Page 34 of Oh, Sacred Dark
It felt so, so good.
“There you go,” came Tyler’s voice from above him. “You’re doing so good. You look so perfect.”
Roman had to close his eyes at the effect those words had on him. All he’d been able to think before arriving at Tyler’s home was about resisting—about refusing to crumble, to be reduced to nothing as he had been in the past.
This, though—there was no resisting this. Roman wasn’t sure hewantedto. Even when something terrible did happen, he’d still have had this.
“Good,” Tyler repeated as though it were the only important word in the universe.
Roman stifled a protesting sound when the hand on his nape loosened, but instead of disappearing, it started threading through his curls in slow, gentle movements. It wasn’t like when past Doms had pretended Roman was a dog. This was…caring. Careful.
Roman wanted it to go on forever, this touch that was no other he had ever experienced. His body yearned even as it was happening, lapping at the sensation desperately, dreading when it would end.
Minutes passed, and the touch continued. Bit by bit, the rhythmic pulls of Tyler’s hands lulled his body until he found himself with his cheek pressed against Tyler’s thigh. He tensed the instant he realised what he’d done, but Tyler caught him before he could pull away.
“That’s it, that’s perfect. You’re doing good. You can rest there. I’ve got you, Roman. You can let go.”
It was a spell. A bewitchment. Roman had never heard words like that directed at him. He’d failed to build an immunity to them, and they speared right through the core of him.
Just like that, Roman dropped into a warm and light and foreign place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TYLER
The world blurred, a stain spreading at the edges of Tyler’s vision. The only sharp-edged thing on Earth was Roman.
Tyler had never seen someone slide into subspace like that—so smoothly, so completely. He knew the reason for it was most likely due to the complete hormonal imbalance inside Roman, but watching it happen was…beautiful.
“That’s it. That’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Tyler murmured, feeling himself slot into Domspace, the first breath of fresh air he’d taken in months.
Roman groaned softly, a noise of relief, of emotional pressure. His cheeks were stained red, one of them rubbing gently against Tyler’s clothed thigh, his eyelashes fluttering at the praise.
Tyler was consumed by the sight. There was no sexual component to how he felt, no desire to ravage or take. All he wanted was to keep Roman in that space, to keep him safe and happy for as long as it was in his power to do so.
The minutes melted away as Tyler threaded his fingers through Roman’s curls, watching them separate and bounce, leaving the hair in fizzy disarray. Time was a syrupy, pleasant thing, but Tyler didn’t let it drain without his knowledge—he had to stay in control for Roman. Had to make sure the scene didn’t go on excessively, that Roman didn’t gorge himself after fasting for so long.
After exactly an hour, Tyler had to gather every ounce of will in his body to push both Roman and himself out of dynamic space.
“Hey,” Tyler whispered gently. “We’re going to come up now, okay? You’ve done so well, Roman. So perfectly. Time to come up now, baby.” The pet name just slipped out, coated in honey.
A little furrow appeared between Roman’s eyebrows, but Tyler brushed it away with his thumb.
“You’re okay. Everything is so good. Come up here with me, let’s lie down.”
Roman was obviously still deep in it, but Tyler managed to slowly get them horizontal on the couch, Roman on top of him. Tyler wrapped his arms around him so that he didn’t awaken adrift. He rocked slightly side to side, rhythmic and soothing, so Roman had something to grasp onto as he became more aware.
“That was so good, baby. Thank you so much. Can you open your eyes a little?” Tyler prompted.
It took a few tries, but Roman’s eyelids strained open eventually, eyes still hazy.
“That’s perfect, there you go,” Tyler praised. He watched Roman carefully, examined his pupils, the line of his back, his breathing pattern, making sure the sub didn’t fall right into a Drop or a panic attack.
Roman made a muffled, confused sound, still completely out of it. Tyler didn’t want to shock him into reality, so he simply started talking, voice low and even.
“I got a request on a piece last month. It was for a sixtieth wedding anniversary—the couple’s children commissioned it, all adults now, obviously. They wanted a mix of wood and metal, which is pretty unusual—people usually want one thing or another.”
Tyler described how he’d talked to the old couple, had learnt how they’d met—at a rally—how they had fallen in love. They’d been surprisingly frank, telling him about the rough times in their youth as they tried to make ends meet, how their children being born was both a blessing and a worry as the couple tried to give them the best life possible.
