Waver is inclined to agree, but he wanted it to be Berserker's decision. He nods, settling back on the couch for now, one knee lifting to prop his foot comfortably on the edge of the cushion.
"All right. I'll just finish my tea and go get the things when you're ready."
He's so unfamiliar with this part, but knowing what Berserker has been through, seeing him so shaken just from the thought back there, Waver knows he needs to pretend he knows what he's doing far more than he does. Berserker is scared, but this is a much safer way to explore that fear than leaving it bottled up until it lashes out.
"There are a few options, but I think I'll bring the silk rope. It's soft." And very strong. Arachne silk, with enough give to be comfortable while being sturdy enough not to stretch or slip.
He'll have to tell Iskandar, too. Waver made a promise to him that he would never let anyone else tie him, but they'd never discussed a possibility like this simply because Waver never thought it would come up. He truly has no interest in doing what they do together with someone else. But this is a different situation. Waver can explain it to him; he's sure Iskandar wouldn't get mad if he knew the reason.
He's tired of barking in the dark. His trauma reactions have dulled over the months, at least, so he's not lashing out at everyone and everything. The nightmares still haunt him, the little fears still have their claws in him. Nothing can ever erase what he went through, but maybe this can loosen its hold on him.
Berserker realizes he's been silent for too long.
"Soft is fine," he says almost absently. Another thought occurs to him, a little more awkward. "...How do you want me dressed for this? In as little as possible, I imagine."
Look, he didn't know! Don't look at him like that. Berserker stiffens to cover up his momentary embarrassment with annoyance. He huffs before finishing off his cup of tea, setting it down on the table.
"...Alright. That still means minimal clothing for me, you know."
His extra appendages make clothing an annoyance.
"I just don't want it to be a surprise for you if I'm mostly nude."
Neither of them are interested in exploring the more sexual side of this act, so it's just polite to warn about potential nudity.
Waver hesitates a moment longer, unsure whether he should offer some word or touch of comfort. Ultimately, he decides against it, thinking it'll only make Berserker feel more awkward.
He stands, quickly putting his shoes and coat back on and hurrying outside. It's not far, after all.
After double-checking with Iskandar, briefly explaining the situation and making sure it's okay to take the ropes, Waver collects everything he needs from the familiar drawer. Holding the ropes all on his own, by himself in the bedroom, feels so strange and... incomplete. He takes a few moments to settle his nerves too, running his hands over the silk, breathing in the scent that permeates the cloth from the perfumed oil also stored there: lavender and cedarwood. It makes the back of his neck tingle, that feeling of anticipation almost instant at that smell, even by himself.
He shakes it off. Now is not the time.
Several minutes later, Waver lets himself back into Berserker and Diarmuid's house, locking it quietly behind him.
The house feels conspicuously empty. There's no sign whatsoever of Berserker. Everything has been cleaned up, the teapot and cups drying in the kitchen, but no indication of where the responsible party might be.
He's in the bedroom he typically shares with Diarmuid, mostly nude save for a pair of thin cloth shorts to make himself decent, trying to choke down the growing anxiety. Now that the possibility is a definite, his surety about it quickly wanes. There's no backing out now. He's so lost in his own mind right now that he scarcely hears Waver at all.
"Come on, then," he says as he pokes his head out the door, "I'm ready as I'll ever be."
"Coming!" Waver calls from down the hall when he realizes where Berserker is, with a bit of relief in his voice. He'd almost worried Berserker decided to leave or something; with his scent so strong here anyway, it was hard to tell immediately.
Waver finishes hanging up his coat and meets Berserker in the bedroom, clutching the neatly-wrapped bundle of rope against his chest. Suddenly, his heart is beating very fast.
"H-here."
He nods to the bed, sitting down on the edge and inviting Berserker to sit with him before he sets the silk rope on his own lap, beginning to untie and unwind it. It's bright red, shiny in the lamplight, and quite long.
"You can hold it and feel it yourself," Waver suggests, handing it over for Berserker to touch.
It still feels really weird and kind of uncomfortable to be sharing this with someone else, but at the same time... a little exciting that Berserker is actually interested. And has stopped looking at him like he's crazy.
