Kairo stands in the small white room that is unfamiliar to him.
His rough palm skims over the cool walls, smoothing down the countertops and pausing to press fleeting fingertips against different, odd-looking machinery.
His expression flashes from light to dark like schools of fish drifting and casting shadows upon his countenance; awe to intimidation, then slight vexation as he moves from one corner of the room to the next.
Kairo pauses before a white looking box, square, with a shadowed glass as the screen. Curiously, he leans down and presses his face to the glass, lips parted and nostrils flaring as his lungs expand with each searching breath.
It smells like… food.
His wandering fingers press on the
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Leya’s eyes flash in the door’s direction, then back at the naked man centred in her living room. He watches her, golden eyes darkening to that of glittering black, like raw hunks of mica under sunlight. “I know you’re in there, Ley!” More pounding on her door. Leya’s tongue darts out and circles her suddenly dry lips. The man does not move from his position, simply gauging her in a sadistic, taunting manner whilst his head tilts in the slightest, ear positioned towards the door. Her stomach clenches along with the rifle she holds. Caught between a hard place and a wall, Leya finds herself requesting of him something she did not think possible; “Don’t move.”
Leya had slapped him. Hard. The intensity of her winding and falling hand had never been more brutal, such that even hours later the skin of her palm still stung. She did not reach for the gun this time around, perhaps realizing that her threats were as empty and baseless as a void drum. Instead, Leya rose sharply as the chair shrilled on the wooden floor and she had shoved him out of the cabin, face flushed in utter horror, body tingling in a manner of discomfort at his blatant, tasteless intimacy. Seeing her expression then - something akin to bemusement and curiosity - stopped the man from resisting her actions. He did not push back with his brute strength and instead let her jostle him out of the house and into the night. There, she slammed the door s
Leya had never given anyone a bath, let alone an adult man.Standing in the small confines of the cabin’s bathroom, she did not realize just how constricting space was, not until Kairo stepped inside.His shoulders seem to hunch inwards as well, the top of his head angled down to prevent grazing the ceiling. He looks uncomfortable but Leya feels nothing close to sympathy for the large man.“I’m assuming you’ve never had a bath,” Leya murmurs as she carefully manoeuvres around the man, wary not to touch his dirt-stained body. Setting the bucket down in one corner of the shower, she drops a scrubbing brush inside, bar of soap, bottle of two in one shampoo, scrubbing gloves, three razors and a nail cutter.She feels him shift somewhere to her side and her eyes slant to peer at the man gazing at the showerhead now at his height. His glancing fingers pick at random bottles aligned on the racks then pops them open before tentativel
The darkness in the room felt like sensory deprivation to Leya. It was blacker than black, unable to see anything but hear the faint rumbling of noise in the background like a rushing stream. Unable to catch a sliver of sleep, she rolled onto her back and fiddled with the blanket that rested over her abdomen. Lightning flashed white, briefly brightening the room, and in it, she grew acutely aware of the man that slept on the floor. Kairo. He had been adamant about sleeping in her bedroom, and she did allow him albeit with a firm rule of not sharing the same bed. He had taken to the floor after a brief unintelligible argument with a disdainful grunt but still mildly happy by the fact that they shared the same room.
*slams chapter down on your table* done. enjoy. Shoot. Trapped within the confines of her truck, Leya gazed out the windshield at the two males. Despite the distance, she felt the tension, cold as ice, press on her skin like a blunt steel blade. Her heart did something wicked in her chest, momentarily forcing a smatter of bile to rise her throat and she tasted the bitterness with absolute clarity. Holland stood stiffly before Kairo. The breadth of his shoulders was drawn taut like an overstrung bowstring, stretching the material of his shirt. One hand rested on his waist where the Glock’s glimmering handle protrudes. Leya knew that stance.
