64. Master And Servant – Depeche Mode

Adam's always been a good friend to Cassidy. Always; the two were as close as could be without be overtly sexual with one another (sorry, but they're not always into the whole "friends with benefits" sort of thing). But that doesn't mean they don't fool around from time to time, no. They do that. They kiss. They touch. Hell, they've fucked, yeah. But that's usually when they're drunk. Or stoned. Or both, perhaps, but the last time that happened, Cassidy remembers waking up the next morning with scratches on his thighs and chaffed rings of red around his wrists from potential handcuffs. The unfortunate thing is that he doesn't remember the night before, the good things to cause this pain.

Sucks, huh?

But he and Adam are best friends. Been so for several years. Cassidy's always been Adam's designer and supplier for clothes. In return? Adam's been a great friend in the music industry. Well, he's a great friend in general, but Adam's part of the reason Cassidy has his big kick into stardom. Adam's tweeted his videos, his songs, told millions of adoring fans to look into a talented man by the name of Cassidy Haley. And Cheeks helps too. Ahhh, Cheeks. Good ol' buddy. Cute little fuck too (he doesn't mean fuck like that, but… yeah. Cheeks' is a cute guy).

There's a new game

We like to play you see

At an rate, Cassidy is always more than willing to help Adam with clothing designs and fixes (we're gonna avert from sexual content for now). Always. He likes helping Adam out; whether it's fixing the seams on pants (the last time he had to do that, the redness of Adam's face told Cassidy in full that the glam-singer and his bassist had gotten frisky before stripping, thus ripping the inner thigh of a gorgeous pair of glittery, silvery zebra pants that Adam had to wear on Leno the follow evening), or completely creating something new. It's in his blood to help and to create.

But this was something almost entirely out of Cassidy's league. In fact, he's sure that it's entirely out of his league, because it's impossible for a man and a team of fifteen or so to get this glam star's request accomplished. Adam was asking for, what, five new outfits for his Glam Nation tour this summer? And it has to be done before Friday so that he can get a move on and fucking leave? And it's Tuesday when this was asked?

Fuck.

When the call came in, Cassidy had been on the verge of begging Adam to find something— anything!— from his already overflowing wardrobe to take. Because, let's face it, there's no way in fuck he's gonna be able to get five outfits done in four days. There's just no fucking way. But Adam had been so sincere in wanting Cassidy Haley originals. Things that popped. Things that glittered. A tasseled jacket with fur? A top hat that looks like Willy Wonka went completely glitter-struck? Leather, glittery pants with stitching right around his fucking crotch? A trench with elaborate (and glittery) embroidery? An open chest shirt that looks like something out of a Parisian fashion designer's recent défilé de mode?

"I'll make it up to you, whatever you want, I promise." That's what Adam said.

Well, how can Cassidy say no to that?

A game with added reality

So he put his entire team to work. Sketching designs and models, compromising and discussing until four in the morning, Wednesday. Quick coffee run, take some vitamins to keep him awake, jerk off in the bathroom real fast to keep himself awake, all the while reminding himself that Adam did say he could get whatever he wanted. And that idea, in all truth, is just the motivation that he needed.

The first two outfits were finished in design at six AM, Wednesday. Immediately, Cassidy ran them to his workers and colleagues (a small team of seven) downstairs, telling them that if they didn't have the precise measurements, the exact fabric, color and done by five PM that day, they would probably be fired. Or demoted. One of the two. And with complimentary brownies (sadly they were not pot brownies, because Cassidy sure as hell could have gone for one) and vente lattes, his mini team of brilliant experts got down to the wire, working with nimble fingers and precise care.

Seven AM and the third and fourth outfits were half way done in design, the completed portions already in progress of being made. Someone (he can't remember who at this point) asked about the leather pants with stitching around the fucking crotch (only Adam). Cassidy told them he would take care of those personally. Even all the while with working, he was planning on exactly what he wanted from Adam. And unfortunately this resulted in yet another trip to the bathroom. Fucking images.

Four thirty PM, the outfits downstairs were done and the third and fourth were in progress, their completion arriving fast. The fifth was a little harder— the tasseled coat. Purple fur, purple sleeves, shredded strands of fabric, all the while looking perfect. It turned out to be easier than Cassidy had thought that it would. Like, this fucking coat was done by eleven o'clock Wednesday night. True, there were still pieces that needed to be finished, hems that needed to be brought up (better than needing to add extra fabric). The little things that could be taken care of after a nice, hot shower and a good twelve hours of sleep.

