A frown slowly forms and Bishop ties his towel around his waist before moving back over to retrieve Sawyer.
“They were really terrible to you….” He murmurs mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Come on…”
He’s quiet the rest of the time it takes to get them both dried abs dressed in comfortable clothes but when they head back downstairs (a cloth in hand along with a bottle of cleaner), he looks at Sawyer again, “okay. Simple choice: rice with beef and vegetables or, I can order pizza. Which one of those sounds better?”
He watches him for a moment and then pads over to the couch to clean up their mess.
Sawyer feels the urge to apologize and he feels the urge to cry. His eyes burn a little but he hides his face until he can blink it away. He helps dry himself off, dressed comfortably as he follows the other downstairs.
"Rice with beef and vegetables," Sawyer says slowly, after a long pause. Then he moves to reach to take the cloth and cleaner. He should clean up the mess. It's mostly his and... and he should just be the one to clean it.
This was going to be difficult for both of them for a while. Bishop knows this. But it still breaks his heart a little to see this beautiful creature so…guarded.
He nods, and reluctantly relinquishes the cloth and the cleaner. But only because he would have to go cook the rest of the food.
“Thank you,” he murmurs affectionately after kissing his temple.
Sawyer blushes and he quietly gets to work after the other moves to go cook. He's never been thanked for doing... well, anything. He diligently works on cleaning up the mess -- that is mostly, if not entirely his fault. He maybe cleans longer than necessary, as if having to be sure it's done perfectly that there's no mistakes that he could be caught making -- no accusations that could be made that he didn't do a thorough job. When he's done he isn't sure what to do with the cloth or the cleaner.
He stares down at them and then hesitantly pads into the kitchen, chewing his lip nervously.
Sawyer nods and he moves into the laundry room, figuring out where to put them in there and then he comes back out. Automatically he moves to the sink to wash his hands and dry them before looking at Bishop.
He's perhaps waiting for the next instruction or... the food -- or a bit of both.
When Sawyer was done washing and drying his hands, he reached out to gently hook his finger into the bottom of the others shirt so he could draw him over to him.
The food would have to sauté for a moment anyway.
“I know the topic isn’t comfortable. But rumors only give so much…detail,” he wrapped himself around the other, “…what did a normal day look like for you there?”
Sawyer let the other pull him close and he lets out a breath as the strong arms wrapped around him. He would have thought it would make him feel trapped but it doesn't even if the question makes him antsy. He lifts his shoulders a little.
"I did whatever they told me to do. If they told me to clean, I did... or cook, or whatever chores needed done. If they wanted to have sex with me then they did any time of the day. In the evenings, I got passed around between them a lot. Sometimes they just... touched me while they did other things or made me do things to them. Some nights they just wanted to beat me."
There was no exact schedule for his days.
"They didn't let me sleep very much... kept me up late and woke me up early to work for them. I... just spent every day trying not to get hurt."
And failing.
"If I was lucky they let me eat whatever was leftover on their plates," if he wasn't then there were times he didn't eat at all or the food was barely edible.
If they had had this talk prior to making the claim official, Bishop probably could have hidden the way he felt as Sawyer went on, and on about how he had been treated. What they’d done to him, made him do, kept him from doing. But they hadn’t and as much as he tried to not let it feed into their bond - he could keep it all out.
Anger. Sorrow. Annoyance. Mostly anger… But none of it came even close to being towards Sawyer.
If anything, his grip on him was harder and yet somehow gentle at the same time.
The decision making made sense now. The way he jumped to clean. The way he worried. The way he almost didn’t know how to think for himself.
And…
“…you can say no to sex,” he says softly, “if you ever don’t feel like it - you can tell me no. I won’t be upset with you. And I won’t just take it from you either.”
That seemed like a big issue.
“I won’t blame you. Not after…everything they did. I’d still keep you safe, even if we never did that again.”
Sawyer swallows and he can sense all the things the other feels and it makes him feel nervous. He can't help it. He doesn't pull away or cower from his touch. Bishop is proving to him he's safe. He hasn't hurt him. He hasn't forced him to do anything really. He turns into him more, pressing his face against him while the other talks. It's a little like hiding but does it really count if he's turning to Bishop to hide?
