8 - upwards to infinity

[lolitics_meme]

Welcome to our eighth prompt post.

As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:

1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real

Comments

Fill 5/10

[anonymous]

Late into the night, Peter sat on the bed and contemplated the gifts Alastair had left him with. There was the split lip and and the tender bruise on his cheek, not to mention the red burns around his wrists and ankles. There was the thin strap of leather in his hands, its silver buckle glinting in the light from the hallway, and the telltale roll of paper towels Peter had brought up here to clean up his own seed. Out of all those the collar was probably the most bizarre and unexpected - and by far the most breathtaking.

He hadn't yet found the will to put it on.

They'd been together less than an hour, from the moment Alastair walked through the door to the moment Peter heard his car pulling away outside, but it felt as if he'd been transported to more places in that one glorious hour than in the course of his entire relationship with Reinaldo. Even thinking the name of his trusting young partner filled him with shame, but then he glanced back at the collar, threading it through his fingers.

An entirely different name sprang into Peter's mind, and it sent shudders of arousal across his skin. Why, he demanded of himself - why Alastair? Was he just in the right place at the right time? Or was it their shared lives, the years spent working alongside - the tension that had never quite spilled over into action until today?

One way or another, the man was dangerous, to himself, to Peter and to both their relationships. In a strange way, Peter loved him, but he'd always found that edge of cruelty for cruelty's more than a little annoying as well as attractive. Peter liked to think of himself as top dog when it came to manipulative-bastardry, but the bedroom was an another matter entirely, and he'd never met someone who could satisfy his need to be dominated quite as well as Alastair could, the smug git...

Finally Peter slid off the bed and made his way through the murk to the door of the en-suite. Clicking the light on, he stood in front of the sink and eyed the dark smudges on his reflection. One slender finger traced the sore patch where Alastair's fist had connected with his face.

Sighing, Peter held up the collar and slipped it round his neck, reaching up to fasten the buckle at the front. He decided it looked better that way, with the shining silver D-ring cold on the back of his neck. He felt the loop of metal eagerly, imagining Alastair clipping a leash onto it and the fun they could have if Reinaldo went away for another weekend.

"No!" snapped Peter suddenly, to nobody in particular. He withdrew his hands and braced them against the sink, glaring at the image of himself in the mirror. "Don't think like that. Are you really so cheap that you'd throw all Reinaldo's love away for a man who just knocked you around a bit?"

Mostly because he didn't want to wait for the answer, Peter turned away from the mirror and traipsed back into the bedroom, taking the collar from his throat. He knew Reinaldo wouldn't be home until Monday morning, and suddenly felt terribly lonely.