The fingers that ruffled through the sleeping creature’s hair began to draw light circles down the nape of the young man’s neck, taking in the beauty of his sleeping form curled up in a protective ball, his back resting against the chest of his awake companion whose other arm locked tight around his waist beneath him.

He sighed. Light had just begun to creep into their world through the meagre blinds of the window with the approach of dawn, giving the air a misty, golden quality that played off the soft white sheets which splayed themselves unashamedly across the bed, trailing off on to the floor where in the heat of frantic passion they had been merely a hindrance.

Another sigh, the sleepless man resettled himself closer to his lover, nestling his chin against his shoulder, his free hand sliding down the sleeping body to draw him further into his arms and to tease his dreams with faint unconscious pleasures. So beautiful, even in sleep possession could not be denied, reflected in every subtle breath more rashly taken, murmurs of sweet dreams close to his ears.

Fingers ran softly back up his lover’s body, leaving a trail of twitching muscles, before finding the soft parted lips of his blond companion, pausing with every murmur the sleeping man made in his slumber. Waking him would have been a crime, not whilst he could watch him sleep, unprotected, exposed, gloriously beautiful, vulnerable and every inch his, even when as deeply wrapped away in dreams as this.

Subconsciously, his fingers slipped down from silky lips pouting even in the depths of sleep to find the warm smooth strip enclosed around his lover’s extended neck. A single band of the finest leather, little more than a fingers-width across, without decoration save from the smallest of silver buckles at the nape. Understated and yet more damningly obvious than vulgar studs and chains. Elegantly, it circled the young man’s neck, a ribbon of darkest ebony, an unmistakable mark against the fragility of skin so pale. Kissing the shoulder of his lover, he found his lips inexplicably drawn to the black collar, so out of place on the body of the angel lying in his arms. Recalling those blue eyes lowered, head bowed in waiting as he had fastened it tightly those few days ago, a more arousing sight there could never be he mused, playfully running his tongue across the Spanish leather whilst he pulled himself even closer for the feel of warm skin pressed against his. Out of place, but so perfect he began to murmur, filled with a sudden impatience, coaxing now his companion out of his dreams with kisses more impassioned and demanding than before, rocking against the body in his arms and hissing at the tension knotting inside him. All the while, fingers kept returning to the band, fondling its smooth contours with erotic delight as his lover stirred and began to sigh softly at the kisses, the aroused body pressed against his now demanding his attention.

Nothing but the shallow exhaling of breath panting softly into the pillow beside him, the whimpering sound so seductively arousing, riling up his desire to quench the entreaties of the flesh as his lips sucked porcelain flesh to leave telling marks of crimson when teeth took too many liberties.

He took him quickly and harshly, an urgency reflected in his every groan, every movement, merely augmented by the beautiful compliance of the young man beneath him, who uttered no words, rough thrusts exacting nothing more than gasps of laboured breath easily stifled by a snarling kiss. Not even an exclamation of pain as blond hair was firmly gripped, wrapped around exploratory fingers and tugged to pull back the young man’s head. Merely a half-swallowed moan of acceptance at which the other man could only growl in pleasure, revealing in the silence of servitude, the knowledge that his lover would not speak, could not vocalise sound, not whilst he wore this, his fingers once again finding the symbol of his possession.

And after the body was satiated, he filled his soul with the sight of the lover whose body he had claimed, an exquisite rouge flush across his cheeks, lips just that little shade darker from teeth that had been a little too enthusiastic. Eyes lowered, not deigning to meet his lover’s until granted permission with a sharp order.

Starting from his forehead, fingers now gently stroked a path down the blond man’s face, back once again to that black band. The angel beneath him smiled in return and arched back its neck as he leant over to place a kiss on that collared throat, a tender display of affection almost paradoxical to the severe band his lips found.

No words were spoken, they never were in that interlude between two states of being, dressing resignedly before they would go their separate ways. Sometimes he thought that his companion had it easier, no choice in his silence until released from his restraint. He, on the other hand, for all of his control, for his monopoly on words, never knew what to say at this point, as reality slowly began to seep into their conscious thoughts with the coming of dawn. Not awkward, just unsettling, resentment for the lives that merely intruded on their time together like this.