*slams down next chapter on your table* *looks you in the eye* you're welcome Scarcely had there been a moment in Kairo’s life when he thought that he had done something wrong. That he was doing something wrong. His moral compass was true North, his ability to determine wrong from right was always a sharply honed blade that drew a firm line on the sand between. The last time he had done something wrong, something so vile, unforgivable, had ended with him punished, raped, and cursed for all eternity. A wretched thing he was, forced to walk the earth with no sense of humanity and forever a beast without memory. He thought that had been the worst day of his life.
Leya releases a soft hiss— like hot water falling on iced rocks, as the cotton swabs gently on her cheek. She presses harder, grinding her teeth back and forth while dabbing at the small cut.It was barely perceptible, yet the pain and shame swathed over her shoulders like a blanket that weighed her down.Her reflection squinted back at her, a soft sheen of water still glossing her skin from the brief shower. Hair damp and hanging in loose dark tendrils about her shoulders.Leya lowered the bloodied cotton and tilted her cheek this way then that, studying the damage on either side.It had been eight hours since the incident; Kairo Pressing her into the corner, his hand caging her face in a grip that frighteningly reminded her of someone else, his claws extended and digging, digging.He had hurt her.And she had cowered away, stripped of all the years it had taken to cultivate a firm exterior, all the nights spent willing her mind to ne
warning; nonconsent There is a mute sort of pleasure found lying in one’s own filth - defecation and urine leaving bodily imprints on the cold concrete floor. The whip marks are still fresh and open, raw gilded flesh hanging from the body like feathers from a dreamcatcher, slowly weeping blood. "Mother." The only constant sound in the swallowing darkness is that of a sentenced prisoner, somewhere in the dungeon's corner. Like a reminder, it keeps Kairo's fading mind straight while he teeters on the brink of absolute insanity. A steep fall he knew he’d approach soon enough. His body burns and aches in regions he did not know existed. The length of his back, which was once clothed in royal robes, is now bare and slick with divine blood; his torso is matted with blackening bruises and skin protrusions along the dome of his ribcage, indicating just how many bones had been fractured, the ragged edges now pressing against the barr
Leya releases a soft hiss— like hot water falling on iced rocks, as the cotton swabs gently on her cheek. She presses harder, grinding her teeth back and forth while dabbing at the small cut.It was barely perceptible, yet the pain and shame swathed over her shoulders like a blanket that weighed her down.Her reflection squinted back at her, a soft sheen of water still glossing her skin from the brief shower. Hair damp and hanging in loose dark tendrils about her shoulders.Leya lowered the bloodied cotton and tilted her cheek this way then that, studying the damage on either side.It had been eight hours since the incident; Kairo Pressing her into the corner, his hand caging her face in a grip that frighteningly reminded her of someone else, his claws extended and digging, digging.He had hurt her.And she had cowered away, stripped of all the years it had taken to cultivate a firm exterior, all the nights spent willing her mind to ne
*slams down next chapter on your table* *looks you in the eye* you're welcome Scarcely had there been a moment in Kairo’s life when he thought that he had done something wrong. That he was doing something wrong. His moral compass was true North, his ability to determine wrong from right was always a sharply honed blade that drew a firm line on the sand between. The last time he had done something wrong, something so vile, unforgivable, had ended with him punished, raped, and cursed for all eternity. A wretched thing he was, forced to walk the earth with no sense of humanity and forever a beast without memory. He thought that had been the worst day of his life.
*slams chapter down on your table* done. enjoy. Shoot. Trapped within the confines of her truck, Leya gazed out the windshield at the two males. Despite the distance, she felt the tension, cold as ice, press on her skin like a blunt steel blade. Her heart did something wicked in her chest, momentarily forcing a smatter of bile to rise her throat and she tasted the bitterness with absolute clarity. Holland stood stiffly before Kairo. The breadth of his shoulders was drawn taut like an overstrung bowstring, stretching the material of his shirt. One hand rested on his waist where the Glock’s glimmering handle protrudes. Leya knew that stance.
