“Oh my,” Tom purrs from behind him, taking in the sight, “this look suits you well. Terribly well.”

Then, “I’ve always known you’d make a pretty pet.”

Feeling a collar around his neck is one thing; actually seeing himself wearing it is a different kind of rush and strange revelations altogether. Seeing himself as how Tom sees him, knowing that he is now Tom’s possession and realizing there is nothing else he’d rather be.

He never thought he’d see what he’s been reduced into and now he can’t look away.

Tom hasn’t laid a single finger on him ever since the lanky Brit handed him the satin pouch housing the collar, a thick brown thing with platinum studs and down lining. And yet there he stands, body growing unbearably warm and moist; already desperate for things that will soon come.

How the Brit manages to make him crave things he didn’t even know he wanted never fails to send his blood to new heights—or lows, more aptly; judging from how the strain between his legs is rapidly worsening into a hopeless battle against the unyielding fabric of his trousers.

“I’d have you like this all the time, if I could,” Tom closes in, cool breath dancing on his too-hot skin and eliciting a pleasant prickling in the base of his spine. “Have you wear it down red carpets and streets alike. So that everyone would know who really owns you.” 

He notices the leash then, dark coils against the pale grip of Tom’s hand. He shudders, morals in a conflict. Once that leash is fastened there will be no turning back.

“You want this?” Tom coos and gestures to the leather coils, voice airy with graceful nonchalance. 

Images assail his overloaded mind; images of himself being dragged around and shown his rightful place, tethered to a stern hand and being completely at its mercy. A subjugation and debasing that will leave him slack and wet and whimpering for more. 

He gives a shy, submissive nod.  

Tom bites lightly, teasingly at the collar. “A pet doesn’t want. A pet earns.”

It takes all he has not to break in a moan.

#i need sleep  #hiddlesworth  #le casual doodling  #le casual typing  #what am i even  #idk