#me writing whaaat
This WIP has existed for months, and it suddenly decided to cooperate, so here’s a small something, set after Celebrating.
I can’t not mention what introduced me to the trope of breath control in the best way possible and consequently inspired me to write it - this amazing piece by @redwingedwhump.
contents: slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, breath control, strangulation, referenced forced nudity, creepy comfort, swearing.
~~~
Anger is easy to swallow, less painful than most alternatives he has, so he uses it to conceal everything else, hide it from Daniel and himself alike. So when the numbness finally subsides, when he feels something, recognizes despair and terror, he’s quick to channel it into anger behind closed doors. He lets out a frustrated scream and pounds his fist against the wall.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart.
He stands in the middle of the bathroom, clutching his head in his hands, breathing heavily, fighting to stay angry, knowing that otherwise he’s going to shatter. He has to get himself together, he has to walk out of here like nothing’s amiss, he has to crawl into Daniel’s bed in nothing but the shorts that act as his pajamas - he wasn’t even given a shirt for that purpose, nights get so warm here, and you have nothing to hide, don’t you?
“Fuck,” he growls, resting his forehead against the cool tiles. He doesn’t want to leave, even though it’s been a whole year, he should be used to this, to Daniel’s affection, to falling asleep in his arms.
Fighting the need to just curl up on the bathroom mat and retreat back into emptiness, he forces himself to leave, clinging to his anger.
Daniel, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, greets him with a smile and extends his hand out to him.
“Come here.”
He tenses up and glares, but after a moment of silence he obeys, because what choice does he have? He can’t stand in one spot forever. He accepts Daniel’s hand and allows himself to be guided onto the bed, until they’re both kneeling on it, facing each other.
“I heard you,” Daniel says.
“Impressive,” Wren growls, making him laugh, and then he winces when Daniel ruffles his hair.
“You got pretty angry in there, didn’t you?”
“Like that’s something new,” he says, giving Daniel a hard stare. “You know I hate this planet. You know I hate you, and you know I’ll never stop being angry.”
He hopes so, anyway.
He almost expects to be hit for his words, but as unpredictable as Daniel is, Wren can still fairly reliably sense when he’s in his infuriating unbothered mood. He simply sighs, rubbing circles on the back of Wren’s hand with his thumb.
“Why don’t you try to calm down? I know what could help.”
“Letting me go could help,” Wren croaks, his throat closed up. Letting him go. As if Daniel could just up and change his mind after a year, realize they’re not meant to be together, free him. He’s not even graced with a response, and he’s almost ashamed of his stupid, stupid words.
“How about some breathing exercises?”
“What, are you a therapist on top of being a professional creep?”
Daniel laughs, letting go of his hand to move behind him and pull him closer until Wren’s back is pressed against his chest, and Wren frowns furiously, fixing his eyes on the sheets. Daniel’s arm snakes across his chest, keeping him close, making him shudder.
“Inhale,” Daniel whispers into his ear, and Wren hates himself for getting goosebumps from this, from the soft voice, the touch, and the warmth.
“Fuck off,” he says. Daniel’s reaction is immediate - he wraps his free hand around Wren’s throat and closes it, cutting off airflow. Wren’s eyes go wide and he claws at the hand, trying to get Daniel to let him go; air isn’t reaching his lungs, he panics, the hold on his chest gets tighter too, until Daniel finally lets go of his neck, leaving him to pant desperately as he readjusts his hand on his chest.
“Inhale, Wren,” he repeats, and this time Wren obeys, taking a shallow breath and letting it out instinctively, and-
The grip returns, his breath taken away again.
“No!” he chokes out, thrashing useless. This time Daniel lets go faster.
“I didn’t tell you to exhale. Now, inhale.”
He hates obeying, but the thought of being strangled for the third time awakens a primal panic in his heart. He inhales.
“Hold it.”
He frowns and looks up at the ceiling. Just another one of Daniel’s stupid ideas. It doesn’t matter, and it’s not worth any deeper thought.
“Exhale.”
He spits the air out.
“No, no, not like that. Slowly, sweetheart. This is supposed to help you calm down, remember? Inhale.”
Daniel’s hand isn’t even pressing down on his chest. It’s simply there to feel it rise and fall at his command, to remind him about his captor’s presence right behind him.
“Hold.”
There’s a smile in the dreaded voice.
“Exhale. Beautiful, sweetheart.”
Wren feels sick.
“Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold.”
Theholdpart becomes longer, unbearably so, and Wren squirms in Daniel’s embrace when his lungs start to burn.
And yet, he obeys.
“Exhale.”
Slowly.
“That’s it. Inhale. Hold.”
The worst part is that it works. Focusing on the breathing and the gentle commands silences his anger, and Daniel’s arms around him, his voice in his ear, and the otherwise silent bedroom… he can imagine himself feeling at peace here, like he could close his eyes and doze off, as he has so many times in Daniel’s embrace, and every single time he hated himself for it.
“Exhale.”
Then the touch and the voice disappear, and the sheets rustle as Daniel backs away, leaving Wren still as a statue, and it isn’t until he can feel fire in his chest that he realizes he hasn’t taken a breath since the last command. He inhales and exhales, and then does it again, more slowly, and again, to find his own rhythm, different from the one forced on him.
“Calmer already,” Daniel murmurs, sitting in front of Wren, who looks away, face burning. “And wasn’t it nice?”
“We have different definitions of nice.”
And of love.Relationship. Partners.
“Maybe you just need to learn mine, then,” Daniel says, reaching towards Wren, who shivers, but doesn’t shrink back from the hand that rests on his chest again, right over his heart, feeling its fast beating, but also the slight rising and falling in rhythm with Wren’s breathing. “Because holding on to your definitions here will only make you miserable.”
He presses down when Wren exhales, then lessens the pressure when he inhales. They maintain eye contact, Wren’s gaze puzzled with a hint of fear, Daniel’s face reflecting nothing but calm focus, his hand continuing to move in Wren’s rhythm - until he presses just a bit sooner and releases accordingly, and after a small hitch Wren finds himself following this new rhythm, too stunned to react at first before he shakes his head and forces himself to defy Daniel’s guidance. Daniel raises one corner of his mouth in a half-smile, not saying a word.
His hand disappears, but its touch, pressure, and message continue burning into Wren’s skin and lungs like white-hot metal.
~~~
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