Waver's has piqued his interest, certainly. He takes a seat next to him, casting a briefly wary glance at the rope. It might not be what they were restrained with, but anxiety still seizes his chest. He finally takes it after a moment, rolling it between his fingers. Soft, not at all like the unforgiving metal of the cuffs and chains. It feels safer somehow, especially knowing it's in the hands of Waver.
"I never would have even thought of this, much less considered it, you know."
He turns the rope over in his hands with a faint smile.
Waver watches his face anxiously, waiting for his reaction. The smile takes him off guard, but it's also a relief. Waver's ears relax.
"Kind of... It's more like..."
He considers the phrasing, watching the silk slide over Berserker's fingers.
"Safety. A physical representation of--"
Well, it's not going to be like this for them, but if Berserker plans to try this with Diarmuid, then maybe Waver can try to explain what he feels with Iskandar. At least a little. It feels so vulnerable, exposing his feelings like this, voice a little rough and raw. He can't look up at Berserker's face, or he'll lose his nerve.
"For me, it's like an... anchor. A physical reminder, something that keeps me in the moment. An extension of his love for me. And I don't need to think about anything else, only how it feels, and the safety of being wrapped up in that feeling."
The more he talks, the more he's sure he can't actually help Berserker, though. None of that is going to make sense between them -- if it makes sense at all.
"It's not the item itself that matters," he tries to explain. "It's what it means."
No, it doesn't really make sense, not with the two of them. In the context Waver speaks of, though, it does make sense. He's used Diarmuid's presence to ground himself in other situations; when he's too feral to control himself, when he lost himself in traumatic dreams and memories. This shouldn't be any different.
Berserker hands the rope back to Waver.
"I understand, I think, but...No matter what you show me, I don't think it will have the same effect. Not with you."
His tone is gentle rather than accusatory. It's just a realization he had.
Waver laughs softly, barely more than a quiet exhale.
"I know. I'm not offended. I understand."
Finally, he looks up as he takes it back.
"But, if you like, I can show you so you're used to the feeling of the rope in the first place. I can still be someone safe for you. It's up to you. You can't tell if you'll like it, of course, without that context... but you'll be able to at least associate it in your mind with something nonthreatening, I hope. What do you think?"
Suddenly, it feels like an overwhelming amount of responsibility. The rope in his hands, Berserker watching him.
Waver swallows discreetly, fingers tightening around the silk.
"Okay. Then we'll try. And if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me. I... I'm not sure how you want to, er, be sitting? Lying down?"
His tongue flicks over his lower lip nervously; he didn't think this far ahead.
"There's a specific tie that looks a bit fancy, but it's not that hard. I know how to do it. It goes around your waist. You could stay sitting up like this. Or I could tie your wrists. Or both. What do you want to try?"
His wrists...They're still a big trigger for him. That's part of what this is, though, isn't it? Helping to overcome that in some way. Berserker stares down at his wrists; little of the marks remain, any that do are covered by his scales. He swallows, unable to meet Waver's gaze. Too vulnerable for his comfort right now...
Waver blinks, surprised by the answer. He thinks about it, going over in his head how it would work. The bag he'd brought the silk rope in contains others; he'll probably need at least two more, especially since Berserker is larger than him.
After a moment, he nods.
"Okay. I think I can do that. Just a minute."
He gets up from the edge of the bed, ducking out to grab his bag from the other room. When he returns, he's blushing, casting uncomfortable glances to the side.
"I assume I don't need to ask, but I just... could use hearing it aloud. This stays between us? Other than Diarmuid, of course."
He notes the blush with a brief smirk. It's a relief to lighten the mood a little, to ease his own anxiety. They've been through so much together, it's good to see some things never change.
Berserker slides forward with a nod.
"Whatever you need to do...This home is yours as much as it is mine, you know."
Waver had only been trying to avoid an awkward situation where the pose looked too sexual, but as he's thinking of those logistics, Berserker says something like that to him... He's unexpectedly moved.
The flustered blush remains, now brightened by a smile.
"Thanks, Ciarán. I know... but thank you, really."
He's standing over Berserker now at the edge of the bed, and leans down for a moment, free hand brushing his shoulder in a small, affectionate touch. It's not quite as obvious as a hug, but the same sentiment is there.
