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Blond and Red: New Year
🕑 Added 2022-01-03 08:40:01 +0000 UTCI have a present for him.
New Year is supposed to be a moment of beginnings, the time when you look at your life and decide how you want it to be for the next three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, and I want to seal my choice tonight.
Tonight? Really?
Maybe... but maybe I made this choice a long time ago, the first time I looked into his eyes in a dark bar. Maybe I never had a choice, maybe it was made for me. I don't know or care, as long as the choice was made.
We're spending New Year alone, just he and me and a simple dinner with pasta and wine and salad. That's all we need tonight.
I look at the ring in my finger. He gave it to me four months ago, and I said yes. But somehow, what I'm planning for today feels even more definitive. Stronger.
Ours.
That's the word: ours. Wedding rings are for everyone, but what I'm about to do tonight is just for us.
Eleven forty. Just twenty minutes for the rest of our lives to begin.
The pasta was good.
My heart is thumping. I know he's gonna say yes, I know he's wanted this for way too long and yet I feel scared, just like that time we went base jumping together.
Never again.
Base jumping, I mean. This, tonight, is the kind of thing that you want to happen forever again. And again. And again.
Why now? Why New Year?
The answer is, why not? It's a good moment to start things. And unlike the time I tried painting, or the time I started a diary, I know I want to stick to this. I already am sticking to it, this is just making it official.
He gets out the grapes. When he lived in Spain he got this tradition where you eat twelve grapes when the bell strikes and make a wish on each one. Twelve months, twelve grapes, twelve wishes, but tonight... tonight only one will do. Just give me one wish, that's all I need.
Fifteen minutes to midnight, now-or-never o-clock.
I breathe deep and take the package out of my sweater and hand it to him. I love seeing him surprised: we already did presents on Christmas, so he was not expecting this. And he can't guess what it is because it's in a box.
When he opens it, his eyes alight in that special way he only shows to me, from all people on the world only me.
A black, shiny leather collar with a silver padlock. I know what he likes and I know how he likes it, and if he doesn't like it we can change it, because when he looks at me the way he's looking at me right now, I would do anything for him, anything at all.
I know he's wanted it for a while. We have talked about it but he never dared taking the final step so I had to do it for him. It had to be like this: I wasn't sure or ready, and he was not going to do it to me unless I was. Because that's how things are between us. I had to give it to him.
I don't know if I'm ready, but I'm willing, and I guess that's almost the same. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. But I want it.
He's breathing deeper, looking at the collar in his hands with his eyes burning with desire. His face, usually kind and soft, is getting on fire and staying on fire.
He stands and my body follows him automatically.
And suddenly we're in another place, one where the only rules are what we want them to be. A place of ownership, of power, of submission and control, of dominance and obedience, a place where one of us commands and the other obeys. Yes, there is still love here, and desire and affection and tenderness, but there's so much more. So. Much. More. This is the place where he makes the rules and I follow them.
This is the place where he owns me.
His hands explore my body like it belongs to them, because it does. When we're here I stop owning myself, I stop having any will except what he wants from me, I'm just his. His boy, his lover, his property, his everything... his slave. I don't care, as long as I'm his.
This is the place where I belong and I want to stay here forever. This is what the collar means, his ownership over me. I want to make it official.
He's undressing me. He knows what his true present is and is unwrapping it. How can something so gentle be so overwhelming, so powerful? How can the slightest touch of him make me submit so deeply? I have done pain, servitude and enslavement, I've been tied and beaten up, but nothing can break me down as much as the soft, feathery touch of his hands. When he looks at me like he's looking at me right now and touches me like he's touching me right now, I feel completely owned. I feel like I stop existing by myself, and I'm only a part of him.
I guess it's love.
I'm standing naked in front of him and my cock is pointing exactly where it should be pointing, and his fingers trace a smooth circle around my nipples that feels like I'm being touched by lighting. He loves my body. He made it, literally. In the time we've been together he's made me get and stay in the shape he likes the most and I do it for him because I like him liking me. Every day when I walk down the street, my own body is a reminder that I belong to him, that I live to serve his desires.
And here we are now, and he's making me kneel and I sink down and drown in my submission. It feels right like nothing else, because when we're in this place my submission to him is the only right thing in the universe.
Here we are now, me kneeling in front of him, him looking down at me, both of us where we belong. And he takes the collar and looks at me again like he's asking for my permission to put it in my neck.
Feels just like when he proposed to me, and the answer is the same.
Yes. Yes, please. I had to give it to him so he could give it to me.
Yes.
He locks the silver padlock and puts the chain with the key around his own neck. A part of me wishes he would throw it away, but the rest of me feels a deep satisfaction about the symmetry of me wearing the padlock and he wearing the key.
He makes me stand.
I don't feel like the same man who knelt just a couple minutes ago. I feel like my fate has been sealed, like I'm more bound to him than I was before. Like now I have a right to call myself his slave in a way I couldn't without this.
I feel owned.
And I love it.
Here I am, a naked owned man standing in front of my owner. He can do with me whatever he wants, and I will let him do it. It's just that simple. That's who I am now.
He grabs my cock and gently strokes it and he's stroking all of me, all of what I am and all I will ever be, on the palm of his hand and getting stroked by him.
I can't keep my eyes open. I can't control myself, not with him making me feel what he's making me feel. How can just a hand make me feel like that? I'm shivering and sweating and moaning while he jerks me off, and I can feel the orgasm building up inside me and I just know I can't stop.
I don't have a chance against him. I've never had.
He wants me to cum for him and I will, and my cum will be the tribute that seals the deal between us.
A bell begins to ring, far away, so far away, right at the other side of the living room, and it's like that was the sign I was waiting for: I lose control and cum on his hand and this orgasm feels how I guess the horizon must feel with the first light of daybreak.
I don't even know what I am right now. I'm just feeling. Somehow I'm leaning against him and he's holding me while I tremble and shiver and I hear my voice telling him how much I love him, and his face is in front of me, filling my awareness until there isn't space for anything else in my mind and he kisses me.
He's kissing me like the act of kissing was invented at this exact moment, only for the two of us.
He's kissing me.
He's pulling me from my cock and I have to follow him.
He's taking me to the bedroom to continue what we started. The last act of the year past fades seamlessly into the first act of the year coming. I know what comes next. His eyes are telling me it's his turn now. He used my body for me and now he will use it for himself.
This is our gift to each other and this is our reality.
I belong to him.
This year that starts, I finally make the choice to belong to him, completely and forever, and I know I'm not going to regret it. We have all we need as long as we have each other. As long as I have his control and he has my submission.
He pushes me down on the bed and ties my arms and my legs, and then he takes out a blindfold and places it over my eyes. He doesn't want me to see whatever he's going to do.
I don't know what he's about to do to me, and I don't care. It doesn't matter, as long as it's him the one doing it to me. This is what the collar on my neck means.
I then hear his steps leaving the bedroom and coming back, and something smooth and sweet slides inside my mouth.
A grape. A wish.
For him and me.
Granted.
****************
Author note: As a happy new year present, this goes to all of my Patrons! I hope you like it.
Why Blond and Red? In my mind, one of them is blond and the other is a redhead. I'm beginning to toy with these two characters and see what else I can do with them, so this is most likely not the last time you see them.
