“Matt? Buddy?” Matt’s head goes up as Foggy enters the room, and there’s still remnants of that familiar snap-to-attention reflex whenever Foggy says his name, as if he was always bracing himself for an order or a blow.
“Hello, Foggy. Welcome back,” Matt says, but it’s said with a mild, hesitant smile, as if Matt actually was a bit happy that Foggy’s returned, and didn’t just say it because he’s been trained to.
Yeah, right, the cynical voice in Foggy’s head says, as if a slave would ever be happy that the person who can order them around is back.
“Haven’t gotten bored, have ya?” Foggy asks instead, carefully putting the bag he’s been carrying on the bed. Matt is sitting pretty much where Foggy left him this morning, on the floor next to the bed, leaning against the covers. Foggy had pressed the remote control for both the radio and the TV into his hands before he left, explained what the buttons did, and then excused himself to run ‘errands’.
(“I’d ask if you wanted to come with, but…” he’d said, but Matt had given him the usual tight-wound smile, ducking his head in the already familiar way.
“But you can’t take me out without a collar, and you don’t want me to wear it until my neck’s healed again,” he had finished Foggy’s sentence, white bandage around his throat constricting as he swallowed. “I understand.”
“That, and I don’t think you had much fun last time we went shopping,” Foggy admits with a grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what a-holes people could be.”
Matt shrugs. “It happens. Once you’ve been out a few times with a collar you get used to it.”)
“No,” Matt shakes his head. “I like having a bit of downtime.”
“Right. Well, I bought something for you.”
“Again?” Matt tilts his head at Foggy. It’s not that easy to tell with the dark glasses but he seems a bit confused.
“Um. Yeah,” Foggy says and now he actually feels a bit embarrassed. “It’s ah…uh, here. It’s a new collar.”
“…ah. Of course. Thank you,” Matt replies, but it’s a stiff tone again, and he tilts his head toward the ground. For a moment he looks more like a regular slave, slumped at Foggy’s feet, and Foggy instinctively grits his teeth.
“It’s…here. Have a feel.” He takes the item out of the bag and presses it against the back of Matt’s hand. A brief frown passes across his slave’s face, but he does take the proffered collar obediently. As his fingers wrap around it, the frown deepens.
“It’s very thin,” Matt says. “And very long.”
“Yup,” Foggy says. “It’s also made from genuine leather and it’s red. Uh, sorry about the garish colour. I, er, also got from the female slaves’ section, but I figured, what you really needed was a collar wide enough and thin enough that you could wear it under your shirt so no one would be able to see it. You know. So you wouldn’t actually be breaking the law, but also people won’t be treating you like you’re not a person,” Foggy says, and he can hear himself babbling a little now, because Matt is now staring off into space even more than usual, feeling the collar between his fingers and not showing any emotion at all on his face. “Do you, uh, like it? I mean, duh, dumb question, of course you probably won’t really like that stupid thing they’re making you wear, but-“
“You…” Matt interrupts him, then, voice hoarse and he seems a little out of it, because he doesn’t even apologize for it like he usually does. “You…got me a collar specifically so I would be able to pretend…to be a free man?”
“Well, yeah,” Foggy shrugs helplessly. “After that disaster of a shopping trip it seemed like the thing to do.”
And then he almost flinches backwards, because all at once, Matt has pitched himself forward onto his knees and grabbed Foggy’s legs.
“Thank you,” he says and it’s raw, and helpless, and Foggy SO doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Woah, woah, that’s okay, dude. Here, come on up, please.” Foggy reaches down to grab Matt by his upper arms, pulling him to his feet because he is so uncomfortable with him clinging to his legs, pressing his face into his thigh like a damn illustration from the colonies.
A slave may nuzzle you in an attempt to thank you, or offer sexual favours. It is up to you to either reward or curb that behaviour as you see fit.
“You don’t…seriously, I’m glad you like it, but if you want to thank me, a hug will do just fine!” Foggy tries, carefully not adding Just please don’t act like a dog. “I like hugging. Big hugger here. Let’s hug it all out, okay?”
His voice is pitched just slightly higher than usual, and he’s unsure of how to hold Matt without aggravating the injuries on his back. He settles for keeping his hands on the other man’s shoulders, holding him in a light grip that he hopes doesn’t come off as threatening or possessive.
“You want me to…hug you? As thanks?” Matt asks, voice somewhere between thick with near-crying, and genuine, simple disbelief.
“If you want to,” Foggy says, shrugging, thinking maybe the motion will transmit through his hands on Matt’s shoulders, even if he can’t see it. “Like, seriously, you don’t have to do anything. But if you want to do something…well, friends generally hug, yeah. Or bake muffins? One or the other. I don’t know whether you can bake, but-“
Matt hugs him, hard.
The next morning, he has also baked muffins, and the way they taste Foggy fears if he’s going to take Matt with him to Columbia, he’s going to put on the freshman fifteen again, and this time they’ll have brought friends.
xxx
Note: not yet too happy with the second part. Anything you could think of editing/changing? But yeah! Character limit reached, I'll have to continue in the next post!^^°
Re: Slavery AU; More Ideas HALP/4
xxx
xxx
“Matt? Buddy?” Matt’s head goes up as Foggy enters the room, and there’s still remnants of that familiar snap-to-attention reflex whenever Foggy says his name, as if he was always bracing himself for an order or a blow.
