Doorlamp but 18+

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.

Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.

It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.

"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"

One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.

The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.

day 1: watching paint dry

day 2: watching grass grow

day 3: abstinence education

day 4: mastercard standards or chastity belt

day 5: jehovah's witness visit

day 6: rocks on the beach

day 7: white picket fence

day 8: boring house party

day 9: awkward smalltalk

day 10: grocery store

day 11: chalk on the sidewalk

day 12: facebook friends

day 13: unpaid internship scam

day 14: rejecting the devil's lettuce* (*the devil's lettuce is slang for marijuana)

day 15: christian family values

day 16: filing taxes

day 17: on hold on the phone

day 18: kellogg's corn flakes

day 19: checking the mail

day 20: stuck in traffic

day 21: filing insurance claims

day 22: baking bread

day 23: bad coworker music

day 24: rainy day at the park

day 25: creating a new font

day 26: office cubicles

day 27: farmer's market

day 28: moving furniture

day 29: newspapers

Non-con situations and content can be a very difficult thing to navigate, tactfully or without egregious severity. It's ultimately a very potentially triggering subject and some find it more disgusting than scary. Some blur the lines with dub-con, some hyper-focus on the full scene.

While each and every person that writes or creates content about it, does so for their own reasons and likeness, I have seen many examples and this is a subject matter that I have a gratuitous amount of experience working with.

I think there can be varying levels of how much you want to show. If you'd rather not be explicit at all, there are ways to build what I call 'the appearance' of an intimate noncon relationship: which is just using a little knowledge about perception and body language to help add to the situation.

For instance, if you want to psychologically imply that Whumper is too physically/mentally comfortable with Whumpee- here are a few shortcuts that get the point across in my opinion. Little gestures and clips of positioning that you can add to your settings to make them just a touch more dubious or predatorily lustful in nature.

I will also include a few things that can help recognize your Whumper as an intimately inclined one. A few words or thoughts about how to set the scene or embellish things to guide the reader to the feelings you want to instill. Without having to traumatize yourself or anyone involved.

I've dabbled in both explicit and non-explicit dub/non-con and I believe I have a good understanding of trying to balance both. There are ways that if the story or character progression needs it but you're not comfortable writing it in graphic detail; you can work around but get the same effect, essentially.

Whumper touching Whumpee's thigh/knee. Legs in general tend to be considered infrequent touch zones that imply an amount of intimacy on their own. Think of the last person or most common situations your legs have/are touched? How many times does someone hug your legs? Exactly my point, it's a very common part of the body that is ignored unless injured, intimate, or in combat.

Whumper being too casual about stripping them for baths, soiled clothing or hygienic purpose. Slowly taking off their clothing, doing it gently if they're otherwise rough. Clothing is like wrapping paper for bodies, if Whumper is intense about this factor, it can imply they're anticipating and fantasizing. If they're casual, it's understood that stripping happens often to Whumpee, it's a normal thing and they've definitely done it before.

Whumper staring and Whumpee feeling continuously affected by it. (Feeling pinned, trapped, held by the gaze. Following Whumper's gaze to certain parts of their body. Catching the side-ways glances at them when they are thought to be 'not looking'.)

Whumpee automatically closing their legs or adjusting a tighter posture around Whumper. Making movements if possible that create imaginary distance and protection from Whumper. Crossing arms over the chest, crossing legs, creating a barrier between them, if only in body language. Taking a step back in pace, sitting up in their chair if they'd been slouching. Some form of physically responsive tension gives insight into how cautious Whumpee is.

Whumpee is terrified in everyday situations of being restrained, not specifically from the restraints themselves. Seat-belts, heavy blankets, arms over them while they sleep, any sense of restraint making them feel powerless and triggering them. This can also expand to, of course, being physically pinned down, held, hugged, or grabbed.

Whumper skimming into the neck of their shirt while intimidating them. Or alt: dipping into the waistband of their pants while holding them. Just a slide of fingers beyond a physical boundary to push unease. Giving an indication that Whumper would or has gone further than just that covering.

Whumper deliberately whispering in Whumpee's ear and attention being drawn to how close/heated their breath is. You can set a little more mood depending on how you describe the breath. To make it uneasy, calling it sticky or humid can give an insight into the way Whumpee feels.

