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Summary
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it—he has, and he’s never wanted sex-shop-plush-pad cuffs, he’s dreamed of metal. The sharp, hard line, the bite of cold and the bruises that stay are part of the fantasy. But he knows that’s bordering on both pathetically emo-clichéd and kind of dangerous. So it’s never been a thing. Never been a possibility. And now…
And now, the chill of metal is touching the soft skin below the heel of his right hand.
Brendon traces a finger along the line of the steel before he clicks the loop shut.
