A White Rose (Pt. 7)

(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)

Continued from here

@sparrowsage

CW: Restraints, stress position (brief), vague threats, bruises, hypersensitivity

Nicholas returned about a half an hour after Killian left. He took his time in Nicholas the chains and finding the keys to the cuffs.

“You been crying?” Nicholas asked as he started to unlock Shea’s wrists.

“… Yes, sir.” It was obvious. Even if Shea denied it, Nicholas would find out momentarily anyway.

“Did anything happen after the group left?”

Shea’s heart started to race. So it had been a test? Had he passed? “S-sir, one of the guests came back and tried to convince me to run away.”

Nicholas paused unlocking the cuffs on Shea’s ankles. “… Excuse me?” His voice sounded tense.

Was it not a test then? Shea was confused. “O-one of… of the guests came back and took the chains off. H-he… he tried to get me to leave with him, sir.”

Nicholas moved in front of Shea and grabbed his face, forcing Shea to look at him. “Who?” His voice was like ice and it made the blood freeze in Shea’s veins.

“I… I-I’m sorry, sir— I don’t remember his name.”

“Then what did he look like?”

“I-I… ah, I-I didn’t see his face.” Shea lied. Nicholas hadn’t set this up and Shea wasn’t about to get Killian in trouble. What Nicholas did to him was admissible by nature of what Shea was, but he feared Nicholas wouldn’t restrain his anger against a human any more than he did against Shea.

Nicholas’s expression changed. “Why are you such a fucking liar? You don’t know his name or his face? And you expect me to believe that one of my friends was in here, trying to rescue you?” Nicholas laughed.

Shea felt relief calm his heart as Nicholas went back to uncuffing him. “Sorry, sir.”

“You know I’m gonna have to punish you for that, though.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nicholas ran his hand up Shea’s back once he finished unlocking the cuffs, pressing his fingers onto some of the bruises he passed, then stroked a hand down Shea’s wing.

Shea gasped involuntarily as a shudder ran down his spine.

What on earth??

“Did you just try to pull away from me?” Nicholas asked, his voice bordering on snapping.

“N-no— no, sir— I don't—” Shea trailed off. What was that? He tried to think back to when the last time someone touched his wings was.

He couldn’t remember. Master Wilson never really touched him unless it was to slap him across the face or pull him by the arm. Nicholas was never allowed to touch his wings or hurt him before Master Wilson died. Since Master Wilson’s death, Nicholas had been much more interested in beating the hell out of Shea’s face and torso than anything to do with his wings.

Nicholas took a fistful of Shea’s feathers and pulled him back. Shea screamed.

Shea hadn’t screamed in years. Had he ever screamed? He didn’t know. He’d never felt pain this bad before. It was like every sensation in his wings was multiplied tenfold— he knew it wasn’t like this normally.

If Shea touched his own wings or if they brushed up against a wall, it just felt normal. He started to cry aloud as Nicholas finally released his wing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Nicholas asked, pulling Shea’s hair so his head tipped backwards to look at him. “You’re not usually such a crybaby.”

“I-I-I’m sorry, sir— I’ll sto-stop…”

If Nicholas decided to pull Shea’s feathers again, however, Shea doubted he could keep that promise.

Nicholas didn’t pull Shea’s wing again, but he did draw his hand slowly down the length of the wing. At first, Shea reflexively jerked away, but he consciously focused on not moving, knowing it would only irritate Nicholas. Shea shivered, whimpering quietly.

“Your wings aren’t just delicate, are they? They’re also hypersensitive.” Shea could hear the smirk in Nicholas’s voice. “You’re going to regret that I found out about this.”

A White Rose (Pt. 6)

(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)

Continued from here

@sparrowsage

CW: Bruises, partial nudity, stress position, put on display

The past week and a half had been hell for Shea. Without his father to reign him in, Nicholas had become a terror. Shea had sort of anticipated it, but the sheer level of brutality had been… unexpected to say the least.

“Shea.” Nicholas threw open the door to Shea’s room. “Come out.”

“Yes, sir.” Shea obeyed quickly, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Sir..?” Confused, Shea’s expression faltered.

“Are you questioning me?” Nicholas leaned back against a wall.

“N-no, sir.” Shea removed his shirt, revealing the mottled purples, greens, and yellows covering his body.

“Give it here.”

Shea handed his shirt over to Nicholas, who tossed it aside.

“Follow me.”

