Merritt just nods to that - and huffs out another shallow sigh when Dylan leaves. The chains seem to settle somehow and while they don't loosen, it feels almost as though they've clicked into place, now, instead of being held ready to tighten.
"Fuck," Merritt breathes quietly - and then, so, so carefully, he lets himself relax into the restraints.
He should have seen this coming. He knew Dylan was still angry, was still holding against him what they'd had to do to break him out of his fantasy - but he'd also thought they had talked things out, that they were getting better.
It shouldn't have surprised him that he didn't have enough to offer to balance out what he had taken.
Merritt works his hands carefully as they begin to tingle. There's no response from the chains, and he carefully begins to turn his hand, trying to find a way that the metal isn't cutting off the circulation. It's no more comfortable, but it also doesn't feel like it's crushing his wrists anymore, and so he counts it as a win.
"Hm," he hums, closing his hand over the end of the chair's arm. Slowly, he begins to inch his hand and arm backward, grunting softly and uncomfortably as the metal rolls down his skin.
Just when he begins to think he's making progress, as the chain reaches his knuckles, there's a shift in the room's energy, like someone just about to take a breath, and Merritt goes carefully still. For a long moment, nothing happens, and Merritt dares to relax, dares to move -- and the chain jolts, clamping down hard over his hand, this time, squeezing his fingers together painfully.
He cries out and reflexively tries to pull his hand the rest of the way free, to stop it being crushed. All the chains immediately tighten, the snap of a finger breaking drowned out only by the sound of his scream as he struggles reflexively, pulling hard against the chains, his resignation abruptly overwhelmed by sheer panic.
He's so busy panicking that he misses the sound of a metallic rasp as another chain bursts from the chair's cushions. Before he knows what's happening, the chain wraps itself around his neck, and Merritt's vision tunnels down as he finds himself with no air.
Desperately, he presses his head back into the chair, retreating as much as he can from this last restraint, and forces himself to ignore the water rushing in his ears to go perfectly still. It's not enough for him to draw a full breath, but he can breathe if he does it slowly, and he closes his eyes against unbidden hot tears.
no subject
"Fuck," Merritt breathes quietly - and then, so, so carefully, he lets himself relax into the restraints.
He should have seen this coming. He knew Dylan was still angry, was still holding against him what they'd had to do to break him out of his fantasy - but he'd also thought they had talked things out, that they were getting better.
It shouldn't have surprised him that he didn't have enough to offer to balance out what he had taken.
Merritt works his hands carefully as they begin to tingle. There's no response from the chains, and he carefully begins to turn his hand, trying to find a way that the metal isn't cutting off the circulation. It's no more comfortable, but it also doesn't feel like it's crushing his wrists anymore, and so he counts it as a win.
"Hm," he hums, closing his hand over the end of the chair's arm. Slowly, he begins to inch his hand and arm backward, grunting softly and uncomfortably as the metal rolls down his skin.
Just when he begins to think he's making progress, as the chain reaches his knuckles, there's a shift in the room's energy, like someone just about to take a breath, and Merritt goes carefully still. For a long moment, nothing happens, and Merritt dares to relax, dares to move -- and the chain jolts, clamping down hard over his hand, this time, squeezing his fingers together painfully.
He cries out and reflexively tries to pull his hand the rest of the way free, to stop it being crushed. All the chains immediately tighten, the snap of a finger breaking drowned out only by the sound of his scream as he struggles reflexively, pulling hard against the chains, his resignation abruptly overwhelmed by sheer panic.
He's so busy panicking that he misses the sound of a metallic rasp as another chain bursts from the chair's cushions. Before he knows what's happening, the chain wraps itself around his neck, and Merritt's vision tunnels down as he finds himself with no air.
Desperately, he presses his head back into the chair, retreating as much as he can from this last restraint, and forces himself to ignore the water rushing in his ears to go perfectly still. It's not enough for him to draw a full breath, but he can breathe if he does it slowly, and he closes his eyes against unbidden hot tears.