Work Text:
The slaver's fingers on his chin felt like a brand, an oily mark that Julian could never scrub out.
Then a disruptor melted his face.
Garak towed him away, firing over his shoulder. Julian focused on the hand entwined with his, tethering him to reality.
When Garak hauled him into the shadows, one hand across his mouth, arm encircling his waist, Julian should’ve felt confined, restrained.
Instead, he was safe. Like a rose stem in a vase, enclosed but not caged.
He leant against Garak’s body, sighing against his palm, relaxing into the hold.
Letting his touch erase the stain.