Page 59 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Mr. Reevesworth made room and patted his upper thigh. Collin crawled into place, his back to one leg, his cheek resting against the other.
The stiff cock in Mr. Reevesworth’s pants pressed against the back of Collin’s head. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent around him, slightly thicker from a long day of activity. For a moment, he relaxed into the sensations, even the buzzing in his ass. His cock was slowly growing larger, just starting to hint at hitting the limits of the cage. He was naked and warm and surrounded by a strong, steady body.
The desperation crept in slowly. Just good pressure and a desire to grab his cock. Not that it would do him any good.
His eyes closed, and his breathing tightened. One of his hands slid down and grabbed at the cage.
“Collin.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m going to make this a request, not an order.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t touch the cage.”
“May I ask why, sir?”
“It’s more visually pleasing to watch you struggle without you clutching at yourself.” Mr. Reevesworth ran his hands down Collin’s back.
Collin whimpered. He pulled his hand back.
A minute later, the urge was back, twice as strong. He could feel the edges of the cage now. The need to move his hips and thrust against something was starting to consume his thoughts.
“Beautiful boy.”
Mr. Reevesworth’s hands were sliding over his skin. He pushed into them. They traced patterns over his shoulders, down to his hips, and up his ribs.
Small whimpers fell from his lips. He rolled over onto his back. His hand moved down to grab the ache between his legs.
No. He wanted to be perfect. This was the first thing Mr. Reevesworth had asked of him. A growl left his throat. He thrust both of his hands behind his head. What he couldn’t stop was the way his knees were coming up, how his heels dug into the mattress, or how his hips were making infinity circles on the sheets. What had once felt satisfyingly large sliding inside him now was annoyingly small and lodged, just right, on top that pile of nerves, driving him to distraction.
The vibrator paused for a moment. Collin slumped, his breathing ragged. His heartbeat thumped in his ears. He half opened one eye. Mr. Reevesworth was staring down into his face, a look of dark calculation and intense focus in his eyes. Collin shuddered.
“Sir?”
“Hmm.” Mr. Reevesworth drew hair out of Collin’s eye. “Beautiful.”
The vibrator slammed back into motion, harder than before. Eyes still fixed on Mr. Reevesworth’s face, Collin screamed.
Mr. Reevesworth’s lips broke apart into a dark smile. Collin couldn’t look away. He was writhing on the bed, gripping his own arms to keep them behind his head. His body was shuddering and spasming, but his eyes were locked on Mr. Reevesworth.
It was a revelation. Something uncurled inside of Collin. Moans and whimpers spilled unnoticed from his lips. He wanted this now. The desire to come and release the mounting pressure in his loins was gone. He wanted to be right there, beneath this man, suffering for him, giving him this gift.
“Hold me.” He held up his wrists. Mr. Reevesworth’s hands closed around them, pinning them in place over Collin’s head and against Mr. Reevesworth’s stomach.
It was heaven and hell. But a hell he wanted to stay in even while tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. His back arched, and he wailed as the devilish thing thrummed inside him. The ring around his balls and the cage around his dick were a blur of biting, aching pressure. He thrust into empty air, lost and without recourse.
“Richard, this is a lovely way to come home.” Mr. Moreau’s voice came from the doorway.
Collin shuddered, still twisting on the sheets.
Mr. Moreau stepped into the room, the door of which had never been closed. He leaned over Collin to exchange a long, slow kiss with Mr. Reevesworth. “He’s a dream, dear.”
“Truly.” Mr. Reevesworth trailed fingers over Collin’s face.
Starving for something, Collin opened his mouth, dragging the long, smooth digit into mouth. He sucked hard. If only it were thicker and went deeper.
