Joaquin whimpered as hands ran over his skin, too tired to give even the slightest struggle now. There was nothing he could have done to resist anyway, what with the heavy metal manacles rubbing what felt like craters in his wrists, pinning them together. The chain attached to them gave him barely 10 inches of slack, threaded through an iron ring riveted deep into the ground, then chained to the rough metal collar pinned around his neck. In his exhaustion, just the weight was enough to drag him down, but even had he been in full health and strength, it left him unable to stand, or even look up much. His legs were spread behind him, metal bars between his ankles and knees, physically rending him incapable of shutting his legs, and they were screaming from the position they were forced into.

Flies crawled over his contorted body, and blood trickled from fresh wounds on his side where a bottle had been thrown at him, sharp glass shards gashing his flesh, aching dully, and what was somehow much worse, tickling over his ribs. He'd lost track of how long he'd been here, and all the atrocities that had happened to him in that time, staked out in the concrete courtyard under a blistering sun, and had nearly passed out when he was jerked back to life by a touch.

It wasn't a painful touch, he had to admit, carefully avoiding his many injuries, the stranger's hand on his bare skin. It had been humiliating at first, being chained up stark naked, but he had long since stopped caring. The hand stopped in the small of his back, cool against his almost feverishly hot skin, and the other hand appeared, almost glacially pale like an icy star before his unfocused eyes. There was something in that hand, something gleaming metallically in the sun, but he just couldn't see...

The hand vanished from the small of his back, and he felt it grip on his collar, the other hand, with the metallic thing, coming in closer. And the chain dropped away from his neck, hitting the concrete with a soft jingle. Joaquin gave a muffled groan as the pressure was released, and the collar was removed carefully from his rubbed-raw skin. The key slid into the manacles at his wrists and there was a soft curse from by his left ear as some-one fought the stiff lock.

It was an unfamiliar voice, not the cruel tones of the man who had come not often enough to jam a bottle of water between his forced apart jaws, but a much softer, quieter voice, a voice that gave a soft 'hah' as the manacles gave, falling to the ground with a clatter. Joaquin just hung there as his wrists flared with pain, then reduced to a soft throbbing, too tired to move, and too pained to see why he should, mind still fogged over... until he felt hands touch his legs.

With a speed that seemed to make all of his muscles rip apart, he whipped around, falling onto his side as he did. He was not letting someone touch him, not like that, not again. His whole lower body ached, apart from the places where it was numb, and after having so many men and things shoved inside him, while he could resist that, he would.

Lying on the hot concrete, he caught a glimpse of the person with the key. He wouldn't've liked to say what sex they were, thin and slim with long legs and a narrow waist, and an almost flat chest. Long black hair was pulled away from an androgynous, and yet still beautiful face, wide dark eyes rimmed in black lashes, arching brows, high cheekbones and a full soft mouth.

They reached for him, putting a hand on his shoulder gently, reassuringly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," They promised quietly. "Not intentionally, anyway."

Joaquin wasn't sure he believed them, but he didn't fight as the hand slid from his shoulder to his thigh, and the key descended. There was another quiet curse, and then there was a clatter as the metal bar hit the concrete between Joaquin's legs, followed by another clatter as it was unlocked at the other end. Joaquin rested his head back against the concrete, momentarily lidding his dark blue eyes, taking a deep breath as his stiff body tried to straighten itself out, the muscles snarling...

His eyes snapped open at a touch on his cheek. That androgynous face seemed almost to float before him, pale as paper and spattered with golden freckles, and those eyes, dark brown eyes like melted chocolate, looked searchingly into his, then flicked away. He felt them playing with the straps that kept his mouth forced apart, the metal bands propping his mouth open at all times, then felt the hated thing slide out.

He was barely able to cough, his mouth sandpaper dry, but his chest moved reflexively. He felt arms go around his back, pulling him into an almost sitting position, jarring his back and making the pain in his arse spike, but the arms cradled him so gently that even if he'd had the ability to complain, he wouldn't've had the heart to.

Something cold touched his lips and it took him a moment to realise that it was the neck of a bottle. Water trickled over his tongue and he swallowed greedily, the bottle  tilting away momentarily as the water hit his empty stomach and he dry-retched, but it returned a moment later. He wanted desperately to gulp it down, but the water was purposefully kept at a steady trickle, and he felt a little strength flow into him with it. The bottle was put away, empty and his blue eyes finally managed to focus.

Joaquin's rescuer gave a small smile, the very corner of those broad lips tilting up slightly.

"Can you walk?"

Joaquin took a moment, then shook his head, a small spark of determination burning inside him again.

"No, but I'll crawl out of here if I have to."