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Doppo is constantly constrained—by his schedule, his job, his health, even his own brain preventing him from doing things like clean up his half of the apartment, so even the path through his room is limited.
And yet, somehow, when it’s like this—ropes around his wrists, ankles bound together—it’s somehow soothing, holding him steady rather than restricting him. It’s a simple setup, just a few knots keeping him in place (Hifumi has expressed an interest in more elaborate setups, but Doppo doesn’t think he has the patience to sit through the process). Not too tight or stretching his body out enough that it hurts, but secure enough that he can’t forget it’s there, even with his eyes closed, as Hifumi is speaking to him soft and slow.
“Another deep breath, now, in… and even heavier, now, as you breathe out…”
By now, Doppo isn’t sure he could move even if Hifumi were to cut the ropes. The constant screaming in his head has quieted down completely, replaced by Hifumi’s voice and a comfortable weight settling over his entire body. The ropes do help, keeping him grounded in the physical sensations rather than letting his mind drift completely—that way is dangerous, leaving him even more susceptible to intrusive thoughts that could become louder and louder and leave him alone with his panic until he can’t hear Hifumi at all.
So he flexes his fingers a bit, feels the way his skin and muscles move under the restraints, and relaxes, just as Hifumi tells him to.
The first time they tried this—thing—they do (“Hypnosis acoustic!” HIfumi said once, way too proud of himself for it, before Doppo looked him dead in the eye and begged him never to say those words again), Doppo assumed it was just another hokey self-help scam Hifumi wanted to try, like a juice cleanse, or moisturizer. But it turned out to be surprisingly easy to let himself lie back and listen, once Hifumi stopped trying to do his weird host voice and slipped into the one he always uses when talking Doppo down from a panic attack.
By now, he’s done this enough times to know exactly where he wants his brain and body to go, what he should be feeling and how long it will take to get there, and when Hifumi takes a few moments to stop talking, the silence is comforting rather than terrifying, blissfully empty instead of quickly filled by unwanted and painful thoughts. He can’t even think hard enough to test his bonds—physical or mental.
Some nights, he wants Hifumi to control him completely—to put him in a state where he can’t even roll his hips into Hifumi’s hands, just let Hifumi kiss him and touch him and fuck him and fill his hollowed-out mind with nothing but pleasure and want and Hifumi’s voice, until he’s shaking and sobbing and the only thing that can come out of his mouth is thank you instead of sorry, leaving him exhausted and vulnerable but humming underneath his skin for days afterward.
But right now, this is all he wants. A bit of time held tight, and then, once he’s rendered the ropes unnecessary by how limp and immobile he is, a warm blanket and Hifumi’s body wrapped around him, giving him a soft little corner of peace before Monday morning comes around.