You treat me like a dog

Get me down on my knees

The team went home around midnight, instructed to be back at ten to finish everything by noon. Of which they did! And with amazing success. Cass had walked into the building at a quarter after noon to see all the outfits (minus the leather pants) finished and bagged, ready to go. He'd smiled to himself, so proud of his workers and friends. Thinking about it, he realizes he overreacted a little, and makes a mental note to apologize about the threat to fire them. But that's for later.

Right now, he's got Adam standing on a small platform, and he's making sure that the pants are tight but not so he's unable to move. The design is to hug his ass and his thighs and then to flow away at the knees. So far, it's working good. He's just making sure it's not too tight. Because, as much as he knows that the fans would love to see Adam in, quite-literally, skin tight pants, he wants to make sure that Adam's comfortable. Because he's gonna be wearing these pants for most of the show and every show.

"Honestly, Cass, I can't thank you enough for doing this for me." Adam says as Cassidy kneels down and pins the hem of the pants up a little more. Adam wants them to drag, but Cassidy feels like four inches of extra fabric seems a bit much. He's making it two and a half now. There's a thin gloss of sweat in his hair line from working, and he feels antsy. He's not sure why though.

We call it master and servant

"Of course, it's not a problem." Yeah, he can say that now since everything's done. But two days ago he was having some serious fucking issues. But now, he's relaxed. It's a quarter after ten on Thursday and he's fucking relaxed. Yes.

"I'm sorry it was on short notice though. I just… I was looking through the mini-mall of clothes I have and… Nothing really screamed Glam Nation to me, you know? I wanted something new, something no one's seen yet… Well, there's a lot of things people haven't seen yet, but that's for good reason. But I just… You know what I mean, right?" Cassidy's not really paying attention, but he nods and mutters something like "yeah, 'course". He sticks his tongue out slightly, focusing as he pins the last inch of fabric up, completely both hems.

"Need you to strip out of these so I can hem them." He says, standing straight and stretching. Adam steps off the platform and starts to attempt to unlace the front when he stops. He's confused. Cassidy looks over and smirks. "What? A Glam God can't undo the front of his own pants? Shame, Adam, shame."

Adam scoffs, placing his hands on his hips as Cassidy slinks over, standing in front of the singer and beginning to undo the laces. "Well, you tied the strings in a complicated fashion. It's not my fault."

Cassidy looks up with the smirk still tugging at his lips as his fingers pull the laces loose, freeing Adam enough to strip out of the leather. But his fingers remain on the material, and he can feel Adam's bare skin, the tuffs of hair… "And here I thought you were the master of stripping clothes." He whispers softly.

It's a lot like life

This play between the sheets

Adam blinks once, speechless. The designer's eyes trail over the features of Adam's face. The curves of his lips, the eyeliner smudged perfectly around his cobalt eyes. His face is a soft tan, the freckles on his lips standing out. The designer leans forward, capturing those tantalizing lips and he shivers when Adam moans. Cassidy's hand cups Adam's cheek, and he tilts his head to the side to mesh his lips easier against Adam's, his tongue pressing to the inside of the singer's cheek.

There's a battle for dominance that, perhaps surprisingly to some, Cassidy wins. They pull away, panting for air, and Adam's fingers are tangled into the designer's hair. His face is flushed, his ocean eyes glazed lightly with lust. Cassidy presses his hand against Adam's chest, slowly pushing the singer away from the platform and up against a wall. Adam's hands curl over the designer's shoulders, pulling him closer as Cassidy bites lightly into the side of the singer's neck, shivering as he feels the moans vibrating into his teeth.

"Aah, Cass…" Adam moans, squeezing harder on Cassidy's shoulders as the designer sucks hard on the skin of the glam singer's neck. His fingers tug at the leather fabric, pulling them slowly off of Adam's hips. His head is swimming with ideas at what to do to Adam. The singer did say he could have whatever he wanted. And as he pulls the pants off of Adam further and further, he knows exactly what he wants Adam to do.

Cassidy pulls away from the writhing male, and he smiles seductively when Adam moans in protest. The raven haired man's eyes open slowly, and he's pleading without saying a word. It's so temptingly beautiful, but the SkinGraft designer has his mind set, and he's not going to differ from that because of a pair of big, goo-goo eyes, sorry. He places his hands on his hips, straightening his back a little. He's only a few inches shorter than Adam, but with Adam a trembling mess and Cassidy smirking like the incubus he's playing to be, Cassidy has the aura of power and dominance.