He wraps his arms around the other and hugs himself to Bishop tightly the more he talks. The reality that he's actually escaped his living hell is starting to feel like it's taking shape as an actual possibility but he's still frightened to trust it. What if Bishop meant what he said now but... something could happen...
He shakes his head and tightens his arms around him, fingers curling into the back of the other's shirt.
Speaking is too hard, his throat is tight and he's sure if he tries to say anything he'll cry and he doesn't want to. He doesn't think Bishop would like it, he wouldn't want him to cry so he just holds onto him tightly.
Doesn’t he realize that hiding from him is pointless? They aren’t just two wolves passing in the streets anymore. They’re connected completely.
Bishop doesn’t move too quickly but he does reach over to turn the burner off and set the pan aside so he can freely grab Sawyers face between his hands and get him to look up.
“You are mine, and I am yours. You can’t hide from me, Sawyer and you can’t lie,” he murmurs, “I’m your mate. Not a captor. You can growl at me. You can tell me no. You can lay around and make a mess. You can eat what you want. And you can cry. You just have to communicate so I understand…” he ducks down and kisses him softly on the mouth and then the nose and finally his forehead, “why do you want to cry…?”
Sawyer notices every movement but he can recognize that they're not threats. Still there's a tension that coils in his stomach. His gaze is pulled upward and it's hard not to look away. The more Bishop says the more he feels like he wants to cry. His fingers twist where he's grasped at the other's shirt.
Lips tremble as they meet Bishop's in the kiss and his eyes close as the other's mouth places a few more kisses and finally asks that expectant question.
He doesn't know how to deal with someone caring about what he has to say or feel, asking him..expecting answers...
"Because..." he starts, voice feeling uncomfortably thick and it almost hurts to talk through it. He wants to bury his face down again.
"Because you're being so nice and... understanding and you're taking care of me," the tears are heavier, hotter and they finally escape and he can't hide them. "I'm scared. I don't deserve any of this, you're... I'm going to be a disappointment and I don't want... I don't want to go back. I didn't think anything else was possible," he's not sure he's making any sense.
"I don't know how..."
He doesn't know how to be a person that someone cares about.
Bishop cares about people. It’s just who he was deep down but he never thought he could care this much. He watches Sawyer, feels him, tries to navigate the different scents and emotions attached to them and the more he gets the more protective he feels.
It isn’t exactly a dominance thing it’s…protective, possessive, mine. This is mine. No one else can have it. Don’t look at it. Don’t touch it. Don’t make it cry.
Thumbs wipe away tears and Bishop shakes his head, “You’re not going to disappoint me or do anything wrong enough for me to give you up. I take care of what’s mine - you, are mine. And I’ll die before I ever let you go back there. Do you understand? No one else will touch you.”
Sawyer tries to stop crying as the other wipes at the tears. And maybe he can't stop because he's been stopping himself for so long and maybe he actually does feel safe enough to do this. There's still the ache at crying in front of Bishop and knowing the other doesn't him to cry. He keeps holding tight but he does pull his head away from the other's hold but just to bury his face into his chest again.
He sucks in deep breaths, he inhales the other's scent. He focuses on Bishop, letting the words of assurance play through his mind again.
Finally, he nods, slowly pulling his head back and there's still some tears falling and sniffling and he nods as he looks up at him.
“Good. Don’t stop trying. I’ll prove it to you,” he says, dropping his arms back around Sawyers waist to keep him against him even if he doubts the other plans on pulling away anytime soon.
He slowly relaxes and kisses his cheek, tongue flicking out to taste the salty tears, “you’re mine and I’m happy you are.”
Sawyer nods a little and he stays close and he doesn't want to pull away at all.
He blinks and then a choked laugh escapes at the other's tongue licking at the tears. He shakes his head.
"Mm," he acknowledges softly, finally able to start feeling a little under control again and one hand letting go of the other's shirt to come around and wipe at his face, sniffling some.
