Everywhen

[forthedog]

It's not exactly how he saw the evening going. But by now he's learned to roll with surprises.

Not the bed, he's decided. It's not safe, and it doesn't give him enough access, and there are useable attach points in the floor and ceiling - rings, sturdy enough when he pulls on them. So the bed is stripped and for now it's where he's spread out his tools - leather cuffs, flogger, riding crop, rattan cane, a police baton capable of shattering bone, knives and gauze and rubbing alcohol.

He's not nervous. But this is going to take some care. A lot of concentration.

There's a fair amount at stake.

"Just tell me one more time," he says, finally turning, looking at Dean in the low light the lamp near the bed is throwing. "You really want this?"

Comments

[forthedog]

"It's over." And he doesn't hear relief in Dean's voice, and he's not surprised that it's not there.

He bends, setting most of the gauze down on the floor, and spills disinfectant onto what's left in his hand. With that, he starts to clean off the worst of the blood, working as slowly and methodically as he had before. Down over Dean's chest and belly, around to his back, pressing more gauze over where wounds are still open and bleeding sluggishly. It's not really as bad as it looks.

It's still pretty bad.

At last he tosses the bloody gauze in the bin by the door, turns and grabs a pillow from the bed, a sheet from the pile of spare linens, dropping them on the floor by Dean's feet. He bends down to unlock the ankle cuffs, then straightens and reaches up with one hand, the other arm sliding around Dean's waist to bear him up, because Christ, he can't even stand.

"Hang on."

[always_enduphere]

The sting is nearly enough to put Dean back under, even the light touches like licks of fire to already inflamed skin. He barks in pain when Mike's arm slings suddenly around him, but he can't help leaning into it, his vision swimming and head rolled back to watch Mike's fingers at the cuffs.

"Holy shit," he whispers and, despite the ripple of agony, manages a short, incredulous laugh. He thinks he's probably felt worse while topside, felt bones break, been shredded by claws through to his organs, but this hurt, this endless, blanket of pain that covers every inch of him..."You fucking - weren't kidding."

[forthedog]

He echoes the laugh, quieter and softer, unlocking the cuffs and curling his other arm around Dean's body as he lowers him slowly down. "Glad I delivered."

They'll both have to go soon. He doesn't even know what time it is, he realizes with faint surprise. He doesn't know how long they've been here. Neil's waiting at home for him.

But he can't leave just yet.

He reaches down for the sheet, pulls it up over Dean's boneless form. Now that it's over it seems important to not force him to be too exposed. "I'll get you some water."