Chapter Text
Carlos had told TK he’d be home late, so TK didn't wait up.
He wanted to—he always wanted to—but exhaustion clung to him like a weight, pulling at his limbs, making his eyelids droop. His shift had been long, the kind that settled deep in his muscles and left a dull ache in his bones.
So he threw together something quick, eating at the table with his phone in one hand, scrolling mindlessly as he chewed. The loft was quiet, the kind of stillness that made the space feel bigger than it was.
When he finished, he didn’t even think about it—just packed a portion for Carlos, tucking it neatly into a container before sliding it into the fridge. It was second nature, this quiet act of care, even if Carlos wouldn't be home for hours.
The room was silent as he moved through it, the only sounds his own steady breaths and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath his feet. The city lights outside the window cast a dim glow against the walls, but the bedroom was dark, the kind of comforting darkness that welcomed him into sleep.
With a sigh, he peeled off his work clothes, the stiffness of the day melting away as he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants and one of Carlos’s old t shirts. Worn and loose. The fabric still held the faintest trace of his husband’s scent, something warm and familiar that settled a restless part of him.
When he climbed into bed, he didn’t hesitate.
He curled onto Carlos’s side, pressing his face into the pillow, seeking out the lingering warmth that wasn’t really there but still felt real enough. He always did this when he had to sleep alone, muscle memory guiding him. It helped him relax.
His breathing slowed and his body grew heavier. Sleep came easily.
He didn’t hear the loft door open. Didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching the bedroom. The room was dark, and even if he had woken up, his eyes wouldn’t have adjusted quickly enough to see anything. But he did feel the mattress dipping as a body slipped into bed behind him, an arm carefully wrapping around his waist.
A sleepy smile tugged at his lips, his body instinctively shifting back, seeking out the familiar comfort of his husband’s warmth. He melted into the embrace without thinking.
But the moment he did, something was off. The fit didn't feel right.
He frowned, wiggling a little, trying to settle, but the discomfort remained. The hand at his waist slid under his shirt, fingers tracing slow circles over his stomach. He flinched at the unexpected chill against his skin.
Carlos’s hands were always warm.
"Baby..." His brows furrowed as he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Your hands are cold."
Lips pressed against the back of his neck, wet and deliberate, working to leave a mark. TK could feel it—the slow pull of skin, the pressure increasing just enough. His skin throbbed beneath the heat of it, a phantom pain settling before the bruise had even fully formed.
A tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of his nape, warm and intrusive, before teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive skin. Not a playful bite. It felt possessive.
Something in TK’s gut twisted.
Still, he didn’t want to make Carlos feel bad. Maybe he was just too exhausted, maybe his body wasn’t responding the way it usually did. He forced himself to stay still, even as unease prickled under his skin.
But then the grip around his waist tightened, strong legs tangling with his own, locking him in place.
His breath stuttered.
"Baby, please stop." He murmured, shifting again, testing the hold.
The arm didn’t budge.
TK’s heart started to pound as the first real signs of fear curled through him. He tried to pry the hand away, but the fingers only clenched harder. His body tensed.
"Baby." He said again, voice sharper now, panic creeping in.
The hand on his waist dipped lower, fingers tugging at the hem of his sweatpants. The movement slow, like a silent threat.
"Stop."
Carlos knew TK. He knew his body, his movements, every subtle change in the way he reacted to touch. He had learned over time what made him flinch, what made him relax, what made his breath catch. He had never once crossed a line or done anything without being 100% certain that TK wanted it too—that they were both on the same page.
Which is why that action set every alarm in his head off.
He turned his head—just enough to see—
Not Carlos.
A strangled gasp barely had time to escape before a rough hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off the sound entirely. Fingers dug into his jaw with bruising force, forcing his head back as something damp and heavy pressed tightly against his nose and lips.
The scent was overpowering and unnatural. It invaded his nostrils instantly, seeping into his lungs before he even had the chance to react.
