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Auston gets bought midday on a Tuesday.
He gets pulled out of class to be told, because everyone knows his current life is as good as over now that he’s been bought. He gets excused from the rest of the school day, to go home and get his affairs in order, and Auston knows he’s not processing the development right because all he’s thinking about is that one movie quote that goes something like-
“To you, it was the worst day of your life. To me, it was Tuesday.”
Someone out there looked at his profile online and decided to buy his contract on a random fucking Tuesday, and just like that, Auston’s life as he knows it is over.
He’s known this day was coming for a long time, ever since he was six years old and his mom had to sit him down and explain why he couldn’t play sports with the other boys because he’s not like the other boys. It wouldn’t be fair to either them or him, to let Auston play when he’s faster and stronger and too predictive to play fairly and would never be given the chance to play professionally.
Not when Auston’s laden with the random genetic freakshow lottery ticket that means he’ll be able to perfectly match himself to the person who buys him.
He thought he’d have more time. He’s only twenty. He thought that maybe he’d at least get to finish college, that no one would want to pay his tuition if he could first do it himself. He probably won’t get to finish his degree now. Everything now depends on why he was bought, what purpose he’ll be expected to serve for whoever now owns him.
He has so many calls to make- his family, the school, his various part-time jobs, his landlord, all the others bills in his name- but most of all his buyer. Auston needs to know how soon he’s expected to drop everything and show up to where he’s meant to be from now on.
He sits in his car and quietly reads the emails off his phone, the arbitrary congratulations from the contract website and the receipts of purchase, the changes already being made to his legal documents, until he finds the buyer’s contact information and gets another shock to the system.
Auston’s been bought as a gift. He’s going to be a surprise for a birthday party, from an older brother to a younger: Christopher Marner to Mitchell Marner.
Auston has to take a minute, put down his phone and breathe through the violent urge to scream and beat his steering wheel out of shape. Throwing a tantrum won’t help anything. It’ll only make him feel worse and even less in control of his life. He can’t change anything. He just has to suck it up and deal with the hand he’s been dealt. When he feels more or less neutral again, he inputs the original buyer’s phone number.
Auston checks twice that he’s got the right one. Ruining the surprise would be the worst way to start this new arrangement. Listening to the dial tone is the worst moment of his life, and it’s only fucking Tuesday.
“Okay, here we go,” Chris enthuses and rubs his hands together excitedly. “Wait here and I’ll be right back with Mitch. Don’t worry, he’s gonna love this.”
Auston nods and forces the same smile he’s been using since being flown into Canada a couple days ago. It’s been… okay.
Chris is decent. He’s a good older brother, buying Auston for Mitch as both protection and company. Mitch had been carjacked a couple months back, seemingly unrelated to him being a pro hockey player, but it spooked the whole family. Chris seems to think Auston is the better alternative to hiring a bodyguard, thinks that his little brother will fare better with someone posing as supportive company rather than an employee.
Bonnie Marner is pleasant. She’d praised Chris for his thoughtfulness and had done her absolute best to make Auston feel welcome in her home while they waited for the date of the party.
Paul Marner doesn’t want Auston here in any capacity.
Auston can’t tell if it’s because he’s a man, Hispanic, isn’t familiar with hockey, American, a genetic freakshow, or all of the above that makes Paul look at him in distaste. Auston’s feigned obliviousness to the man’s disapproval, silent but oppressive, since he’s got nothing to do with the contract to be traded between his sons. Auston will be polite, but he won’t pretend that Paul’s opinion matters to him. Paul has as much say in his being here as Auston does, and that’s saying something considering he has rights that Auston just doesn’t.
Whatever disagreements the Marners have over buying his contract, they’ve politely kept it out of Auston’s earshot.
Auston adjusts his cufflinks while he waits for the brothers to return for him. The suit is brand new, bought and tailored just for the party, a gift from Chris because Auston had to look nice and cleaned up. It’s expensive and it looks good.
Auston would probably like it more if it didn’t make him feel like a doll in a child’s game of dress up and if it wasn’t a reminder that he’s literally been bought as a less expensive gift. He’s literally worth less than the clothes he’s wearing.
He has to reach up and loosen the tie just a smidge, not enough to change how it looks but just enough that it feels less like he’s choking. It’s a foreboding promise of how it’s going to feel when Auston formally gets collared.
At the very least, Bonnie convinced Chris to first introduce Mitch to Auston in a private side room rather than in the middle of the party. Just in case Mitch reacts more like Paul than hoped, Auston assumes grimly, then the rest of the party won’t get awkward and Auston can be discretely shuffled away and discarded out of sight.
Well, he thinks as the door opens to admit Chris and another man that can only be Mitch, here’s to telling how the rest of his life will go. Auston pastes on the pleasant smile as his intended owner looks at him in friendly confusion.
“Mitch, this is Auston Taylour Matthews,” Chris introduces proudly and produces a copy of the contract that Mitch has to sign to legally assume ownership from him. “And he’s all yours if you want him.”
“He’s what?” Mitch asks dumbly and snatches at the contract to read hurriedly. “He’s- Holy shit? Chris, are you serious?”
That doesn’t seem like a promising reaction to Auston, but Chris just laughs brightly and takes Mitch by the shoulders.
“Sure as shit, bro. He matched over ninety percent to your stats. I triple checked. He’s martial trained and his reflex speed is actually insane. You’ll finally have someone who can keep up with you.”
The contract crinkles in Mitch’s grip and he looks shellshocked.
The smile is starting to hurt a little but Auston maintains it patiently. He needs the practice.
Unperturbed by the lingering silence, Chris hooks an arm around Mitch’s neck and squeezes. “So? You like him?”
Mitch looks at Auston like he can’t believe he’s real, and then he starts to blush.
Auston’s stomach turns to lead as Chris immediately notices and coos at his brother teasingly. Auston knew this was a probability but… Never mind. There’s no point in having hoped otherwise. He’s been paid for already. This is it for him. Best start to get used to the idea.
“Shut up,” Mitch hisses at Chris’ teasing and elbows him, but he’s finally smiling huge and acting like this is a good surprise after all. “I can’t believe you did this without even checking with me first, you dick.”
“Psh,” Chris dismisses airily. “I know what you like. Now,” He pulls away from Mitch to clap his hands once. “Sign for the big guy and let’s get back out there to celebrate!”
Auston recognizes his cue and pulls the pen from his breast pocket. He steps forward to offer it to Mitch, straining to make his smile feel natural.
Mitch looks up at him when they’re close, the difference in height not much but noticeable, and he’s still pink as he takes the pen. His eyes are so blue.
Mitch turns away and towards the wall, smoothing out the contract and looking it over again to check where to sign. Auston watches him scrawl his signature down as Chris whoops and that’s truly it then.
He belongs to Mitch from now on.
“I’ll take that and get it sent in,” Chris announces as he takes back the contract and pen and tucks both away beneath his lapel. “Oh, by the way, take Auston home with you tonight. Dad’s been giving him the stink eye all weekend and Mom and I are over it. You know how he is.”
“Yeah,” Mitch winces and then takes hold of Auston by the wrist. “Sorry about that. We’ll get you home.”
“Not before we finally introduce him to everyone!” Chris corrects and swings around behind to usher them both towards the door. “You’ll have him forever, getting better acquainted can wait a couple hours.”
“You’re such a tool,” Mitch complains and adjusts his grip to lock arms with Auston, beaming as he happily leads the way back into his twenty-first birthday party.
