Just let me say one thing:
I’ve had enough.

You’re selfish and sorry,

you’ll never learn how to love. 

As your world disassembles,
better keep you head up.

Your name, your face…
Is all you have left now
You’ve been

  Bruises bound his wrists and ankles as he slumped down to his knees. The cold of the cell room floor was a comfort to the heat radiating beneath his surface as the sharp bone of his knees bit into the stone.

  Metal anklets chained him to the wall at his bare back, the sterling silver of the newly furnished cuffed links now bit sharply into his ivory flesh with the protest of days confinement; the colour of his flawless canvass’ surface, milk white and translucent, rippled as his constricted limbs protested. Delicate spindling lines of crimson and plum ran along his ribs with every breath. Locks of ebony hung loosely at his jaw, the cypress hues of his eyes were bound and hidden like the breath beneath the muzzle that held his tongue in place.

  His fingers were calloused as he clenched and unclenched his fists within the chains, but in the state of shock his body seemed to be in—he remained. His grace, his beauty, it all held itself together. 

  A finger ran itself over the nape of his neck but he refused to acknowledge it. The bolt on his jaw tightened at the close, causing blood to trickle in from the corner of his mouth. He would have welcomed the taste, the metallic tinge, but his tongue could not reach up from its holding to lap up the silent stream. So he sufficed in silence, a growing smirk flickering beneath the shadows cast in his muzzle.

  More clicks, grinding pressure that bit deep into his bone, then finally: release. The heavy bracings that held his lips pursed in his own fermented fury slipped from his palette. The raven haired teen stood knelt before his other for a moment. His breath was shallow, deepening as he licked the sweat from his upper lip, smearing a sheer coat of red across his cupids bow.

This is not the end, Brother." The voice promised, deep and golden and light. Hopeful. The voice, through the humiliation that was to be witnessed within the ivory fleshed, ebony crowned man before him—was still so hopeful.

  A sickening twist jutted against his gut as he still lay in his chains on his knees. The golden voice brought a single finger against the small jagged cut that lay at his others reddened lips, only a moment ago confined to a muzzled cage.

You’re right,” The words were whispered through a veil of dark locks, invading and dissecting the hope that rang in the others words as they hung about the cell. The chains barely registered sound as his knees removed themselves from their ground standing, the ivory skin and cypress hues but a synchronized blur as his colours shot forward—surrounded still—by a veil of midnight.

  He was inches from the one with golden voice, the golden hair and skin surely born of summers brightest light. Evergreen pools darkened upon glancing into ones of a winter glacier. Reddened lips stiffened to a line, jaw tilting to bring his own face closer as his bruised limbs strained against his chains. The dark haired teens voice was sultry and soft as he spoke, breath carrying his words like nothing more than false whispered wants on the wind that broke between both men. His pale body writhed, shoulders rolling back in slight with the new movements. A smile crossed those broken lips, eyes remaining hard as the perk of his brow raised to defy and doubt as he let his own lips fall across his others ear, breath hissed as his final words left him.

It’s just the beginning.”   

  Raven locks fell like a veil once more and those bloodied, broken lips ceased to speak.
  The chains were silenced as he knelt back upon the floor and even the one with the golden voice and words of hope could not deny him that. 

© T H E M E