Page 62 of Discordant Cultivation

"Time to get cleaned up," Vale continued, helping Kieran sit. "Eliza will be here soon. You need to be presentable."

Kieran's hand went to the collar around his throat, his fingers tracing the leather like he'd forgotten it was there. "I remember," he said quietly.

You remember what I said, but do you remember the sounds you made? How you sobbed your release into my mouth like it was prayer and curse combined?

"Good." Vale steadied him as he struggled to stand on legs that had spent hours curled on the thin mattress. "Shower first. You'll feel better once you're clean."

In the bathroom, Vale positioned Kieran near the controls, then settled into the chair he placed outside the glass enclosure.

Kieran paused, glancing back at Vale. "You're... staying?"

"I'm staying," Vale confirmed.

In the previous shower, Vale left him alone—a small mercy Kieran had clearly come to expect. But today was different. Today required complete preparation, and Vale wanted to see everything.

Kieran's throat worked as he swallowed, but he didn't argue. He just turned the water on and stepped under the spray, moving carefully to keep his back to the glass.

When the water hit his skin, a soft whimper escaped his throat—pain and relief mixing together. The sound satisfied Vale, along with the way Kieran's breathing hitched as hot water found every mark from the past four days.

Even your pain is musical now.

Kieran kept his back turned as much as possible, his shoulders hunched like he could create privacy through posture alone. But the glass was clear, and Vale could see the way water ran down his spine, the careful movements to avoid stretching damaged skin, the trembling in his hands as he washed his hair…the surprisingly supple curve of his ass that made Vale’s mouth water and his jaw tight with the urge to sink his teeth into that sensitive flesh.Focus, Valerian. Work first.

While Kieran showered, Vale arranged supplies on the bathroom counter. Gauze in various widths, rolled and ready. Pants and underwear—soft cotton that wouldn't aggravate damaged skin on his lower back. No shirt. The gauze would serve that purpose.

When the water shut off, Vale was ready.

Kieran emerged from the shower with skin flushed pink from heat and scrubbing. Water dripped from dark hair that looked almost black when wet, and for a moment Vale simply feasted on the sight of him—sharp hip bones, the ladder of ribs barely visible beneath his skin, the careful way he held himself...

Kieran reached for the towel hanging nearby, then noticed Vale watching and froze.

"I—can I—privacy?"

"No need for modesty, now," Vale said, standing to retrieve the towel himself. "We have work to do."

He dried Kieran with gentle pats. The boy tensed at every touch but didn't pull away, he only made an effort to assert some semblance of control when Vale went to dry his groin. Kieran grabbed the towel, stilling Vale’s hands. He didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes pointed at the ground. Vale let him have that one liberty.

Vale's fingers found the collar's buckle and worked it loose. The leather pulled away from Kieran's throat, leaving a ring of compressed skin beneath. Kieran's hand immediately went to his bare neck, touching the indent like he'd forgotten what freedom felt like.

"Arms up," Vale instructed, beginning to wind gauze around Kieran's torso..

"Is this—" Kieran's voice was small, uncertain. "Is all this necessary?"

Vale continued winding gauze around his forearms. "The first video had you wrapped, it only makes sense to make this your signature look. The wounded artist, wrapped in bandages like a modern saint."

He moved to Kieran's hands next, wrapping each finger individually before covering the knuckles. The gauze made Kieran's hands look delicate and precious—like something that needed protection from a world too harsh for his sensitivity.

"A signature l-look," Kieran repeated, watching the gauze transform his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"Yes." Vale positioned gauze around Kieran's neck where the collar had been, not tight enough to restrict breathing but snug enough to suggest fragility. "Eliza is a brilliant cinematographer and audio mixer, her talents have been wasted as just my assistant. You're going to help me give her something extraordinary to film for her portfolio."

Vale stepped back to examine his work. The gauze covered every visible mark while creating an aesthetic that was both wounded but sacred, broken but beautiful. Patches of skin showed between the wrappings on his torso—gaps that suggested both vulnerability in artistry.

"Remember, she doesn't know the full scope of our creative process," Vale continued, helping Kieran into the underwear and pants he'd selected. "And she doesn't need to."

Kieran's throat moved against the gauze as he swallowed hard. "I w-won't say anything. About—about any of this."

"I know you won't," Vale said. "Because you understand what's at stake now."