"I'll grab the chair then," Waver murmurs, turning away to do just that and pull up the desk chair to sit in front of Berserker. Their size difference means he has to be close to reach comfortably; their legs are almost touching, and Berserker may end up needing to put his knees on either side of Waver's.
Spreading the bundles of rope on the bed beside Berserker within reach, Waver grabs two long ones of different colors and unwinds them.
He doesn't tell Berserker this is the first one he tried. Or that it's one of his favorites.
Waver folds each of the two ropes in half, tying the two loops together, and then leans forward, slowly reaching around Berserker to pull the ropes around his back just beneath his ribs.
He has his moments, rare as they are; that's what makes them all the more special when they happen.
His wings stretch back to give Waver access, his knees settling in on either side of his. A twinge of anxiety strikes him as Waver starts to tie him, but he chokes it down. Berserker remains outwardly calm, his breathing even, eyes closed. His focus settles on the feeling of the rope against his skin and the familiarity of Waver's scent and presence.
"It feels...strange. Not bad."
But they were just beginning, of course. There's still plenty of time for the fear and anxiety to bubble up. He hopes it won't.
Waver's never done this. He's slow, but that's probably a good thing in this case. And careful, of course. He's seen Iskandar practicing, and the tie itself is really very easy -- the reason they'd started with it -- but it's definitely different doing it to someone else.
"I'm not actually making any knots or really tying anything," Waver explains while he loops the ropes around again and again, twisting them around each other in front.
"It's all just sort of twisted together. So it's also really easy to take off."
His fingers are warm where they brush against Berserker's skin, and he's careful of his claws even if he does keep them trimmed.
As he winds more of the rope around Berserker's waist, moving down, it slowly starts to tighten. Overall, he's doing it loosely on purpose, but Berserker should start to feel the snugness of the ropes around him more clearly when there's more layers.
His slowness gives him time to adjust and not give in to panic. There's nothing truly restraining about this, no, just a light pressure against his skin. Berserker keeps his eyes closed as Waver works, letting himself focus on the repetitive motion and how the rope feels against his skin. Waver's explanations keep him grounded, too; even if he's not really listening to him, the consideration is very much appreciated.
He's only drawn out of his thoughts when he hears the question. His eyes open slowly as he looks down at the work now. It's interesting to see the rope laid over his skin, how his tattoos and scales peek through the gaps. It's not...threatening at all.
"...Tighter."
Because now he's curious to see what that feels like.
The patterns on top of each other and the color contrasts are striking; Waver paired the red rope with a black one, and it actually is starting to look quite attractive, despite his slightly uneven work.
"All right."
Waver doesn't question him or try to dissuade him. He'd asked for a reason. He'd suspected as much, in fact, and it's a bit of a relief as well to receive that confirmation that Berserker seems to be... if not enjoying it, then at least still interested.
Slowly, Waver starts to even out his faux knots in front, sliding his fingers beneath them and arranging them more neatly, finishing off each one with a tighter pull. The rope squeezes more snugly around Berserker, bit by bit, and when Waver is done with that section, he has more rope to work with at the end.
"Should I keep going, or is that enough of this one?"
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"All right. I'll just finish my tea and go get the things when you're ready."
He's so unfamiliar with this part, but knowing what Berserker has been through, seeing him so shaken just from the thought back there, Waver knows he needs to pretend he knows what he's doing far more than he does. Berserker is scared, but this is a much safer way to explore that fear than leaving it bottled up until it lashes out.
"There are a few options, but I think I'll bring the silk rope. It's soft." And very strong. Arachne silk, with enough give to be comfortable while being sturdy enough not to stretch or slip.
He'll have to tell Iskandar, too. Waver made a promise to him that he would never let anyone else tie him, but they'd never discussed a possibility like this simply because Waver never thought it would come up. He truly has no interest in doing what they do together with someone else. But this is a different situation. Waver can explain it to him; he's sure Iskandar wouldn't get mad if he knew the reason.
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Berserker realizes he's been silent for too long.
"Soft is fine," he says almost absently. Another thought occurs to him, a little more awkward. "...How do you want me dressed for this? In as little as possible, I imagine."
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"...huh?" He blinks.
"No. You can wear whatever you want. I think you should go with whatever you're most comfortable."