Sawyer lets go of the other completely at the nudging and he sniffs again as he turns before yelping a little in surprise at the swat -- cheeks instantly going pink. There's no particular distress though, just surprise.
He opens the cabinet to grab down two bowls, taking a few deep but shaky breaths to try and get himself feeling completely calmed down as he brings the bowls to Bishop.
Sawyer's cheeks flush even a deeper pink and he bows his head a little. He bit his lip as they got to the table and the food smells good, and the ache of hunger pangs a bit more intensely.
“Eat. There’s more if you want it,” he hands Sawyer the second pair of chopsticks and wanders to the fridge. He pulls out some water and a fizzy drink before heading back over. Sawyer gets the double option and Bishop just takes the second water because that’s just what he likes.
He sits down and gets comfortable, “are you sore?”
Sawyer smiles a little and he sits down at the table, one leg coming up as he starts to eat a bit too fast. He tries to remember to slow down but doesn't quite manage it. He looks at the drinks the other brought before his attention is drawn back to the other.
Bishop nods and just lets Sawyer eat. He doesn’t tell him to slow down or anything. In time he thinks he’ll do that on his own. And after what he’s told him, it makes sense.
It’s a long while before he speaks up again and when he does it’s to finally say, “…no matter what, please just trust me when I say you’ll never go back there. Ever.”
Sawyer knows he had made his stomach hurt and himself nauseous earlier but he couldn't help himself at least not yet but to eat quickly. There's an instinctual fear of the food being taken away before he could finish. He knows that Bishop would never take his food away but it's ingrained in him.
He's still eating when the other speaks, his head lifts and his eyes are wide. He swallows hard on the food that's in his mouth and his grip tightens slightly on the chopsticks.
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Choices. Opinions. He feels a rush of anxiety at being pushed to have an opinion, to make a choice.
"I just want rice," he says meekly.
Being able to make simple decisions about what he gets to eat had been a rare occurrence. Food had been used as a punishment before, as a reward.
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“They were really terrible to you….” He murmurs mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Come on…”
He’s quiet the rest of the time it takes to get them both dried abs dressed in comfortable clothes but when they head back downstairs (a cloth in hand along with a bottle of cleaner), he looks at Sawyer again, “okay. Simple choice: rice with beef and vegetables or, I can order pizza. Which one of those sounds better?”
He watches him for a moment and then pads over to the couch to clean up their mess.
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"Rice with beef and vegetables," Sawyer says slowly, after a long pause. Then he moves to reach to take the cloth and cleaner. He should clean up the mess. It's mostly his and... and he should just be the one to clean it.
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He nods, and reluctantly relinquishes the cloth and the cleaner. But only because he would have to go cook the rest of the food.
“Thank you,” he murmurs affectionately after kissing his temple.
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He stares down at them and then hesitantly pads into the kitchen, chewing his lip nervously.
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“Laundry room,” he nods to the door to Sawyers right, “just put them in there. And come back to me…”
Because he didn’t like not being able to see where he was. At least right now.
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He's perhaps waiting for the next instruction or... the food -- or a bit of both.
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The food would have to sauté for a moment anyway.
“I know the topic isn’t comfortable. But rumors only give so much…detail,” he wrapped himself around the other, “…what did a normal day look like for you there?”
Maybe it would help him understand.
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"I did whatever they told me to do. If they told me to clean, I did... or cook, or whatever chores needed done. If they wanted to have sex with me then they did any time of the day. In the evenings, I got passed around between them a lot. Sometimes they just... touched me while they did other things or made me do things to them. Some nights they just wanted to beat me."
There was no exact schedule for his days.
"They didn't let me sleep very much... kept me up late and woke me up early to work for them. I... just spent every day trying not to get hurt."
And failing.
"If I was lucky they let me eat whatever was leftover on their plates," if he wasn't then there were times he didn't eat at all or the food was barely edible.
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Anger. Sorrow. Annoyance. Mostly anger… But none of it came even close to being towards Sawyer.
If anything, his grip on him was harder and yet somehow gentle at the same time.
The decision making made sense now.
The way he jumped to clean.
