Allen drifted awake slowly, his entire body heavy with exhaustion. Muscles sore, hips aching, skin still tacky from sweat and sex. His mind was foggy, like he'd been pulled from the deepest, filthiest dream.
But something was off.
His arms wouldn't move.
His legs—bound.
His back—pressed upright to something solid.
He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light spilling through reed curtains. It smelled like fur and musk in here. Sex clung to the air like smoke.
Then it hit him.
He was tied up.
Strapped to a wooden pole, thick ropes around his wrists, ankles bound just loose enough to keep him from panicking. He wasn't in danger. But he was trapped. Fully naked. Still faintly sticky from the absolute destruction he delivered.
