‘guns for hire’ — bedsheets #30
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content warnings: intimate whumper, whumper as caretaker, past injuries, mentioned past strangulation, broken fingers, past punishments, nudity (not sexual), manipulation
Leo woke up to something wet on his forehead.
It was dabbing against the skin gently there, coaxing him out of his slumber, and the secretary could only manage a confused, weak whine as he attempted to shift against whatever was holding him. There was a shushing noise by his ear, and something began brushing his hair back, soothing the sudden spark of panic that had formed in his throat.
He last remembered being in the basement. That dreaded, horrible little place. He then recalled the punishment — his failed attempt to get away from the other mercenaries, and being subjected to their torture for twenty minutes.
Joey had wrapped the cloth around his mouth, pulling and jerking, until Leo couldn’t breathe. The panic had set in, the adrenaline fueled struggles...
His breathing must have picked up again, because the hand in his hair stopped, tilting his head back instead against a shoulder. He felt something behind him; a moving chest, the pleasant rumble of somebody’s voice. His eyes blearily cracked open, and through a blurry vision, he just managed to make out an unfamiliar room.
A soft, tired whimper choked in his throat, and the voice became a little more clearer. He went slack, having not realised he was suddenly so tense and rigid under the gentle touch, sinking into their arms complacently. He opened his mouth to speak the first thought on his mind.
“Roy?”
The figure behind him began stroking a hand through his hair again, keeping it off his clammy forehead. Leo’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, a shuddery little breath escaping his lips.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here, lion,” he hummed quietly, reaching down to pick up the wet rag again. He felt him press it lightly against his forehead, soaking up all the cold sweat there. Leo could only manage a slurred murmur, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“What’s...” His body tensed as a wheezy cough rattled his lungs, causing a throbbing ache to punch into his muscles. He groaned softly. Roy was leaning against something. Leo couldn’t really tell, but he knew he was sitting on a bed. He was set against Roy’s chest, leaning comfortably against him, legs tangled somewhat within his. There was an arm around his shoulder, tilting him slightly so Roy had better access to his face. Leo’s eyelids fluttered when the rag dabbed considerably against his temple.
“Don’t try to talk move around too much,” the mercenary ordered, but there wasn’t much of a demanding tone. “You’re out of the basement, lion. The others left a while ago. You’re okay now.”
Leo clung desperately onto those words. You’re okay now. I’m okay now.
He sunk into Roy’s warmth, his touch considerate and gentle against his injuries. The cloth was nice against his sore skin, soothing the painful cuts and bruises there. It was mopping up the dried blood too, wiping him of all the dirt and grime.
Leo closed his eyes again.
He didn’t have the energy to speak for a while, but once he did, he tried to make sense of where he was. He didn’t recognise the room at all.
“Where are we?” He whispered, his throat flaring with a horrible dryness. Roy seemed to notice his discomfort, and leaned over the the windowsill besides the bed, picking up a glass of water. His finger gently tilted his head back, and carefully poured the water into his mouth.
Unlike last time, none of it spilled.
Roy was being careful to let him have what he needed, only pulling back when it was all gone. Leo felt it soothe the raw ache in his throat, licking his dried lips eagerly. A soft sigh escaped his lips.
“In my room,” the mercenary answered plainly, picking up the rag again. He felt it flush against his cheek, and he gladly leaned into the nice contact with a huffle. When he registered exactly what he said, his eyes widened in surprise.
“Your—?” He cut himself off, suddenly remembering those rules. This had been one of them. He wasn’t meant to be in here.
“But I...” He struggled to find the right words, fumbling pathetically over them. “But I’m not allowed! I—”
“Shush, lion,” Roy smiled, pressing the rag lightly against his lips. He instantly shut up, frightened eyes meeting his. “The supplies I needed were in here and you were clinging onto me. Wouldn’t let me leave you alone for a second, so I decided to do it here.”
He found himself flushing in embarrassment, but it was quickly overlooked by the sleuth of anxiety creeping its way up his spine. He swallowed uneasily, eyes sliding around the room with a hint of dreaded curiosity.