It’s going to be a long, painful night, Auston realizes as he sees just how many people are in the venue. Seems like Mitch is popular and well liked. Auston best get used to being social then. The smile might get stuck on his face at this rate; save him the effort of pretending.
Auston has no comparison point when it comes to Mitch kissing him, so he doesn’t know if he’s normally this messy or if he’s just drunk.
Chris had driven them to Mitch’s place after the party finally wound down and he’d winked as he said goodbye to a fervently grateful Mitch, who’d barely waited until they were inside his huge apartment before he stretched up for Auston’s mouth.
“M’not drunk,” Mitch assures hurriedly after a few moments, panting alcohol-stained breath into Auston’s mouth despite his claim. “I’m just- you look so good and I’ve been waiting to have someone for so long. So can we please-”
Auston kisses him again because it’s not like he can say no and if they’re doing this anyway, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s already exhausted from the party and he’s aching from cramps of his stupid body already internally changing itself to better match Mitch and he just wants the oblivion of sleep. If he has to have sex with a guy for the first time to get there, so be it.
Auston tells himself it’s better that Mitch is tipsy right now. Maybe he won’t be able to tell that Auston has no clue what he’s doing and Auston can figure it out while it’s questionable Mitch will remember much fumbling tomorrow.
Mitch clings to him, yanking at Auston’s expensive suit like the cost doesn’t even register to him. He’s a pro athlete, Auston reminds himself, he probably wears more expensive suits every other day before games. Suppose that makes Auston a WAG or a sugar baby if he acts sweet enough.
A hysterical giggle tries to escape but Auston manages to choke it down, focusing again on the slick feeling of Mitch’s tongue in his mouth and his greedy, groping hands. It’s just sex, the only sex he’s going to get from now on. Best get used to it. His body will make it happen whether he wants it or not.
“I’ve always wanted- I was never allowed-”
Mitch is still trying to talk so Auston pushes harder into the kisses and yanks at his dress clothes in return, trying to speed this up. It works, because Mitch moans and drags Auston blindly to the bedroom.
They’re at an urgent care at four in the morning, half dressed in the wrinkled suits from the night before, because Auston woke up in the worst pain he’s ever felt and Mitch panicked to find him puking blood in the bathroom sink. Auston managed to talk Mitch down from calling an ambulance or going to the ER, but there was no dissuading him from taking Auston to a doctor. So instead of being in a bedroom- unfamiliar but at least on a mattress with blankets- Auston’s cold and cramping and miserable in a frigid, sterile clinic room while they wait for the on-call doc to arrive.
Mitch has been pacing since they got here, frazzled and hungover, fiddling with his keys nonstop in an annoying jumble of noise.
“Mitch,” Auston starts and has to bite off the reflexive cuss that almost follows. “Just come here. Please,” He remembers to add.
Mitch hurries on over to the stiff examination table, desperate to be of use, so Auston grabs his hand and presses his palm low on his belly where the pain is the worst.
“It hurts less when you touch me,” He reminds, having said as much before but Mitch was too panicked to stay still, too convinced Auston was dying rather than merely changing to fit. He’s got nowhere to go now though, so he rucks up Auston’s wrinkled dress shirt to rub gently at bare skin.
“Does that help?” Mitch asks worriedly and Auston nods tiredly, listing forwards to rest his head against Mitch’s chest for the warmth and easily offered comfort of his owner.
It does help, his stupid body recognizing its desired match and pumping out the chemicals that dull the sharp, aching pain in his gut. Mitch puts his free hand on the back of Auston’s neck and squeezes, and it’s stupid how much that helps, too.
“What’s taking them so long?” Mitch mutters, probably glaring sideways at the door while he pets at Auston soothingly.
“They’re not gonna tell you anything new,” Auston reiterates wearily now that Mitch is more likely to listen and actually retain the information. “I’m just changing to be better for you. I’ll heal faster than they can treat me for anything anyway.”
“You were puking blood, Auston,” Mitch retorts, still sounding freaked about it. “You can’t tell me that was normal, and you’re in so much pain.”
Auston shrugs, feeling too wretched to point out that he’s only had the one owner. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to be normal, but he does know his body and he knows doctors are next to useless for people like him. Mitch will learn that soon enough.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting, baby,” Mitch murmurs, keeping his one hand flat to Auston’s stomach but moving his other arm to hug Auston closer.
The reappearance of the pet name outside of sex adds an unpleasant emotional squirm to Auston’s already pained insides. He loops an arm around Mitch’s middle in return anyway.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It sounds like kind of my fault,” Mitch counters quietly and he’s not exactly wrong that Auston’s body is changing to match him specifically, but even Auston’s not bitter or cranky enough to blame Mitch for something no one in the world could change.
“Tell me about hockey,” Auston changes the subject instead of tackling the topics of misplaced blame and evolutionary genetics too few people understand anyway. “I still don’t get the rules.”
Mitch goes along with the distraction easily enough, haphazardly explaining offsides and penalties and positions and lingo until finally the doctor appears. She introduces herself and asks what seems to be the problem.
“I’m a changeling and this is my match,” Auston starts and pinches Mitch gently to startle him into keeping quiet for now. “We just met last night and we’re over ninety percent compatible.”
“Congratulations,” Dr. Fairlawn expresses first. “I presume the pain you’re feeling and the blood reportedly vomited is due to you already morphing to fit your partner?”
Auston nods against Mitch’s bicep, glad that Mitch hasn’t moved away and that the doctor hasn’t asked him to. She hums in understanding and lifts her eyes to address Mitch next and from now on.
“I’m sure it was very alarming for you, but this is normal for your partner’s body. The internal changes happen very quickly which accounts for the pain and the blood, but that’s been previously recorded for high percentile compatible matches and will leave no permanent harm. Can I address anything else for you tonight?”
Called that. Auston turns his face more into Mitch’s chest again, just wanting to go back to sleep.
“That’s it?” Mitch demands disbelievingly. “You didn’t even check him over. Just ‘that’s normal, go home’?”
Oh the sweet privilege of being rude to licensed professionals with minimal repercussions. How Auston envies him. He tiredly tunes out Dr. Fairlawn’s resultant biology explanation, having heard it all before throughout his childhood when his parents were struggling to learn what it meant to raise a changeling.
He’s physically stronger, quicker, more responsive and intuitive, able to heal injuries at an absurd speed and recover from illnesses faster than modern medicine can comparably treat, so it’s just a waste of drugs to even try. He’ll meet a match, and the higher the compatibility between them, the faster he’ll change to compliment their needs and desires. This is all normal for his kind.
“You’re really not even going to give him anything for the pain of his literal organs moving around?” Mitch asks incredulously when Dr. Fairlawn has finished giving her basic rundown on changeling physiology.
“A painkiller that’s designed for six to eight hours for us will barely last three hours for him,” Dr. Fairlawn explains patiently. “It’s-”
“So double the prescription count,” Mitch interrupts, still trying to do something to help ease the pain that Auston has to appreciate him for the effort, even done in vain.
“He’ll heal completely before he’s even a third of the way through the prescription,” Dr. Fairlawn replies, still at least sounding patient before going on a spiel about the yet undocumented risks of overdose concerning changelings and how the best recorded practice of pain relief for them is the physical touch of their match.
Auston’s actually started to doze off against Mitch when the man’s patience finally ends.
“Okay, fine. It’s fucking shitty, but fine. We’ll go home. Thanks for nothing, I guess.”
Dr. Fairlawn apologizes politely but pointlessly for the way things are before letting herself out with the reminder to pay at the front desk.
