AGALMATOPHILIA

_-:5:-_

Tyler lifts his lead heavy head, groggily swivelling it around to try and wake himself up.

Once he opens his bloodshot eyes, lifting his head slightly, a stabbing pain sears through the right side of his neck.

Dropping his head with an aggravated grimace, Tyler then moves to rub the burning pain shooting through his neck, only to tug at his opposite arm.

His arms don't draw near his face, instead, he can't shift them at all, realising that they were bound behind his back.

That's when he tries to let out a cry for help, quickly discovering the gag in his mouth, preventing any protests.

Panicking more now, Tyler's focus darts around the confusing unfamiliar room, a large metal bench to his left, a  doorway just across from him and two metal double doors on his right, a thermostat dial beside the doors set to below zero.

Tyler can see a few slivers of light casting against the wall, assuming there was a window behind him, turning to inspect reveals a tiny opening right at the top of the wall, bars blocking it up, though the girders seemed unnecessary, as no human could possibly squeeze through the tiny aperture.

Yanking his restraints again, the panicking brunette begins to hyperventilate, shoulders shaking immensely, cries for freedom erupted from his throat until his screams become too raw for his gullet to take anymore.

He screams and screams until his throat becomes hoarse, unable to make another sound with the dry craw he begins to present with.

Defeated, and letting his head hang in defeat, Tyler begins to weep, unsure for how long he'd been crying out for, how long he'd really been bound where he sat.

The door up the top of the stairs opens with a loud creak, someone entering and stepping down onto the landing, the dark obscuring their face yet a small pale ribbon of moonlight filtered across the person face, a beautiful mocha-coffee iris shone under the soft glow, Tyler wriggling hard against the cuffs, cold metal digging deep into his wrists.

A strange, suit clad man makes his way down the stairs, stopping at the bottom before lighting the cigarette between his lips, eyes moving to lock with Tyler's.

The hostage had seen him before, but his drugged out memory cannot recall where from.

Perhaps he was a police officer his father knew?

"Hello," the mans voice is low, gravely, Tyler cannot do a thing but squeak out a weak cry for help. "Comfortable?"

Tyler, unable to reply, vigorously shakes his head in protest, the man smirking as he draws nearer.

Two fingers firmly push Tyler's chin upwards, forcing the shaking brown haired boy to officially connect their cold stares.

The strange man leans down slightly, adjusting his stance as his eyes dart back and forth between Tyler's own two doe like peepers.

"You have a very beautiful face," The cool flurry of breath rushing out and floating across Tyler's rosy cheeks. His lids flutter in shock, tilting his face away from the strangers.

"Do you need anything?"

Tyler doesn't nod, or shake his head, or even give a verbal cue. He only glowers out of the corner of his eye, focusing on calming his heaving chest. The stranger with blazing vermilion hair, leans a little closer with Tyler's chin in his grip, unable to pull back.

Inhaling deep, the man buries his nose into Tyler's hair, before pulling back and ceasing to grasp the now quivering chin.

The dollmaker eyes him up and down for a few moments, then straightens his posture.

"Then I'll see to you tomorrow morning," turning tail, the strange fiery red haired man exits swiftly up the short flight of stairs, instead of leaving through the door he had entered, the man turns left and continues up another few stairs, or so Tyler could hear.

The soft sound of a door shutting somewhere above him is the last sound to grace his ears.

Silence.

Silence had never been a friend of Tyler.

He recalls the day, trying his best to piece together what may have landed him in a hostage situation, with a strange, overly formally dressed man, with childish hair colours.

It had occurred to Tyler, and just now, the room he was situated in reeked of death, blood, or gore.

Shifting and wriggling, Tyler uses his shoulder to push the cloth inside of his mouth out, opening his jaw wide and letting it snap shut.

It aches in protest, quickly the fawn boy clenches his jaw tight, grinding his teeth together.

Rotating his jaw to get movement back into it, Tyler thinks.

He had gone for a jog in the morning, stopped by his usual coffee shop. He bought his usual espresso, before practicing his trick shots in the local basketball court.

After a brief jog home, Tyler took a shower, where he privately pleased himself.

A small, rosy tinge befalls his softly tanned cheeks, shaking his head in an attempt to throw the lustful thoughts from his ears, now not the time nor the place to be pondering such things.

He had prepared some snacks in the evening, his father then arriving for a visit.

He listened to his father curse about some scantily clad man in a toy store, and how much he hated the way he looked.

Homophobic was the only word to appear in Tyler's thoughts, scowling slightly.

But once that backwards man has left Tyler's small abode, he has hurried upstairs to ease his aching libido.

Then it clicked, where he had seen the man with scorching hair.

Upon a rooftop across the way, Tyler had spied the stranger. Unbeknownst to said stranger, Tyler gave him a decent show, the adrenaline of not actually knowing the man pumped through his veins.

Of course it was wrong, but Tyler didn't care.

The man had obviously taken a liking to Tyler's show, so here he was. Now regretting the dangerous decision, Tyler starts to panic again.

What would the wine coloured man want with him, that Tyler feared he already knew the answer to. He prayed that that wasn't the case, a small seed of doubt grew in the back of his mind, slowly blossoming into a tree of unforgiving truth.

Tyler was someone's toy now, yet he didn't know the half of the veracity of that statement.