He could have this boy if he played his cards right. Would it be fucked-up? Probably. But he’d stopped playing by the rules of society long ago.
He couldn’t believe Colin had the capacity to joke in his position. He even presented his wrists when Taron grabbed more rope, and let Taron tie them together without complaint. There were no attempts to bolt once the door of the cage was opened for the first time in a week either, and Colin even asked for permission to stand. The relief on his face when he finally got to stretch his body made Taron feel a tiny bit guilty over keeping him in the small space.
Colin actually smiled as he stepped closer, his eyes only slightly lower than Taron’s own, even though the difference in body shape made him seem so small in comparison. “I promise.”
When Taron looped the metal collar around the slender neck and closed the padlock, his balls became heavy with the excitement of knowing that he did in fact own this boy.
Was it wrong? Yes. Yes it was.
Was it so, so good? Definitely.
Chapter Six
The collar felt oppressive, and when it locked, forming a loose ring around his neck, he wondered whether this was its original purpose. There was still a chance that Taron had been trying to put Colin’s worries to sleep all this time and would only reveal his true face now, but the prospect of leaving the cellar was too exciting to think too much about that. His joints ached, and so did his muscles after days in confinement, but it was the type of pain similar to the burn following an intense jog.
He hadn’t been this close to Taron since the abduction, so standing right in front of that wall of muscle felt both intimidating and exciting. A promise hung in the air, and while Colin was afraid of what it might entail, he would just go with the flow for now.
“Thank you,” he said, briefly rubbing the backs of his bound hands down Taron’s broad chest. The clothes his captor wore were always on the baggy side, but Colin had seen him half-naked, and the image of the massive pecs covered by black hairs, and biceps as thick as Colin’s thighs was a prominent feature of Colin’s daydreams. He couldn’t help it when the sole person around was such a rough, hunky guy. Had they met on Grindr, Colin would have asked for a dick pic.
Taron took a deep breath, looking down at Colin’s hands. The communication they’d established was exhilarating after days of being ignored, and Colin couldn’t help the rush it created in his body. Only now was he realizing how alone he’d felt. He’d actually had whole conversations with cats. And now his abductor was ready to communicate.
Taron gave him a nod, but when he adjusted the oversized collar, as if to check if it fit properly, he rubbed his fingers against Colin’s neck. Sneaky.
Colin would have said he liked it, if the situation wasn’t so fucked up. Though he guessed the fact that Taron felt the need to steal touch rather than force it was a good sign.
He congratulated himself. The decision he’d made—or rather the one that resulted from his indecision—had been correct. He was getting under Taron’s skin. Today, Taron would let him roam under supervision, which was something, but Colin was up for the long game. Step by step, he would break all of Taron’s barriers until it was safe enough to steal his car and run.
Colin would be smart about this, not like all the reckless people in movies who tried to run too early and got killed in the process.
Taron led him up the stairs, and cats followed in such a herd that Colin had to watch where he put his feet. But then daylight hit his face, and he choked up, looking through the window above, at tree tops and the blue sky dotted with small clouds.
Considering that there was a cell in the basement, the bedroom was painfully average. A large cozy bed with a knitted throw on top, and a wood burner by the wall with an empty cup on top. That was it. The room could be a perfect place for a weekend retreat, and once Colin’s feet touched the floor upstairs, he was in too much of a shock to speak. He saw rabbits frolicking in an enclosure outside. So this was the source of the delicate meat he’d eaten in two stews this week. His relief that he wasn’t eating bits of Peter McGraw’s flesh was beyond immense.
The sun already had an orange tint, and the way it played in the leaves of the tall trees was so beautiful that for a moment Colin was too choked up to speak. The kitchen table, which had looked so dreadful the night Colin had seen it for the first time was now home to a chopped onion and some fresh tomatoes, so red Colin’s eyes hurt from the intensity of color after the days without sunlight.