“Pay her for doing what, exactly?” Mitch mutters mutinously and softly pets at Auston’s hair. “Auston? You awake? We can go home now.”
Auston would like nothing more. It’s too bad that Mitch means his apartment in Toronto rather than Auston’s family in Arizona, but at this point, Auston will take any bed over this stiff examination table. He stifles a sigh as he separates himself from Mitch to get up and winces as he moves and the pain starts to build again.
Mitch hastily wraps an arm low around his waist, supportive and worried.
“I’ll be alright,” Auston tries to smile for him, because at least Mitch is acting like he actually cares. “Just don’t let go.”
Auston’s not expecting Mitch to take his request at the clinic to heart, but Mitch does. Auston doesn’t realize at the time, too busy trying to breathe and sleep through the curdling pain of his insides rearranging at the cellular level, but Mitch brings in help to take care of Auston so he doesn’t have to lose contact with Auston for more than a handful of seconds at a time.
He gets Chris to bring over Auston’s things from the Marner house, and Bonnie is happy to come along with food so Mitch doesn’t have to cook or even go downstairs to pick up delivered take-out. Mitch even stays glued to Auston on trips to the bathroom, to piss or puke or clean up a bit. Mitch stays even when he shouldn’t, something Auston only realizes somewhere on the third night together when he blurrily blinks awake to Mitch mumbling encouragement towards the tv.
The Leafs are playing, which strikes Auston somewhere as important until he remembers he’s supposed to care about them now because that’s the team Mitch plays for. The team Mitch isn’t playing for right now because he’s pressed against Auston’s sweaty bare back and rubbing absentmindedly at his sore stomach.
Auston squints at the tv doubtfully but yeah, those are the Leafs jerseys, and it certainly looks like a live broadcast, and he even hears what he’s pretty sure is the right day said. He twists to peer back at Mitch and yeah, that’s still his match, bare chested for maximum skin contact and sweaty too because of Auston’s fever.
Mitch catches him staring and smiles easily. “Hey, baby. Feeling alright? I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He did, but Auston ignores the questions to point at the tv. “Why aren’t you there right now?”
Mitch’s smile changes shape in bewilderment. “Why would I be? You need me here, baby.”
He stayed.
Auston stares.
Mitch’s team, his job that he’s paid millions of dollars to play, is in the playoffs right now but Mitch is still here. With Auston, to ease the pain, because everything he heard from Dr. Fairlawn said that physical touch is the best pain reliever there is for changelings.
Mitch’s brow furrows. “Auston?”
Auston reaches for him, twisting around to pull them chest to chest and locking his arms around his match tightly. Mitch clings back easily, helping to pull Auston in and just hooks his legs around Auston’s thighs when he rolls on top of Mitch, and he smiles like he’s happy.
“Are you feeling better?”
Auston kisses him and means it this time, grips Mitch’s thigh to keep as pressed close as possible and cradles his head in the other hand.
He stayed.
Everyone at that exhausting party kept telling Auston how much being a Leaf means to Mitch, but he stayed home with someone he’s known less than a week instead of going with his team. Auston hadn’t thought he would.
Auston has to break off the kiss sooner than he wants because it hurts to hold his breath, but he rests their foreheads together.
“Thank you,” He says thickly in the close, humid air between their faces. “For caring enough to stay.”
“Aus,” Mitch breathes, another new nickname already, sounding stunned as he cups Auston’s face and clutches at his lower back. “Baby, of course. Of course I’d stay for you.”
Auston kisses him again, lingering and gentle, and makes the conscious decision to follow his body’s example and be better for Mitch. He’s proven himself a better man than Auston had let himself believe. Auston will give him another chance, a proper chance without the bitter bias that Auston brought with him.
He won’t repay this kindness with carelessness. He swears it.
Auston bumps into the counter again, cussing as he bangs into the bruise already there. He’s still getting used to his bodily changes from the week prior. He’s taller, bulkier in addition to his internal changes, and he keeps underestimating his new width and reach. He’s got reoccurring bruises just about everywhere, just from attempting to familiarize himself with Mitch’s- with their apartment.
After finally recovering from the transition, Auston was able to convince Mitch to go back to the game he loves while the season still lasts, and it turns out being partner to a hockey player during the playoffs means a lot of free time for himself. Auston’s completely moved in now, his clothes mingled with Mitch’s in the main bedroom’s dresser and closet, and his other few things scattered about the place.
Mitch has a nice place, comfortable and lived in, and once Auston stops bruising himself on every corner, he thinks he’ll grow to like it here. He hasn’t broached the subject of finishing school or finding a job yet, not while Mitch is still prone to hovering from the scare last week and in the midst of a playoff run. Auston will give it a little more time, probably after he gets used to his new size and weight.
Auston’s been occupying himself with familiar habits in a new place. Learning to navigate Toronto is a nightmare, but he’s determined to figure out where the best shopping and grocery spots are at. He’s got a standing invitation to visit the Marner family home, and he intends to accept once he’s got his bearing better and can get himself there without getting lost. He owes Bonnie and Chris for their gracious aid when he was incapacitated for four days straight. The Marners are also essentially his in-laws now, so maintaining a good relationship with them can only help during his time in Toronto.
Auston’s also spent the time calling home, reassuring his family on his health and wellbeing after putting them through such a fright, moving countries and then dropping totally out of contact for almost a week like that. He’s got to clear it with Mitch, but Auston thinks he’ll be cool with Auston’s family flying up to visit at some point and bringing more of his things with them.
Mitch has been very sweet in all honesty, when he’s not exhausted or exhilarated by hockey anyway. He’s attentive and caring and always looks so happy to see Auston greet him when he gets home. It makes Auston want to treat him well, even if the idea of staying a housewife makes him grimace.
Mitch got a hard test early on and passed with a high score, but they’re still so new to each other and Mitch naturally holds so much power over Auston just by the nature of their differing bodies. Once they know each other better, once Auston completely trusts Mitch, then he’ll bring up the topics he’s too wary to mention yet. For now, Auston contents himself with the little and routine things, relearning his body and teaching himself about his new city and partner.
Hockey is still complicated, and the playoffs are evidently another beast entirely, but it’s more entertaining to watch now that Auston actually has a reason to be invested. He’ll look up the Leafs highlights on YouTube and just let them play while he’s cooking or cleaning or puzzling out Toronto’s streets, familiarizing himself with the roster names and the common terms that the commentators use.
Mitch is good, really good as best as Auston can tell without much bias, averaging practically a point per game during the regular season. It looks impossible how well and how quickly he moves on skates, how he’ll feed the puck through the narrowest gaps to his teammates or into the goal. It feels weird to already be proud of someone Auston didn’t know existed two weeks ago, but it’s good.
The sex has been getting better as well, now that Auston actually cares about Mitch and doesn’t need to frantically think about women to get it up for him as much. Plus, it’s never more obvious why Auston grew bigger to compliment Mitch’s needs than it is during sex. Mitch is really into Auston being bigger and heavier than him. His reactions and responsiveness to Auston’s size and body is flattering and goes a long way to turning Auston on right back.
Auston’s still the one taking Mitch’s cock, but he’s thinking they’re not far off from switching that up. Either of them just has to become assertive enough to ask for it. Of course, then Auston has to be the one putting in the prep work, so he adds some gay porn to his daily research pile. It occurs to him that he’s basically conditioning himself to be a better whore, but Auston forcefully puts the negative thought out of mind.
