Page 82 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Mr. Reevesworth groaned. He was fully standing now, against the wall as well, the smaller bed now pushed into the room and blocking the path to the bathroom. Mr. Moreau had his arms locked around his husband’s, head bent low, littering bite marks across his husband’s breast. Sweat glistened in the low light on their skin. Each heated breath from Mr. Reevesworth’s mouth made his chest rise and fall, displaying red and purple marks. His fingers were locked in a punishing grip on Mr. Moreau’s back.
He roared, surging off the wall and throwing Mr. Moreau across the small bed. A distinctive crack shattered the room. The ends of the smaller bed bent inward, toward Mr. Moreau’s weight in the center.
Mr. Moreau laughed. “It’s broken. I feel pieces”
“Damn. Let me throw you on the other bed.”
“You mean the one we reinforced with steel?”
“That one.”
“I’m not sure I should give you a second chance.”
Mr. Reevesworth’s nostrils flared. He leaned down, lifting his lover from the wreckage. Mr. Moreau wrapped his legs around Mr. Reevesworth’s waist and bit his neck.
“Oh, Émeric.” Mr. Reevesworth pushed the end of the small bed out of the way with his leg and found the end of the big bed. “Perhaps we need chains.”
“You may try, Richard.” Mr. Moreau let go with his legs and caught his husband with a flip, dropping them both onto the bed. “But you may end up being the one to wear them.”
“When have I ever scorned wearing your chains, my love?”
Mr. Moreau kissed him on the lips. “Never, unless you wanted them on me.”
They laughed together, rolling on the mattress, kissing more than fighting. Until there was a click.
Mr. Moreau was on top with Mr. Reevesworth under him. Mr. Reevesworth raised one hand. A heavy shackle encircled his wrist, and an industrial chain hung from it.
“You know–if I’m chained–Collin is your responsibility.”
“Yes.” Mr. Moreau grinned like the panther who had captured the cream. He grabbed Mr. Reevesworth’s other wrist and wrapped metal around it, stretching Mr. Reevesworth out on his back, arms chained to the upper corners of the bed.
Mr. Reevesworth groaned and arched against the bed. “And I was so looking forward to sinking into your ass tonight, Émeric.”
“Your schedule tomorrow only has Collin on it.”
“Because that’s all that I intended.”
“I think you’ll have to add recuperating to that.” Mr. Moreau slunk off the bed and opened an armoire near the walk-in closet. He returned to the bed with a large blue flogger and a small black bag.
Mr. Reevesworth smiled at the flogger. Mr. Moreau returned the look and then held up the small black bag.
Mr. Reevesworth’s arms tightened, jerking at the chains. “Oh, God, Émeric. Please no.”
Mr. Moreau smirked. He walked around the bed, throwing off the covers that had come loose and revealing chains at the foot of the mattress that matched those at the top. He gave his husband a long look.
Mr. Reevesworth groaned and closed his eyes, refusing to look as his husband chained his legs down and apart.
“Now you’re safe to be approached.”
“Watch out, I might break this bed too.”
“Those chains are steel embedded in concrete. We learned our lesson last time.” Mr. Moreau opened the bag, revealing two small clamps.
Collin instinctively put his hand to his own chest.
“Émeric. I hate those.”
“There’s nothing like them for making you fall, Richard.”
