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Truth be told he isn't sure how long he's spent on the floor.
Okay that is a lie. Apologies.
He is hyper aware of every second that passes while he remains laid petrified under the crushing tide of information coursing through his neural gates and trenches - One hundred twelve thousand one hundred forty seconds - and he knows before he even tries from experience that it is best to lay there and let it wash over him because trying to stand is what got him splayed out on the floor much less dignified the first time.
He tried to get a message to his hands to move up and grab his phone but it got lost somewhere between the answer to the Ship of Theseus and the scores of the complete Spice Girls discography.
The King is being particularly loud today. Derek could feel the whispers before it's voice swelled his mind to complete swill, so he calmly laid himself on the floor, hands over his stomach, perfectly straight and waited for the information to wash him away on to the choppy black sea of twisted agonies.
It's like being held hostage at the worst lecture, listening to a washed out academic prattle on and on and taking a vampiric delight in the anguish of their control of the room: or in this case, his body.
"Hey honey-block, I bought Thai~" Avery's voice comes from down the hall, the door's lock swiftly clicking into place. Thermodynamics - Zeno's Paradox - The evolution of the em-dash's use in global literature - Best recipe for slime - Avery…
"Think we could start the second season of - woah," Avery walks in until he appears at the bottom of Derek's peripheral like the rising sun, looking down at him and all his funerary stiffness, "Is it the King?"
"Yes."
The King flood every bit of information about hymenopus coronatus in like a box of thumb tacks spilt over the raw matter of his brain and laughs. The audacity to answer a question when he was in 'time out'…
Avery knows this how Derek best copes with the intense flashes of pains, he's seen it a few times and it lasts different amounts of time: a few minutes, a few hours, and he was fine when he left him over a day ago… the worry on Avery's face sickens Derek. It's strange having someone care so explicitly for him.
After placing the bag of Thai food on his desk, Avery crawls over the petrified Derek, coming into view with a suave, playful smile that despite knowing the exact dimensions and causes of, Derek is always glad when it graces his vision.
"Look at you, so vulnerable and defenceless, could do anything I want to you," Avery teases with a overtly exaggerated honeyness to his voice, clearly intent on some light-hearted teasing. Regardless, Derek feels what little feeling he has, that isn't twisted pain, blossom warm as the words cascade down and Avery shifts his weight atop him.
"But… I actually have an idea, you might think it's a bit silly or like woah man what is this? Are you sure this isn't a weird sex thing?" Avery's impression of him is scarily good, "but I think it might give you a break, cause you look like you've been hear a while."
He indeed, has. And honestly, anything with Avery is a world beyond the dark drawling corridors of his mind with The King.
Derek however, does not expect a ball gag.
The surprise momentarily loosens Hastur's talons from his mind. A flushed heat on his cheeks and locking ridged hidden beneath his pre-calcified state that doesn't escape Avery's notice as he shows it, pulling on the leather strips until taught and then rolling the ball about his palm.
"Where did you get this from?" The words stick to his tongue, his lips popping each time he forces his jaw open to make the question audible.
"The sex shop, where they sell sex things, pfft infinite knowledge and didn't even know that," Avery chuckles, swinging the thing about casually. He's so cute. It is the most beautiful shade of red - it is a strange thing to notice granted but, Derek finds himself rather taken with the colour and totally not with the object.
"Recently?"
"Like last week, that and some other stuff, I was going to surprise you, but this is a good time to give it a go." His excitement is almost as palpable as the duteous arousal and genuine compassion. What had he ever done to deserve such a soul tethering to his own.
"It is?"
"Trust me?"
Derek doesn't even need a picosecond to mull over an answer to that.
"Of course."
Slowly, Avery lifts Derek to a sitting position and works his hoodie off over his head. Derek is simply a passive observer to every act, each gentle kindness as he makes sure he's comfortable and fixes his glasses: each focused plot as his arms are folded back flush to his biceps and cuffed in place by lovely padded red restraints, as a harness of that same gorgeous royal colour adorns his body like armour: to the restraint to leave Derek in his boxers and not go to town on him 'silly style' as Avery likes to.
By the time he's done, Derek is up on the bed, not able to move much and already feeling rather fuzzy. That's before Avery clicks the collar into place. Once the warm grain of the leather hugs and nuzzles into his neck, Derek wobbles with a light-headedness like he's watching his blood be drawn - the world racing away before bouncing back.
"Perfect. You are so perfect Derek…" Avery kisses his cheek with a smile that can't contain itself on his face, Derek's lips sheepishly peaking.
"You remember you're non-verbal safe word pretty boy?"
Pretty boy… the words are sweet and sparkly across his synapse as he nods steadily.
"Can you show me?"
Derek quickly taps his shoulders three times.
"Perfect!" Avery rewards him with another peck.
Something about the tightness of the restraints - not uncomfortable: Avery checks in a lot - and the collar is relaxing in a way not many things are anymore. Perhaps because it's Avery and he knows he'll still be here. Perhaps it's the feeling it conjures in him, that for a time, while he is bound and cared for like this, he doesn't not need to be the hyper competent D3rLord3 with the world on his shoulders, he can just be… nothing.
The realisation has a treacly softness dripping down his spine after it glazes the rapidly firing neurons to slow blinking stars in the galaxy of his mind.
