001. Plead.

Christian's blue eyes flutter open, his palms push his body up on the hard floor, a simple task that doesn't cause the initial strike of panic and fear that comes from finding that they had been bound by chain; the cries of frustration are nothing like the ones that escape his throat at the sight of the three men hovering above him.

002. Found.

The blonde was a mess when Harper had found him, grasping at his twisted ankle and lying in a heap, covered in mud, sticks, grass and fresh bruises. He has given up on running after this last fall, and the unwanted help he had been trying to escape from came quickly. The towering Luke Harper was on his knees in the muck, giving no thought to being covered in the same mess he scooped Christian up in his strong arms after seeing the injury. It was right back to the hell Christian was running from.

003. Puppy Love.

Bray Wyatt was so obviously frustrated. It had not been the first time he had found his "First Son" beside himself with distractions. They had come to Monday Night Raw with one objective in mind: Kane. It took deliberation, some thought that processed over the night as things had gone from bad to worse with Harper; and no amount of preaching to him was getting through. Christian needed to become part of their Family for things to get back in order.

004. Fantasy.

There was something about Christian that made him so perfect. Maybe it was a combination of things that just made him up physically. The blonde hair, ideal blue eyes and those legs that went on for a country mile… Who wouldn't want that man all to themselves? Just seeing those long, tan legs walking toward him, hell, wrapped around his hips… tan body pinned under his weight as those blue eyes stared up in ecstasy… Christian was worth killing for.

005. Home.

Christian had spent so long trying to escape the place his, now-lover, called home. Now, here he was, sitting on a boardwalk in the middle of nowhere, staring out at the Florida coast, enjoying everything the view had to offer, and the warmth his lover had to offer. The blonde sighs softly as firm, strong hands massage at his tired shoulders. His place in Toronto seemed so long forgotten… he had not even missed it anymore.

006. Caring.

Guilt rang through his body, as fresh as the stinging bruise forming quickly just under Christian's eye. He shoves the sheep-masked Rowan hard against the ground, towering over him. "I told you both I did not want him hurt."

007. Voice.

"…You're actually really charming, you know that?" Christian laughs lightly, nervously, it's so soft that Harper barely recognizes it as laughter. He abandons staring at the ground and shuts up quickly, turning to him. "You're pretty funny…" Christian comments again. Harper had gone on and on, trying to break the barrier between them, finally something was working.

008. Cut.

Luke sweeps the blood from Christian's face with a quick thumb, met with a painful hiss and backlash. Christian's personality was something Luke Harper had loved about him, but that same fire was getting him in more trouble with Bray Wyatt every day. Christian was hard to crack, and no truth that the Wyatt Family leader had spoke of had resonated with the blonde. He had such a strong willed mind and refused to be subjected to any of the teachings.

009. Impulse.

Luke yawns loudly, scratching at his long beard and stretching his aching body out. His hand leaves his face quickly, searching the small bed and sitting up when he found his long limbs had not bumped into anything. He scrambles out from under the sheets. Christian's ears pick up on the pounding footsteps, gently pushing against the bathroom door, he found the source of the running in the hallway, his eyes catch his lover at the top of the stairs. He smiles, his blue eyes shining, "When are you going to learn? I'm not going anywhere…"

010. Weapon.

Christian's arms and legs are flying everywhere; fists colliding against muscular bodies and his own being lifted from the floor. He gasps against the soaked, red flannel shirt smashed against his face, unable to help but try to breathe against it, through it. His body was exhausted from fighting against the two men holding his legs and arms, and beginning to fail him. His vision had begun to crash too, unconsciousness threatening to swallow him whole. Through his own tears and the visual haze, the last thing he could see the third man's expression… changing from violent aggression, anger and frustration to desire, lust and hunger.