Page 8 of Collin, Episodes 7-9 (The Residency Boys #3)

Morning came gently. He lay there, drifting toward full wakefulness, between his two sleeping doms, trying to decide how he felt.

There was a bit of a lost feeling, like a gate had been blown open inside of himself and there was now too much space.

But then he thought of the office and Ash, and thinking of Ash made him smile.

And then thinking about how Ash was sleeping in a torn sleeping bag under his desk made him grimace.

And even though one part of his head felt like there was too much space, this other part of his head felt solid and real.

The too much space part of himself was a problem for Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau.

They had created it, and they wanted it.

If they wanted to make him weepy and needy, then they got to deal with him weepy and needy.

It didn’t seem like they minded, as unreal as that felt.

Work Collin, though, was still who he had always been, or at least he wanted the chance to prove that he was, if only to himself.

Maybe work Collin couldn’t run his whole life anymore, but he was still capable, still present, just not the primary Collin.

And he had evidence to prove he was still capable. The day he’d typed up his observations for Mr. Reevesworth with his leg tied up under him, he’d done as well, if not better than, he had ever done. His mind had been clear and peaceful and focused, and he knew he’d given good work.

Could he do both? Could he be both? Maybe, just maybe, work Collin was a better Collin if he wasn’t the only Collin.

He rolled over and studied Mr. Reevesworth’s face.

Was it really a both question, or was he the same person here with his master and his sir as he was at work?

He’d done the whole splitting himself before, in middle school and high school, after his dad had died and while his mother was going through cancer treatment.

But maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe there were just people who were close enough and worthy enough and who wanted to share certain things with him who were able to pass through to certain levels of Collin, but he could still be Collin all the way through all the time.

Be Collin. His chest expanded emotion. When was the last time, before he met Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau, and Damian, Linda, and Ellisandre, and yes, even Ash, where he had had the space, even inside himself, to…be Collin? It was a ludicrous thought, but it persisted.

Maybe when he was writing his research? He’d been himself then. But he’d thinned out, disappeared, somewhere between then and that day he’d woken up on the floor of that break room with a concussion. He’d run out of time for himself. And then he’d run out of himself.

But now he was himself, all over, in all the cricks and crannies. This strange feeling was him. He was feeling…himself. Awake. Aware.

Collin squeezed his eyes shut. Mr. Reevesworth had been remembering him, holding him as real, all those months, even while Collin lost himself, before Collin even knew Mr. Reevesworth existed.

Well, they all had been. Mr. Moreau, Damian, Linda, and Ellisandre had all been remembering for him, preserving him.

They’d called him back to them and now to himself.

Collin blinked away tears and let the feeling of existence fill him.

Perhaps this was part of the too much space, too.

Not just yesterday, but all of it, all of where he was and what he was now.

Yes, he was still squirming in embarrassment of what he’d done yesterday, but he trusted.

He did, truly, trust. And he’d given up the power of deciding whether or not to be embarrassed.

He would be embarrassed, but he didn’t need to control that.

It would or would not happen, and it was up to others to keep him safe.

As Mr. Reevesworth had said, he didn’t need his dignity; he had his master.

And where had clinging to a facsimile of dignity gotten him? Had it made him happier? Had it protected him?

It had done nothing for him, not when compared to what Mr. Reevesworth had done. Even in the eyes of the world, by giving up his dignity in these quiet, guarded spaces, he’d gained more dignity than he’d ever carried before.

He rolled over, looking at Mr. Moreau. He could stay home with his sir today, but he actually wanted to go to the office. He wanted to walk around the world with this feeling inside and see if it was strong enough to exist out under the sun.

And if it wasn’t, he’d go into his master’s office and hide. He wasn’t alone. He could be brave because he wasn’t alone. He could dare because now there was somewhere safe to run.

He started to shiver, something hysterical and happy and sad and fiery rattling around inside of him.

“Collin.” Mr. Moreau opened his eyes. Behind Collin, Mr. Reevesworth’s body stirred.

“It’s okay, sir,” Collin said. “I’m just…

I’m full and empty and so many things. But I was just thinking how”—he swallowed, trying to find an affirmative of the situation but only coming up with the same words he’d just had in his head—“I’m not alone, sir.

I’m really, really not alone. It doesn’t feel real. ”

“Oh, precious boy.” Mr. Moreau moved closer, wrapping his arms around Collin.