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"...Alright. That still means minimal clothing for me, you know."
His extra appendages make clothing an annoyance.
"I just don't want it to be a surprise for you if I'm mostly nude."
Neither of them are interested in exploring the more sexual side of this act, so it's just polite to warn about potential nudity.
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Waver's eyes flick to Berserker's tail, sensing his annoyance. He hadn't meant to insult him or anything.
"I really meant it. However you're most comfortable."
Waver finishes his tea as well, hesitating a little before he scoots forward, setting the cup down and getting ready to stand up.
"Should I go get it now?"
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He could clean up in the meantime, something mindless to calm his nerves and settle his mind.
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Waver hesitates a moment longer, unsure whether he should offer some word or touch of comfort. Ultimately, he decides against it, thinking it'll only make Berserker feel more awkward.
He stands, quickly putting his shoes and coat back on and hurrying outside. It's not far, after all.
After double-checking with Iskandar, briefly explaining the situation and making sure it's okay to take the ropes, Waver collects everything he needs from the familiar drawer. Holding the ropes all on his own, by himself in the bedroom, feels so strange and... incomplete. He takes a few moments to settle his nerves too, running his hands over the silk, breathing in the scent that permeates the cloth from the perfumed oil also stored there: lavender and cedarwood. It makes the back of his neck tingle, that feeling of anticipation almost instant at that smell, even by himself.
He shakes it off. Now is not the time.
Several minutes later, Waver lets himself back into Berserker and Diarmuid's house, locking it quietly behind him.
"Hello? I'm back."
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He's in the bedroom he typically shares with Diarmuid, mostly nude save for a pair of thin cloth shorts to make himself decent, trying to choke down the growing anxiety. Now that the possibility is a definite, his surety about it quickly wanes. There's no backing out now. He's so lost in his own mind right now that he scarcely hears Waver at all.
"Come on, then," he says as he pokes his head out the door, "I'm ready as I'll ever be."
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Waver finishes hanging up his coat and meets Berserker in the bedroom, clutching the neatly-wrapped bundle of rope against his chest. Suddenly, his heart is beating very fast.
"H-here."
He nods to the bed, sitting down on the edge and inviting Berserker to sit with him before he sets the silk rope on his own lap, beginning to untie and unwind it. It's bright red, shiny in the lamplight, and quite long.
"You can hold it and feel it yourself," Waver suggests, handing it over for Berserker to touch.
It still feels really weird and kind of uncomfortable to be sharing this with someone else, but at the same time... a little exciting that Berserker is actually interested. And has stopped looking at him like he's crazy.
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"I never would have even thought of this, much less considered it, you know."
He turns the rope over in his hands with a faint smile.
"Freedom in restraints."
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"Kind of... It's more like..."
He considers the phrasing, watching the silk slide over Berserker's fingers.
"Safety. A physical representation of--"
Well, it's not going to be like this for them, but if Berserker plans to try this with Diarmuid, then maybe Waver can try to explain what he feels with Iskandar. At least a little. It feels so vulnerable, exposing his feelings like this, voice a little rough and raw. He can't look up at Berserker's face, or he'll lose his nerve.
"For me, it's like an... anchor. A physical reminder, something that keeps me in the moment. An extension of his love for me. And I don't need to think about anything else, only how it feels, and the safety of being wrapped up in that feeling."
The more he talks, the more he's sure he can't actually help Berserker, though. None of that is going to make sense between them -- if it makes sense at all.
"It's not the item itself that matters," he tries to explain. "It's what it means."
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Berserker hands the rope back to Waver.
"I understand, I think, but...No matter what you show me, I don't think it will have the same effect. Not with you."
His tone is gentle rather than accusatory. It's just a realization he had.
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"I know. I'm not offended. I understand."
Finally, he looks up as he takes it back.
"But, if you like, I can show you so you're used to the feeling of the rope in the first place. I can still be someone safe for you. It's up to you. You can't tell if you'll like it, of course, without that context... but you'll be able to at least associate it in your mind with something nonthreatening, I hope. What do you think?"
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It would make sure he could stay calm with Diarmuid, too, give him an idea of what to expect both physically and somewhat mentally.
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Waver swallows discreetly, fingers tightening around the silk.