Whumper licking them, tasting them, biting them exct. Alt: Whumper playing with Whumpee's mouth. Grabbing their tongue, fingers into their mouth, studying, or toying with their lips or teeth. Mouths are intimate by themselves depending on the context of the situation but showing an extra layer of comfort with these things, sets up for a weird feeling. If you want to make it creepy, heavily focus on how much Whumper enjoys these things and vocalize it in the story somehow. Have them comment or narrate to Whumpee what they taste like or how good, etc.

Whumper baiting them with pushing further each time and then changing it up to confuse their internal prep time. Touching them a little more, showing a bit more intention, and then leaving them without the bait for a few days before going again. Make the first move, make the second move on Whumpee, then wait a day or two before going even further the third time. Until they're at the level of intimacy Whumper (or you) want to show.

Whumper exhibits dominance while assuming 'intimate' positions. Parting Whumpee's legs to stand or kneel between them. Grabbing their ankles while putting them into bindings or restraints. Pinning their wrists behind them and sitting on their backside to keep them from fighting. Forcing Whumpee to straddle their lap while doing something as simple as recapping their boring day.

Whumper dictating their dress, fashion, or style. Telling them what to wear, how to wear it, when they look good. Demanding a certain level of perfection. This can also include Whumper hand-dressing them to take that much more autonomy from them. Insults are still a viable way to break a Whumpee down and get in their head. Critiquing their appearance, praising it too much, both could be lethal to a Whumpee's psyche if that's the direction you want to go.

Intrusive personal hygiene is another way; Whumper forcing them to sit still while they brush their hair and fawn over it. Putting lotion on their skin, first aid, bathing them, or brushing their teeth to imply they want it fresh.

Whumper making Whumpee sit at their feet for movies or forcing them to allow an embrace/hold. Long, awkward gaps of silence where Whumper merely holds onto Whumpee. Could be painful, could be normal but Whumpee is expected and required at these times to sit still. Whumper can make it worse by petting them or repetitiously touching them in some manner. Each path could be lower or higher on Whumpee's body in such a way it makes them uncomfortably aware of their intentions.

Whumpee dreading going to go to a bedroom or Whumper's bed. Perhaps they fear all beds and prefer the floor or a chair. Signifying that bed/sleeping or personal space is fearful for Whumpee, gives a surefire way to tip-off that something is intimately askew.

Important factors that in my opinion can help separate intimate Whumpers and regular Whumpers:

Eye contact. It's personal enough that it drives a point of subtle dominance home. If Whumper is obsessive with it and Whumpee is scared of it (or afraid of not making it) that can clue in a good dynamic to build upon for an intimate Whumper.

A desire to touch Whumpee, even if it's just in thoughtful dialogue. Make effort to include how much they want to, or how much they relish in it when they do. Even if it's not an intimate situation, how heavily you focus on their attention to Whumpee's physicality can make for a nice setup or slow-burner.

Removing the typical detachment of 'it' and calling Whumpee she/he/they/them or something affectionate in nature such as pet names, pet, darling, precious, etc. Even just addressing them by their name can shed a form of attachment and or mindset for the scene and Whumper. (Alt: If you want to keep the detachment, have Whumper call them 'it' in general but call them something else when they're becoming intimate/attached. Bringing that much fear around being called anything personally driven.)

Making excuses to Whumpee as to why they're punishing or hurting them. Grandious explanations soothe Whumper's mind as they torment or punish Whumpee for their indebted crimes. Talking to Whumpee through the process of their torture is another minuscule form of intimacy that could potentially confuse and damage their relationship further. (Especially if you mix it with Whumper giving them the silent treatment or withholding sound from them, so they enjoy Whumper's narration of their pain.)

Giving Whumper a hatred for other people in Whumpee's life, circle or even distrusting their own relationships when it comes to Whumpee. The paranoia surrounding Whumpee's activities, if they've been touched, perhaps grilling them with questions if Whumper allows them to be in contact with others. This is a thin chip of obsession that if you include it right, can paint a portrait of Whumper wanting Whumpee all to themselves. (Asking questions like Who touched you? Did anyone hug you? Or even going as far as physically checking Whumpee for marks/evidence of contact while Whumpee was out of their sight.)

