Chapter 1: Awakening to Red Ropes
Consciousness returned like a thick, syrupy wave, pushing him up from a depthless black. Kaidan’s first sensation wasn’t sight, but feeling: a rough, unforgiving tightness around his wrists. A similar pressure anchored his ankles.
He tried to move his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes—a habitual, morning instinct—and couldn’t.
His eyes flew open, sky-blue irises clouded with confusion and the lingering dregs of whatever Hank had given him hours ago. A sweet, tropical juice he’d gulped down after adjusting his cat ears in the mirror. “For your nerves, kitten,” Hank had murmured, kissing his temple before leaving. “You looked tense.”
The single lamp on his drafting desk threw the room into a puzzle of familiar shadows and unfamiliar threat. His easel stood nearby, Hank’s half-finished portrait smiling blandly from the canvas. The smell of his own space—linseed oil, old paper, his cheap sandalwood perfume—usually so comforting, now felt like the scent of a trap.
A darker shadow detached itself from the clutter near the door.
Kaidan’s breath hitched, a sharp, pained sound muffled by the cloth crammed between his teeth. He jerked against the ropes, a frantic, uncoordinated thrash that made the bedsprings groan. The fluffy black tail attached to his shorts brushed uselessly against the sheets. His heartbeat, a wild rabbit against his ribs, pounded in his ears, drowning out the distant city hum.The figure loomed over the bed, blocking the light. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in head-to-toe black, a balaclava obscuring everything but watchful eyes.A burglar.Panic, cold and pure, liquefied his bones. He squeezed his eyes shut, a whimper escaping the gag.This is it. This is how it ends.In a catboy cosplay.
“Well, well.” The voice was a low, amused rumble, artificially gruff.“Look what I found. A little stray.”
Kaidan froze.He knew that voice, even pitched in a theatrical growl. Knew the way it curved around the words.The figure leaned closer, one black-gloved hand reaching out. Kaidan flinched, turning his head away, his fluffy hair catching on the pillowcase. The glove didn’t strike.It gently brushed a stray lock from his forehead, the touch shockingly tender.
“All tied up and nowhere to go.” The masked head tilted. “Such a pretty, neglected thing. Do your owners not play with you anymore?”
A hysterical bubble of relief and indignation fought its way up Kaidan’s throat.It came out as a muffled, frustrated groan. He stared, wide-eyed, trying to convey a whole lecture with his eyes.Hank. You absolute bastard.
Hank’s eyes, visible through the balaclava’s holes, crinkled.He was smiling. “Shh,” he soothed, the fake growl dropping away into his normal, warm tone.“It’s me, kitten. You’re okay.”
He hooked his fingers under the gag and carefully pulled it free. Kaidan worked his jaw, which ached slightly.“Hank,” he croaked, his voice scratchy with sleep and fear. “What the hell? You scared me to death.”
“Roleplay, sweetheart,” Hank said, peeling the balaclava off.His face was flushed, his short black hair damp with sweat. He looked exhilarated.“You said you wanted more spontaneity. I’m the big bad burglar who broke in and found a lonely catboy all by himself.” He traced a gloved finger along the drawn-on whiskers on Kaidan’s cheek.“Look at you. Perfect.”
“You drugged me,” Kaidan accused, though the edge was leaving his voice. The ropes, now that the terror was receding, felt… interesting.A firm, constant pressure.
“Just a little melatonin cocktail in your juice. To make sure you were properly out for my grand entrance.” Hank’s gaze softened, scanning Kaidan’s face.“I’m sorry I scared you. Really.Should I stop? Safeword and everything ends, right now.”
Kaidan swallowed.His initial panic was morphing into something else, a slow-burning warmth in his stomach. He was still tied, utterly at Hank’s mercy, and Hank was looking at him like he’d uncovered a masterpiece.The dedicated, affectionate attention was a drug in itself.
“No,” Kaidan whispered. “Don’t stop.” He tested the bonds again, not to escape, but to feel their bite. “But… the burglar thing is kinda corny.”
Hank laughed, a rich, happy sound that filled the cluttered room.“Noted. No more corn.” He leaned down, his lips hovering just above Kaidan’s. “So what should I do with you, then, my little captive? You seem so helpless.”
Kaidan’s mind, still fuzzy at the edges, swam with possibilities. The portrait on the easel watched them, a frozen, smiling bystander. He felt the ghost of Hank’s smirk in those brushstrokes, the real one so close now.
“I don’t know,” he breathed, playing along, his natural dreamy lassitude wrapping around the new tension.“I’m just a cat. Cats need… attention.”
Hank’s smile turned wicked. One black-gloved hand settled on Kaidan’s thigh, over the soft gray fabric of his top, the warmth seeping through.“Is that right?”
The touch was electric, a promise. The chapter of the night was just beginning, the narrative pivoting from fear to a far more dangerous game. Kaidan let his head fall back against the pillow, his half-lidded eyes fixed on Hank’s face, waiting to see what the burglar would steal next.