In Lines Of Love ~ Kimchay

31. Bound by the Brush

The void was deathly dark and silent, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire in the corner.

Anawin sat slumped in a heavy wooden chair, his wrists bound tightly behind him, ropes biting into the soft flesh of his skin.

A crude flower tiara sat crookedly on his head, its delicate petals a cruel contrast to the bruises blooming on his arms.

His cheeks were wet with tears, his chest hitching with every shallow breath.

Across from him, Damon stood like a phantom, his figure towering and still as he worked his paintbrush in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Don’t cry too much now,” Damon murmured without looking up. His voice was quiet but sharp, cutting through the suffocating air. “I don’t want the blotchiness to ruin my masterpiece.”

Anawin stiffened, choking back a sob as he turned his face away. His nails dug into his palms, and his voice cracked when he finally spoke. “You’re sick.”

Damon chuckled softly, a sound more menacing than any shout. “Sick? No, my love. I’m obsessed. You think this is cruelty? This—” he gestured at the canvas with a flourish, “—this is adoration.”

Anawin twisted against the ropes, the coarse fibers digging deeper with every movement. “Adoration?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger and fear. “This isn’t love, Damon. This is torture. You… you don’t love me.”

Damon’s hand stilled. Slowly, he set the brush down and turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “And yet, here you are, crying for me. Calling my name in tears. Isn’t that what lovers do?”

“Stop,” Anawin whispered, his voice breaking. “Just stop. Let me go.”

Damon walked toward him with unhurried steps, his dark eyes locked on Anawin’s trembling form.

He crouched in front of him, his gaze searching Anawin’s face as though savoring every detail.

“Misunderstanding leads to bigger problems” Damon said softly, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’ve already let you rewrite my story once. Never—” he leaned closer, his lips a breath away from Anawin’s ear, “—again.”

Anawin flinched as Damon’s tongue traced the path of a fresh tear, the sensation both startling and intimate. “Disgusting freak!” he hissed, his voice breaking. “Finn will find me, and you’ll—”

Damon chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent shivers down Anawin’s spine. “Finn?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Let’s just say he’s already been taken care of. By Death” His words were casual, but the weight of their meaning crashed down on Anawin.

“No,” Anawin whispered, his voice a broken gasp.

He moved behind him, his hands working deftly to untie the ropes. “I thought you’d be more grateful,” he murmured, the brush of his fingers against Anawin’s skin sending jolts of heat through his exhausted body.

As soon as the ropes loosened, Anawin’s body slumped forward. For a fleeting moment, he thought he could escape, but when he tried to stand, his legs buckled. Damon caught him effortlessly, cradling him against his chest.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, did you?” Damon purred, his lips brushing against Anawin’s temple.

“What… did you do to me?” Anawin croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just a little insurance,” Damon replied, his tone almost playful. “You’ve always been so stubborn. I had to ensure you’d stay… cooperative.”

Anawin’s fists weakly hit Damon’s chest, his strength fading with every feeble attempt. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t… you can’t keep breaking me.”

Damon’s grip tightened as he lifted Anawin into his arms, cradling him like fragile porcelain doll. “Oh, but you see, my darling,” Damon said, his voice dripping with mockery, “you’re not broken. Not yet. But you will be. And then, I’ll put you back together, piece by piece. And then break you once again until my Anawin understands who owns him.”

He didn't responded all he could do was, head rested against Damon’s chest, where he could hear the steady, maddening rhythm of his heartbeat. It was calm—so calm it felt wrong, given the chaos swirling inside him.

“You’ll never win,” Anawin muttered, his voice muffled against Damon’s shirt. “You’ll never have me.”

Damon smirked, carrying him down the long, dark hallway toward the master bedroom. The air was thick and heavy, the flickering torches lining the walls casting shifting shadows.

“Oh, Darling,” Damon murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Haven’t you realized? I already have you.”

As they reached the bedroom, Damon kicked the door open with a force that sent it slamming against the wall.

The room was lavish, but its opulence did nothing to mask the darkness that seemed to seep from its very walls.

Damon strode to the bed and sank onto it, settling Anawin on top of him. His hands slid to Anawin’s waist, holding him there with a possessive grip.

“I hate you,” Anawin whispered, his voice cracking.

Damon tilted his head, studying him with an expression that was almost tender. “Hate me if you must,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding. “But you’ll never escape me. You’re mine, Anawin. In every way that matters.”

Tears welled in Anawin’s eyes, his body trembling with exhaustion and despair. He turned his face away, unable to meet Damon’s gaze.

“Say it,” Damon commanded, his voice dark and low.

Anawin bit his lip, refusing to answer.

“Say it,” Damon repeated, his grip tightening just enough to make his dominance clear.

“You’re… a Demon,” Anawin finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damon smiled—a cold, hollow smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from Anawin’s tear-streaked face while pressing a kiss to Anawin’s forehead. “Demons don’t let go of what’s theirs. And neither will I.”