Now, the inevitable parting, bringing with it one last ceremony ...

“Ralf ...?” He murmured his lover’s name, who now sat, still silent, at the foot of the bed ready to leave. Funny to think it was the first time in three days that he had used his name. It always sounded strange, always meant a goodbye, having return to the selves that they were forced to be.

Even stranger to think that he had not heard the sound of his companion’s voice for the same amount of time, both the gnawing desire and dread to hear it clawing at him, reminding him of the real world they always sought to hide from.

Those blue eyes lifted to meet his own and then instinctively broke to look to the ground, only reacting again when the other man walked over to the seated figure, resting one hand on its shoulder, the other under its chin to tip his head back for a last kiss. Difficult to disentangle himself from those lips, he forced his body to comply, ignoring the roaring of hot blood through his veins that threatened to deafen him. Leaning over, his fingers ran across the striking band to the clasp at the back, a last teasing lick up the column the young man’s throat.

A momentary flicker of discomfort crossed the collared man’s face as his companion pulled the leather strap tighter to release the buckle before it came away in his hands and with it surrendering, for now, his control, if not ownership. In its place sat the reddish indentation where leather had perched tightly these past few days, not so easy to disguise, giving him a sense of satisfaction at the lingering badge of possession.

The blond cautiously stood, released from his bondage, but never once reached up to soothe the welted flesh which must have stung. Instead, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, his gestures suddenly once again imbued with his normal self-assurance, a hint of devilish arrogance as he draped his arms around his lover’s shoulders.

“Don’t keep me waiting another two weeks again, Juan,” his voice murmured lazily as he slowly leant in and stole a swift kiss.

Then he left.

Idly, Juan toyed with the collar in his hand as he stood seemingly transfixed at the door, lost in thought. Strange, how the creature who could be so high and mighty, so haughty and infuriatingly cocky could be tamed so willingly with something as flimsy and as minimal as this. How it revelled in its possession with pure masochistic delight, never once stepping out of line nor questioning its treatment, knowing the wrath of reprisals if it did so, sinking to its knees in submission and waiting for its orders, its rewards and its punishments.

Not that he had ever really hurt him, nothing more than he had not acquiesced to in wearing this. There had been times that he had lost himself in fantasy, pushed a little too demandingly, played a little too roughly with his precious plaything without realising, without the tempering influence of a partner willing to protest. Only aware the next morning of his loss of control by the number of  possessive scratches across his lover’s body intermingled with the purple-ish tinge of new bruising showing startlingly against pale flesh. For those times, he had given up apologising as his words fell on ears that did not want nor need to hear them, so instead he would take pleasure in them, each mark his signature placed across the blond’s yielding body.

No, he mused, this was merely a symbol of willing enslavement, that such a pretty little thing could wield such power and obedience, marking his possession, pandering to his desire to dominate. It wouldn’t be worn if the wearer did not accept absolute abandon. His lover probably did not even need it around his delicate throat to remind him ... but he wanted it, he was quite clear about that in the few times they were together outside of their fantasy. Correction, they wanted it. What it did for Ralf, he could only speculate. That constant reminder of his possession, the warning for unquestioning obedience, or perhaps he just enjoyed the pain as it dug relentlessly into his protesting skin, with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it, no way of escaping its bite in the same way he took pleasure from his subjugation, the ripping away of his control and his pride by his imperious lover.

But what it did for him ... now, that was the polar opposite: the heights of lust attained by purest superiority, from a creature whose surrender had no limits, no restrictions and would take its fate with acquiescence. Then again, Juan thought, the secret urge to surrender entirely, to take illicit pleasure from what should be cruel humiliation ... perhaps it was not such an outrageous desire after all.

He smiled as he slid the collar back into the drawer. Plain, unassuming, but yet so blatant of his ownership. And with it, escapism.

He was lucky.

~ The End.