Shea followed Nicholas down the hall into the sitting room— a room with which he was well familiar. He was not familiar, however, with the new fixture in the center of the floor.

Mounted in the floor, there were three rings, distanced from eachother, with three chains attached to the rings. The chains were of three different lengths.

Nicholas grabbed Shea by the hair and pulled him over to the rings, pushing him down to kneel between them. “Fold your wings.”

Shea did.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Shea heard Nicholas open a drawer and remove something metal. Soon, he felt steel cuffs close over his wrists, followed by similar cuffs around his ankles. Nicholas attached the chains from two of the rings to each of these cuffs before crouching in front of Shea.

“Look at me.”

Shea raised his eyes and saw that Nicholas held a collar, which he placed around Shea’s neck. He didn’t know what he had done to warrant this punishment, but he knew better than to ask. Nicholas pulled the collar downwards and attached the short length of remaining chain to the collar.

In the end, Shea had to strain forwards to keep from hurting his neck. The chains on his wrists gave no slack.

“I’m having company over in about half an hour.” Nicholas said, standing. “My father kept you for the visual appeal and for the mark of status you show. He didn’t take advantage of it often enough.”

—

By the time a half an hour passed and guests started to file into the sitting room, Shea’s muscles were burning. The guests ignored him as they entered the room, saying hello to Nicholas and the other guests.

After another half an hour it was getting difficult for Shea to breathe.

Shea squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the conversation turn to him— people remarking about his wings and asking questions about his behaviors.

“Well, he’s not particularly well behaved.” Nicholas said at one point. “My father treated him too well— like a human, really. Not like the disobedient animal that he is. We’re dealing with his disrespect now, though.”

Shea gasped and bit back a yell as Nicholas pressed hard on a particularly bad bruise.

“Shut up.”

“Y-yes, sir…” Shea breathed. He could still feel the pain radiating outward from the bruise. He heard a few more sets of footsteps approach him.

“May I?” Said a new voice— one that Shea only vaguely recognized.

Nicholas didn’t give a verbal answer, but Shea guessed he must have either nodded or shrugged because this new person pressed their hand down Shea’s bruised arm, eliciting a whimper from Shea.

Nicholas pulled Shea’s hair, forcing him to look up as much as he could, straining his neck, spine, and arms. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Y… Y-yes, sir—” Shea’s voice was strained. “Please for… forgive me—”

Nicholas let him go.

Only a few minutes later, the group left the sitting room. As soon as they were gone, Shea started to cry. He couldn’t help it. He knew Nicholas could be back at any moment, but it hurt. And it was unnecessary.

The thought occurred to Shea that Nicholas might be jealous or upset by the words his father had spoken to Shea… Was this all out of anger?

Hours passed. Shea was shaking from the effort of holding his position for so long. The floor beneath his face was damp from both tears and sweat when the door again opened.

Shea braced himself.

But it wasn’t Nicholas. It was someone else. A voice that he had never heard before.

“Hey.” The person knelt next to Shea and immediately unclipped all three chains. It took less than ten seconds and Shea felt the relief in his arms and back instantly. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing?” Shea whispered, his face going pale.

“Do you know where the keys for the cuffs are?”

“Don't— I mean— I— N-no, I don’t. Please put the chains back, sir…” Shea bowed his face to the ground, trying to resist stretching. Was this a test?

“Put them back? Why??”

“Master Nicholas— h-he’ll be livid… please don’t take them off…”

A hand brushed against Shea’s cheek and he flinched, but the contact was gentle. The hand gently guided Shea’s face up to look at the man who had released him from the chains. Shea avoided eye contact, but the person searched his face intently.

“I want to get you out of here.” The man said.

Shea hesitated, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “… Please put the chains back, sir…”

“Just look at yourself…” The stranger’s voice was gentle. “You’re bruised everywhere. I can tell your nose is broken. Please just come with me? You never have to see Nicholas again.”

“I-I could never— you— please forgive me— you don’t understand. I belong to Nicholas. Even if… even if I don’t like the way he treats me, I have to stay.”

The man let go of Shea’s face, reluctant. “… You really want me to put the chains back?”

Shea nodded, letting his face fall back to face the ground.

The man replaced the chains and traced a finger across a line of bruises on Shea’s back. “Sorry.” He said, pulling his hand away abruptly. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Sh-Shea…” Shea was already trembling again from the strain.

“Shea? I’m Killian. And… I’m going to find a way to take you away from Nicholas.”

Shea discarded the promise and forgot it before Killian even left the room.