Mitch is careful with him, preps him thoroughly and has yet to hurt him during sex, even when it’s legally impossible to rape someone he owns. He could be selfish and awful and cruel, and no one would stop him, but he isn’t. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and Auston doesn’t want to repay his kindness with petty, cruel carelessness. He won’t. He’s better than that.
A part of him- the oldest, bitterest part that still longs for all that he was forced to abandon, for everything that was never his to have- meanly attributes that want to be gentle to chemical brainwashing. If Auston’s body has rearranged itself from the inside out to appeal to Mitch’s wants, then who’s to say his brain hasn’t done something similar to make Mitch appeal more to his wants?
It’s pointless, petty wondering. Facts are they’re ninety-two percent compatible and building. Auston’s signed and paid for. Liking Mitch more is not only beneficial for his wellbeing, but as good as inevitable for the rest of his life. Fighting against those facts is just a waste of time and energy, and Auston prefers to think he’s smarter than that.
He won’t squander a good thing by loitering on regrets and wishing that things were different. This was always going to be his lot in life. Things could’ve been so much worse- he’d tried to brace himself for abuse- and he should be grateful that they’re not. He will be. He’ll be a good partner to Mitch and give him no reason to break contract and discard Auston as an unwanted changeling.
Anything to avoid that fate.
When Mitch gets home, Auston makes a point of pausing whatever he’s doing to seek him out and greet him with a kiss, mostly for the way it’ll make Mitch light up like it’s the best part of his day. Mitch still smiles brilliantly today, but he’s also ready with an apology and a long velvet box in hand.
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long to give you this,” He’s saying, clearly nervous as Auston stares at his hands, knowing what’s coming next. “Since I didn’t know you were coming and then you got sick and then I was in the playoffs and then I ordered this made custom so it only just got done. So. Anyway.”
Mitch holds out the velvet jewelry box. “I hope you like it.”
Auston had forgotten about being collared. He’d hopefully thought Mitch had, too, but no. Things had just been hectic, and Mitch had been waiting on a custom special order and to present it when the playoffs were no longer a time-consuming distraction.
Auston takes the box quietly and cracks it open, expecting the wide strip of dark leather he’s seen on other changelings and in popular media. He feels his consciously neutral face relax in surprise and relief before he can control it when that’s not what he finds.
It is a strip of dark leather, but it’s thin, barely half an inch wide, and it’s got a pair of delicate, thin silver chains draped along its length in attractive upside-down arches. There’s a tiny diamond encrusted charm in the front, centered where the two chains meet in a vee, that’s simply the number 16. Mitch’s number on his jersey.
It’s a collar. It’s possessive as hell. It’s startingly tasteful and… nice, actually.
“I do like it,” Auston murmurs honestly, glad he admitted it when Mitch relaxes in open relief.
“Oh thank god. Good, that’s great. I was so convinced you’d hate it,” Mitch blurts out now that his commitment gift hasn’t crashed and burned. “You’re so hard to read sometimes, baby.”
“Sorry,” Auston offers, more automatic than sincere because there are still some things he’d rather keep close to his chest. “This is really nice. Thank you, Mitch.”
“You’re welcome.” Mitch beams. “Can I put it on for you?”
Ah. That is the point of it after all. Auston doesn’t have to force the smile that much as he offers the jewelry box back.
“Of course, Mitch.”
Later, in private in front of the bathroom mirror, Auston stares at his reflection and the collar around his neck. He decides he likes how it looks. It could’ve been so much worse. He’s grateful that it’s not.
“So where’s this slave owner of yours?” Alex demands after Auston’s hugged her for several long minutes and let her prod at his collar for another minute.
Auston frowns. “Don’t call him that. I’m serious, Alex,” He says firmly when his older sister rolls her eyes. “He’s sweet. Don’t be mean to him.”
Alex looks up at him doubtfully, further than she had to just last month, but she doesn’t press the issue. She also doesn’t promise anything, so Auston resigns himself to imminent passive aggressiveness.
“He’s at his parents’ for something. We’ll meet for dinner, he made reservations.”
“Mr. Big Money,” Alex comments and Auston sighs.
It’s already started and Mitch isn’t even present yet. Dinner is going to painfully awkward, between Alex’s bias to dislike Mitch’s ownership of her brother and Mitch’s anxiety to first meet a member of Auston’s family.
“I’ll leave you at the apartment if you can’t be civil,” He threatens as they turn to head for the baggage claim area of the airport. “I’ll have a nice date with my partner and you won’t get to embarrass him in public.”
“Please,” Alex scoffs and hip checks him in the thigh, only to unbalance herself when Auston proves sturdier than she remembers. “I’m not that petty to cause a scene in a restaurant.”
Auston hums dubiously but decides to give her the benefit of that doubt. She’ll still be chilly- there’ll be no convincing her otherwise- but hopefully Mitch’s sincerity and easy charm will thaw her out over dinner rather than rile her up worse. Auston wants his big sister to see that he’s okay here, that Mitch treats him well, and to take that news back home to the rest of their family so they can quit worrying after him so much. Auston never wants to hear his mom and baby sister cry over the phone for him again.
They pick up the bags Alex brought, mostly more of Auston’s things from home, and head out to the car that Mitch has been happily letting Auston borrow. Alex eyes the sleek SUV judgmentally but keeps her comments to herself this time about Mitch’s obvious money.
She fills him in on more stuff from home that’s happened since he last called while he drives back to the apartment, carefully following the GPS still. He’s missed her, and he really wants her to go easy on Mitch and give him a chance, so she can see Mitch as Auston learned to and not the owner.
Auston puts the car into park in Mitch's spot in the parking garage, turns off the car and removes the keys from the ignition, but makes no other move to exit the vehicle.
"I told you to be nice to him."
Alex sniffs disdainfully, the first noise she's made in several minutes, since Auston made it clear he was ignoring her every attempt to talk, ever since Mitch texted him from the restaurant bathroom that he was just going to go and stay with a teammate for the few days Alex was in town.
"That was nice. Considering what he's done-"
"You don't know what he's done," Auston snaps. "I told you his brother is the one who bought my contract. Mitch didn't even kn-"
"Oh I know, and that's so much better of him," Alex interrupts right back, snide. "Just to sign you onto him without even knowing you any more than a few minutes. Oh how innocent of him."
"What do you want from him?" Auston demands, hating that he's raising his voice at his sister when he's missed her so much but that dinner went so badly he can't pretend it didn't happen the way it did.
"You want me to be broken, is that it? Without contract, without a career or any possibility of ever being anything but a used, thrown out, piece of-?!"
"No! No, I want you to come home, Auston! I want you to be free, like you were before he bought you, and go back to-"
"But I can't!" Auston near screeches at Alex, deafening in the confined space of the car, making her flinch as all his suppressed frustration of the past month bursts out of him at once.
"Don't you think I want that, too?! Have you ever considered that it's impossible?! That it hurts to even pretend like I could?! It's not possible, Alex, and you know what? It never was! You know why?!"
Auston doesn't wait for an answer. "Because that life was never meant for me! Never, Alex, because I'm not like you! Or Bre or Mom or Dad or anyone else in our entire family! And if it wasn't Chris buying me for Mitch, it would've been someone else, because that's always what was supposed to happen to me! To get bought because I'm not human!
"And I thought I could make peace with that, I did, and then you come here acting like I need saving, when all I'm trying to show you is that I'm okay! That this is the best-case scenario! That I was prepared to be raped and abused and maybe even killed and that there'd be nothing any of you back home could do about it! Instead, I got Mitch: Mitch, who's good to me, and sweet, and cares about me, Alex, and you all but spat in his face!"
