Blood Bind (Feitan x Reader)

Chapter 9

CW: Torture

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Feitan moved faster than you could see. One moment, you lost your balance, only then realizing how tightly you'd clutched to him; the next, the intruder sat bound in a chair and Feitan was back at your side.

You pressed yourself against him. The dizziness subsided but it felt more secure with his arm around you. His hand roamed your back, slipping lower until his fingers grazed your waistband. Sucking in a breath, you realized he was watching your reactions to his touch, assessing each movement and how you responded. He wasn't watching the rabid man who'd attacked you; Feitan didn't care at all in the moment. He watched you.

He held a sword in the hand not exploring your skin. A sword resting directly at the man's neck, who didn't seem willing to struggle against his binds. The terror in the intruder's eyes ballooned the longer you stood together ignoring him. His blond hair was lose, covered in sweat and dirt like he'd just got done destroying your home. Dressed modestly, he didn't look like Jed the blowhard. This was a normal man with a normal face and normal clothes. A pion or a man very good at blending in.

"What did you get into now?" Feitan's half smile grew as he slipped a single finger under your waistband. "Need me to save you." It wasn't a question, more a mocking, flirtatious statement. "Kill three men last week - fine. Today - almost choked to death in your own home." And not in a fun way lingered between you.

It snapped you back into the present. "I was handling it." You pressed your hands against his chest and looked back at the (unwelcome) intruder, your dizziness returning. "But shouldn't you deal with him?" Your voice came out airier than you would have liked. Why did he always do this to you? Show up, wind you up, and then disappear. Here and gone again. And was this time any confirmation he'd thought it through, that he wanted you? Maybe not, but damn you'd revel in his attention when you had it.

"You're handling it," Feitan's grin widened, another finger slipping below your waistband. Your face and your skin and your soul burned. "Very well."

"Phinks told me to leave a possible intruder to you for a chat," you said, fumbling to regain purchase in this conversation. "Said you'd be interested."

"Maybe," Feitan used his grip on your back to tug you flush against him, pressing you so close you struggled to catch your breath. He slid a leg between yours like he anticipated you slipping. "You watch?"

Your first instinct was to reject the offer, but you had so many questions. This could be your opportunity. It was more time with Feitan but you'd see something you'd likely never forget, and not in a pleasant way.

"I get to ask some questions too," you said against his cheek, turning to look at the man on the end of Feitan's blade. "I have a few."

Feitan hummed his approval and leaned in so the intruder couldn't hear, couldn't read his lips, couldn't sully the small moment, "We'll see."

"Oh, fuck off," you said, shoving Feitan away. His wide smile nearly took your breath away - so genuine and wicked. And the way his eyes burned with light, with promise, it sent you reeling. "I'm asking questions. Just start however you start, I guess." You sat back on your hip, trying to find a comfortable position to watch your soulmate torture a man.

Feitan hummed. "Since you gave permission," he said.

"It is my house," you said, trying to lighten the mood for yourself. The excitement mixed with something possessive, something wild in Feitan's eyes that made you uneasy. Was it the torture or the 'you watching him torture the guy that attacked you' that made his face light up with malicious joy? But was this scuffle worth torturing a man over? To be fair, he had attacked you. And he was part of a cultish terrorist organization your brother seemed to have some high position in.