Whumper having more interest in their health can be a telltale sign of attraction. Keeping them from starving, dehydrating, giving them sleep at certain times. (Including Whumper addressing their appearance while doing so is added bonus: 'You're prettier when you've slept, you're starting to get too thin for my liking, your lips get dry when you're dehydrated, etc.)

Whumper focuses on intimate zones on Whumpee. Staring them in the eyes, staring at their lips or chest or backside. It's common body language to look where your mind goes or stare at someone's lips to indicate you want to kiss them. The more predatory that you include this, the higher chance the reader will clue in and unwrap the hidden desires. If it's more obvious, the more creepy Whump factor you can add with how shameless it's held. Whumper daring Whumpee to notice them staring and uncaring to how they might feel or react.

Whumper waits until Whumpee is dazed/fevered/delirious to make small gestures or passes at them. Keeping them in bed with them, touching a bit too low or too high to be right but Whumpee doesn't entirely notice. This also works if Whumpee is injured or low-powered; anything that makes them defenseless but Whumper makes it known just how defenseless they potentially are. It could form a pattern, increase in boldness each time. But Whumper only has the courage to show or do things like that to them when they have a larger chance of not remembering it.

Whumper makes hungered gestures when looking at Whumpee or looking at the damage they've caused them. Licking lips, setting jaw, biting tongue/cheek/lips, salivating. Especially if you've made them inhuman, heavily work with the tendencies that happen with hunger or cravings. You can sell a lot.

Whumper intentionally gets them messy, bloody, dismantled in some way that forces them to be close, if not have an excuse to get them naked. This could include staged accidents, spilling, anything to soil whatever Whumpee usually wears. This can also extend easily to making it extra whumpy and breaking something and roughing them up after. An excuse to bandage and care for Whumpee or at least be close enough to examine their handiwork.

Setting the scene and keeping the whump intact:

First off, you'll need to decide what your limits are going to be for your current writing. Also, decide if things will stay in the scene or if you're building up for more explicit happenings to be left up to the imagination.

If you are comfortable with more intense dialogue, I encourage everyone looking to avoid writing the full scenes, to implore it. Dialogue can create more intensive thoughts, projections, and ideas without the hard or uncomfortable work of going all out on an extensive non-con theme.

If you have no objections to 'dirty-talk' dialogue, it can do some heavy-duty work at selling the creepy/intimate factor without having to again, craft a whole scene. This can also include non-explicit but imploratory dialogue that can give a view into how deeply Whumper's intentions and obsession can go.

To give a small idea, Whumper could talk about these topics to push more distress with dialogue:

How Whumpee tastes/smells.

Narrate what they're doing to Whumpee OR what they'd like to do if they had the chance./How they're going to do what they're planning in the long term.

How Whumpee feels under their hands.

How Whumpee is reacting; shaking, trembling, making small noises.

How aroused/interested they are.

How long they've waited to do/get the chance to do something to Whumpee./How much they've looked forward to it or fantasized about it.

How 'honest' Whumpee's body is compared to their words.

What made them want to do the acts in the first place.

How they first fell in love with them.

When they first saw them/How they felt at the time of seeing Whumpee the first time.

Plans for both of them in the future sound too normal to be situationally based. Marriage, a family, buying a house, vacationing, etc. Even celebrating holidays or birthdays.

Praising or scolding them for not fighting/fighting them.

NSFW:

Telling them how tight they were when/are being fucked.

Complimenting how they look while performing a sexual act.

Describing Whumpee back to themselves in a demeaning, sexualized way; narrating their actions with degrading 'pet' names. (Slut, bitch, even more extreme like cumdump, fuckdoll, etc.)

Telling Whumpee how much they were begging for it/asking to be fucked while doing it. Demonizing their normal bodies/actions in such a way implies they've somehow led Whumper on or consented to it. Can be built up with some proper gaslighting.

Critiquing their body in such a way that it implies that they're made for taking the abuse. (Your lips were made for this, Your ass has been begging for it all night, etc.)

How much they love hearing Whumpee's moans and cries of pain and pleasure.

Pointing out how much Whumpee clings or tries to escape/hide from the acts and sensations. Lamenting about how sensitive/unused to the pleasure they are.

Telling them they have no intention of stopping until Whumper is satisfied or talking about how long/much they have to look forward to.

Informing Whumpee how often they'll be fucked/how normal the act will become or has become.