Auston heaves for air, twisting away from the center console from where he turned to better yell at Alex, and lets the silence ring in the absence of his bellowing voice for a couple minutes.
"And I wanted you to see him like I got to," He finishes quietly, still trembling with anger but unable to maintain the same level of energy. "That he's kind and just wants to make me happy in the best way he knows how, and you didn't even try."
They sit in silence for a while, Auston staring stubbornly out the driver's window at the cement wall as Alex cries quietly in the passenger's seat. He's said everything he's wanted to for years, and more than he should have if he wanted to avoid wounding her, but he's just so tired of pretending that he has choices when he doesn't.
His family loves him but they don't understand. They're all human. They raised and treated him like he's human, too, as best they could, but Auston's always been too different, too separate, and sometimes trying so hard to fit what they wanted for him just hurt worse and he never knew how to tell them that.
He's not human. He's never been human. He's a changeling, a facade, a pretender. He's some genetic abomination descended from some other kind of monster who wanted to be human so badly it mutilated and contorted itself to appear as one, only to pass on the endless curse of never being quite right but still forcing its offspring to fit the mold.
It's not fair. He never asked to be born like this, to have this life, but it is his life, and he's so sick of pretending that he could've had anything else in the world but being bought like an object, like a pet.
Mitch is his best-case scenario. He's kind and attentive and thoughtful and good. He doesn't hurt Auston; goes out of his way not to. He put deliberate, conscious effort into designing Auston's collar, so that Auston would like it, rather that just handing him a cheap dog's collar that'd tell the world that he's not for sale anymore.
Auston wants to be good to him, too, to give back that kindness in turn, to thank Mitch for still giving him a chance at a good life, even if it's not the one his family foolishly pretended that he could have if he was just human enough.
"I'm sorry," Alex finally sniffles. "I just wanted you to come home and I thought he- I didn't want to see him as anything but the awful person keeping you from us, and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."
Auston reaches for the door handle. "I'll let you up and inside the apartment, and then I'm going to find Mitch. If he wants to come home tonight, then you can apologize to him. If not, I'll see you in the morning."
Alex makes a sound like she's going to protest, but Auston climbs out and closes the door on her. By the time she joins him at the elevator, she's conceded that his statements weren't up for debate or question and keeps quiet.
He's not mad at her anymore, not really, but he doesn't know if he can forgive her yet. Not for a while. She hurt Mitch on purpose, deliberately against Auston asking her not to, and Mitch hadn't deserved that pain when he's done nothing wrong. She'll have to apologize to him first, and Mitch will probably forgive her too easily, eager to make amends and be friends with Auston's family, so Auston will have to hold onto a grudge for the both of them for a while.
Auston loves his sister so much, but it hurt him bad that she came here only with the intention to save him, as if this was ever something Auston could be saved from. This was always going to be his lot in life, and it was a miracle he found a good place and a good partner, only for his sister to come here and spit directly on it.
It isn't fair. It's never been fair and it never will be fair, but Auston's decided he can make a home here in Toronto with Mitch, and that means he's going to defend it with all his teeth, even against his own family if they try to take it from him.
Mitch sprawls face down on the floor as soon as they get back from dropping Alex off at the airport, as planned once the few days of her stay were up.
"I don't think your family likes me, Aus," He says miserably into the floorboards as Auston crouches down next to him and pats his back comfortingly.
"They'll learn," Auston reassures with quiet confidence.
Mitch is just feeling sorry for himself, at a loss for what he could be doing better, having taken Alex's initial disdain and rejection to heart more than her subsequent apology and attempts to actually get to know him. He's like that with his hockey, too, Auston's learned; always quick to take criticism and slow to accept praise.
Mitch rolls over limply when Auston pushes him, limbs akimbo as Auston shifts to sit next to his hip and brace an arm over him.
"Do you think she hates me?"
"She did at first, because that's all she wanted to do," Auston answers easily, because the truth matters more here than a pretty lie. He hesitates but follows through. "I convinced myself to hate you, too, before I ever met you. You changed my mind, and you changed Alex's, too."
Auston reaches up to Mitch's face with his free hand and runs his knuckles softly along his jaw. "You're a good man, Mitch Marner. You treat me well. Alex saw that, and the rest of my family will, too, as soon as they give you a chance, like I did."
Mitch stares up at him and silently lets tears roll down the corners of his eyes. Auston carefully wipes at them but says nothing else, having learned that sometimes Mitch needs the quiet more than he needs to fill it.
"I knew you didn't want me, the first time I saw you. You looked like you were chewing glass just looking at me," Mitch finally says, his deep voice all torn up. "But I wanted you so bad anyway because I thought- finally, here's someone who can't run away from me, who won't tell me to shut up, because they can’t."
"So you were selfish," Auston says simply and runs his finger down Mitch's nose. "You still didn't hurt me even when you could have."
Mitch shakes his head, refusing the absolution. "I was drunk, and I could tell you didn't know what you were doing, that you didn't really want me, and you did it anyway because you literally couldn't tell me no. It was basically rape."
"And then I felt like I was dying several hours later, and you didn't leave my side for even a minute for four days straight, because you didn't want me to suffer," Auston finishes the story pointedly. "You remember? How shocked I was that you were still there? I expected you to leave me to the pain because I wasn't of use to you like that and you didn't, Mitch. You stayed."
"You hate the collar," Mitch tries petulantly.
"Wrong," Auston corrects with a smirk and lifts his hand to flick his finger against the tiny 16 charm at the front of his throat. "I was expecting a big, ugly THIS IS MY PROPERTY thing. This? This is pretty."
Mitch pouts, his whole chin wobbly.
"You didn't rape me, you didn't leave me to suffer, you haven't hurt me, I like your collar," Auston concludes and then bends his elbow to lean close over his match. "I like you. Don't make me yell at you like I yelled at Alex. Don't act like I need saving when I've decided this is where I want to be."
Mitch reaches up for a desperate grip on Auston's shirt, like he doesn't want Auston to go anywhere, as if Auston would go anywhere.
"You won't leave? You swear?"
"I swear," Auston promises and kisses Mitch chastely, trusting that they're finally being honest with each other. "I'm yours for as long as you'll keep me."
"Forever," Mitch claims immediately and fervently.
"Then that makes you mine, too," Auston whispers, heart racing at the idea that he's captivated Mitch so thoroughly, entrapped him just the same as Auston is chained to him.
Mitch nods, handing himself over, just like that. "I'm yours. Always."
Bizarrely, controversially, Auston likes knowing that Mitch had felt lonely and awful and selfish enough to take advantage of him, of the fact that Auston hadn't a choice or felt like he couldn't say no. It makes him feel like... they were awful together or something, because Auston could have stopped them from fucking that first night and Mitch wouldn't have forced him further. But it was Auston who hadn’t wanted to hear what Mitch was trying to tell him and pushed for the sex, and Mitch just grabbed for what he desperately wanted with both hands.
Auston stands by what he told Mitch. That first night was awkward and messy and rushed, but it hadn't hurt. Auston hadn't felt raped, and then he woke up hours later with actual agonizing pain, and he'd sort of forgotten all about any hesitance by the time he'd recovered and Mitch came to him tentatively again for more sex.