"Adam, I'm going to ask you a simple question. A yes or no answer is all I need." Cassidy says, that smirk still on his lips. Adam's eyes clear a little from their haze, and he nods once for the designer to continue. "Do you trust me?"

With you on top and me underneath

Forget all about equality

Adam's eyes take on the recognition. He knows that phrase. Of course he knows the phrase, he's Adam Lambert. He probably knows and understands it better than anyone else in the world. But Cassidy watches the singer swallow once, blinking a few times. His hands are trembling at his sides. The singer's never had the question directed at him. It's always been to someone else. He's always been the one asking. And now he's being asked. And Cassidy can see the excitement in his eyes.

"Yes." Adam says softly. Cassidy's smirk widens, his eyes taking the light in a way that makes Adam visibly shiver. The designer turns away for a moment, passing the small platform and heading to the other end of his office. He passes the table that holds the drawings and designs, and towards the small corner where there's a small, breakfast-sort of table with two, sleek metal chairs. He pulls one aside, setting it down in the middle of the open floor. He turns to Adam.

"Strip." He says, before crossing towards the closet that sits by his desk. The wood floor is hard, and he thinks for a moment about where to put Adam for this. The couch up against the window? Perfect. He can do that. He opens the doors and slips inside, walking down to the end of the closet and pushing aside bagged dresses and suits to reveal a medium sized black box. He smiles to himself, kneeling down and pulling the box out from its nook, opening the lid. He pulls out a pair of black, leather booty shorts (saved only for special occasions, such as this), a black and silver cock ring, a steel plug, his favorite flogger (taut leather with a small nub at the tip), rope, a collar with rings and chains looping through, and a piece of black silk. He stands, setting everything aside and stripping out of his jeans and his tank-top, slipping into the shorts. They're basically a second skin, pretty much a teaser for his half of a hard-on.

He grabs the items, shoving them into a small black bag before snatching the flogger and walking out of the closet, back to the main room. Adam's standing with his hands folded neatly in front of him, facing the closet with such a beautiful look on his face. Cassidy smiles, his eyes raking up and down the exposed singer. Adam's freckled shoulders are broad, creamy and his hips are just the right height for the designer to reach up and pull him close. But he doesn't, because he's across the room. Cassidy lowers his gaze, admiring the toned length of Adam's legs, before he glances briefly at the Jewish erection that is beginning to swell.

Oh, and don't forget those gleaming nipple rings, either.

Let's play master and servant

He knows that if he stands and stares at Adam's naked body for another moment, his half-hard-on-now-turned-completely-erect will become aching. He slides across the floor, setting the bag and the flogger on the chair that's standing beside the singer. He leans up and kisses the Jewish male gently, his hand slithering and gripping Adam's hip and pulling him closer. He smiles against the singer's lips when he moans, and he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at the whine that falls off of Adam's tongue.

"Hold still." He says softly, and Adam nods once. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the rope, uncoiling it before grabbing Adam's hands. He ties them, making sure the rope is tight yet not so to allow circulation. Adam shouldn't be able to get out of the knot, either, since Cassidy ties them complicated and all.

He grabs Adam's bound hands, leading him towards the couch. The nice thing about it is the frame work. It's elaborate, quite huge, and there's a post in the center of the frame work that has given him a perfect idea. The height of the frame itself is about five feet, which is perfectly ideal. He takes Adam's hands and loops them over the post, thankful of the curves of the frame, for Adam's wrists rest right into the smoothed curves of iron. He pushes the singer onto his knees on the cushions.

Adam's shaking lightly, and Cassidy smirks, crossing back to the chair and pulling out several other items. The silk, the collar, the ring and the plug. He smirks to himself, slowly walking back towards where Adam is kneeling. He leans forward, pressing his lips to the side of the singer's neck, smiling as Adam shivers. He leaves light kisses as he takes the ring in his right hand and reaches around slowly, glancing down to make sure he's not going to miss. He wants this to be smooth. Fluid. Adam's eyes are closed and his head is leaning against Cassidy's shoulder. He smirks, kissing Adam's jaw as he slips the ring around the singer's cock. Adam jerks and snaps his head up, looking down.

