Wound Tight Novels & Stories

“That’s just the effect you have on me.” “Don’t fool me, Daniel. Your “thing” is like steel in its hardness, so don’t say you don’t think about anything.” She growled at me. “Nothing,” I said. “Don’t tighten your grip, and don’t move your hand too much,” I said. “It feels good, you know.” Russell raised an eyebrow. “Oh! Jesus!” I exclaimed as she pressed the cotton on the wound. “Don’t press too hard, or it might break; you too might regret it.”

It’s suffocating. My skin heats under it, tension coiling tighter with every passing second. I focus harder, faster—hands moving with more urgency than necessary. Finish it. Just finish it. The last stitch goes in clean. I exhale, low and steady, like I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. Almost done. I grab the bandage, wrap it quickly, efficiently—no wasted motion—and press it into place. “There.” I step back, pulling off my gloves. “All done. You can go.”

" Relax." I wrapped my arms around his neck. He shifted just a little and I let out another cry. He pushed in slowly, and my nails dug into his back. "Damn you are so tight. I'm not all the way in yet." I felt like he was ripping apart!

In three quick strides, she crossed the room and found herself in his arms, her face pressed against his chest where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. "I thought I'd lost you," she whispered against the expensive fabric of his shirt, now torn and bloodstained. Alex's arms tightened around her, one hand cradling the back of her head with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the dangerous world outside. "They'll have to try harder than that," he murmured into her hair. When she finally pulled back to examine his wound, her fingers brushed against his skin with professional efficiency that belied the electricity of her touch. "This needs proper medical attention."

A sobbing Mira pulls me into a tight hug, the air in my lungs leave me immediately. I groan, "too... tight." I rasp, just then Hayden grabs a hand of Mira's, not too tight and not gentle either. Then he tugs on it, "Her wound just got stitched today, you may tear it open again." He says to her, voice firm.

“Tighter.” He pulled again. I yelped. He froze. “Areum… ” “Tighter, Rowan. I’m not made of fucking glass.” A beat of silence. Then he growled low in his throat, yanked the belt until the buckle dug into my wrists and the leather creaked. Pain sparked bright up my arms, sharp and clean, and I moaned before I could stop myself. “Fuck,” he breathed against my ear. “You’re really into this.”

Pressure etched deep into his expression, restraint barely holding his emotions in check. Lena wasted no time. She peeled back my torn tunic, gently pressing against the area near my wound. A sharp sting spread along my ribs. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the pained breath that threatened to escape. “Not deep,” Lena murmured, her voice bordering on relief. “But dangerously close.” Garrick exhaled sharply, barely audible over the sounds of suffering around us. I turned my head slightly, catching his gaze. “See?” I rasped, forcing a small, wry smile. “Told you.”

I bound them tightly in hopes of hastening our departure. After carefully bandaging Lucian's wounds, I took a step back to assess my handiwork. The stark white bandages wrapped tightly around his injuries, but I couldn't ignore the faint traces of crimson seeping through the fabric. The sight sent a pang of worry through me, a reminder of the battles he had fought and the sacrifices he had made.

“But I know a little French and Spanish. Procrastination sucks?” “That’s what it’s supposed to mean.” She had already made things worse; he ought to have a doctor for this. “It’s alright,” he said, answering the tension in her voice. “Just get the leak plugged.” Grimly, she set about doing just that. She gathered his waist-length, sweat-dampened hair and pushed it over his shoulder. There weren’t any telfa pads big enough for the wound in his back, so she got two of them and held them in place with judicious pressure from her knee while she reached around him with the roll

he ws berating “I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to let off some steam.” I gritted out. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Huh? And they spiked your drink, like, are you that naive?” “I’m not naive, don’t fucking call me that,” I snapped back at him, not caring anymore if my head throbbed. He let out a breath of relief, pulling me into a hug so fast I didn’t have time to react. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he muttered, pulling away.