Because Mitch was soft for it, coaxing and pleading and gave lingering kisses and kept petting at Auston like he valuable and gorgeous, and Auston just gave into the feeling of being wanted like that and figured if it felt good last time, it'll feel good again. And it did then, and it did the next time, and every time since then.
So they didn't start a clear, conscientious, "healthy" relationship, but they were never going to be. Auston's not considered human and he doesn't have all the rights of one. Mitch literally owns him like anyone else owns a dog. Auston would be socially and financially and irreversibly ruined if Mitch ever broke contract with him, while Mitch could go on and buy someone else and not be one iota negatively impacted for either decision.
They're unbalanced, but somehow, knowing that underneath Mitch's soft, exuberant, kind personality, there's a lonely, greedy, selfish boy who wants someone to just choose him first makes Auston feel like the scales are just a bit closer to even after all. It doesn't make sense, but he's not trying to articulate it any better than that and certainly not to anyone. No one could take him away from Mitch based off just abuse, but Auston's not taking any chances. He won't even risk tarnishing Mitch's reputation over this whole messy thing, because Auston likes where he's at and he wants things to stay as they are, and that includes everyone wholeheartedly believing Mitch is a harmless sweetheart.
It feels like a greedy little secret to keep when Mitch fucks Auston selfishly, whines and drools into his neck, working his hips in these uncoordinated pulses like he's the dog slaved to a greater power and Auston's the only thing keeping his head above the water. It feels good, this assuredly awful, smug thing that preens at seeing weakness and covets it and manipulates events to get more of it.
But Auston likes it anyway, likes Mitch when he's selfish and greedy and spoilt, goads him on with harsh whispers of, "Go on, take what's yours. Use me. Use me, baby, yeah. There you go, take what you want. It's all yours."
Mitch whimpers and bites into his throat hard enough to hurt, to draw blood, to make it hard for Auston to breathe, like he could die, and then Mitch’s coming bare and raw and messy inside Auston's hole and still humping away like he wants to knot like an animal so they get stuck together.
Auston closes his eyes to the ceiling, gets a hand around his cock and strips the orgasm from himself with another man's cum in his belly and teeth locked in his windpipe. It's so good, raw and powerful like nothing Auston's ever felt during his previous encounters of sex with women, which feel safe and normalized and plain in comparison to the unfiltered, greedy sex he has with Mitch now.
He still wants to fuck Mitch, still wants Mitch to ask him for it, but Auston's gotten to the point where he really likes getting fucked, at feeling Mitch come in him and then feeling it drip out of him. He could be satisfied with this, if this is all Mitch ever wants.
Mitch finally extracts his teeth, licks away the blood like no normal person would ever do, and Auston's already scabbing up and healing over. The mark will be entirely gone by tomorrow, which means Mitch could do it again, as many times as he wanted, and no one would ever know how brutal he can be. No one but them.
Mitch kisses at him, smears sticky red lip prints across Auston's collarbone and chest that will wash away even easier, and breathes gratitude and praise into his skin, like a sinner at a confessional, like something in him gets released only when he's with Auston.
It feels like reciprocation, like power. Auston's already addicted to it and they've only been having this greedy, awfully blissful sex for a couple days, when previously they stuck to the soft, normal sex of two people desperately pretending they're ordinary, too. Auston likes this better. It feels more sincere, more real, less like lying to each other.
Auston drags his nails down Mitch's back, leaving red marks that'll stay and linger, that people will see, because Mitch is human, and his body is so tender and quick to bruise and slow to heal. He'll have bragging rights. He'll be teased. He'll be seen and everyone who met Auston at Mitch's twenty-first birthday party will know that little innocent Mitchy fucks hard enough that he's earned badges of honor.
"You're good to me," Auston tells him quietly, because it's true and they're nowhere near exchanging love confessions yet.
Mitch nods against his jaw and hitches his hips up tighter when his softening cock tries to slip out of Auston's heat before he's ready to leave.
"I won't ever let you go," Mitch promises him security and safety and perpetuity in return, a place to stay and a place to belong, always.
This is what they are. This is all that they can be.
It's so stupid how much of a difference wearing a collar makes in Auston's day to day.
Before, walking around as human as he could look, people would be slow and hesitant around him, like they could somehow still tell that he's not quite the same as them, and it was always more important for them to figure out what made him separate than it was giving or answering what he asked for.
Now though, the collar lets them know immediately that Auston's different, separate from them, and now no one has to waste time worrying about it. Everything's so much faster, less dubious and excruciating tests of his patience, because people just look at his collar, see that he's owned, so that makes him no longer a mystery or a danger, because someone's responsible for him now. They just immediately answer his questions and give him what he asked for, no more slow looks and slower hands, dragging out the encounter so they have more time to puzzle him out.
Auston kind of hates how much he appreciates it, because he also likes when the pretty girls behind the cash registers will gush over how pretty his collar is, how much it compliments him, how much it shows he's well looked after. He likes passing other changelings in the store aisles or on the streets, and catching their eyes lingering enviously on his throat, while their collars are broad and ugly and plain around their necks.
He's owned, possessed, marked as someone's prized thing, and it's made everything so much easier and turned him into someone worthy of being admired and envied. It's stupid, and yet, Auston wears his pretty collar every single chance he gets.
Mitch gives him a card. A bank card with Mitch's name on it.
"As long as you don't spend like, a hundred thousand dollars a day for a month straight, you really won't put a dent in what I earn every year, so. Yeah. Buy what you want, baby. I'm good for it."
Auston had accepted the card and the kiss that came with it, but it took him more than a minute to come to terms with the fact that he was essentially handed millions of dollars and told to "go nuts." He still remembers scraping grills and burning his fingertips carrying hot plates every shift he could cobble together at every restaurant who'd hire an unbought changeling just to slightly pay for tuition. Now he could pay all of it in one go and it wouldn't even break the 100k limit Mitch jokingly posed.
He starts small, going out and properly buying new clothes that actually fit his bigger frame, instead of merely relying on the baggy fit that he already had. He hesitates but goes to an expensive suit store as well and buys a few, thinking he should shape up and make an effort to match Mitch's suit game, for whenever they go out to fancy venues again. The bill makes him balk, but the card approves the purchase without so much as a blip, and Auston carries his bags and boxes of shoes home in a slight daze at spending more money in one outing than he's previously ever had in his bank account.
It feels very sugar baby of him, and Auston really can't honestly say that he hates it. Who could possibly hate suddenly being rich?
Auston wakes abruptly from a wet dream, hot from being sucked off by a pretty thing with blue eyes, with someone's knees tucked close to his ribs and a tight, wet sleeve being worked down over his stiff cock.
"Jesus," He gasps out, blinks hard and grabs for pale thighs, heart jumping even as his blurry eyes recognize Mitch's shape in the dark of their bedroom. "Greedy boy. Couldn't wait to take what you want, huh?"
Mitch whines at the rough quality of Auston's voice, how gravelly from sleep he sounds and how immediately encouraging his words are, and stubbornly sits down harder on Auston's dick, already stroking himself off at a rapid pace just from getting a cock in himself.
Auston moans low in his throat as he strokes his hands up and takes Mitch by the hips, pulling him down to help sink the full shaft of his dick up inside.
"Wasn't dreaming, was I?" He murmurs as it sounds like Mitch is half sobbing, squirming fitfully as Auston manhandles him around to grind on his cock. "Had your pretty mouth around me, didn't you?"
Mitch goes boneless, gets his elbows planted on either side of Auston's head and licks into his mouth, whining as his dripping dick gets pressed between their stomachs.
