Page 26 of Oh, Sacred Dark
Roman looked up, terrified. Doms always phrased it like that—This is what you need.
The panting, petrified silence stretched, and Tyler leant forwards slightly. “Okay. You don’t want anybody else?”
“No, no,please, Sir.” Anything but that.
“Okay. I’m gonna get on the bed. Is that okay? Can I touch you? Just, over your clothes, obviously.”
Roman didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded—whatever Sir wanted.
Tyler climbed in behind him as Roman tried to still his muscles, control his chattering teeth, but it was futile. He was falling apart.
“I’m going to put your back to my chest, my hand on your chest, and wrap you up as much as I can. Is that okay?”
Roman nodded. His throat was frozen, unable to form words.
He could feel himself slipping deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself, thoughts breaking apart.
Even though Tyler had warned him, it was still a shock to feel a body so close, to have a solid palm pushing against his racing heart. He was being wrapped up—not crushed or suffocated. Just…held.
Roman waited for the rest of it. For the pain or the humiliation. To be spit at, or stepped on, or all the things Doms loved to do.
Instead, there was pressure, and Tyler saying very quietly, over and over, “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Roman tried to hold on, tried to stop what was about to happen—hurt, violation—but the darkness took over, and he was gone.
*****
A black and thick liquid. Cold, suffocating, trembling.
In the distance—warmth.
Roman surfaced in gasps, his skin sore with it, his lungs. He blinked his eyes open and didn’t find himself alone in the closet or in an empty corner, but on a soft bed, held by someone.
Roman took a sharp breath. The body behind him stilled for a second before relaxing again.
“Hey. You awake?” the person’s voice said—Tyler.
“Yes,” Roman admitted softly.
“Okay. Someone brought up some juice and snacks, they’re right outside the door. Are you okay if I get them?”
What a strange question. As if Roman was in charge of whatever a Dom did. “Yes.”
A pause, and then Tyler extricated himself slowly. Despite Roman’s permission, the loss was immediate, a pull in his abdomen like a sharp pain. He tried not to make a noise, but he was too pathetic, too weak, and a whimper slipped out.
Tyler froze, and Roman with him, fear razing his insides. Instead of mocking him, though, Tyler lay down, wrapping him up again. “Maybe a little too soon? I just want to get some sugar and liquid in you. I looked it up, and it’s supposed to be good after a Drop? Have you ever had one?”
Roman opened his mouth, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to admit that this was just how he was? That he was defective, that there was no amount of food or drink to cure him.
Tyler didn’t push. “That’s okay. You don’t need to answer. Here, can you hold my hand?”
Roman fumbled, lacing their fingers together. It felt…good, somehow.
“Okay, I’m going to move and hold your hand as long as I can. When I let go, count to ten and keep your eyes on me. I won’t be out of your sight.”
Roman nodded, lost, but the clear orders were aligning something inside him. He could do all that. It wouldn’t hurt.
After a few seconds, Tyler lifted himself once more, hands clasped until the last moment. Roman started counting, body tense, but Tyler didn’t bolt or, worse, let someone else in. He just picked up a tray of food and closed the door.
