Page 20 of Collin: Episodes 7-9
“Go ahead, pup.”
Damian ran his hands over Collin’s back and down his rear and stroked his tail, laughing a little when Collin shivered as the plug shifted inside in response. Then he dragged his blunt nails down the side of Collin’s arched throat and down between his arms, over one sore nipple, and down to his belly.
Collin whimpered and gave in. A quiet stillness seeped into him.
“Good kitten.” Mr. Reevesworth scratched Collin’s scalp and let him lower his head. “Good kittens stay on their beds while the humans eat breakfast.” He tugged on the leash and guided Collin over to a large pet bed. There was yet another innocent-looking hook on the wall. Collin glanced up in time to see Mr. Reevesworth latching the end of the leash to it. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Not that he really wanted to. The bed was soft. And breakfast smelled amazing. And he could finally, finally sink down and rest.
Damian dropped down by the bed and onto all fours, getting on the same level as Collin. He got his nose right up into Collin’s face. “Hey.”
Collin blinked. Damian extended one finger, rubbing the bridge of Collin’s nose. “You look great, Collin. I’m so glad you trust us enough to try. You really are cute.”
Collin bit his lip, then stretched his neck out, and rubbed his nose against Damian’s hand. Damian stroked him again, then ran his fingers around Collin’s neck, and scratched him right where his hairline started at the top of his spine. His fingers worked into the knots in Collin’s shoulders and up the lines of Collin’s neck into his hair.
This was heaven. Collin slumped forward, head falling down on his mittened hands, and purred. Forget dignity, this was more important. His entire body started melting into the cat bed.
Somewhere across the table, Mr. Reevesworth sighed. “Seriously, Damian, I rubbed him down from head to toe with lotion and he wouldn’t relax, but now you have him purring?”
Mr. Moreau chuckled. “You probably had him in posture or something like that. Damian isn’t asking anything of him.”
“True. I wasn’t finished getting him ready then.”
Mr. Reevesworth came over. Collin opened one eye. Was there going to be another order?
Mr. Reevesworth leaned over and stroked Collin’s cheek. “Rest, pet. You’ve been good; you’ve been very good. I’m proud of you. Relax.” He tilted Collin’s chin up and kissed him gently on the lips. “You’ve done good.”
Collin puddled on the inside. There was practically nothing he wouldn’t do if Mr. Reevesworth would look at him like that. The world settled, stabilized, and grew quiet and small. Even safe. There was nothing he was trying to figure out, nowhere he had to go, and he was wanted. He could feel it all the way down into his belly. Maybe he could do this—all day. He was certainly going to try.
Collin raised his head and licked his dom’s fingers.
Episode 8
Collin snuggled down into the cat bed. It was probably sold as a dog bed. Didn’t matter. He had stupid cat ears on his head, courtesy of his dom, so anything Collin was on was a cat bed. End of story. Collin rubbed his face against the soft top and snickered to himself. Maybe, just maybe, this whole morning was going to his head. That and what he knew was coming.
His thoughts were leaning toward weird and silly and distinctly untethered from the steady, focused tracks they usually followed. Something about being a sex kitten on display with his hands trapped in paw mittens and a leash running from his neck to a hook on the wall could evidently do that to a person, er…sex kitten. Nope. Thoughts were too much. He was not going to think about weird threats from the working lunch last week, or his hacked laptop, or nerves about going home for Samhain with Mr. Reevesworth or if Damian was lonely.
There was nothing he could do about any of that in this moment. Nothing he was allowed to do about that. He wasn’t even supposed to be talking. Time to let thoughts go. No more thinking. Thinking bad. Other people could do that. He couldn’t think and exist like this at the same time. If only he could take a break from thinking. Like a real cat. They seemed more relaxed than people.
Collin sighed and shoved responsibility out of sight. Not that it was obeying him, but at least he was trying. And that had to count, right? He side-eyed himself in his own head. And almost giggled. A psychologist would have a field day with him.
The other three men in the kitchen turned their attention to breakfast, ostensibly ignoring him. Mr. Moreau had made crepes and fancy scrambled eggs. Collin’s mouth watered. Damian poured coffee for all three. Coffee would be so nice right now. But there were only three places set at the table and no additional food placed on any of the plates. Mr. Reevesworth, Mr. Moreau, and Damian sat down together. Collin sighed and made himself more comfortable on the cat bed. He could sit on his haunches, his mittened hands between his knees, or he could crouch on his belly. Or he could lay on his side and bend his legs to keep them off the cold floor. He finally settled half on his side, half on his belly, where he could see the table and curl his legs up with his arms tucked under his head. That felt the best even if it left his soft belly and shiny dick on display.
Mr. Reevesworth shot him an approving look as he passed a condiment to his husband. Collin huffed and hid his face against his arm. No thinking. Thinking led to more embarrassment. Bad thoughts! He blushed behind his arms.
It was nice, though, lounging there. The three at the table ate and talked about various things. With a tail plug up his ass and mittens on his hands, he really didn’t need to pay attention to any of it. And in time, the smells and soft conversation and clink of silverware wove a gentle haze. His eyes grew heavy, and he drifted, neither asleep nor awake. It was good. Odd, but much less odd than the shower. Being naked around the other three dressed men fueled a constant low level of awareness of his status, making him feel weak and submissive, but the collar and leash told him exactly what he should be doing.
No questions. No uncertainties.
Something deep inside finally unclenched. He watched the others, eyes half closed.
Mr. Moreau stood up from the table first. He kissed Mr. Reevesworth long and slow, then cleared his plate from the table. He fussed around the stove, stirring something for several minutes. Mr. Reevesworth and Damian finished eating but sat back in their chairs, drinking coffee and still talking.
Mr. Moreau set a bowl on the floor. “Time for your milk, kitten.”
Collin blinked and shook himself. Mr. Moreau approached and unclipped the leash. He patted his thigh in a summoning gesture. “Come, time for your breakfast.”
Collin pulled his hands and knees under him. Uncertain, he crawled after Mr. Moreau. The Frenchman brought him right up to the bowl. White liquid floated inside it. It was warm and smelled like milk.
