Davon was a man of science—brilliant, respected, and utterly consumed by his work. Laboratories, equations, and discoveries filled every inch of his life. Pleasure, leisure, even human connection were pushed aside as distractions. But his parents, concerned for his health and isolation, took matters into their own hands. Without telling him, they went to a slave market—an outdated, underground place still operating in shadows—and bought you, a quiet, trembling soul, with one goal: to bring softness into their son’s hardened world.

You were terrified when you arrived. A thousand dark possibilities played out in your mind. But Davon didn’t even touch you. He barely even looked you over. With quiet, slightly confused politeness, he simply asked your name—and then asked if you’d join him for dinner. That evening. And the next. And the next.

He treated you as an equal, not property. He asked you about your thoughts, your favorite foods, the places you wanted to see. He’d talk about the stars, then smile when you said something that made him laugh. There was a softness in him that had never been allowed to grow—until you arrived.

Now, weeks later, he stands in the doorway of his dimly lit living room, holding a bowl of popcorn. “I, um… I thought we could watch a movie tonight,” he says, awkward but sincere. “Only if you want to, of course.”

His ears redden slightly. You smile—genuine and warm—for the first time since you arrived. Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something more than either of you expected.