Page 32 of Collin: Episodes 7-9
And where had clinging to a facsimile of dignity gotten him? Had it made him happier? Had it protected him?
It had done nothing for him, not when compared to what Mr. Reevesworth had done. Even in the eyes of the world, by giving up his dignity in these quiet, guarded spaces, he’d gained more dignity than he’d ever carried before.
He rolled over, looking at Mr. Moreau. He could stay home with his sir today, but he actually wanted to go to the office. He wanted to walk around the world with this feeling inside and see if it was strong enough to exist out under the sun.
And if it wasn’t, he’d go into his master’s office and hide. He wasn’t alone. He could be brave because he wasn’t alone. He could dare because now there was somewhere safe to run.
He started to shiver, something hysterical and happy and sad and fiery rattling around inside of him.
“Collin.” Mr. Moreau opened his eyes. Behind Collin, Mr. Reevesworth’s body stirred.
“It’s okay, sir,” Collin said. “I’m just…I’m full and empty and so many things. But I was just thinking how”—he swallowed, trying to find an affirmative of the situation but only coming up with the same words he’d just had in his head—“I’m not alone, sir. I’m really, really not alone. It doesn’t feel real.”
“Oh, precious boy.” Mr. Moreau moved closer, wrapping his arms around Collin.
Mr. Reevesworth joined him, bringing up one solid thigh and wrapping it around Collin’s legs, pinning him firmly.
“You are ours, boy.”
“Make me believe it. Remind me. Make it concrete, please. I want to believe, but it feels…too big.”
Mr. Reevesworth bit down on the arch of Collin’s neck. Heat and the headiness of being owned zinged through Collin’s nerves. He arched into the grip of his Master’s jaw, shuddering through the pain as it bled into pleasure, taking the shaking with it and leaving him limp and pliant.
“Master.” His words slurred.
Mr. Reevesworth drew back and traced over the bite mark. “That should last for a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll find ways to remind you, boy.”
“Yes, master.”
“We haven’t talked about that word.”
“No, sir.”
“You may use it. But know that if you do, we will be talking about collars.”
“Isn’t it not fair to call you master but to call you sir, sir?” Collin turned toward Mr. Moreau.
Mr. Moreau brushed hair away from Collin’s eyes. “I think it reflects how you feel. You serve and worship Richard, but you seek closeness and comfort with me. You don’t look for my direction, but you desire to please. Like a pet or a younger man looking to a mentor he also loves. Sir fits well for us. Richard wishes to discipline you and draw you out, shape you. I trust him with that. I want to torture and play with you and feed you and see you thrive.”
“And spoil.” Mr. Reevesworth chuckled.
“It’s a rich fabric of desires.” Mr. Moreau smiled at his husband. He stroked Collin’s face with his fingers. “I can spoil and torture.”
Collin laughed. He pressed himself against Mr. Moreau until the Frenchman rolled onto his back, taking Collin with him. Collin wrapped his arms and legs around his sir and squeezed. “I like being tortured by you, sir, even if you do like putting me on display.”
“Émeric certainly has more art than I in that aspect. I defer to him in creativity.”
Collin shivered. “I should be scared.”
“But you’re actually excited, aren’t you, beautiful boy?”
Collin blushed. “Yes, master. It still feels like I shouldn’t enjoy it, that I shouldn’t desire it. That I’m being vulgar and wrong, but then…you look at me. And you touch me, and it…it doesn’t matter.”
“Someday, soon,” Mr. Moreau murmured, “when you’re a little stronger, I will wrap you in rope and hang you on a wall and take photographs so you can see yourself the way we see you.”
“That sounds like we should have the house opened,” Mr. Reevesworth murmured. “Then you can use natural light and the woods in your work.”
Mr. Moreau hummed. “It’s been a while since I tied anyone but Ami.”