Once you've figured out how far you want to go, what your limits are, and if you want to rely on heavier dialogue for context; the next thing I encourage is to work with whichever side you want to be the most powerful.

If you focus on the Whumper, dialogue, inner thought process and mentality all play big roles in the display I feel. You can get across a lot of intent and cut corners by how much you have Whumper obsess with the thought of the things they want to inflict on Whumpee. If you have them thinking about it, showing physical signs of it (blush/flush, dilated pupils, quick heart rate, physical genitalia ques, etc.) there is a better impact in my opinion no matter how much you cut out.

If Whumper is hyper-focused, soaking in every detail and outer projection Whumpee gives them, it's going to paint a picture of how much Whumper wants them. How far they are willing to go to get those reactions, how much they want to see come out of Whumpee. Giving Whumper a finely tuned sense for Whumpee and a vice for reveling in their physical pains and tip-offs can express how vividly and how deeply the obsession goes.

Don't be afraid to make Whumpers watch. Watch everything. The way Whumpee cries, moans, frowns, twitches. Everything is information for Whumper and if they're addicted to the response, it gives an air of entrapment.

If you focus on Whumpee, lean into the unease and discomfort of whatever situation you throw at them. Make them feel everything, even if they don't show it to Whumper. Try to express the disgust or dread that comes up every time Whumper touches them. Make their skin crawl, prickle, give goosebumps that mean a thousand things.

Close them off from Whumper physically, make them crave distance when Whumper gets close. Flinching when they're touched, pulling away, knocking hands back if it won't get them destroyed by Whumper. The closer Whumper is, the sweatier they get by just how much they already expect contact to be dished out.

If you choose to re-work with dialogue, make them unsure of their responses. Try to make them dubious or open-ended to ensure that the reader and Whumper could take it wrong, whenever you get the chance. You can show heavy manipulation through Whumpee's dialogue, depending on how conditioned or unconditioned it is to the happenstance. If Whumper says something lustful and they reply with something polite but still heading towards a decline; it gives easy reason for Whumper to push further if they don't like being told no.

Whumpee can be forced to verbally consent to relieve Whumper's consciousness and still internally process it as trauma. These two things can very much coincide if Whumpee is aware that they will be treated with more brutal power if they don't consent/agree to Whumper's whims.

An interesting twist could present to have Whumpee be the one to talk dirty to Whumper. Initiate it in such a way they're almost begging to have what they're saying, done to them, to spare themselves Whumpers original wrath. Asking for a gentle touch, even giving explicit detail of what they want Whumper to do them, to try to lead them in a less aggressive direction.

This might seem like a less submissive route but if Whumpee is smart enough and able to play with their outcome, I highly encourage you to make them do so! This can create a bond with Whumper and build trust, even if the situation is faked on Whumpee's end. Even if they still have to hold back their fearful reactions, they can control Whumper in an aspect they couldn't before. Even though they have to give themselves up, they are able to save themselves from the angry, violent aspect.

Another incredible way to imply that a non-con situation is present; Whumpee waking up on a bed, on furniture, and undressed in some fashion. If you set the scene with clothing on the floor, restraints on the bedframe, bruised wrists; you can paint a picture without having to go through the scene itself. Plus, you're able to bypass straight to the aftermath and internalized whump.

You're able to cut a corner and instead, move to Whumpee having a reason to fear Whumper and act skittish around them. Despite how the relationship goes, has went or how the scene itself played out. It's going to add trauma and layers of hurt to Whumpee and their mental status. It will take safety from them, drive them to paranoia if it's randomized and they can't spot Whumpers patterns to prepare themselves.

Things we take as comfort will be horror if the only times they see beds and bedding are when the non-con is coming. If the only time they're allowed in the bedroom, given pillows and blankets after as a sick form of reconciliation for their compliance. If the only time they're bathed or given new clothing is when it's about to be ripped off or their body is about to be used.

This can add a form of panic inside Whumpee and 100% give them enough reason to act however you need/want them to.

Sexually based trauma is no small feat and it can and will destroy your mind whether you want it to or not. It can ruin relationships, all senses of security and make you incredibly self-destructive and irrational.

On top of losing sleep, eating habits, nightmares, night terrors, depression, anxiety, the works. PTSD is a very normal thing to happen in response to sexual trauma, trauma of all kinds too, but it's a very high given for non-consensual assaults.