The room itself wasn’t what he was expecting it to be like.
It was normal.
Like an ordinary room, really, much like his own. There were potted cacti on his shelf by the desk, which was filled with papers and lots of clothbound books. The chair was tucked under and out of the way, giving space to everything else.
A television sat at the end of the bed, mounted on the wall, switched off. To his left on the far side, the wall was made up of closet doors, no doubt leading into all of his clothes. The bed was bigger than his own, likely King sized.
Leo swallowed uneasily, his heart slowing down in his chest slightly. He wondered why Roy had been so adamant he never enter his room. He remembered the severity he’d uttered it with, his eyes cold and dark. It had been a serious rule that he had never wanted to break.
He was broken out of his thoughts when the rag began dabbing his face again, dipping under his jaw to sooth over the bruises there.
“Are you done having a look at everything?” Roy teased, a small smile on the edge of his lips. “I need to fix your face up. Tilt it this way.”
Leo obediently did as he was told.
Roy applied a cool, soothing cream on the bruises and cuts, and the whole time, the secretary kept his eyes closed, simply drowning in the gentle touches. There was something almost therapeutic about the long process, something he didn’t want to end.
Thick, square bandages were smoothed over his face, as well as small little circular plasters for the miniscule cuts. His eyes fluttered open when he felt Roy shift, the arm around his shoulder disappearing. Leo’s weight sunk into him, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
It was relieving to know that the other mercenaries were gone.
It was like this horrible, lung crushing pressure had been alleviated from his chest, calming down his fear-stricken thoughts and reminding him that it was all over now. The punishment was finished. He didn’t have to be hurt like that again.
A sudden thought sprung to mind. Leo had said it a lot, but now that he was here, with Roy patching him up like a stray kitten, he just couldn’t help himself.
“I’m really sorry, Roy,” he whispered softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I’m sorry for running away.”
The man hummed. “You’ve apologised a lot.”
“I mean it,” Leo sniffled, staring at him intently with glistening eyes. “I know I broke the rules, and I won’t do it again. I just want everything to go back to normal. Please forgive me.”
The man regarded him a look. “Back to normal?” He mused, lip quirking into a smirk. “Do you really mean that?”
Leo nodded his head, wary of his injuries. Too fast and he felt as though the room might go spinning.
“I mean it,” he breathed. “Bran was blocking the hallway, and the front door was the only place I could— I didn’t know where else to go and I didn’t want him to hurt me again. I panicked. I’m sorry.”
“Your punishment is over now, lion,” Roy hummed softly, tucking some hair behind his ear. His finger brushed lightly against the shell, and his stomach involuntarily fluttered. “They were the reason you ran away, weren’t they?”
Leo nodded obediently.
“And now that they’re gone, you won’t try again, right?”
He shook his head.
“I won’t,” he responded automatically. Roy’s finger was gently stroking the shell of his ear now, and Leo would say anything that pleased him if it meant he would keep touching him. Roy hummed, his eyes coy.
“I believe you,” he muttered, and Leo felt a slither of relief in his chest. He believed himself, too. “Now, I’m going to carry you to the bathroom. I’ll fill up the tub and take care of the rest, alright, lion?”
He felt himself smiling. A bath sounded amazing. It sounded really good, and he craved the very idea. “Yes, please.”
The man chuckled, gently cradling him close to his chest as he hefted him into his arms. He clambered off the bed, adjusting his grip when the secretary hissed sharply in pain. He went to grab onto something, but Roy promptly stopped him.
“Watch your fingers,” he warned, causing Leo to go tense. “You wouldn’t want to bash them around, otherwise they won’t heal.”
They were all bandaged together, wrapped up in something tight. He didn’t dare move them, suddenly remembering the crack of the hammer on his bones, and the horric agony that came the next second. He felt Roy opening the bathroom door, one on the third floor he’d only briefly looked inside, and let out a shuddering breath.
“Roy,” he whispered, making the man glance at him briefly. “Why...did you break my fingers? Was that, um, part of the punishment too?”