Cassidy's fingers run down the length of Adam's growing erection, and he grins seductively as the black haired male trembles, moaning and dropping his head against Cassidy's shoulder again. "This is to prevent you from coming before I decide you've earned it." He presses another kiss into the singer's neck before taking the plug and running his tongue over it, slicking it. It's a little smaller than most others, but that's just fine, because he doesn't want to waste time prepping Adam for one of the larger ones. Besides, he likes this one. It's cute.

It's a lot like life

And that's what's appealing

With the plug slicked, he leans in close, breathing against Adam's ear as he nudges the tip up into the Jewish singer's entrance. Adam's back arches, a low moan rumbling from his chest as Cassidy pushes the plug deeper inside of him. The singer hisses as he's stretched, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. Cassidy can see his hands are clenching and unclenching against the iron, and he's bending like a bow before the main thickness of the curves slip inside, and the plug rests firmly in place. Cassidy smirks, giving it a gentle nudge, causing Adam to gasp,

"This is to drive you crazy." The designer whispers, nudging it farther in. Adam's hands clench into tight fists and he moans, his voice climbing into the higher octaves. He pulls away slightly, letting Adam breathe for a moment before he nudges the plug again. This time, when Adam moans, his voice cracks, and Cassidy smiles. So beautiful

He takes the silk and folds it, before reaching up and tying it over Adam's eyes. The Jewish male shivers again, panting and trembling head to toe. The designer smiles to himself as he kisses the shell of Adam's ear, one hand stroking the dripping head of his cock, the other lightly nudging the plug. Adam makes a sound that's a cross between "aah" and "nngh", and it makes Cassidy grin as he nips Adam's ear with his teeth. "This is to keep you guessing about what I'm going to do to you…" He whispers, before grabbing the collar. The chains jingle, and Adam tenses visibly.

"And this—" he says as he slips it around Adam's neck, fastening it tightly, but enough to remain comfortable. "— this is to remind you that, tonight, you belong to me." His voice is low, dark, husky and seductive, the 'me' rolling off his tongue and sending shivers (along with a surge of blood) straight down his spine and to his throbbing erection. Yeah, he's hard. The sight of Adam bound, ringed, plugged and blindfolded— not to mention claimed— has brought him to this state. And as he trails his fingers down Adam's spine, Cassidy can already visualize the marks that are going to pretty it up.

He moves away from the couch, back towards the chair where his flogger sits, waiting like a snake to be charmed. He reaches over and grabs it, uncoiling and turning towards where Adam is kneeling. He's never seen the glam star look more beautiful off the stage. He smiles, shaking the flogger and cracking it once, making Adam jump almost out of his skin. There's one more thing he needs to do before he can continue with this, though. It's a given. It's part of the trust.

If you despise that throwaway feeling

"You can tell me to stop at any time. All you have to do is say your safe word. What is it, Adam?" Cassidy asks gently, his voice void of the seduction. For this, it's normal, it's caring and compassionate. Adam relaxes a little.

"Cheshire." He says, and Cassidy smiles. So like Adam. Such a child, sometimes.

"From this point on, you will call me 'Master'. Is that clear, pet?" Cassidy's voice is low, sinister again. He watches Adam shake. The plug's jewel glimmers in the lighting of the office. His cock twitches in his leather shorts, and he bites down on his bottom lip.

"Yes, Master." Adam's voice is soft. So, so soft.

"Good," he says. "Let's begin."

Cassidy shakes the flogger again before rearing back and cracking it down across Adam's skin. The singer's back arches and he cries out, startled and in pain. But as he breathes, Cassidy can hear traces of moans. He takes a moment to allow himself a smiles, and then he's bringing the whip down and watching as the nub digs into the singer's back again, drawing a new, fresh, welting line into the freckled canvas. Adam screams, louder than before, his voice trailing off into moans of mixed pain and pleasure. It excites Cassidy. It makes him feel primal.

When the first marks really begin to swell, Cassidy takes a fast moment to admire the art he's beginning to create. The art that he wants Adam to embody and remember, to feel for days. Ohh… Yes. Adam will be feeling this for a long time, Cassidy knows. And when it stops hurting, the remaining marks will serve as the memory of a night where he was a slave. And even when the marks are gone, the memory itself will be vibrant. Because Cassidy will remember the placement of every lash. He can envision it now— a simple night out. And he'll make Adam shiver by pressing his nails into a spot where a welt and a bruise once sat.

