Nightwatch Hector

The bearded man in the woods grips a stick while the blond kneels, his wrists bound tight by rope, the red berets marking them both as soldiers under orders. One pulls the other down by the hair, lips crashing into a rough kiss as the rope cuts into flesh, the lean man’s bound hands useless against the restraint. The stick taps the ground, a silent threat, obedience or pain.