If you or anyone you love, needs to speak with someone or needs help with sexual abuse or violence; Please don't hesitate to contact someone, even with a text or a phone call. There are so many resources and hotlines out there, that even if you just get it off your chest, you can survive another day.

[Link to American and International Hotlines]

[Official RAINN Resources NA]

[RCNE EU and International Help]

The only, miniscule bit of control he has in his pathetic life, Wren tries to bite his tongue, tries not to give Point the satisfaction of hearing him cry, of taking even more of what he wants from Wren, but Wren is weak, and he’s in so much pain. It had been hours. Hours he’d spent tied to this rotting mattress in this cheap motel room. The blood, tracked down the inside of his thighs, has yet to even dry when Point pushes back inside him and Wren screams into the sheets. He wishes he could help it. He can’t.

“That’s it,” he croons. “There’s my good girl.” 

Not for the first time, Wren wishes this would kill him. He wishes he would bleed to death, or that his body would finally just give out. How much can the human body withstand, really? How much more life could Wren possibly have in him? 

It’s hard not to think about Silas. Point had told him he had died, and it wasn’t hard to imagine. Silas had been a liability for a long time. He was strong and he was violent. They couldn’t control him. It had always been only a matter of time before they decided his life wasn’t worth the lives of every person working in the district. But it was just as hard to believe, because Silas had died before. He died a lot. He died for Wren so many times that Wren couldn’t even count how many. And he always came back. 

It’s hard not to imagine him breaking down the door to the shitty motel room. Backlit by the neon glow of the seedy strip outside, he’d be a monstrous silhouette in the doorway. He’d rip Point off of him before he ripped him apart with his hands and his teeth. Then he’d pick Wren up, and he’d be so careful with him. So gentle. Always so gentle with Wren, the only person that had been since his very last day. Silas, the monster, the brute, was always so careful not to hurt him. He’d clean the blood from Wren’s skin and they’d get out of there. Maybe they’d finally get their chance to be happy. 

In real life, Silas is likely dead underground. He lived and died a horrible, bloodied life that nobody on the surface will ever know about. They won’t ever know something like Silas ever existed. The world will keep turning but Wren will never be the same. 

He hopes they get another shot. That they’ll find each other again in their next life. Wren was a good person when he was a person. Silas was violent, and he could be mean, and he’d killed so many people, so horrifically, but there was still so much goodness in him. He didn’t want to be a monster. All he ever wanted, all he ever tried to do was save Wren. And he tried again and again and again, no matter how many times he died for it. No matter how many times they tortured him to death because of it. That has to count for something, right? They’ve earned a chance to be happy together. They must have. 

In this life, the only part of Wren that doesn’t want to die is the part still clinging to the hope that Silas will save him. Silas always saved him. There’s that expression, whatever it is about death and taxes. Wren would have to argue it. Legally, he’s dead, so he isn’t paying his taxes. And legally, he’s dead, but for whatever reason, his bleeding, battered body just won’t give up. It won’t let him die. The only two guarantees in Wren’s life, since he’d been taken to the district, are that Point would hurt him, and SIlas would save him. How long does he keep hoping? When does he give up? 

It’s so much more than wanting to be saved. More than anything else, Wren misses him. Even if he couldn’t save him, even if he were just there with him, it would be enough. He misses the way his hand felt in Wren’s, rough with scar tissue but always so warm. He misses the rumble of his voice. The slant of his smile, dimpled, always crooked because of that scar at the corner of his mouth. He misses the way he would look at Wren, like nobody else ever had, like the world started and ended with him. He misses how carefully Silas would brush his hair for him, when he just couldn’t do it himself, and he misses the pleased noises Silas would make when Wren would do the same for him. 

Wren can’t imagine he’ll have a long life, as stubborn as his body might be, but if he got the chance, would he want to? If he were rescued right now, and he sent them down there to the district, and Silas really was dead down there, not a trace that he ever lived at all, what would he do? Could Wren live a whole life without him? He doesn’t even have a picture of him. How many years would Wren be able to remember that smile before the memory started to fray around the edges? How long would he be able to cling to the memory of the sound of his voice? 

