CW: Creepy whumper, noncon touch (nonsexual), ableist language, some violence at the end
TIMELINE: The summer before Chris begins attending college, shortly before Oliver Branch goes to trial for essentially accepting bribes for a Senate seat.
Tagging Chris’s crew: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions
The voice hasn’t changed at all in
the past few years, maybe just gone a little deeper. The soft, slight southern
drawl is still there, genteel rounded consonants, drawn out vowels.
He still dreams about that voice.
It still sends shivers down his spine, not all of them from fear.
“Is that who I think that
Chris feels his heart start to
pound under the fabric of his t-shirt, and he dips his head low, as though he
hasn’t heard, as though he won’t be seen.
It’s been four years of therapy and
building himself a whole new identity and learning to be a person again since
the night he was rescued, but even still some traitorous impulse deep inside of
Chris thrills at the sound of his Sir.
He’d been scrolling through his
phone, waiting for Jake to finish up inside the store. He’s just been out here
reading about campus life, researching dorm room checklists, taking a deep
breaths as they took step after step after step towards Chris being an
independent adult and not a dependent rescue.
He’d come out to soak up a little
bit of the warm sunlight, feeling its heat soaking into his hair - strawberry
blond at the roots, faded blue around the crown of his head, long enough to
graze his shoulders with the deepest ocean teal only at the ends. He has it
pulled back, caught just at the nape of his neck with a little clip to keep it
out of his eyes.
He wishes, as he listens to the
familiar sound of the same fine leather shoes stepping crisply along the
pavement, that he’d left his hair loose so he could hide behind it now.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look up.
Don’t don’t don’t don’t-
“Look at me, darlin’.”
Chris’s chin raises, his head
turns. He’s not sure who makes the choice to do that - it doesn’t feel like
he’s the one who controlled the movement.