“Ezzy,” Noah says, leaning around Max. “I want to see how big you’ve gotten.”
Ezzy is apparently the kid, and he makes a stumbling effort to go to Noah. As I watch Noah, I get a peek at the white collar around his neck. Not the collar of his shirt but… a collar.
Absently, I touch my neck and glance at Dasan. My heart jumps when I find him watching me. He doesn’t miss my hand at my neck. He glances at Noah, and I can tell when he spots the same thing I did.
He licks his lips. My dick twitches at the sight, and I look away. I’m not wearing a cock cage today. Dasan said it wasn’t classy enough. I’m wearing the cock collar instead, so, in a way, I’m wearing my own collar, right? Maybe not around my neck, but it means the same thing. Kinda.
I like the collar more than the cages, if I’m honest. It’s not so much a comfort thing as it is… appeal? I’m not sure how to explain it. My eyes flicker to Noah’s collar. I think, for me at least, the collar on my dick might feel like it means the samething as the one around Noah’s neck. Ownership. Being wanted. It’s symbolic.
Also, it makes my dick stick out a little more than usual. The plastic cage keeps me contained and relatively against my body. It’s not so different from wearing nothing, to be honest. The bear trap is different because of the hook on the end.
The collars, because they sit at the base of my cock, have a way of pushing my dick further out, which makes my bulge far more pronounced. I’m self-conscious about it and am constantly making sure my suit jacket falls just right so I’m not obviously bulging.
The way Dasan grins at me when I adjust to hide makes my blood burn.
I try to force away thoughts of Dasan and the collar around my dick. This issonot an appropriate subject for right now, not when I’m surrounded by people.
“Felton just pulled in,” someone in the back says as Ren moves toward the front.
I admired the place when I walked in, but now that everyone is hushing and we’re all twisted toward the door behind us where Felton will be entering, I’m struck by how elegant it is. Everything is covered in white. White flowers and white topiaries. White lights twinkling. And everything is blanketed in soft white snow that I assume is fake since there aren’t any puddles.
Seconds tick past as we wait expectantly. Are everyone’s hearts stuttering in excitement like mine is? I’ve never considered myself someone who constantly feels a lot of empathy for other people.
No, wait. That came out wrong. I’m empathetic, but I’m not aggressively so. Like an empath who is always feeling the emotions of others around them. I know how to distance myself because that constant bombardment of others’ feelingsis suffocating. It’s not realistic to think you can give everyone around you a piece of you like that.
But Felton has a special place in my heart. I know he’s struggled. I’ve watched it. I’ve fought for him. Thankfully, Edries heard my plea last summer to encourage management to give Felton another shot and offer him another contract, otherwise Felton wouldn’t be here right now.
Felton has been punished his entire life, and I’ve seen firsthand how that’s affected him. He deserves this happiness. I certainly feel for this man and love that I get to be a part of this moment.
The door opens and Felton stares. At first, I think he’s only seeing the sea of white and the beauty of the room around him. His eyes widen as he begins recognizing faces. I know the moment we all disappear though. It’s the second he sees Ren waiting for him at the end of the aisle. I can almost hear Felton’s breath catch and his deep inhale.
I’m not sure if there’s a cue because I’m watching Felton with a wide smile. His eyes don’t leave Ren as he slowly makes his way down the aisle. There’s no music.
Actually, now that it’s silent, I hear a quiet melody. Nothing that I can name nor words that I can make out, but it’s as soft and enchanting as the scene around us. The notes of it on the air only lend further to the magic of the room, as if we’ve been carried off into a different realm.
Felton reaches Ren, who takes his hands. I can’t hear their quiet exchange, though I see the tears in Felton’s eyes.
Fingers brush my hand, and I glance down. Dasan’s fingers settle between mine. I glance up. He’s not looking at me, but I see the way his smile climbs when I look at him. I look around, as if the rest of the room will see.
My heart races throughout the ceremony. I know our hands are hidden between us, but it feels as though there’s a bannerover my head with an arrow pointing down that screams “LOOK HERE.” I’ve even caught myself looking up a few times.
I’m torn between fear of getting caught and losing myself in the moment that Felton marries Ren. It’s a short ceremony without a lot of pomp. It’s not the words that matter but the message. I know what I’ll hear if someone walks in to see two men getting married and the defense of love is love.
But that’s not what’s here. That’s not the message to take away from their relationship. Their fight wasn’t against a world that thinks love is black and white. It’s against a hateful, cruel parent who stripped their child of peace.
At first glance, you might think that this is a case of love conquers all, but I think even that’s wrong. This is a matter of love heals all wounds. Felton has made remarkable strides since being surrounded by Ren’s love. His confidence has grown. His self-worth has begun to grow. His smile is genuine rather than hiding a person who’s been torn to shreds.
Felton isn’t a man reborn but a man with a thousand wounds, all of which are closing and healing. Love does that.
Following the crowd, I get to my feet as Ren and Felton make their way back down the aisle. There’s another building somewhere, if memory serves, where we’ll celebrate their day. I’m sad for the loss of Dasan’s hand on mine. I feel tingly as I watch Felton and Ren. I want that, I think. I want this kind of love. I don’t have wounds to heal or a bad past. My relationship with my family is fine. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve grown up with a pretty mundane upbringing, which isn’t something to be upset about. No scandals or nasty events is a good thing.
There’s nothing in me to heal.
Yet I think, in a way, I’m much like Felton in that I don’t have the means to grow on my own. There’s been a strange void in my life. An absence. No wounds but crevices all the same. No abuse but solitude. Not hiding but invisible.
For the first time in my life, these last few months have made me feel much more… seen. I hate to use the word valid because I don’t feel like I struggle with validation, yet now that someone has seen my needs, acknowledges them, and answers them, all those quiet whispers inside me who insisted I would never find a place where I can just be have quieted.
I can simply exist with Dasan in the quiet, submissive state that my soul has craved.