From disposable fun

Then this is the one

Again and again, he brings the whip down. How many times is he doing this? How many times should he do this? That doesn't matter now. He grips the flogger tighter in his hand, flick his wrist as his arm swings down, the nub slicing a fifth welt, lashing over the pre-existing four. He's barely aware of the throbbing in his shorts; he's focused on the bending of Adam's back, the hissing and moaning that's falling off the singer's tongue. He's focusing on the way Adam throws his head back to wail, the way his muscles tighten. The sweat and blood on that creamy, freckled skin—

Blood?

Oh shit.

True enough, thin veins of red splice up from a few spots. Cassidy pauses to take a breath and let Adam rest. He doesn't realize he's shaking until he drops the flogger to the floor. He glances down at it, but has no interest or intention in picking it back up. Instead, his feet carry him towards the couch. Towards the filthy, sweaty, bloody hot mess that is Adam Lambert. Funny, it seems. To think… The Glam Sex God was just whipped like a bad, bad little boy.

Oh, if the fans only knew the kinds of things that went on…

Cassidy leans over, pressing his lips to the cartilage of Adam's ear, his fingers like feathers on the welts. Adam hisses in pain, arching away from Cassidy. He doesn't blame the singer. It's natural instinct. Shy from pain. But that doesn't stop him from digging his nails into his shoulders, deep into criss-crossing welts and molting bruises. Yes, they're already beginning to form. Most don't know it, but Adam bruises easily. Almost as easily as his little Glitterbaby. Almost.

Domination's the name

Of the game

"You're so beautiful, pet." Cassidy says, running his fingers deep into Adam's sweaty hair. It's slick, and he pulls on it, pulling Adam's head back so he can crash his lips against that beautiful mouth. Tongues clash and lips mesh, and Cassidy wins the battle again, but that's because he's the Master. Adam's the servant of pleasure; naturally, he loses.

"So…" he moans against Adam's mouth, kissing him hard and dirty. "Fucking beautiful…" He reaches down and pushes the plug deep into Adam's ass, groaning as the singer bends and chokes on a gasp. An idea spurs in his creative mind, and he moves his fingers in circles, moving the plug in a circle to suit. And he knows it's pressed hard into that sweet spot within the singer, because he's gasping and moaning. He's trying so hard to thrust himself into the backrest of the couch for friction.

"None of that," Cassidy whispers, gripping the singer's hip and holding him away from the couch as he grips the jewel in his fingers, moving and nudging further. He's going to make Adam come without being touched. Simple by pure and utter pleasure. The mental image of it makes him ache in the pit of his stomach. He needs to let himself out of these shorts soon. They're starting to hurt.

Adam moans, his breathing light and sharp. Every sound is quick, high and so fucking gorgeous. Cassidy's trembling a little as he pulls the plug out a little and jamming it back in, moving it in more circles, large and small. Adam's hands clench and unclench, his back arches and he drops his head on Cassidy's shoulder. The designer grips the jewel, pulling the plug completely out and tossing it aside. He fumbles, stripping himself of his shorts. He can't do this anymore. He needs to fuck this beautiful man. He wants this to last, and he wants to imprint upon the singer that he's owned.

In bed or in life they're both just the same

He crosses to his desk, opening the top drawer and pushing aside papers and notes, reaching into the back of the compartment and pulling out a bottle of lube. He uncaps it quickly, squeezing some out onto his fingers and slicking himself up, moaning and gripping the desk as he massages the head and strokes from base to tip. As much as he would like to just stay right here, he glances over and sees Adam, and he thinks better of that. So much better, because there is better, and it's right in front of him.

He crawls onto the couch, kneeling behind Adam and kissing the back of the Jewish man's neck. One hand is at the base of his cock, hard and leaking, pressed firmly between Adam's cheeks, nudging right into his hole (he's never bothered with a condom. He's clean, and Adam trusts him). A simple motion and he'll be inside. But not yet. His other hand reaches around, snaking up Adam's chest and his fingers brush against Adam's right nipple ring. The singer arches, moaning and shaking under him. His breath caresses Adam's left cheek, and the male turns his head, allowing Cassidy to kiss him.

"Mine," he whispers against Adam's lips, dropping his hand to Adam's hip and shoving himself deep inside. Adam moans, arching as Cassidy sheathes himself deep, his groin pressed into Adam's ass. Adam shudders, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment.

"Yours… Fuck… f-fuck me, Master…" Cassidy moans softly, rolling his hips and thrusting hard into Adam. Thrusting hard into his pet. His pet. Ooh, how he loves the sound of that. For once it's not an idea. It's real. Adam is his tonight. Not Tommy's. Not Brad's. Not Drake's. His.

