Chapter 3
The only thing I’d ever be a good sub for
Would be to punish.
To beat.
To humiliate and use.
I’m perfect to tear down
To rage on.
I can’t be quiet.
I can’t obey.
But I can scream, hurt, and bleed.
Collar me
And the pleas from my mouth will be yours
All I am able to give to you.
“I can’t do this.”
Bruce couldn’t stop the shivers that pulled through his muscles, twitching across his skin like burning electric shocks. His fingers clenched unbidden in the sheets of the bed in counterpoint to his rapid breathing – he could hear the pants of his breath across his lips, feel each one puff against the sweat-slicked skin of his fists.
The air was warm, and the bed he’d been directed to and carefully positioned upon was soft, almost welcoming. The bindings around his wrists were silk instead of chain, no bite of metal to chastise an improper movement; the pillow framing his knees molded to his bones, technologically cool and soothing.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he babbled to the silence of the room.
The blindfold across his eyes that cast his world into complete darkness was both heavy and light – he felt its weight as acutely as he felt every inch of his own body, the droop of it under gravity, pressing him into the mattress as if it was where he was supposed to be. He couldn’t see. If he could see, he could know, he could make himself understand that he wasn’t supposed to be here, that he didn’t deserve this cradling, this comfort.
“Please.” It choked out of his throat in a scraping skip that burned.
His body jolted at the feel of fingertips against his spine, trailing upwards in featherlight touches; he keened, high and reluctant, as they skipped over his neck, stuttering on the tie of the blindfold before combing backwards through his hair. Touches, grounding touches,
“I’m right here, big guy.” The words were rough, yet soothing; he choked again as the burning of his eyes increased. “Shh. You’re not alone. You’re exactly where I want you to be. You’re doing so well. So good.”
“I can’t-.” Don’t say that! “Master-.”
“No.” The fingers in his hair tightened briefly, a warning. “Not ‘Master’. Not here, not with you. We talked about this, gorgeous. I’m just Tony for you. Always.”
Bruce sagged, just a little, enough that the fingers in his hair pulled again as they followed his minute descent. Tony. It was Tony, wasn’t it? It sounded like Tony, said Tony’s words – but he couldn’t see him. He shivered again, so hard that his bones protested the movement with hurt, and the fire building in his eyes finally spilled over, tracking wet embers that soaked into the blindfold and trickled down his skin. He whimpered, pathetic as he was.
A breathy swear pulled from the person so close to him. “Fuck, I could burn the assholes who tried to break you.” More Tony words, hot and twisted anguished. “Hell, maybe I will. If it’s legal for them to do it to you, I certainly have enough money to do it them. Would you like that? Probably not. Maybe I’d still do it. Who the fuck could make someone as brilliant as you so scared to go under? I’ll burn them in their beds.” More tears bled from his eyes. “Shh, Bruce. You’re okay. I’m here.”
Without warning, another set of fingers brushed across his face, through the wetness on his skin, but even as he instinctively flinched back at the touch, Bruce recognized the drag of the callouses, their rigid bumps and the sensation of safety they called up his spine.
“T-Tony?” He breathed, and was rewarded with a quick press of lips to his temple.
“There you are, beautiful,” Tony whispered encouragingly against him. The fingers on his face dropped to his arms, skimming over the silk bindings on his wrists before moving to cup his elbow. “You got this. Don’t you?”
It was Tony. God. Fuck, it was Tony. There wasn’t anyone else, no one else would be here if Tony was. Tony – Tony had put him here, Tony had led him to the bed, directed him to all fours, given him the cushion for his knees, the silk for his wrists. Tony … wanted him comfortable. Wanted him to feel safe, to feel okay. Tony had wrapped the blindfold around his eyes- Bruce’s breath hitched again.
He couldn’t see.
“You don’t, do you?” Tony asked him, leaning closer. There was no inflection in his voice, his hands didn’t move from their positions, but the lead slammed into Bruce’s gut anyway. He wasn’t doing this right, he was disappointing – I told you, I told you, I told you. “You don’t have this at all. It’s not working for you, is it?” Hurt me, Bruce wanted to say. Hurt me, I can if you hurt me. “Big guy, it’s okay. You have your word. Remember? Remember that word you told me you’d use? It’s right there. Just say it.”
“Wanna be,” he whined. “W-wanna, wanna be good. Tony I wanna be good-.” God, why couldn’t he just be good? Just for Tony, Tony deserved it, Tony deserved a good sub.
“You are good,” Tony panted harshly in his ear; the hand on his elbow flexed with the words, he sounded upset and Bruce couldn’t see. “It’s okay not to like this, not to have be comfortable. If you want to stop, tell me. Just tell me. You can.”
“Y-you like it.” He did. If he focused hard enough, pulled away from himself enough, Bruce could remember the glimmer of fondness in Tony’s glittering eyes when he had presented the blindfold. (‘Love these things,’ the other man had said with a wide smile. ‘Love what they can do to a sub, where they can take them. It’d look pretty on you.’) I don’t want to disappoint you. I want to be good.
Fingers dropped to play with the tie in the back, and Bruce tensed. “I want you to use your word if you want to stop, Bruce,” the dominant growled. And then pulled the blindfold tight against his skin, and any possible shade of light was immediately gone.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing. No Tony, no room, there was nothing, anything could happen, Tony could leave, he could fail, he’d be sent back, they’d take him away, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t I can’t I can’t-
“Lullaby.” Did he push it from his lips, or did it push itself? He couldn’t see. “Lullaby, please, Mas-Tony, please, lullaby, lullaby-.”
The blindfold ripped away. Oxygen ripped into him with motherly desperation as the reaches of the thoughts vanished as if struck away. His chest seized. Fuck, fuck.
“Good boy, Bruce. Good, you’re so good, God you’re perfect.” Tony's words. Tony's voice. Lips pressed heavily against his head; hands pulled away his bindings. He was dragged upwards, immediately surrounded in the trembling warmth of arms that had never happened before. “It’s okay, gorgeous, you’re okay. I’m here, you’re so good for me Bruce. You’re so good, you did so well. Perfect.”
On the softness of the bed, Bruce could see.
Tony’s face, a breath from his, his own eyes drowning in unshed, self-hating tears.
There is a difference
Between being cautiously happy and being contently resigned
I have been fucked and have fucked both of those sides.
Hurt you, punish you, use you?
It would make you feel safe
And it would ruin you.
My rage belongs against my own self.
I’ll be your Dominant
When you ask me to be.
When you can trust my words
Not your fear of my wrath.
You will be able to give everything to me.