“Kneel on the pillow and put your hands behind your back,” said Quinn.
The order was risky; heknewit was risky because of August’s father. Quinn was desperate to erase that evil bastard from August’s memories and reprogram his mind to feel safe in the vulnerable position, and this might be the perfect time for the push.
August could say no. The safe word would stop Quinn instantly if things became too much, but that was the beauty of what they were doing. August, a man who never felt in control of his thoughts and actions, could now choose how he wanted to proceed. By giving him a choice, Quinn was handing back his bodily autonomy one session at a time—rebuilding his shattered confidence knot by knot.
August was shivering and naked when he withdrew from the blankets, but he crawled over to the pillow and knelt like Quinn had asked, arms folded behind his back and head bowed.
“Green light,” August said hoarsely through chattering teeth.
Quinn said nothing as he touched his hand to August’s hair, stroking his fingers through the white locks in a slow, soothing rhythm. He let Augustsit and regulate—let him pause and refocus his mind on the one touch until everything else faded away.
Quinn’s chest finally loosened when August stopped panting, the shaking sobs ebbing into quiet breaths. He didn’t react to the soft drip of blood hitting the floor, careful not to disturb the calm August was sinking into.
When Quinn felt like he had August soothed enough to move on to the next step, he let his hand fall, brushing his knuckles across August’s cheek as he pulled away. He kept his movements quiet and slow to avoid distracting August from his trance as he removed coils of rope from the suitcase.
Quinn studied August just in case he showed signs of distress, but even when Quinn slid the rope across August’s wrist to test him, there was nothing.
“Green light,” August said again, this time with no chattering teeth.
“Good boy,” Quinn purred, giving August the affirmation he was seeking.
August shivered for an entirely different reason this time, and Quinn smiled. Knowing he was about to save August from the dark place he was caught in made him feelalive.
Fuck. He loved this man. Quinn had never been an equal in any relationship before—but August was his, and Quinn needed him just as much as August needed Quinn. The balance was perfect, like painting a picture that drew attention to the entire image, not just scattered elements.
They made sense. Everything about them made sense, even with betrayal, trauma and pain buried in their foundation. Quinn could see it; the fortress of happiness that they could become once they built over the skeletons of their past.
Quinn draped the rope over August’s shoulders to let him know it was there, giving him a second to prepare before he began tying knots on the upper part of his body. This session wouldn’t take a sexual turn unless August needed it, but Quinn couldn’t help but admire how lovely August’s pecs and torso looked decorated in deep red lines.
Quinn kept things breathable but tight to give August the pressure he was looking for. August had given him permission weeks ago to leave bruises, knowing his teammates would see them, but Quinn tried his best to tighten the areas he knew would bruise less while keeping the others loose.
Just like the last time, August surrendered to the binds beautifully, not struggling, no matter how restrained his movements were. It was like workingwith a living, breathing doll—one that Quinn touched, kissed and praised as ropes were knotted down limp arms to clasped hands.
This was the scary part, because once Quinn bound August’s wrists together and stepped away, August was either going to stay in subspace or fight. Quinn hoped he wouldn’t panic. He wanted August to feel so safe that he stayed blissful no matter how much control Quinn took from him, but the last knots would tell him all he needed to know.
“August—”
“Green light,” August groaned, fingers flexing. “How—how does this feel more comfortable than a blanket?”
Quinn twisted the rope around August’s wrists and secured the knot, pressing a kiss to his open palm before straightening. When he stepped in front of him, Quinn smiled, sliding a finger beneath August’s chin and tipping his head up, silently showing him how proud he was.
“Why are you confused, little doll?” Quinn asked, brushing his thumb over August’s bottom lip. “You’re comfortable because you’re submissive to me, August. Your mind knows exactly what I want from you—and it knows that pleasing me will make you happy, because I’ll take care of you when you do a good job.”
And August was doingsogood. He had tears and blood drying on his cheeks, and there was still a hint of fear in his eyes, but he looked perfect just the way he was.
Quinn’s words helped August sink deeper into subspace, and the hazy look returned as his muscles gave a final shudder—andrelaxed.
Quinn drew his hand away and stepped back, his heart pounding and dick throbbing as he observed the state he had put August in. He had done that. He had taken the trembling creature cowering in the corner and turned him into a man at peace on his knees.
Fuck painting. Quinn had created a masterpiece out of rope, terror, warm skin, and trust. No other medium could compare to this, the tranquillity between lovers woven together by a red thread of fate.
Quinn wasn’t the only one affected by the intensity of the moment. August had been fully erect since Quinn started touching him with the ropes, and his leaking cock was now making a mess of precum on the floor to join the blood.
Quinn wanted to give him release, but he needed August to sit with it a little longer. Just long enough for his system to settle, and for the last traces of fear to fade.
“Ten minutes,” said Quinn. “You’re going to sit there for ten minutes, and then I’m going to touch you.”
“Okay,” August said, his breath catching on the word.
