(no subject)
In the tiny restroom of a plane headed for New York, Sean slips the slender leather collar around his throat and buckles it. It's not much, as collars go. The strap is black and soft and not even as wide as his little finger. The silver buckle is delicate; he's sure it wouldn’t have set off the metal-detector, but he's never had the nerve to test it.
It's more decoration than restraint; he could hook his thumb under it and snap it, and yet the change he feels in himself when he puts it on is deep and immediate. He is focused. He is confident. He is more himself. He's ready to deal with a new project, a new director, a group of actors that have been working together for years.
He regards his own image in the mirror, adjusts his shirt until the shadow of leather and glint of metal are hidden.
He can feel it though. He knows it's there.
It's enough.
(EDIT: Just a FYI for those who are squicked by bondage and the like--This fic is not going there. Have no fear, gentle reader.)