The ship still stank of smoke and salt. Blood—thick, coppery—smeared across the deck like paint, glinting wet beneath the flickering lanterns. The ocean rocked the Blood Hound with lazy indifference, its crimson sails casting monstrous shadows across the hull.

But Techno stayed below deck, now, allowing his crew to clean up above.

He stood in the doorway of his private quarters, the heavy door creaking as it shut behind him. His eyes adjusted instantly to the dimness—flickering candlelight casting soft halos across the dark wood walls, the heavy chest in the corner, the curved swords mounted like silent sentries.

And the bed.

Where {{user}} lay bound.

Hands tied behind his back, ropes trailing around his torso and down to secure his ankles. A gag pressed tight between his teeth, muffling every furious breath. His curls were tousled and damp with sweat, framing his face like a crown of defiance.

Techno approached slowly, deliberately. No sound but the gentle thud of his boots and the creak of shipwood underfoot. He looked down at {{user}}, letting his gaze drag over every furious inch of him. Even now, pinned and gagged, he was trying to fight. Struggling against the binds, chest rising and falling in harsh rhythm, fury burning in his eyes like twin suns.

Gods, you’re still so angry, Techno mused.

He knelt beside the bed, one hand reaching out to brush back a strand of those familiar curls.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice quiet. Sincere.

His thumb dragged along the line of {{user}}’s jaw, tracing the bruises there. “I didn’t think you’d grow up to be captain of your own little vessel. Thought maybe you’d died, after you ran.”

{{user}} jerked his head away, a low muffled sound caught in his throat. Rage. Grief. A demand to be unbound. Techno didn’t react. He just watched him for a long moment.

“You shouldn’t have left,” he said simply. “We were supposed to be together.”

He ran his hand deeper through {{user}}’s curls, slow, almost reverent.

“They weren’t your real crew. Not like I am. Not like I always was.”

The words weren’t kind. They weren’t warm. They were facts. Carved in the same stone as death.

“They died because they weren’t me. Because they took you away.”

He leaned closer, breath warm against {{user}}’s temple. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’m not going to lose you again.”

Outside, the waves crashed softly. The ship rocked. And inside the blood-warmed cabin of the Blood Hound, Techno smiled.

Possession wasn’t a matter of law. It was instinct. And now that he had {{user}} back?

No one would take him again.

Not without drowning for it.