Page 55 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“They are not, actually.” Mr. Moreau noted. “You can give one and not the other.”
Collin shrugged and snuggled. “Well, I’m giving them both.” He closed his eyes. The smell and the attention of his sir, mixed with the warmth of sharing blankets and covers with another large body, was melting the knots in Collin’s muscles one by one.
Why would anyone ever want to sleep alone?
“Tell me one of your fantasies,” Mr. Moreau murmured.
Ah! Gah, no. Different topic, please! Collin blinked at the ceiling. Pick something safe, something nondemanding. “To please people, sir.”
Mr. Moreau snorted into Collin’s hair. “Try again. You can tell me your fantasies like this, or I can ask Richard to strap you to a fucking machine and wring them out of you.”
Collin huffed. “Why do I feel like I’m going to end up strapped to a fucking machine anyway?”
“Because you are a bright man. Now, tell me a fantasy.”
Collin huffed. “Does it have to be sexual?”
“Give me one sexual and one nonsexual.”
Small delay. Hurray.
“Sometimes I imagine going to Paris with you, dressing up, and going out for dinner, somewhere with plants and lights, after dark. I think I’d feel like a lord in a movie if we did that. I want to listen to you order everything in French and then try all the foods I’ve never had before. And then maybe try to make them with you later after we come home.”
“Hmm. That is a fantasy that will certainly happen, mon petit chaton. Now for the other one.”
Collin squirmed inside his head. Seconds slid by, each still and empty. Mr. Moreau’s hand flexed on Collin’s bottom.
There’s no good way to do this, and it was an order. Get it together!
“I feel bad, sir. Every time I try to think of a way to talk about a fantasy, it feels like a demand, like I worry you’ll feel like you need to do it, whether or not you want to do it.”
“Fantasies are fantasies, Collin. I’m not promising to make them real; I’m endeavoring to learn what sparks your body and mind. Some fantasies are never meant to be made into reality. They either aren’t safe or aren’t accessible. But each fantasy carries in it an energy or idea, and that gives me insight.”
“So, you won’t feel pressure?” Somehow, that sounded too reasonable and self-contained to believe.
“I’m human, and your pleasure is important to me. But I’m mature enough to look at the larger picture. Try to trust me, Collin”
Trust. He did trust his sir to a wild degree—really—after so little time together.
“I don’t think I had many fantasies before I came here, sir. I’m not making that up. I just didn’t have much space for them in my head. But I have had one, a few times, over the last few weeks.”
“Go on.”
Collin swallowed. “It’s weird, okay? But I saw this piece of art once. It was this centaur, and he’s standing half inside this blacksmith shop, where’s it’s kinda more of an open shed, like it’s roofed over without walls on two sides, but with a fire and tools in it. Anyway, the centaur has his front hoof up on a little stool, and he’s holding his other hoof up so the blacksmith can see it, like he wants the man to fix something with his shoe, you know, like a horseshoe.” Gah, he was explaining this so badly.
“Hmm, yes. I’m familiar with horseshoes.”
“Yeah, so.” Collin took in a deep breath. “After some of the things Master has done, and you, it started changing in my head. Like the two of you take me somewhere outside—like grass and sky outside—and have something done to me. Like marking me or putting something in me surgically. In my head, I’m muzzled, so I can’t hurt anyone even though I’m scared, and you, well…you don’t let me get away, but you sort of talk me through it, like a scared horse? And you tie me so I can’t run, and then afterwards you’re really happy with me and everything is okay.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Moreau pulled Collin’s leg up so that it was over his and hauled Collin’s groin in close to his. “I like this fantasy. It’s been a very long time since I played outside. We’d need to wait for summer, though, or go somewhere warmer.”
Collin buried his face against Mr. Moreau’s neck and shoulder and groaned. Just hearing his sir thinking over the practicalities of the fantasy was making his cock start to stiffen, and there was no way his sir was not noticing that state of affairs.
Why did he have to take off the cock cage?
“How do you feel about piercings?”
“What kind of piercings, sir?”