"Okay. Then we'll try. And if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me. I... I'm not sure how you want to, er, be sitting? Lying down?"
His tongue flicks over his lower lip nervously; he didn't think this far ahead.
"There's a specific tie that looks a bit fancy, but it's not that hard. I know how to do it. It goes around your waist. You could stay sitting up like this. Or I could tie your wrists. Or both. What do you want to try?"
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"Let's...Let's try both."
Why not?
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Waver blinks, surprised by the answer. He thinks about it, going over in his head how it would work. The bag he'd brought the silk rope in contains others; he'll probably need at least two more, especially since Berserker is larger than him.
After a moment, he nods.
"Okay. I think I can do that. Just a minute."
He gets up from the edge of the bed, ducking out to grab his bag from the other room. When he returns, he's blushing, casting uncomfortable glances to the side.
"I assume I don't need to ask, but I just... could use hearing it aloud. This stays between us? Other than Diarmuid, of course."
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"No, you didn't need to ask, but of course. I don't make a habit of talking about what I do with who."
It only brings trouble.
"Your secret's safe with me."
There's the playful teasing in an apathetic tone that defines the way he typically speaks with Waver.
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"I- I didn't think you did, but... I just feel better saying it, okay?"
He's glad that Berserker humored him, though.
"Here... sit on the edge of the bed. I'll kneel in front-- or pull up a chair. Might be a little easier."
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Berserker slides forward with a nod.
"Whatever you need to do...This home is yours as much as it is mine, you know."
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The flustered blush remains, now brightened by a smile.
"Thanks, Ciarán. I know... but thank you, really."
He's standing over Berserker now at the edge of the bed, and leans down for a moment, free hand brushing his shoulder in a small, affectionate touch. It's not quite as obvious as a hug, but the same sentiment is there.
"I'll grab the chair then," Waver murmurs, turning away to do just that and pull up the desk chair to sit in front of Berserker. Their size difference means he has to be close to reach comfortably; their legs are almost touching, and Berserker may end up needing to put his knees on either side of Waver's.
Spreading the bundles of rope on the bed beside Berserker within reach, Waver grabs two long ones of different colors and unwinds them.
"This will go around your waist like a corset."
He doesn't tell Berserker this is the first one he tried. Or that it's one of his favorites.
Waver folds each of the two ropes in half, tying the two loops together, and then leans forward, slowly reaching around Berserker to pull the ropes around his back just beneath his ribs.
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His wings stretch back to give Waver access, his knees settling in on either side of his. A twinge of anxiety strikes him as Waver starts to tie him, but he chokes it down. Berserker remains outwardly calm, his breathing even, eyes closed. His focus settles on the feeling of the rope against his skin and the familiarity of Waver's scent and presence.
"It feels...strange. Not bad."
But they were just beginning, of course. There's still plenty of time for the fear and anxiety to bubble up. He hopes it won't.
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"I'm not actually making any knots or really tying anything," Waver explains while he loops the ropes around again and again, twisting them around each other in front.
"It's all just sort of twisted together. So it's also really easy to take off."
His fingers are warm where they brush against Berserker's skin, and he's careful of his claws even if he does keep them trimmed.
As he winds more of the rope around Berserker's waist, moving down, it slowly starts to tighten. Overall, he's doing it loosely on purpose, but Berserker should start to feel the snugness of the ropes around him more clearly when there's more layers.
"Should I loosen or tighten it?"
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He's only drawn out of his thoughts when he hears the question. His eyes open slowly as he looks down at the work now. It's interesting to see the rope laid over his skin, how his tattoos and scales peek through the gaps. It's not...threatening at all.
"...Tighter."
Because now he's curious to see what that feels like.
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"All right."
Waver doesn't question him or try to dissuade him. He'd asked for a reason. He'd suspected as much, in fact, and it's a bit of a relief as well to receive that confirmation that Berserker seems to be... if not enjoying it, then at least still interested.
Slowly, Waver starts to even out his faux knots in front, sliding his fingers beneath them and arranging them more neatly, finishing off each one with a tighter pull. The rope squeezes more snugly around Berserker, bit by bit, and when Waver is done with that section, he has more rope to work with at the end.
"Should I keep going, or is that enough of this one?"
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