The mercenary seemed to digest those words. Leo thought for a stomach sinking moment that he was mad for bringing it up, but he finally saw his face break out into a soft laugh, the sound making him look away. He gently set him down on the edge of the tub, leaning over to turn the hot water on.
“I heard you,” he responded, making Leo wince. “On the violin. Do you remember the agreement we made, lion?”
He felt shame creep up his spine. He stared at his bandaged fingers, reminding him of the time they’d been dancing effortlessly along the strings, conducting beautiful pieces. He swallowed the lump in his throat, jerkily nodding his head.
The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom, and Roy glanced at him with an awaiting expression on his face.
“Go on,” he urged. “Tell me.”
Leo gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “When I was recovered enough to cook, then...I could play the violin.”
Roy crouched down, catching his eyes. The secretary didn’t look away this time, glossed over with a look of sincere guilt. He’d gotten carried away by the crippling urge to hear music. To feel that spark of joy it would always bring him again, just one time.
“And did you cook at all, lion?” He drawled, his hands resting on his thighs. Leo stared at them, trying not to fidget under the heat. “Were you allowed to play?”
He tried not to let his bottom lip wobble as he answered.
“No.”
Roy sighed, patting his leg. “I was willing to let it go because I liked what I heard. You’re damn good with that thing. But I couldn’t ignore it when you ran away, lion. That’s why I had to punish you for it.”
His tongue worked on autopilot again. “I’m sorry.”
The man shrugged. “They’re going to take a while to heal. You can show me how sorry you are by making a quick recovery. But without those lot here, I can’t promise you’ll be getting any well cooked meals.”
A sudden thought sprang into Leo’s mind. His eyes glimmered slightly as he grasped it, keeping it close and refusing to let go. His eyes rose back up to hesitantly meet Roy’s, who was now gently tracing shapes against the inside of his thigh. His throat closed up for a moment. What if he was overstepping? What if Roy didn’t like it?
“Uh...” He pathetically fumbled, eyes darting elsewhere nervously. “What if...I help you cook?”
The mercenary raised a brow, and he scrambled to continue.
“I can teach you and tell you what to do,” he spluttered, kicking himself internally to tripping over his own words. “So we don’t have to keep eating porridge everyday. We can do it together.”
“Together?” He hummed.
Leo timidly nodded his head. The man almost let out a chuckle at the expression on his face, before he rose to his feet, gently ruffling his hair.
“Alright, lion. Let’s try it.”
When the tub was filled just below halfway with some extra cold water to take off the burning edge, Leo was slowly helped onto his shaking feet, the soreness spiking up his ankles and legs and everything in between. The mercenary helped him strip, as absolutely mortified as Leo was, before guiding him into the tub. He curled his legs up to his chest, keeping his hands above the water. The man perched on the edge, and gently began washing and rinsing his hair.
Leo closed his eyes and let the gentle scraping sensations on his scalp ease him into a peaceful mindspace, the soft pressure from the showerhead tickling him. Roy soothed the dark bruises Bran’s beating had caused along his sides and ribs, as well as checking that the stitches were still healing properly.
By the time the water was dirty and cold, Leo was helped out of the tub, and wrapped in a comfortable towel. Roy dressed him in fresh clothes, a shirt far too big for him and little shorts, and lay him back down on the bed. He had been expecting to be taken back down to his own room, but Leo didn’t say anything.
The man dried his hair off, and placed a painkiller on his tongue, helping him tip it down with some water.
He was pulling a thin blanket over him by the time Leo was clean, comfortable and satisfied, pushing the damp hair out of his face. He leaned keenly into the touch, a soft hum rumbling in his throat.
“Get some proper rest now, lion,” the man murmured. “The TV remote is there if you wake up bored. Alright?”
Leo nodded his head. “Alright.”
He smiled. “Good boy.”
When Roy closed the door shut behind him, leaving him alone, Leo let out an exhausted sigh. He shifted slightly onto his side, pushing his face into the comfort of the feathered pillow. He couldn’t help but snuggle further into it, chasing the overpowering scent that was covering it.
It smelled like Roy.
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