"M-Master… Oh…" It's music to Cassidy's ears, the sounds that are coming off of Adam's tongue. The rasp of breath and the slick skin on skin slapping. The sliding of his cock moving in and out of Adam's being. It's all a distinct and beautiful melody that's making the designer moan with each push and pull. He's surprised he hasn't come yet for how close he was to the brink of exploding when he was toying with Adam. That plug was a bit too… Fun, perhaps. Either way, he's enjoying himself. He's enjoying the dominance. He's enjoying owning Adam.

Except in one you're fulfilled

At the end of the day

"Mm… Fuck, Cass…" Adam slips, gasping. Partly because he fucked up. Partly because Cassidy hit deep within him. The designer leans back a little, placing his hands on the back of Adam's shoulders, palms flat. He's going to be quick about the lesson, but slow with the teaching. He curls his fingers so that his nails are pressed into the skin, and very, very, very slowly he drags his nails down Adam's back. His nails aren't long, nor are they sharp. But the contact, the shape, the hardness of nails digging and sliding down tender, burning skin— Cassidy grins ear to ear as Adam's moans become throaty and desperate. He knows he fucked up.

"I'm sorry, Master… Ah… Please… Please, Master, don't—" Adam has to stop to wail and pant for a moment. "Don't stop." He begs. If Cassidy could see Adam's eyes, he knows he would be finished. That's part of why he blindfolded Adam. One, for the thrill. Two, because Adam's eyes do things to Cassidy that no kind of sex can ever hold a candle to. He doesn't want to let those eyes overpower him. Servant's eyes have always been the most beautiful.

He digs his nails into Adam's hips, thrusting hard. "I call the shots, I give the orders." Another hard thrust. "Not you, pet." The moans roll of his tongue before he can think, and Cassidy dips his head, biting hard into Adam's shoulder for a moment.

"S-so good… And tight, ah…" He hits that spot, shivering when Adam curses and moans. It's so beautiful, and he's so close.

"M-Master… I… I…" The designer grins. Oh yes. His pet will be feeling this for a very long time. "Please, Master, nngh— touch me… please…" Cassidy has a moment where touching Adam might not be so bad…

"No." He says, low and harsh into the singer's ear. Adam whines, rocking back to meet the designer's thrusts, taking all that Cassidy has (which is a lot). Cassidy's chest is pressed firmly to Adam's back, a thin sheet of sweat pooling between them. He dips his head down and rocks in and out of the singer as fast and as hard as he can. He can feel himself hitting the Jewish male's prostate over and over, because with each thrust the black haired man is moaning louder and louder.

Let's play master and servant

"Please!" Adam screams, panting and shaking. Cassidy presses his nose to Adam's cheek. The twenty-eight year old turns his head to receive a fierce kiss from the near-thirty-year old designer. His left hand vanishes from Adam's hip and he wraps his fingers around Adam's cock, giving it several good, long and hard pumps. Each pump is in time with the motion of his hips, and Adam's shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulls away for air as Adam starts screaming.

"Aaah, aaaaahha! Mmm.. aah! Master… Oh, fuck, fuck!" Cassidy growls, rocking hard.

"So… fucking good…"

"Master, I'm… I— fuck me, harder!"

With pleasure.

Pet.

"Nnghh— aah! Aahn, Cassidy!" He doesn't even care at this point. The second he hears his name being called, he sees white as he fills Adam. He breathes hard, leaning against the singer, his face buried into the back of Adam's neck. Adam's forehead is pressed into the iron of the couch's frame work, treads of white sinking into the fabric and the cushions of the backrest. Cassidy reaches down blindly, unfastening the ring from Adam's abused and now-limp cock. He takes it off and chucks it across the room, uncaring of where it lands or what it might hit on the way.

He fumbles, untying Adam's wrists and pulling the singer over him as they lay down. The last thing to go is the blindfold, but not the collar. No, that's going to stay for tonight. The designer blinks, breathing hard as he brushes strands of sweat hair out of Adam's face. The signer smiles, pressing his lips to Cassidy's. They don't talk. They kiss and they're mindful of Adam's abused back, but otherwise they're silent. They're silent because words will ruin this atmosphere. This connection of master and servant as well as best friends.

If there's one thing for sure though. After this night, Cassidy never looks at this cough the same way again.

Come on, master and servant