The way he worried.
The way he almost didn’t know how to think for himself.
And…
“…you can say no to sex,” he says softly, “if you ever don’t feel like it - you can tell me no. I won’t be upset with you. And I won’t just take it from you either.”
That seemed like a big issue.
“I won’t blame you. Not after…everything they did. I’d still keep you safe, even if we never did that again.”
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He wraps his arms around the other and hugs himself to Bishop tightly the more he talks. The reality that he's actually escaped his living hell is starting to feel like it's taking shape as an actual possibility but he's still frightened to trust it. What if Bishop meant what he said now but... something could happen...
He shakes his head and tightens his arms around him, fingers curling into the back of the other's shirt.
Speaking is too hard, his throat is tight and he's sure if he tries to say anything he'll cry and he doesn't want to. He doesn't think Bishop would like it, he wouldn't want him to cry so he just holds onto him tightly.
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Bishop doesn’t move too quickly but he does reach over to turn the burner off and set the pan aside so he can freely grab Sawyers face between his hands and get him to look up.
“You are mine, and I am yours. You can’t hide from me, Sawyer and you can’t lie,” he murmurs, “I’m your mate. Not a captor. You can growl at me. You can tell me no. You can lay around and make a mess. You can eat what you want. And you can cry. You just have to communicate so I understand…” he ducks down and kisses him softly on the mouth and then the nose and finally his forehead, “why do you want to cry…?”
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Lips tremble as they meet Bishop's in the kiss and his eyes close as the other's mouth places a few more kisses and finally asks that expectant question.
He doesn't know how to deal with someone caring about what he has to say or feel, asking him..expecting answers...
"Because..." he starts, voice feeling uncomfortably thick and it almost hurts to talk through it. He wants to bury his face down again.
"Because you're being so nice and... understanding and you're taking care of me," the tears are heavier, hotter and they finally escape and he can't hide them. "I'm scared. I don't deserve any of this, you're... I'm going to be a disappointment and I don't want... I don't want to go back. I didn't think anything else was possible," he's not sure he's making any sense.
"I don't know how..."
He doesn't know how to be a person that someone cares about.
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It isn’t exactly a dominance thing it’s…protective, possessive, mine. This is mine. No one else can have it. Don’t look at it. Don’t touch it. Don’t make it cry.
Thumbs wipe away tears and Bishop shakes his head, “You’re not going to disappoint me or do anything wrong enough for me to give you up. I take care of what’s mine - you, are mine. And I’ll die before I ever let you go back there. Do you understand? No one else will touch you.”
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He sucks in deep breaths, he inhales the other's scent. He focuses on Bishop, letting the words of assurance play through his mind again.
Finally, he nods, slowly pulling his head back and there's still some tears falling and sniffling and he nods as he looks up at him.
"I'm trying to understand."
It's going to take time.
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He slowly relaxes and kisses his cheek, tongue flicking out to taste the salty tears, “you’re mine and I’m happy you are.”
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He blinks and then a choked laugh escapes at the other's tongue licking at the tears. He shakes his head.
"Mm," he acknowledges softly, finally able to start feeling a little under control again and one hand letting go of the other's shirt to come around and wipe at his face, sniffling some.
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But he goes back to the other pan and stirs everything up once more so it can all be dishes out.
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He opens the cabinet to grab down two bowls, taking a few deep but shaky breaths to try and get himself feeling completely calmed down as he brings the bowls to Bishop.
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“You have a cute butt,” he chuckles and Carrie’s their food over to the table and grabs two pairs of chopsticks, “was what I just did okay? Or…”
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"It just surprised me."
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He sits down and gets comfortable, “are you sore?”
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He shakes his head a little at the question.
"Nothing unusual," he says softly.
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It’s a long while before he speaks up again and when he does it’s to finally say, “…no matter what, please just trust me when I say you’ll never go back there. Ever.”
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He's still eating when the other speaks, his head lifts and his eyes are wide. He swallows hard on the food that's in his mouth and his grip tightens slightly on the chopsticks.
"Mm," he gives a slight nod of agreement.
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