Carver grinned, putting the collar and cuffs down on the coffee table, reaching into his pocket and putting the nipple clamps next to them.
“Now?” Tex asked, watching him. “You think he’s—” Tex gritted his teeth and hissed as Peter accidentally scraped his teeth over his cock. “Fuck! You think he’s ready?”
Taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, Carver shrugged. “I think it doesn’t hurt to try. Why, do you think I should wait?”
Tex shook his head. “Fuck, no. I’m just surprised you’re bringing that stuff to the table before we’ve even claimed him properly.”
Peter moaned at the mention of them claiming him. It made Carver grin. It was easy to forget that Peter was just as driven to be claimed as they were to claim him.
They were all impatient, just waiting for Peter’s hole to be ready. They could have forced it—omegas healed quickly—but neither he nor Tex wanted Peter’s first time with them to be painful.
Not in that way, at least.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Tex growled, sitting up and hunching forward. He grabbed Peter by the hair, yanking him off his cock and forcing him to bend his neck back and expose his face. Peter looked up, lips shiny with spit, mouth open as he tried to position himself to catch Tex’s load.
Tex didn’t let him. He aimed his cock at Peter’s forehead, letting out a growl as he came, his load hitting Peter right between the eyes, making him flinch and close them tight.
Watching his mate coming all over their omega’s face was hot, but Carver was impatient for his turn.
Tex milked his cock dry, dragging the head of his cock through the mess he’d made of Peter’s face, smearing it in. He pushed his come-covered cock into Peter’s mouth, shuddering as Peter blindly licked it clean.
“My turn,” Carver growled. He stood up and picked Peter up under his arms, lifting him up and sitting down on the couch with Peter on his lap. While Peter wiped his eyes clean, smearing his dirty fingers on his pants, Carver reached forward and grabbed the cuffs and collar from the table.
Peter opened his eyes just in time to see Carver lifting the collar toward his neck.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked, lifting his hand and tracing the leather pressing down on his throat.
“Collaring you,” Carver growled. He tightened the buckle and slipped his finger under the leather, testing that it wasn’t too tight. Reaching for the cuffs, he locked them around Peter’s wrists. There was a crease in the leather above the second hole—where the buckle usually fastened on Tex—but with Peter, he had to move the buckle all the way to the last hole, and even then, it was a little loose.
“Now your thighs,” Carver said, pushing the larger cuffs around Peter’s thighs, effectively locking his arms by his sides. Peter tugged on the restraints, breathing fast and looking down at his trapped wrists with wide eyes.
“Is this okay?” Carver asked, pushing Peter’s t-shirt up and lifting it over his head, letting the fabric gather across the back of his neck. With the cuffs on, it was too late to take it off completely, and he didn’t want to rip it.
“Yes,” Peter said, his breaths fast and shallow. He leaned back against Carver’s chest, rubbing his ass down on the bulge of his cock.
“Then I want you to take one more thing,” Carver said. He reached forward again, forcing Peter to bend with him, and grabbed the nipple clamps. They looked vicious, with heavy tear-drop shaped metal weights dangling down. “These little beauties.”
Not giving Peter time to object, Carver pinched and tugged on Peter’s nipples, making him gasp. Then, with a clamp in each hand, he opened them up and let them close down on Peter’s pink nubs.
“Ow, fuck, ow!” Peter hissed, breathing in through clenched teeth and tugging on his locked wrists. Cock harder than it had been in years, Carver massaged the sides of Peter’s chest, flicking his fingers at the weights and making them sway back and forth.
“That’s a good boy,” Carver said, flicking the weights again. He moved the pads of his index finger up, pushing down on Peter’s nipples, rubbing against the clamps, and making Peter whimper and try to pull away.
Carver didn’t let him.
“How does that feel?” he asked, grabbing the weights and giving them a cruel little tug.
“It hurts,” Peter whimpered, leaning forward like that would do anything to lessen the weight pulling down on his nipples.
The clamps hurt like a bitch on their own—Carver knew, he had tried them on himself—and with the weights, they were evil.
“But you haven’t used your safeword,” Carver said, mostly to remind his omega that he had an out if he wanted it.
Peter stilled like it hadn’t occurred to him that he could stop the pain, but several seconds passed and neither the wordsyelloworredpassed his lips.
“Color?” Carver asked, flicking the weights and pinching down on the flesh surrounding Peter’s clamped nipples.
Peter screamed, his whole body convulsing at the pain, but when he’d stopped panting for breath, he bent his neck and sighed, “Green.”
