Boyd Holbrook

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What Marc loved most in the morning was strapping Rob into his chastity belt.

He loved every aspect of it. He loved oiling up the butt plug, warming it so that it was no longer just a black piece of thick rubber, but so that it was warm, glossy, worthy to sit inside of Rob, to have his ass flexing around it. He worked the cream around it slowly.

Rob was bent over the bed, his pale legs spread; his pink hole already dilated—prepared to take it.

He’d need to go a size up soon, perhaps. Or maybe he’d leave it. It kept Rob open at a nice level of suction, leaving him wet and ready for when he returned home from work—ready for Marc to take, to remind him who he belonged to.

There was no event that preceded this to make it necessary. Rob had never cheated on him, had never even made mention of anyone in particular that it would be with.

It wouldn’t be very cunning of him to mention that on his latest fashion shoot that he’d modeled with an attractive Austrian. When he did speak of them, the names rang in Marc’s ears long after they’d been uttered dismissively. “I worked with Paul. Or maybe his name was Louis. I think today I’m working with Gerhard, or Berthold. Some German guy.”

Satisfied that the butt plug was saturated, Marc pushed Rob’s fine, pale cheeks apart gingerly, kissing the underside of his cheeks. He pressed the tip against the ring of muscles. It looked too smooth, alien, inorganic, too unreal to be jealous of.

He dipped the tip inside of the borderline, watching the way that Rob’s whole body tensed as he took it.

“I warmed it for you,” said Marc in soothing tones.

“Thank you.”

Rob’s cheek was against the duvet, rich velvet against his perfect skin. Never would Marc have taken Rob for glamorous, but since he’d seen the other male models, he realized that there was something odd-looking about all of them.

A pasty pale boy with silky blond hair and worried gray eyes would fit right in.

Marc worked the dildo in and out of Rob, watching the pink skin flush to white and dark pink again as he fucked him with it, inching the plug in more and more until it was all the way around the base. Then, when he’d reached the base of the plug, Rob clenched shut around the narrow part, rubbing, squeezing, greedy for more.

Marc gave the plug a few turns from the base for good measure.

With a snap, he attached the clear plastic strap that held it to the rest of the harness. The straps were thin, but substantial enough to hold.

“Stand up.”

As much as Marc loved fucking Rob’s hole wet, knowing that by the end of the day he’d be itching to be filled, twitchy with the need for something real in there, he also adored lacing Rob’s cock in.

Every morning it was a struggle not to suck it. Marc’s mouth practically watered to have it inside of him, watching it strain to his every touch.

“Such a good boy,” Marc cooed. He smiled at the shiver of muscles up Rob’s defined torso.

He dragged his fingers over the line of Rob’s hips, the beautiful crease that showed just over his trousers, leading somewhere others would find mysterious.

Only Marc could go there.

Only Marc touched these places on Rob.

Marc found Rob hiding under a bridge, bruised and swollen, too afraid to even speak. He shared his lunch with the shivering, starving man, using the water from his thermos to clean the blood from Rob’s face.

Marc didn’t ask Rob to follow him, he just did.

He didn’t ask Rob to touch him, to kiss him, to suck his cock, to ride him, to massage him when he came home from his construction job sore.

He fed Rob, cared for him, and once he expressed interest in reclaiming his life, Marc made sure Rob got a second chance.

He’d never asked Rob to stay, he just did.

It was Rob who brought the belt home. Marc put it on dutifully in response to Rob’s need to be protected, to be comforted; to be possessed.

The front of the belt held black laces in which to weave Rob’s prick between—silken chords to keep him in place, knots to hold him steady; guarding him from violation or temptation.

Marc brushed the flushed pink prick with his fingers, crisscrossing the plaiting around his prick. At the bottom, he tied it into a neat little knot and tucked it into the plastic strap, leaving Rob bundled up and full.

Rob sighed, relieved to be bound up.

Marc sat up on his knees and dotted angel kisses over his belly. He slid his hands up Rob’s back and gazed up at him adoringly to see his expression reflected on Rob’s face. His hair fluttered down to shroud him in shadow, but Marc knew that expression, knew that it meant that he was happy.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” said Marc, standing up slowly to hold him for a moment.

He was hard thinking about how glorious it was to take the apparatus off, to hear Rob’s demanding whimpers, how he begged to come after being denied all day. He slid his fingers through Rob’s hair, cupping his face so he could flash him his most reassuring smile.

“I should be home by four,” said Rob. He held Marc a moment longer, and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a cashmere jumper. He held up his cell phone to show that he’d have it with him and shoved it into his pocket.

Marc smiled, seeing him out adoringly before he prepared for his own day at the construction site.

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