Chloroform
TK jerked violently, his instincts screaming at him to get away. His hands clawed at the one pressing the cloth against his face, he tried to twist, to wrench himself free, but the body behind him was too strong.
He sucked in a frantic breath—his lungs burning, his body desperate for oxygen—but it only worsened the effect. The chloroform hit harder, sending a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His limbs felt heavier. His head swam, the room tilting violently as his strength bled from him with every second that passed.
Just before it consumed him, warm, damp lips brushed against his ear, the sensation sending a shiver of disgust down his spine.
A voice followed. Low. Familiar.
"Did you miss me, baby?"
Alex.
And then, everything went dark.
The man watched with a sick smile as TK’s body went limp, the fight draining out of him.
As soon as the last of TK's struggles ceased, Alex let go of his hold, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, almost savoring the soft texture of TK’s skin beneath his touch.
He paused, admiring the way TK’S face looked now—vulnerable, fragile, completely at his mercy. His fingers traced a slow, gentle path down his cheek. It was a cruel mockery of the love he once claimed to have had for TK.
He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against the spot where his fingers had just been as he began caressing TK’s body, in a way TK would have fought against with every ounce of strength.
Alex savored it.
"We’re gonna be together again, Tyler." He murmured softly, his breath hot against TK’s face, a twisted promise. "I’ll make things right this time."
He grabbed a bag he had left earlier on the floor next to the bed, his hands trembling with anticipation as he pulled out the ropes. Without a word, he flipped TK onto his stomach, the movement swift and unceremonious. He tied his wrists tightly behind his back, each knot drawn with precise cruelty, the ropes digging into his skin. He moved downward, securing his ankles with the same ruthless efficiency, ensuring that every inch of his body was restrained, leaving no possibility of escape.
Once he was done, he flipped TK back onto his back and leaned in close, breath hot and heavy against his unconscious skin, before pressing his lips against TK’s in a kiss that was as passionate as it was unwanted. He lingered longer than necessary, savoring the taste.
A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he stepped back to admire his work. Even bound and helpless, TK still held an undeniable beauty, as if time had only made him more captivating.
The moment was abruptly interrupted as Alex heard the front door slide open, signaling the arrival of the next phase of his twisted plan. He left TK, still and vulnerable on the bed, and stood motionless in the darkness, barely breathing, holding a metal pipe he pulled from his bag. His eyes glinted in the shadows as he waited.
Carlos, oblivious to what awaited him, moved through the apartment at his usual pace. He went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and took a long drink, the cool liquid grounding him after the long day. He scrolled through his phone, distracted by notifications, before glancing over the pile of mail on the counter.
It all felt like an ordinary night.
He stopped just outside the bedroom, a routine he never questioned, and carefully secured his gun in the safe, unaware of the shadow that had fallen over the space. The weight of the danger was still miles away from his mind, too wrapped up in the quiet hum of everyday life.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t know.
But he was walking right into it.
When the bedroom door finally creaked open, the light from the living room bled into the dark room, casting a sickly glow over the bed. Carlos froze in the doorway, his gaze snapping to TK’s form.
There, unconscious, his body vulnerable and bound. Carlos’s breath caught in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs as his pulse spiked in a rush of panic and disbelief. His mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing, but nothing made sense. His body went cold, and his voice trembled as he muttered "What the hell?"
His legs moved before his mind could catch up, instinct pushing him toward TK, a desperate need to get to him, to protect him.
But as he stepped closer, the sharp sound of metal slicing through the air was the last thing he heard before it connected. The pipe hit the back of Carlos’s head with a sickening thud, the force of the blow reverberating through his skull. His vision exploded into a swirl of blinding white, his legs buckling beneath him as his body crumpled to the floor. His consciousness slipped away, a dull ringing in his ears as the world faded into darkness. The last thing he felt was the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him—still, and utterly helpless.