“Hello, Foggy. Welcome back,” Matt says, but it’s said with a mild, hesitant smile, as if Matt actually was a bit happy that Foggy’s returned, and didn’t just say it because he’s been trained to.
Yeah, right, the cynical voice in Foggy’s head says, as if a slave would ever be happy that the person who can order them around is back.
“Haven’t gotten bored, have ya?” Foggy asks instead, carefully putting the bag he’s been carrying on the bed. Matt is sitting pretty much where Foggy left him this morning, on the floor next to the bed, leaning against the covers. Foggy had pressed the remote control for both the radio and the TV into his hands before he left, explained what the buttons did, and then excused himself to run ‘errands’.
(“I’d ask if you wanted to come with, but…” he’d said, but Matt had given him the usual tight-wound smile, ducking his head in the already familiar way.
“But you can’t take me out without a collar, and you don’t want me to wear it until my neck’s healed again,” he had finished Foggy’s sentence, white bandage around his throat constricting as he swallowed. “I understand.”
“That, and I don’t think you had much fun last time we went shopping,” Foggy admits with a grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what a-holes people could be.”
Matt shrugs. “It happens. Once you’ve been out a few times with a collar you get used to it.”)
“No,” Matt shakes his head. “I like having a bit of downtime.”
“Right. Well, I bought something for you.”
“Again?” Matt tilts his head at Foggy. It’s not that easy to tell with the dark glasses but he seems a bit confused.
“Um. Yeah,” Foggy says and now he actually feels a bit embarrassed. “It’s ah…uh, here. It’s a new collar.”
“…ah. Of course. Thank you,” Matt replies, but it’s a stiff tone again, and he tilts his head toward the ground. For a moment he looks more like a regular slave, slumped at Foggy’s feet, and Foggy instinctively grits his teeth.
“It’s…here. Have a feel.” He takes the item out of the bag and presses it against the back of Matt’s hand. A brief frown passes across his slave’s face, but he does take the proffered collar obediently. As his fingers wrap around it, the frown deepens.
“It’s very thin,” Matt says. “And very long.”
“Yup,” Foggy says. “It’s also made from genuine leather and it’s red. Uh, sorry about the garish colour. I, er, also got from the female slaves’ section, but I figured, what you really needed was a collar wide enough and thin enough that you could wear it under your shirt so no one would be able to see it. You know. So you wouldn’t actually be breaking the law, but also people won’t be treating you like you’re not a person,” Foggy says, and he can hear himself babbling a little now, because Matt is now staring off into space even more than usual, feeling the collar between his fingers and not showing any emotion at all on his face. “Do you, uh, like it? I mean, duh, dumb question, of course you probably won’t really like that stupid thing they’re making you wear, but-“
“You…” Matt interrupts him, then, voice hoarse and he seems a little out of it, because he doesn’t even apologize for it like he usually does. “You…got me a collar specifically so I would be able to pretend…to be a free man?”
“Well, yeah,” Foggy shrugs helplessly. “After that disaster of a shopping trip it seemed like the thing to do.”
And then he almost flinches backwards, because all at once, Matt has pitched himself forward onto his knees and grabbed Foggy’s legs.
“Thank you,” he says and it’s raw, and helpless, and Foggy SO doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Woah, woah, that’s okay, dude. Here, come on up, please.” Foggy reaches down to grab Matt by his upper arms, pulling him to his feet because he is so uncomfortable with him clinging to his legs, pressing his face into his thigh like a damn illustration from the colonies.
A slave may nuzzle you in an attempt to thank you, or offer sexual favours. It is up to you to either reward or curb that behaviour as you see fit.
“You don’t…seriously, I’m glad you like it, but if you want to thank me, a hug will do just fine!” Foggy tries, carefully not adding Just please don’t act like a dog. “I like hugging. Big hugger here. Let’s hug it all out, okay?”
His voice is pitched just slightly higher than usual, and he’s unsure of how to hold Matt without aggravating the injuries on his back. He settles for keeping his hands on the other man’s shoulders, holding him in a light grip that he hopes doesn’t come off as threatening or possessive.
“You want me to…hug you? As thanks?” Matt asks, voice somewhere between thick with near-crying, and genuine, simple disbelief.
“If you want to,” Foggy says, shrugging, thinking maybe the motion will transmit through his hands on Matt’s shoulders, even if he can’t see it. “Like, seriously, you don’t have to do anything. But if you want to do something…well, friends generally hug, yeah. Or bake muffins? One or the other. I don’t know whether you can bake, but-“
Matt hugs him, hard.
The next morning, he has also baked muffins, and the way they taste Foggy fears if he’s going to take Matt with him to Columbia, he’s going to put on the freshman fifteen again, and this time they’ll have brought friends.
xxx
Note: not yet too happy with the second part. Anything you could think of editing/changing? But yeah! Character limit reached, I'll have to continue in the next post!^^°