And that makes Sebastian everything, focuses Peter’s love and attention. His devotion.
“Hands and knees,” Sebastian says through gritted teeth and urges Peter off him. Peter is dragged into position and then Sebastian is fucking him, cage swinging painfully, and Peter doesn’t even try to stop the small, mewling noises that come from his throat.
He’s filled up with come and ordered to stay on his hands and knees until Sebastian softens enough to slip out. He tells Peter not to move and gets a plug from somewhere, sinking it into Peter’s sore hole. He gets Peter to his feet and leads him naked from the room.
“The house is empty. Ours for the weekend. In case you were wondering.” They go up the stairs and to a grand bedroom where there’s another fire. They climb into bed and Peter snuggles close, pressing his denied cock against Sebastian’s thigh.
“Fuck, it feels so awful. I love it.”
“Good,” Sebastian says, kissing him on the head.
Sebastian reaches under the pillow for a black velvet box. He hands it to Peter. Peter sits up and opens it. A gold collar, chain link and heavy. “Sebastian,” he whispers.
“Now this I paid for,” he says. “I just had to. You can’t buy your own fucking collar. I’ve never put a collar on someone,” he says, and a flash of something spills over his face—surprise? Fear?
“What’s wrong?” Peter asks.
“Nothing. It’s just a big deal to me. And I’m glad it’s you. I can’t believe it’s you. Can’t believe we haven’t done this already. You’re mine. When I don’t see you for a few days, it feels like I’m losing my mind.”
“You’ve seen me just about every day since we got together.”
Sebastian frowns again. “I’m sure there have been many days we’ve been apart.”
There aren't. He can see Sebastian thinking. “Well, fuck. I really am just obsessed with you, aren’t I?”
Sebastian takes the necklace from the box and secures it around Peter's neck. The metal is cold and heavy. Protective. Peter gets up to look in the mirror.
“I love it. Oh my god, it’s incredible.” He’s going to tell Sebastian he loves him. He returns to the bed, takes a breath in to steady himself.
Sebastian puts his hand over Peter’s mouth. Their gazes meet. “Hold on a minute, honey. I’m not done yet.” His look is fond. “I love you, Peter. I want you to know that.”
He takes Sebastian’s hand away. “That’s what I was going to say!”
“You still can.”
“Do you? Really?”
“Of course I do. How could I not love you?” He waits. “Did you have something to say?”
Peter looks him up and down. “Make me.”
“My pleasure.”
12
The grin on Sebastian’s face is terrifying. Peter can tell Sebastian is eager to make him confess his love. It’s perfect. It’s pursuit and force and makes him feel wanted. As if his love is valuable and worth fighting for. And even better is that he’d be fighting against himself.
Peter is pushed back to the bed and he lies there with his heart pounding as Sebastian moves around the room. Peter closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing and his pounding heart, needing to calm down and get himself under control.
His hand slides over the collar, touching it, pulling on it, and his other hand is between his legs, encountering the metal surrounding his cock. He whimpers and his legs rise, his hips rock as lust and panic twine together inside him.
What if it’s too much? What if he can’t stand being caged and collared? “I need to come,” he whispers and tugs on the cage. Which hurts.
And hurting makes him hard.
He tugs on the mass as if he can jerk the whole thing off. It’s frustrating and he loses time to the misery and need roilingthrough him. How does he convince Sebastian to take it off? To let him come?
“We just got together. Formally, I mean,” Peter says.
