**WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: BLOOD, ABUSE. TAKE PRECAUTIONS AS NEEDED**

Ryan couldn't breathe.

His sobs had taken everything he had out of him, screaming and sobbing into the dark expanse of the basement, the only light visible being the dimming fluorescent light at the top of the stairs. The lights cast a barely illuminating glow to the bottom of the basement floor, where Ryan lay on his metal table, his eyes never moving off of his friend who he'd just watch be killed at the hands of a man that he used to think he could trust.

Ashley's body was no longer bleeding out; it'd stopped a few minutes ago, and now all that was left was a body with ash colored skin, bound ankles and wrists with a head that was permanently slumped forward. Ryan's throat was raw and abused by how much he had been screaming, his wrists and ankles feeling especially sore and raw from trying to yank himself free to help his friend. After staring at Ashley a bit longer, he snapped his eyes closed and forced himself to look away just before the basement door's locks were being clicked and the door was being opened slowly.

Ryan felt his body begin to shake on it's own, more tears pouring from his eyes as though he hadn't just cried them all out as the familiar sounding footsteps descended the wooden stairs. The young male kept his eyes clenched shut as he heard the slapping of Brendon's Converse shoes hit the concrete floor of the basement, his body beginning to tense up when the steps started to get closer. He couldn't hold in his whimpers as he felt soft fingertips caress the skin of his arm as he felt like he had just been singed by the simple touch. His head shot to the side that his captor was standing on, eyelids snapping open to glare daggers at the man standing before him.

Brendon did nothing but smile sadly down at his boy, drawing his hand back before walking over to his work table and picking up Ryan's cigarettes and the key to his restraints. Ryan felt his brows furrow as the older man walked over to him and set his matches and cigarette box between his legs before going to undo his right hand, walking back after having done so. The younger male couldn't help but think this was some kind of trick, so every movement he made was slow and well orchestrated, his fear outweighing everything else at this moment. His eyes never left Brendon's as he opened the cigarette box and took one out, placing it between his teeth and picking up the match box.

He paused for a moment, realizing he couldn't strike the match. He looked to Brendon with pleading eyes, causing the man to walk over and take the matchbook from his hand, breaking one off and striking it for him, lifting it to light Ryan's cigarette for him. The younger male never let his eyes leave Brendon's, a sick feeling fill his body as Brendon backed away to throw the burnt out matchstick in the sink.

"You know, Ryan," Brendon's voice cut through the silence, low enough to make Ryan flinch, "I never meant to hurt you, that was never my intention. I'm sorry that I struck you, but I promise, you have no reason to be afraid of me."

Ryan froze as he listened to the man talk, goosebumps already raising on his skin as he awaited to hear whatever reasoning Brendon was about to give him.

Brendon sighed as he walked back over to the metal table Ryan was sat on, perching himself on the side of it next to Ryan's right leg, making Ryan flinch once more. "I know I'm sick," the older man said quietly, not looking toward his boy as he did. "It's definitely not hard to pinpoint that I'm sick up here." He tapped the side of his head twice. "And that doesn't excuse what I just did to Ashley, but you have to understand why I did it Ryan, you have to understand."

Ryan's body went frigid once more as Brendon turned to him abruptly. "She found out," he said quickly, almost breathlessly. "She found out that you were here, Ryan. She was going to turn me in, and you would've been gone, Ryan! They would've taken me away, and they would've taken you away from me! I couldn't let her do that, baby, I couldn't." He placed his hand on the side of Ryan's face, the younger male unable to react from being absolutely paralyzed with fear. "I can't let them take you away from me, my love. I can't."

Ryan felt all the fear leave him as anger coursed through his veins; anger from being taken hostage, anger for Ashley's death, and anger for feeling so helpless. He narrowed his eyes, his lips setting into a tight line before speaking. "Stop. Touching. Me."

Brendon's eyes furrowed in confusion, his hand not moving as he continued looking at Ryan with sad and confused eyes. Ryan took the next initiative, inhaling from his cigarette and blowing the smoke right into Brendon's face. The older male gasped softly, his eyes squeezing shut and his jaw tightening as he spoke back to his boy. "Ryan," he started in a warning voice, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

It seemed as though Ryan wasn't listening, repeating the action before going even further and shoving the ignited end of his cigarette right on top of Brendon's exposed hand that was touching his face. Brendon jumped back immediately, groaning and swearing in pain as he clutched his hand to his chest. He pulled his hand back, hissing in pain and glaring at the already blistering red mark right on the back of hand. He looked back up to Ryan with angrily furrowed brows to see the younger male yanking at his restraints before marching over and slamming the back of his hand against the side of Ryan's face.

Ryan recoiled in pain, his body jerking in the direction that Brendon's back-handed slap had sent him. He barely had time to process before the action was repeated, the force of the impact splitting his bottom lip down the middle and blood slipping into his mouth just as Brendon grabbed him harshly by the jaw. When he met Brendon's eyes, he felt all of his earlier fear resettle itself inside of him upon seeing the fire inside of his eyes and the evil smirk plastered on his face.

"Ryan," he spoke in a low, condescending voice, "you've been so mean to me since I brought you home." He shoved Ryan's head back against the metal slab, listening to the younger male groan in pain as he put his free hand back into his restraint. "I told myself I wasn't going to hurt you," he continued, his voice monotonous, "but maybe I just need to teach you a lesson."

**HIGH MENTIONS OF BLOOD / TASTING BLOOD AND PAIN INFLICTION FROM HERE ON. PLEASE BE SAFE & SKIP IF NEEDED**

Ryan felt his entire body freeze as Brendon walked away from him and grabbed what looked like a medical scalpel off of his work table and turned to walk back to him. Ryan's breaths were coming out short and choppy, all of his fear intensifying as Brendon made his way to him and gave him a sadistic smile before grabbing his face harshly and turning it to one side, holding it in place. The older man leaned down, his lips almost pressing against Ryan's ear as he whispered to him in a low, predatory voice. "Just remember - you brought this on yourself."

Before Ryan could process, he felt a stinging pain across his left cheek, a cry escaping his lips as Brendon let him go. Ryan felt his cheek stinging with no end, and what he could only assume to be blood slipping down his cheek and into his hair. He continued sobbing softly as Brendon reached forward and swiped his hand through the blood leaking from his cheek, pulling back to admire the way the crimson liquid shone in the dim, fluorescent lights. Ryan then watched on in horror as Brendon ran his tongue along the expanse of one of his fingers, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure as he tasted Ryan's blood.

"You taste wonderful, my dear," Brendon spoke in awe, his voice mixing in with the hisses of pain from Ryan. The younger male opened his eyes to look in disgust at his captor, his tears mixing with his blood as they ran down the side of his face. Brendon bit his lip in thought before leaning down to Ryan's level and placing his fingers in front of his mouth. "Taste it."

Ryan vigorously shook his head, attempting to shrink away from Brendon's hand in fear before the older man grabbed his face and began squishing his face so his lips parted. Once his mouth was open enough, Brendon slipped his fingers past Ryan's lips, watching as he struggled to get away to no avail. After Brendon was sure he got enough, he yanked his hand away and Ryan began dry heaving off to the side of the table he was strapped to. Brendon took this opportunity to reach forward with the scalpel, pressing it to the skin of Ryan's forearm and smirking with his teeth between his lips before dragging the blade down, watching his skin split and watching the blood begin to flow off the side of his arm as he cried out in pain once again.

"I gotta tell you, baby," Brendon said in a low, lustful tone, "you bleed more beautifully than anyone I've ever known."