Song Inspiration: “Bom Bidi Bom” by Nick Jonas & Nicki Minaj

His hands trembled against the cold steel cuffs, wrists raised and chained to the suspender above. Raven’s head hung low, dark strands of hair falling over his face. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, sweat tracing a slow descent down his skin, glinting under the low red lights that filled the room with something sinful—something unholy.

“Breathe, puppy,” Thanin’s voice cut through the air—low, controlled, dangerously calm.

The sound of the whip’s handle brushing his palm echoed in the silence.

Raven inhaled sharply. The leather of the cuffs strained as his muscles flexed. Every sound, every heartbeat in the room, felt amplified—his, Thanin’s, the faint hum of the red lights above.

“I said breathe.” Thanin’s voice deepened, laced with command, with something close to reverence.

It wasn’t a threat; it was an invocation.

Raven obeyed—slowly, deliberately. His breaths came in scandalous waves, filling the quiet with something that made Thanin’s control falter, if only for a moment. His voice, his body, his trembling—it was intoxicating. Raven was intoxicating.

Thanin’s composure cracked with a faint, amused smirk. “Good boy.”

Raven’s heart raced at those words. His pulse thundered in his ears. Every nerve screamed with heightened awareness, torn between fear, trust, and desire. He wasn’t sure which was stronger—or if they had already blended into one.

Thanin took a step closer. The sound of his boots echoed against the marble floor—measured, deliberate, powerful. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the electric tension between them.

Raven’s breathing hitched when he felt Thanin’s hand trace along his jaw, rough thumb brushing over trembling lips. Thanin’s gaze was unreadable, sharp and assessing, as if Raven were both a puzzle and a prize.

“You tremble beautifully,” Thanin murmured, voice brushing against his ear. “But you’re holding back. Why?”

Raven swallowed hard. “I—” His words broke on a shaky exhale. “I don’t want to lose myself.”

Thanin chuckled darkly, stepping even closer until Raven could feel the warmth of his breath. “Then let me find you instead.”

A shiver tore through Raven. He wanted to move, to fight the pull, but the cuffs reminded him of his choice. The steel wasn’t a prison—it was a promise. His surrender wasn’t weakness; it was trust.

Thanin stepped back, eyes trailing down the length of Raven’s restrained form. “You know the rules,” he said softly. “You speak if it’s too much.”

Raven nodded, voice nearly a whisper. “Yellow…”

The word lingered in the air—soft, fragile, sacred.

Thanin’s eyes softened briefly at the sound, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before the dominance returned. He reached forward and undid the cuffs, metal clinking softly as Raven’s hands fell free. The moment the pressure lifted, so did something else—tension, fear, and a quiet ache that felt almost like peace.

Raven’s legs gave way, and Thanin caught him without hesitation. For a long heartbeat, neither spoke. Their breathing mingled—two storms finding their calm.

Thanin brushed a thumb along the side of Raven’s neck, his voice quieter now, stripped of its earlier steel. “You did well, puppy.”

Raven looked up, eyes glassy but steady. “Did I?”

Thanin’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “You never disappoint me.”

It was a strange kind of intimacy—raw and wordless, something that went beyond dominance and submission. It wasn’t about control. It was about the quiet understanding that in this room, neither had to pretend.

When Raven finally found his voice again, it was softer. “You… scare me sometimes.”

Thanin met his gaze. “Good. Fear keeps us aware. But you trust me, don’t you?”

Raven hesitated, then nodded slowly. “More than I should.”

“Then that’s enough.”

The red lights hummed faintly overhead. The air was thick with everything unspoken—lust, restraint, the fragile thread of something dangerously close to care.

---

Days Later

The sun filtered through Raven’s office window, golden light catching on the scattered papers across his desk. He sat there, fingers steepled under his chin, but his mind wasn’t on work—it was still back in that red room.

He could still feel the echo of Thanin’s touch. The sound of his voice. The silence that followed.

His phone buzzed.

> Ice: Hey.

Raven: You called with a different number.

Ice: Mm, I have my reasons. Listen carefully—Thanin’s investigating you. He’s digging into your past, and it seems he’s already found out that your co-partner—me—is from Country P. Be careful.

Raven’s hand tightened around his phone.

> Raven: Seriously? And you’re just telling me now?

Ice: You must’ve been… occupied lately. You didn’t read my messages. Just be careful, or someone’s going to end up paying for it. I don’t want the old you back.

Raven: The old me never died, Ice. You know that.

Ice: Leave the fun for me, then. Anyway, I’ve got my hands full—there’ve been a lot of bodies turning up these last few days.

Raven: Bodies? I thought your dad was just… working?

Ice: Nothing serious. I’m hanging up. Oh—and one more thing. When I come back, I don’t want to see any marks on your skin. You know how nasty this best friend can get. Dad sends his greetings.

The line went dead.

Raven sat back, staring at the screen for a long while before locking his phone. The quiet in his office felt heavier than usual.

“Not many people know our story,” he murmured to himself. “And those who did… are all gone.”

His gaze drifted toward the skyline outside—the city spread out before him, glittering and cruel. Somewhere out there, Thanin was moving too, tracing threads that led back to him. It was a dangerous game, one that blurred the line between love, obsession, and power.

And yet… despite everything—despite Ice’s warnings, despite his own fear—Raven couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

He had tasted something in that red-lit room that no amount of caution could erase. Something dark. Something thrilling. Something that felt a lot like freedom.