Page 50 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“But…”
“Hush. Stop. You’re strong, really strong, bro. And beautiful. Giving. I wish I had my own Collin. But…” He smiled, his eyes lighting up from the inside. “I’d still need my brother; even if I had my own sub, I’d still want you here like this.”
“Like a pet?”
“Like a person I like and who I get to pet.” He squeezed Collin harder to make his point.
Collin put his head down. Thoughts rolled around inside of him for several minutes. In the kitchen, the sound of water heating up in the electric kettle started up.
“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked hesitantly. Where did that come from? Gah, he needed to find his filter. Fucking his brains out seemed to make it go away.
Damian patted Collin’s ass under the blanket, making the plug jostle. “Sometimes. You’re objectively good-looking, and I’m a man who likes sex. But right now, all I want to do is cuddle.”
“You’re hard.” Collin flexed his hips, pressing down on Damian’s arousal.
“Of course, I’m hard, but right now, I want cuddles more than I want anything else.”
That actually kind of made sense. And Damian’s arms felt good. He was starting to feel warm and lax under the blanket with Damian’s added heat.
He yawned, slow and heavy, his body dragging him down toward true drowsiness that wasn’t subspace. “Wake me up when Mr. Moreau gets home? Please?”
“Shh, Collin. Rest. I got you. We got you.”
Collin closed his eyes. Right then, a small weight landed on his back. “Uh, Artemis. Hey.”
Damian freed a hand to pet the cat on Collin’s back.
Four little paws kneaded him through the blanket, and then the warm little body curled right between his shoulder blades and purred.
Episode 12
Collin came to consciousness by degrees. The first thing he realized was that he could smell his master and not Damian, and then he realized he was lying between his master’s legs on the couch itself and no longer on top of Damian. But Damian’s voice was still in the room. And his sir’s.
That was almost enough to make him open his eyes, but his master’s hands were currently rubbing his scalp, and that was too good to risk disturbing at least for the moment. Instead, he listened.
“No wine tonight, Damian. I think we’re all too tired for it.”
“What about mulled cider?” Damian’s voice moved across the room.
“We have some of that?” Mr. Moreau let out a long sigh, and the chair by the couch made the air-leaving-cushions sound of someone sitting.
“I just saw a gallon jug of it. Shall I heat it up?”
“Please. That will go well with the crackers and cheese we have out. Oh, and we should eat the cherry tomatoes, too.”
“I’ll bring them,” Damian called. This time, his voice was coming from the kitchen.
“Would you like to hold our boy?” Mr. Reevesworth murmured. “He’s very soothing.”
“I’d love to.” Mr. Moreau sounded absolutely battered. “But I don’t think I can move for at least five more minutes.”
“Rough day?”
Mr. Moreau groaned. That sounded bad. Collin opened one eye. He could just see his sir on the other side of the coffee table. The Frenchman was half collapsed in his chair, rubbing his face, glasses in one hand as if he’d just taken them off.
“Class and office hours this morning. I thought I’d get a couple calls in, but no less than three students actually came to office hours with legitimate questions. Then there were meetings with your company. Two more harassment cases though I think one is just a jealous ex. Damian assigned them lawyers, and Paulsen is investigating, so they aren’t my problem until those reports come back. Then I had my client from Singapore flying in. That was most of the afternoon. He likes walking while we talk, so I had us set up to tour the new exhibit at the art institute. I think we did the entire antiquities section twice and half of the rest of it. And then, oh…back to my office for another meeting.”
“You didn’t get any thinking time in,” Mr. Reevesworth noted softly.
