Chapter Text
"Isn't he pretty like this, Zolf?" Cel murmurs, tugging on the ropes that cross Wilde's body. Pulling him towards them, and he goes easily, swaying and pliant.
"Beautiful," Zolf agrees, voice low and rumbling. "So good for us."
Wilde's lips part in a shaky moan. Cel's hands run all over him, cataloguing, categorising. Tugging him this way and that, all while Zolf watches. The attention is overwhelming, intoxicating, and he can feel his thoughts start to slow, his mind gradually melting into compliance. Cel pulls him into a searing kiss, and he feels them smile against his lips.
"Good boy."