Ropes and Lace | MM Romance PREVIEW

Chapter 11 - Elliot

When I regain consciousness, who knows how much later, the first thing I register is a monstrous headache drilling into my skull. The pain is excruciating, like electric currents scorching my neurons in intermittent, interminable palpitations, numbing other sensations so that I can only concentrate on this hellish torment. My chest hurts too, I can't feel my fingertips, and my mouth is so dry that my tongue scrapes my palate. I groan, squirming uncomfortably to try to lessen or extinguish the overwhelming discomfort imprisoning my limbs, but it's then that another piece of information slips through the overwhelming threads of suffering and reaches my subconscious.

I'm burning up.

I'm wrapped in a hard, fleshy thermal blanket, my skin boiling with hypersensitivity from the abrupt temperature rise, bathing me in a thick, gross layer of sticky sweat. One factor that disturbs and confuses me in equal portions, however, is that the thing is... hairy? Yes, it's hairs that I can perceive on the solid, yet soft lump that's acting as a pillow for my lax head. I frown, fumbling through the corrupted storage of my memories to remember or find out what the hell is going on. It's no use, because my mind is all over the place, my thoughts disorganized or dulled under the turbulent cloud of agony that brought me back to the world of the living... or so I think.

"Wait, he's moving," the voice sounds distant, as if I'm underwater, but even in my state, I can pick up on the hysteria, the fear. "Elliot? Elliot, can you hear me?"

I want to respond, I struggle with all my might to do so, though all I manage to do is release a pathetic whimper. Then, something warm and calloused rests on my cheek. A hand, I identify after a few seconds, enjoying the touch and the tenderness it transmits to me. A thumb caresses my cheekbone, so gentle and fleeting that for a moment I wonder if I imagined it, but it returns after a moment's hesitation, gently coaxing my resurgence to the surface. I open my eyes slowly, closing them immediately when an intense light hurts them. I try again and repeat the process until I'm able to look around to survey, as best I can, the situation.

I'm in my study.

Ah, now I remember. I was making a scene, the harness I decided to wear still hugging my torso, the leather straps and metal rings sticking to my flesh from perspiration and semen drying on my stomach. The spotlights and floodlights are still set up and on, all pointing in my direction, as is one of the cameras on its tripod, the little red circle on the side warning of its operation. My butt is squashed against the punishing marble floor, but it's the only area of my body that isn't sheltered by Ashton's much more powerful and larger one, as he's holding me as if I were a baby.

When I focus on his countenance, a terrible shiver runs down my spine, like an ice cube sliding down my spine. He looks... panicked. Out of his mind, talking hurriedly and incoherently into the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. However, realizing I'm watching him, the relief that washes over him could be seen from across the room. Damn, probably from the other side of the world, too.

"Elliot?" He questions in a shaky, cautious whisper, as if afraid to alarm me or perhaps worried that I might pass out again. I struggle to pinpoint the correct alternative, my system just rebooted and my reasoning is still somewhat disoriented. "How are you feeling?" My lips flutter with the purpose of answering, but I have to produce saliva and swallow a couple of times to lubricate my vocal cords.

"Of all the fantasies I had where you held me, this one wasn't on my list," Ashton snorts, and I thought he was going to laugh at my stupid joke, but his reaction is so unexpected that it catches me completely off guard.

He sobs; thick, salty tears spilling from his eyelashes in copious amounts, ending in tiny, warm puddles on my chest. I lay there, stupefied and frozen, not knowing what to say or what to do as he weeps his relief on top of me, without pretending to cover himself or pull away. So engrossed is he that he loosens his grip and the phone falls with a resounding thud on my belly and, picking it up, I discover a call in progress with the emergency line. I place the device to my ear to assure the operator that everything's fine; that no, they don't need to send an ambulance; that yes, I'm out of danger and that, if my condition worsens, I'll transport myself to a clinic as soon as possible. I press the red button and sigh, not having the slightest clue how to proceed now.