26
by Mickey M.
© January 2004

for chester_w

It's not a big room, not even as big as JC's bedroom at home. But it doesn't need to be big; it has everything it needs, everything is compact and well-ordered, and that's all there has to be.

The one thing it has right now, that isn't there nearly often enough, is his pet. Kneeling in the center of the room, light from one overhead lamp cutting through the shadows to shine on smooth, slick skin gleaming with oil. It's a sheen that makes his mouth water, wanting to taste, to touch. He imagines the oil being slicked on, fingers rubbing and kneading, teasing over sensitive skin. Maybe the skin is still blushing from the last beating, tender and just barely red, lending it a warm, rosy tone. Perhaps the next time, he'll oil his pet up.

The lamplight catches more than the gleam of oil on skin. It shows the highlights in his hair, gold against brown, laying soft and relaxed without gel or mousse teasing it up. It catches the shimmer of fluid at the tip of his cock, hard and long, captured that way for his pleasure by a cockring fastened snugly at the base. His pet is kneeling, holding himself perfectly steady, motionless, save for his breathing, arms held behind his back. His head is bowed, though JC knows if his pet looks up, his eyes will shine warm green, like a perfect spring day. He won't until JC tells him to, because he's perfectly trained, so desiring of this.

"Look at me," he says quietly after he's looked his fill. "Lance. Look at me."

He's caught, lost, in those green eyes, until he blinks. It's always like that, the first moment they look at each other. A moment to drown in one thing, before losing himself in another.

"Are you ready?" The leather coiled in his pocket is soft to the touch, warm from being next to his body, save for the cool metal rings, one in the front, one in the back, and the buckle. Lance nods.

"Yes, Sir. Please."

"I love you like this," he whispers, bending to buckle the collar around Lance's neck. It fits snugly, gleaming dull, muted black against the golden shine of his skin. JC slides one finger under the edge, feeling Lance's pulse throb steadily. "Stand up and present, pet."

He shifts slowly, then stands. The long, black dildo - secured to a base that's secured to the floor - slides from Lance's body and JC watches his breathing quicken, watches his eyes widen, and smiles.

He'll have to make sure to use that particular toy again, on the next go-round.