I switch the light off before I head upstairs, where I find Elliot peacefully snoring in our bed.
Ourbed.
I pause in the doorway. The boy’s sprawled diagonally and facedown across the bed, naked except for my day collar on his right wrist. Leo didn’t even put the leather collar and cuffs on him. Or, if he did, he removed them before he left. From the faint smell of lube, yeah, I’m reasonably certain there was fucking, and Elliot probably came at least once.
Otherwise, he’d be wide awake and eagerly anticipating my return to make love to him.
As I step into the room, I can see marks all along Elliot’s back and ass—scratch marks, bites, his red ass from a spanking.
He got it all, and then some.
Good. He needed it.
I walk down to my room and find Leo’s already mussed the bed for me.
Bastard.
I shouldn’t resent it, but that’s another reason I need space—to process this sudden-onsetrage.
I grab my clothes for in the morning and then my cell phone—mypersonalcell phone—and turn it on.
Holy shit, it goes off like a damned slot machine with all the incoming alerts.
I won’t play Leo’s voice mails tonight, although I do quickly play and delete any that look like telemarketers, or are from someone other than Leo.
Then I realize something is…different. About the room. Something’s…changed.
I look around, feeling unsettled, and it takes me a moment.
The framed picture of me and Leo, the copy of the one hanging on Leo’s office wall, and on his bedroom wall at home, now sits on the dresser.
It was tucked in one of the top drawers, underneath a pile of undershirts.
Leo went through my fricking dresser.
As I’m standing there, staring, I realize what else is now on the dresser, at the base of the picture frame, where it can’t be missed.
My day collar.
I drop everything onto the bed. With trembling fingers, I pick up the bracelet.
It’s still warm.
My knees unhinge as I drop onto the bed, hold the bracelet cupped in my hands and pressed against my chest, and I sob.
* * * *
I don’t return to our bedroom until I’m sure I’ve got myself under control again. I’ve washed my face, blown my nose, and used eye drops.
After I set my alarms, I strip and carefully slide into bed with Elliot. He wakes up only enough to possessively drape himself over me and immediately sink into sleep once more.
Well, okay, then.
Guess I’m sleeping on my back, whether I want to or not. Because the guy’s bigger than me, and dead weight.
Plus, I don’t have the heart to wake him up to make him move. He’s usually a light sleeper because of his PTSD. Although with me he’s been seeing improvements in his sleep.
As exhausted as I am, I thought I’d fall right to sleep, especially after dozing off in Elliot’s office.