"Auston, please," He breathes, even better than the dream he created. "Fuck me."
"Pretty, greedy thing," Auston grunts and plants his feet in the mattress, thrusting up as Mitch gasps and ragdolls against his chest and throat.
"Wanted you to take this for so long," Auston tells him just for the way Mitch digs his nails into his shoulders and hides his face. "Knew you wanted this bad every time I was on top of you. What made you finally take what you wanted, baby? Watching me sleep, knowing I couldn't tell you no?"
Mitch whines and comes, sudden and messy between their stomachs, hole clamping like a vice around Auston's cock.
Auston grunts again, thrusting up stubbornly and selfishly as Mitch cries out to be fucked through orgasm, and makes no attempt to hold back and prolong finally getting what he wanted, too. He comes easily, body already strung close by what Mitch did to it while Auston slept obliviously, and scrapes more marks into Mitch's skin.
"Selfish boy," Auston lifts his head and presses the words against Mitch's sweaty scalp, bussing a hard kiss there fondly. "You get what you needed?"
Mitch nods hurriedly, refusing to unbury himself from Auston's throat, his favorite place to hide when Auston mocks and praises him in equal measure for acting greedy and spoilt.
Auston pets down his back, splits his fingers around the base of his shaft buried in Mitch's slick hole, teases them both with the sensitivity.
"You gonna let me give you what you need from now on? Or do you wanna just keep taking it whenever you like?"
Mitch shudders in place. "Both. I want both."
"Of course you do, greedy thing," Auston murmurs and grins into Mitch's hair. "You can have it all."
So it's Auston's own fault for giving Mitch a blatant, blanket permission to take sex whenever and however he wants it, whether Auston is awake to participate or not.
It's that messy, controversial ownership thing again, where Mitch is allowed to do anything he wants to Auston, but it was Auston who gave him the green light to start.
Auston finally attends his first hockey game, the next season’s Leafs’ home opener, with the Marners. Bonnie’s as happy as ever to see him healthy and wearing her son’s collar, and Chris reintroduces his fiancée to Auston. Paul’s supposed to have met them at the arena, but “something came up,” Chris quotes with an eye roll, so it’s just the four of them. Auston’s content with his present company, sitting between his in-laws up in the stands while two teams chaotically warm up on both sides of the ice below.
He's glad Chris warns him that cameras are likely to film them occasionally throughout the game, just for being family of one of the star players, so Auston mindfully resists fucking around on his phone or looking bored while play is happening. He’s come a long way over the summer since first coming to Toronto in May, but he still spends most of the first period just tracking Mitch around every time he hops over the boards for a shift and letting Chris talk his ear off about random hockey stats and his opinions on the upper team management.
Auston’s not expecting a camera crew to show up at their seats during the second intermission, explaining that they’re filming for the team account, something called the Blueprint. It’s pretty immediately obvious that they’re angling for shots and an interview with Auston specifically. He feels a little wide-eyed and awkward and pathetically grateful that Bonnie places a hand over his forearm to keep him firmly next to her and charmingly leads him through the questions so Auston picks up her hints on what’s apparently safe to answer.
“You did alright,” She assures him and pats his wrist after the film crew has gotten their desired clips and sound bites and left. “It’ll get easier as you get used to it.”
“Mitch’s a fan favorite,” Chris pipes in from Auston’s other side and elbows him jokingly. “Best get used to the camera, bud.”
The whole family laughs gently at Auston’s incredulous look.
He knows some people are really… accepting is not quite the right word for it, but like, making particular exceptions for changelings. As in, Auston’s surprised that the NHL media is making a point to call attention to one of their popular players owning a changeling, when the implications of a gay relationship there are blatant. “Not a real man,” is maybe the exception working here.
And they’re not exactly wrong is the thing. Part of the change he went through to match Mitch was literally growing the organs and capability of getting pregnant if and when Mitch wants a kid. If Mitch had really wanted it, Auston would’ve entirely changed sex, so he got lucky to keep his dick. So maybe Mitch will get some flak for keeping Auston visibly masculine, but not nearly as much as he would’ve if Auston were an ordinary human male.
Surely Chris accounted for the publicity when he bought Auston for Mitch, so Auston figures the Marners know what they’re doing when it comes to hockey, and he decides against stressing about it.
They meet Mitch after the game, a Leafs win. Mitch didn’t score, but he got three assists, which is almost better. Auston remembers to act demure and sweet for Mitch in front of his family and departing teammates, tucking damp hair behind Mitch’s ear and bending for a chaste kiss. Mitch smiles and puts a hand on Auston’s chest, all sweet as can be and giving no indication that he held Auston down by the throat last night while he rode Auston’s cock until he came all over them both.
They’re really not doing anything that millions of couples haven’t already done a billion times over, but it still feels like their dirty little secret anyway.
It’s late enough not to go out for dinner, so the Marners say their goodbyes at the arena and leave individually. Mitch holds Auston’s hand on their way to the players’ more private parking lot.
“Did you enjoy the game?”
“It was good,” Auston assures and rubs his thumb over Mitch’s index finger. “Camera crew was a surprise though.”
“You land an interview? Or, wait,” Mitch winces apologetically. “Was it the Blueprint? They said something to me about getting some quotes from you but I didn’t think it was tonight. Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”
“It was fine, your mom covered for me,” Auston shrugs and pulls Mitch into his body when they get to the car. “I’m awkward as fuck under camera though, so take it easy on me when you see the video.”
Mitch grins and leans into Auston against the car door. “I won’t hold it against you.” He kisses Auston confidently, easy familiarity and thoughtlessness of who could see him doing it.
Auston sort of forgets that he was bought not only for Mitch’s company, but for his protection as well. The carjacking was a random, isolated incident, and Mitch is too well liked to have enemies- any real ones anyway, not counting mouth breathing armchair coaches behind screens. Mitch also wasn’t big on the whole bodyguard agenda, so Auston hasn’t been following him to and from arenas across the continent for the past couple months.
Auston doesn’t expect today to be any different, but he starts feeling… really odd as soon as he goes to wake Mitch from his pre-game nap, like something very bad is going to happen if he lets go of Mitch for even a second. Auston frowns thoughtfully, trying to digest this sudden surge of paranoia while he sits on the bed and watches Mitch sleepily get dressed. He starts getting dressed as well.
“Got plans?” Mitch inquires curiously, rightfully intrigued by this change in routine.
“I feel weird,” Auston states bluntly as he yanks on a pair of jeans. “Like letting you out of my sight will literally drive me nuts.”
Mitch blinks the last of the drowsiness away, concerned. “Oh. Is this like a…?” He makes an incomprehensibly vague gesture with his hand next to his ear.
Auston stares for a moment then moves past the brief attempt to figure it out. “Dunno. Never felt like this before. Just know I gotta stick close to you for now.”
Mitch looks understandably more worried at this development. “You’re not gonna like, take a bullet for me or something, are you? Because please do not do that. I really don’t want you hurt.”
“Better me than you,” Auston states plainly and then reaches across to smother Mitch’s immediate protest under a hand. “Yes, really, Mitch, because I can survive getting shot. I heal stupid fast. You don’t.”
Mitch tugs on his wrist but Auston holds fast and puts his other hand on Mitch’s neck to tug his partner in and press their foreheads together.
“This is what I’m for, remember? Keeping you safe keeps us both safe. I don’t have a life without you anymore, Mitch, so we gotta safeguard yours. You’re sweet, but this is the way things are, and I will prioritize you over myself every single time. You need to accept that.”