Facedown on a soiled mattress in a filthy, pay by the hour motel room, Wren sobs so hard he would swear his ribs rattle against each other. For it, Point purrs against the back of his neck. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, breath warm against Wren’s sensitive, bruised skin. Still, it gives him goosebumps, the sickly, feverish kind. “You feel so fucking good.” 

In the very beginning, before Wren was brought into the unit, back when all he knew of the district was the inside of Point’s bunk, Point and his men had almost killed him. They hadn’t broken his pelvis, but shattered it. The nerve damage he’d received was permanent. He doesn’t remember much from this time, probably thankfully, but he knows Point had gone to Medic for help when it was clear Wren was dying. 

Wren hates Point for this almost as much as anything else. One of the most selfish things Point’s done, in the time Wren’s known him, was save Wren’s life. Why did he bother? Just to watch him die again, more slowly? Or was he truly just not going to ever let him go? 

When Point pulls out, it’s not because he’s done with him, but to turn him over again and onto his back. The tie at his wrists, a strip of gingham Point had torn out of one of Wren’s skirts, is pulled a little tighter and Wren bleeds a little heavier down his arms. With a grin, Point folds Wren’s legs against his chest and holds him there as he forces himself inside him again. “Eyes on me, cowgirl,” he tells him lowly. “I want you to look at me when I come inside you.”

Wren wants to claw both Point’s eyes out with his fingernails. He still remembers the way Hal had screamed as Vineyard had carved out his eyes — has never been able to forget it, in fact, still hears it sometimes when he dreams of the district — and he wonders if Point would scream the same way. He likes to think he would. 

“That’s it, baby,” Point groans. Wren is bleeding so much he can feel it soaking through the already filthy sheets beneath him. It will stain. This mattress will never forget what was done to him. “I love when you look at me like that.” 

Before knowing Point, Wren never would’ve thought it possible to hate anything the way he hates him. Sometimes, he thinks of his wife, waiting at home for him. Could she really have no idea what her husband is truly like? Sometimes, he hates her, too, just for being able to love something like him. She let him name their fuckin’ baby after Wren. If ever he gets away from Point, if he survives this, that lady owes him a fuckin’ apology. 

Point takes him by the jaw. He doesn’t let Wren look away, holding eye contact as he comes inside him again with a rumbling groan that makes his skin crawl. “That’s it,” he murmurs, so low it makes Wren’s hair stand on end. “Take it all. I know you can take it. There’s my good girl.” 

Wren doesn’t wanna die in a shitty hotel room, not really, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep living like this. As long as he’d been in the district, all he’d wanted was to get out, to get to the surface again, to live above ground. And now he’s here, and all he wants is to go back, to be where SIlas is. Now he’s here, and he’s never been so alone in his life. 

He closes his eyes tightly as Point pulls away again, but of course he’s not finished with him yet. Of course Wren can’t catch a break for even a second. He doesn’t even get time to catch his breath. 

Point doesn’t unknot his wrists but he unties him from the slats in the headboard. As he does, he says, “now come here and suck it clean, cowgirl.” 

Wren doesn’t open his eyes. He thinks again about how good it would feel to pry Point’s eyes from their sockets with his thumbs. “I don’t want to.” 

Point snorts. “When do you think I started to give a fuck about you want?” He asks, but it isn’t really a question. “I said come here and suck yourself off my cock.” 

“Darren,” he says, and surprises even himself with how weak his voice sounds, how broken, “please. I’m so tired.” 

His eyes are still closed, so he doesn’t see Point’s fist pull back but he feels it when he cracks it into his mouth so hard he chips one of his teeth. “I don’t give a fuck how tired you are,” he snaps, and when Wren’s eyes fly open, he’s leaned in close, too close. “You’ll do whatever I fuckin’ tell you to do. If I tell you to suck my cock,” and he says this part like a warning, low and lethal, “you open your mouth and you suck my fuckin’ cock. Y’hear me?” 

Despite being born and raised in Texas, despite having a devout Southern Baptist mother, Wren had never been an overtly religious person, but he would be lying if he said the whole idea didn’t just seem laughable to him now. Wren had been a good person. He wasn’t a saint, but he’d been a good guy. If there was a God, like his mother so confidently believed, if there was any version of one out there, how could they let something like this happen? How could any God just sit by and watch this? 

“What are you gonna do?” He asks, and his voice breaks. “Kill me?”