Mr. Reevesworth joined him, bringing up one solid thigh and wrapping it around Collin’s legs, pinning him firmly.

“You are ours, boy.”

“Make me believe it. Remind me. Make it concrete, please. I want to believe, but it feels…too big.”

Mr. Reevesworth bit down on the arch of Collin’s neck. Heat and the headiness of being owned zinged through Collin’s nerves. He arched into the grip of his Master’s jaw, shuddering through the pain as it bled into pleasure, taking the shaking with it and leaving him limp and pliant.

“Master.” His words slurred.

Mr. Reevesworth drew back and traced over the bite mark. “That should last for a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll find ways to remind you, boy.”

“Yes, master.”

“We haven’t talked about that word.”

“No, sir.”

“You may use it. But know that if you do, we will be talking about collars.”

“Isn’t it not fair to call you master but to call you sir, sir?” Collin turned toward Mr. Moreau.

Mr. Moreau brushed hair away from Collin’s eyes.

“I think it reflects how you feel. You serve and worship Richard, but you seek closeness and comfort with me. You don’t look for my direction, but you desire to please.

Like a pet or a younger man looking to a mentor he also loves.

Sir fits well for us. Richard wishes to discipline you and draw you out, shape you.

I trust him with that. I want to torture and play with you and feed you and see you thrive. ”

“And spoil.” Mr. Reevesworth chuckled.

“It’s a rich fabric of desires.” Mr. Moreau smiled at his husband. He stroked Collin’s face with his fingers. “I can spoil and torture.”

Collin laughed. He pressed himself against Mr. Moreau until the Frenchman rolled onto his back, taking Collin with him. Collin wrapped his arms and legs around his sir and squeezed. “I like being tortured by you, sir, even if you do like putting me on display.”

“émeric certainly has more art than I in that aspect. I defer to him in creativity.”

Collin shivered. “I should be scared.”

“But you’re actually excited, aren’t you, beautiful boy?”

Collin blushed. “Yes, master. It still feels like I shouldn’t enjoy it, that I shouldn’t desire it. That I’m being vulgar and wrong, but then…you look at me. And you touch me, and it…it doesn’t matter.”

“Someday, soon,” Mr. Moreau murmured, “when you’re a little stronger, I will wrap you in rope and hang you on a wall and take photographs so you can see yourself the way we see you.”

“That sounds like we should have the house opened,” Mr. Reevesworth murmured. “Then you can use natural light and the woods in your work.”

Mr. Moreau hummed. “It’s been a while since I tied anyone but Ami.”

“I look forward to this, if you will permit me to be there.”

“I would insist. We should share the moment.”

Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau kissed. Collin dropped his head to Mr. Moreau’s chest and watched them, smiling. These two felt strong enough to hold him, to love him, and to deny the world all the pieces of him that he didn’t want to give away.

Strong enough to hold the space. And maybe, somehow, they would make him strong enough to hold space to be as well.

Collin told Mr. Reevesworth about Ash as they walked to the office. They’d barely spoken of it over the weekend, not in any depth.

“He can sleep there for the moment,” Mr. Reevesworth decided. “But make him at least order some camping gear, a body mat, and better blankets.”

“What’s a body mat?”

“It’s what you put under a sleeping bag when camping. The ceramic floors in that room are less forgiving than a forest floor. See if you can figure out if he’s opposed to living in an apartment or if there’s another point of friction.”

“I’ll try, sir.”

Mr. Reevesworth smiled. “You’re doing well with Ash, Collin. I’m pleased.”

Collin and Mr. Reevesworth didn’t speak after entering the building until they reached Mr. Reevesworth’s inner office. They were early, and no one else was yet present.

Mr. Reevesworth put down his briefcase and took off his coat and hat. Collin helped hang them up and started to take off his own. When he turned around, Mr. Reevesworth was waiting for him. He had a small black object in his hand.

“Open your pants.”

Collin blinked but obeyed. He was locked away, as usual, in the cage.

Mr. Reevesworth attached the small black object to one of the rings of the cock cage. “This is a tracking device. There is a small speaker in this. If you’re ever where I don’t want you to be, I can send it a signal, and it will make a sound of my choice. There are few options programmed into it.”

A pleasurable owned feeling slithered through Collin. “I didn’t know they sold things like this.”