been since the first warehouse, the first confession, the first time he'd watched me break apart and stayed anyway.
"Take it away," I whispered. "The control. The choices. Everything. Just... take it away for a while."
His jaw tightened. "You sure?"
"No." I pulled the towel tighter around myself. "But I need to not be in charge of this body right now. Need to remember it can follow other orders. Better orders."
We stood there in the harsh bathroom light, two damaged people trying to navigate trauma with more trauma. It was fucked up. We were fucked up. But fucked up was all we had.
"Okay," Nathan said finally. "Get on the bed."
The tone was different. Not the careful distance he usually maintained, but something with edges. With authority. My body responded before my mind could process, moving toward the bed on autopilot.
"Wait." He moved to his bag, pulling out items with efficient movements. Handcuffs—not the fuzzy kind from sex shops but real ones, police-grade steel. "Still sure?"
I held out my wrists in answer.
The metal was cold against my skin, familiar in ways that should have been triggering but weren't. Because this was different. This was choice. My choice to give up choice, which Gabriel had never allowed.
Nathan secured them to the headboard, checking the fit. Professional. Careful. "Color system?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you now?"
I tested the restraints, felt the limitation of movement. My body was already responding—but differently than before.This wasn't the helpless arousal of Gabriel's training. This was something else. Something that felt like relief.
"Green," I said.
"Good." He stepped back, studying me. Taking his time. Making me wait. "You said you need to remember your body can follow other orders. So let's see how well you can follow mine."
My breath caught. This was dangerous territory—using my conditioning against itself. But maybe that was what I needed. To overwrite the old programming with something new.
"Yes," I managed.
"Yes, what?"
I almost said it. Almost called him Daddy, the word trained so deep it came without thought. But I caught myself, searching for something else. Something that was ours, not Gabriel's.
"Yes, sir."
"Better." He moved closer, still not touching. "Here's how this works. You follow orders. You be good for me. And if you're very good, I'll make you forget all about him. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Then let's start simple." His fingers ghosted over my stomach, barely touching. "No moving unless I say. No sounds unless I allow them. Can you do that?"
I nodded, then caught myself. "Yes, sir."
"Quick learner."
His hand pressed flat against my stomach, warm and steady. Not moving, just... present. Grounding. I focused on the point of contact, using it to anchor myself in the present. This room. This moment. This person who wasn't Gabriel.
"Breathe," he ordered, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. "In for four, hold for four, out for four."
