Sex in C Major
Chapter 71

"Feel up to coming downstairs for tea?"

"M'kay..."

He felt lost the minute Daz slipped out from under him, but then the soft click and heavy weight of the cuff sliding into place around his thigh banished the feeling. Daz massaged it for a moment, warming the metal against Stefan's skin, then pressed a kiss to his spine and straightened up

"Come on. Shower."

Stefan still felt drunk and dazed as he was steered into the bathroom and almost lifted into the shower cubicle. He stood passive as Daz washed him, and received another hushing and a wet cuddle when he realised the blood being washed from his legs was not all damage from the scene.

"This is why you wanted me to finger you in the flat, wasn't it?" Daz murmured as the pink-streaked water was washed away.

Stefan hiccuped through a sob, and nodded.

"Ssh."

His face was pulled to a wet shoulder, and his temple kissed.

"You should have told me."

"M'sorry. M'sorry. You can punish me later, but please "

"I'm not going to punish you," Daz said softly, nosing at his hairline. His lips were hot when they pressed to Stefan's forehead. "You're still half-spaced. And you should have simply said so, but I do understand why it can be hard for you to voice some of these things."

Stefan clutched and cried a little anyway, until Daz's soaped hands massaged away the alien feeling of femininity in his groin, and the dull ache of the monthly bleeding was replaced by the sharp sting of antiseptic cream being smoothed into his abused arse.

"There you go," Daz murmured when he was done, and Stefan was folded first into a massive towel, and then into a bathrobe made of similar material. "Ignore Yannis when he scowls at you, this is his."

Stefan managed a tremulous smile. The bumps on his cuff were digging in. Daz kept stroking him. The pieces were slowly being slotted back together.

He was taken back into the bedroom, and put in a pair of briefs, then a long pair of tartan pyjama bottoms that almost covered his feet. Said feet were steered into bedsocks, and then-over their thick wool-a pair of ankle cuffs were snapped into place, heavy and secure. The chain between them was only enough to allow a short shuffle, and Stefan felt himself relaxing with every tug as he was taken downstairs, Daz's arm heavy around his shoulders, and steered into the living room. The smell of cooking was in the air.

"Kneel there."

Stefan was placed on the rug in front of the sofa. Daz sat on the sofa itself, and pulled Stefan's head to rest against his knee. Contented, Stefan sagged and slid both arms around Daz's calf as though to hug him. He closed his eyes, feeling the heavy drape of the robe and towel around him, and the weight of the cuffs locking him in, and relaxed.

"Good," his master murmured, a hand carding softly through his hair.

The evening was quiet. Stefan remained on the rug, fed from his master's plate by hand, and was pulled to rest his head and shoulders in Daz's lap after dinner, sliding both arms around Daz's hips and resting his head on his thigh peacefully. Stefan could feel the soft bulge of his cock, but it didn't respond to his proximity, and Stefan felt too peaceful to encourage it.

Maybe he dozed. Maybe he didn't. The conversation over his head was in perhaps-Arabic, and it seemed to skip as Stefan basked in warmth and security. At one point, Yannis was playing the piano. The next Stefan knew, the TV was on quietly, and he could hear Yannis washing up in the kitchen. A blink later, and his arm was being moved to allow Yannis to curl up on the sofa next to Daz, and rest against Daz's side and upper chest, those dark eyes as drowsy as Stefan felt.

Stefan peered up at them through sleepy eyes, and the picture they made-Yannis tucked under Daz's arm, Daz's cheek resting on his hair, both watching the TV in contented silence. Daz glanced down, and smiled.

Stefan slid his moved arm over, to rest his hand on Yannis' knee, tucked close against Daz's leg, and resettled.

He was wanted here. Safe. Welcome.

He slept.

"I can't."

They'd made a cage. In the bottom of the wardrobe in the master bedroom. And Stefan wanted to be obedient, and it was so much better and closer than the spare bedroom, but-but-

He felt...clingy.

He wanted to be held. Even being left on the bed when Daz had gone to the bathroom had been a little scary, and part of Stefan wanted to pull himself together, and another part simply said that of course he was clingy. He'd been fucked raw, fucked until he bled, ripped apart in his master's arms. And it was only his master that could put that all back together.