"Alrighty, say ahhh pretty boy, let's start giving that big brain of yours a break."
Derek lets his jaw grow slack but there is still a wobble of nerves even now that Avery's sharp eyes hone in on as the sphere of medical grade silicone is brought to the ghost of his lips.
"It's okay honey-block, I'm not going anywhere. Do you need to stop?"
Derek shakes his head. He really doesn't want this to stop.
Gently, Avery slides the gag into his mouth: weighing down Derek's tongue beneath the curve, his jaws opening around it until it settles with a faint stretching ache, and locking it in place with the buckle at the base of his skull.
A garbled, muffled noise comes out that might have once been words but is now blissful gibberish. Derek hums satisfied at the absolute desolation of meaning, of his new inability to convey the horrid rush of information cascading through him and even that feels distant now beneath the numbing fuzziness clouding his mind.
"I agree, you do look really handsome today Der," Avery beams, eyes falling onto Derek's lips plump and wet around the gag, so perfectly fitted around it. If he were more alert, he would be able to feel the way Avery's pulse quickens or notice the way his eyes dilate on him.
Next, a satin blindfold, the same colour as his MC skin's cloak is lifted up to his eyes. He is helpless charmed by Avery's planning. The soft fabric veils his eyes as Avery gently, almost ritualistically, wraps the long length of the fabric around his face until he is certain Derek sees nothing but the horizon of nothingness. He ties it off behind his head letting the loose ends drape down his back and shoulders.
"Things are going to get really quiet now Derek, gonna put some headphones on you, but I'll be with you the entire time okay, and if it's too much or you need a break please let me know," Avery's wounds crisp once they announce their departure: some part of Derek already yearning for him despite him remaining. He savours each syllable and sound, bubbly consonants and honeyed vowels that guide his worries to the cliff to wreck.
"I love you," he sneaks in a whisper against the shell of his ear before the heavy noise cancelling head phones and slotted over his ears and -
Nothing.
The nothing is abrupt and disorientating and welcoming and calming. The nothing is a lot.
There is nothing, not even the white noise of existence.
At first it is a little alarming, complete and utter silence is a touch uncanny, but there is a certain peace in it. Even The King is muted somewhat, coming to him distant as if Derek were sinking underwater and it was locked above with it's curse of binding frost walker boots. It's simmering frustration is pure schadenfreude.
There is a smell.
Sweet and a little salty, like a bubble gum ice cream dropped at the beach and lapped at by the sea, but also pleasantly deep and the lingering of aromatic Thai food. It over takes his senses - the one that remains unobstructed: smell - filling his lungs and his mind, obscuring all his thoughts beneath the heady sweetness of him.
Every smell is Avery.
There is a touch.
A gentle caress of his jaw that feels like it leaves sparks in it's wake. Avery takes his time tracing the curve and slope of his jaw and Derek squirms and shimmies in place - when had Avery put a spreader bar between his ankles? - as his pulse sings a rapturous melody increasing in tempo when he feels his thumb brush over his Adam's apple.
A thumb traces below his turned lip, dragging the little drizzle of spit across his chin. Usually Derek finds it horrid, but right now, in this moment, he could not find a single complaint to make. Nor could he audibly make one, and that delights him. He is just a pretty thing to be touched.
Every touch is Avery.
There is a kiss.
There is many kisses. Avery simply cannot help himself: he never could when it came to Derek. He follows the path his hands took with his lips like he's tracing footprints in the sand, slow and plodding like the walk they took on the beach last week. His hands flex at the phantom warmth of Avery's hand squeezing him.
Avery presses his lips to Derek's gagged lips. He can feel the giggle on his stretched lips as Avery licks his plump slick lip before tracing the curve of the gag to slather him in even more attention.
He moves back and presses a kiss to his lips, sharing the stretch of the gag, hands running over his shoulders and arms. The feeling stirs bubbly arousal in his chest, seeping and dripping down his ribs, pooling in his gut as gargled muffled noises spill out past the gag and sneak into Avery's mouth for him to swallow up, steal and horde from the world.
Every kiss and lick is Avery.
Everything is Avery.
He is full of Avery.
And that is the intent: after all "the vessel must be pure," and how pure can he be if he is full of someone else? Not very it turns out. In effect, Avery installs his presence as a buffer between Derek's body and the King rooting around in his mind as he lulls him down into complete surrender.
Complete surrender where his head is far too fuzzy to permit The King's reach. A reprieve as he sinks below the cross roads, choice a distant memory and he is left to float atop the cascading rolls of Avery's love.
One side of the noise cancelling headphones lifts away and it's like a record scratch - the lull of the sweet nothing broken and reality coming to him a distant buzz while he waits for a new track to be selected. A whisper soothes the shell of his ear, Avery's voice flows like honey into his head - "Doing so good. That's it Derek, you're so, so good," and the headphones are placed back over his ear.
And the nothing takes him. The sweet blissful nothing that Avery's words dance to a whisper within, lingering and stuck on the hard ridges of his ears and like taffy on his brain. The sweet nothing as he sinks into every scent, every touch, every kiss that is Avery… into Avery: mind body, and soul.
His head has not been this empty in weeks.