The darkness in the room felt like sensory deprivation to Leya. It was blacker than black, unable to see anything but hear the faint rumbling of noise in the background like a rushing stream. Unable to catch a sliver of sleep, she rolled onto her back and fiddled with the blanket that rested over her abdomen. Lightning flashed white, briefly brightening the room, and in it, she grew acutely aware of the man that slept on the floor. Kairo. He had been adamant about sleeping in her bedroom, and she did allow him albeit with a firm rule of not sharing the same bed. He had taken to the floor after a brief unintelligible argument with a disdainful grunt but still mildly happy by the fact that they shared the same room.
Leya had never given anyone a bath, let alone an adult man.Standing in the small confines of the cabin’s bathroom, she did not realize just how constricting space was, not until Kairo stepped inside.His shoulders seem to hunch inwards as well, the top of his head angled down to prevent grazing the ceiling. He looks uncomfortable but Leya feels nothing close to sympathy for the large man.“I’m assuming you’ve never had a bath,” Leya murmurs as she carefully manoeuvres around the man, wary not to touch his dirt-stained body. Setting the bucket down in one corner of the shower, she drops a scrubbing brush inside, bar of soap, bottle of two in one shampoo, scrubbing gloves, three razors and a nail cutter.She feels him shift somewhere to her side and her eyes slant to peer at the man gazing at the showerhead now at his height. His glancing fingers pick at random bottles aligned on the racks then pops them open before tentativel
Leya had slapped him. Hard. The intensity of her winding and falling hand had never been more brutal, such that even hours later the skin of her palm still stung. She did not reach for the gun this time around, perhaps realizing that her threats were as empty and baseless as a void drum. Instead, Leya rose sharply as the chair shrilled on the wooden floor and she had shoved him out of the cabin, face flushed in utter horror, body tingling in a manner of discomfort at his blatant, tasteless intimacy. Seeing her expression then - something akin to bemusement and curiosity - stopped the man from resisting her actions. He did not push back with his brute strength and instead let her jostle him out of the house and into the night. There, she slammed the door s
Leya’s eyes flash in the door’s direction, then back at the naked man centred in her living room. He watches her, golden eyes darkening to that of glittering black, like raw hunks of mica under sunlight. “I know you’re in there, Ley!” More pounding on her door. Leya’s tongue darts out and circles her suddenly dry lips. The man does not move from his position, simply gauging her in a sadistic, taunting manner whilst his head tilts in the slightest, ear positioned towards the door. Her stomach clenches along with the rifle she holds. Caught between a hard place and a wall, Leya finds herself requesting of him something she did not think possible; “Don’t move.”
Kairo stands in the small white room that is unfamiliar to him. His rough palm skims over the cool walls, smoothing down the countertops and pausing to press fleeting fingertips against different, odd-looking machinery. His expression flashes from light to dark like schools of fish drifting and casting shadows upon his countenance; awe to intimidation, then slight vexation as he moves from one corner of the room to the next. Kairo pauses before a white looking box, square, with a shadowed glass as the screen. Curiously, he leans down and presses his face to the glass, lips parted and nostrils flaring as his lungs expand with each searching breath. It smells like… food. His wandering fingers press on the
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Holland’s worry-filled voice echoes from the other end of the phone. Leya sighs for the umpteenth time despite the slight fluttering in her chest at the prospect of him being worried about her. “I am,” she whispers although her mind isn’t entirely moved by the words that leave her. At his prolonged silence, she opts for a higher pitch in her voice, hoping to convince him and in turn, convince herself. “Really, Holland, I-I’m fine.” Shuffling sounds echo from his side, the opening of a door, ringing of telephones in the precinct. “Christ, Ley,” he sighs and although she cannot see him, his defeated tone paints a vivid picture of the man slumped in his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I should have been there… if I was there-” “It’s okay,” she mumbles while movi