Long story short, Mitch doesn’t accept that, but that doesn’t change that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
Auston drives them to the rink, jittery and hyperaware of every other driver on the way, but the feeling only worsens when they safely arrive. Auston feels possessed, scarcely in control of himself as he herds an increasingly concerned Mitch into the arena. Security gets involved at some point, probably the staff put on alert by Auston’s unapproved presence and bizarre behavior, but he’s barely processing the startled, wary looks he’s getting, much less the words being exchanged.
He loses time.
The next he’s aware, Auston’s out on the ice, cold and stiff like he’s been standing there and staring up at the ceiling for a long time. That awful, all-consuming paranoia has abruptly vanished, leaving him exhausted but satisfied. He blinks hard, eyes watering like he hasn’t blinked in a while, and drops his head forward.
Mitch is sitting at his feet on the ice, still in his suit, and he scrambles up as soon as he sees Auston looking at him.
“Aus? Baby, are you back?”
“Did I go somewhere?” Auston wonders aloud and the scratchiness of his voice surprises him. His lips feel dry and cracked and scaly.
There’s people all around the edge of the rink, at the benches and in the stands, and plenty are pointing up towards the ceiling and talking on phones.
“Oh thank god,” Mitch breathes and hugs Auston fiercely about the neck and waist.
“What happened? I don’t remember much after we got here,” Auston asks, too dazed to be alarmed as he clutches back to his partner automatically.
“The game’s been postponed because you got all freaky focused on the ceiling and wouldn’t move from this spot,” Mitch rattles off hurriedly. He’s shaking. “So they sent people up there and found structural damage. It probably would’ve collapsed during the game, they think.”
“Oh,” Auston notes.
How could he have known that? There’s no reason he could’ve known that as early as back home. It’s such bizarre, unexpected confirmation that someone- that Mitch would’ve gotten hurt if Auston wasn’t tied and tuned to him. There’s that predictive, intuitive quality of changelings reaping rewards. Auston had no idea he could actually get that prophetic. It’s crazy.
“At least it wasn’t a bullet,” Auston tries for a bit of levity since Mitch is clearly freaked. He winces when Mitch’s tight grip becomes strangling.
“You scared the shit outta me. Nothing I did got through to you. It was like you weren’t really in there anymore and your eyes got all funky.”
“Baby, ease up a bit,” Auston pleads and pats at Mitch’s elbows, relieved when the ache in his neck and ribs lets up. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Mitch takes a deep breath and finally relaxes. “We can go home whenever you’re ready.”
“Yes,” Auston agrees quickly. “But you’re gonna hafta help me not eat shit.” He looks warily down at the ice under their feet. “I don’t know how I even got out here without busting ass in the first place.”
“Very confidently,” Mitch assures with a chuckle and peels back to offer his hands. “I got you, baby. Just move slow and hold onto me. I won’t let you fall.”
They make slow progress off the ice, Auston maybe playing up his caution and wobbling for the way being helpful and supportive is obviously improving Mitch’s mood. Auston exhales in relief when he finally steps off the ice.
“I’d do a lot for a hot coffee right about now.” He feels chilled and stiff and sore. That trance or whatever took a fuck load out of him.
“I’ve got you,” Mitch repeats confidently and leads Auston by the hand under the stands, back into the close halls at the bottom of the arena where only staff and players are normally allowed.
It’s pretty empty down here, Auston notices, either because everyone’s higher up and working on fixing the problem or they’ve left because the game was cancelled for the night. In any case, Mitch is familiar with the place and knows exactly where he’s going to find a coffee machine.
“Sit,” He orders and pushes Auston towards a chair while he immediately goes for the cabinets.
Auston sprawls gratefully in an armchair, stretching out his legs and grinding his palms against his eyes. The discomfort and discomfiting loss of control sucked ass, but it’s worth it that Mitch is safe and unharmed. That’s all that ultimately matters. Everything else will naturally fall into place as long as Auston keeps Mitch safe and happy.
“I’m home!”
“In the kitchen!” Auston calls back and then mutters under his breath. “Getting pissed off at this stupid fucking recipe.”
“What was that?” Mitch asks as he comes wandering in cheerfully.
Auston leans over to kiss him in welcome and then jerks his chin towards his laptop open on the counter. “Trying a new recipe and it’s harder than I was expecting.”
Mitch drags his hand across Auston’s lower back on his way to look at the screen. “Looks it. Can I help any?”
“Nah,” Auston denies and eyes Mitch’s ass in his skintight shorts, interest piqued by the lingering touch. “Think I’m just gonna give up for now and order something in if you want.”
“Whatever’s easier,” Mitch answers easily and turns about only to pull a double take at the way Auston’s leering. He grins cheekily and cocks a hip out. “You, uh, want something before dinner, bud?”
“Bud,” Auston scoffs and steps over to the sink to wash his hands.
“Baby, sweetie, honey,” Mitch corrects in a simper, sliding close to prop his chin on Auston’s shoulder and palm his hipbones. “Light of my life, moon in my stars, fire in my loins.”
Auston snorts and feels Mitch press his grinning teeth against his neck. He hums, feigning disinterest as Mitch mouths at his skin and slips nimble fingers down the front of his pants. They’ve played this game before, of Mitch touching Auston as he likes and Auston pretending he’s uninterested.
“Does any of this stuff need to be put away?” Mitch briefly breaks character to check in considerately on Auston’s failed attempt at cooking.
“It’ll keep,” Auston assures dismissively, turns off the faucet and props his hands along the sink’s edge. “Were you after something, Mitchell?”
“Mitchell,” Mitch takes a turn to scoff in offense and scratches his nails at the base of Auston’s stiffening cock.
“Oh, sorry,” Auston exaggerates the apology and suppresses a shudder. “I meant, greedy boy.”
Mitch bites him on the nape, deliberately hard to match the way he squeezes Auston’s dick nearly tight enough to actually hurt. Auston hisses quietly and jams his ass back into the cradle of Mitch’s hips, feeling where Mitch is similarly stiffening up. Mitch gnaws on him, working up a viciously dark hickey that’ll only last a couple hours, and works his hand dry and tight over Auston’s cock.
Auston never would’ve thought himself a masochist before Mitch, but god damn.
“Fuck,” He breathes and pinches his eyes shut, feels his hole clench and get wet in responsive arousal to the pains.
Mitch hums smugly and extracts his teeth. He shifts his hands, shoves down the crotch of Auston’s sweats and bends more over Auston’s back to get fingers on his hole, rubbing at the slick oozing out.
“God, I love feeling you get wet for me,” Mitch moans and rubs his dick against the curve of Auston’s ass. “So fucking hot.”
“It is just for you,” Auston reminds to lean into Mitch’s possessiveness and coax more of that intoxicating roughness out. “No one else has ever felt me this way, and no one else but you ever will.”
Mitch buries a groan into the hickey he left pulsing on Auston’s nape and pushes harder at his upper back to force Auston into bending over. Auston goes easily, lowers his chest over the sink and spreads his legs as much as his pants will let him. He bites his lip and grunts as Mitch shoves two fingers in at the new angle, stretching Auston hastily just enough not to seriously hurt him.
“C’mon, I’m good, baby,” Auston encourages, knowing that even if he isn’t, he’ll heal up any damage faster than it’ll irritate. “C’mon and fuck me hard.”
“And you call me greedy,” Mitch teases, twists his fingers around crudely one more time, then withdraws to fish his cock out from his shorts. “S’okay, baby, I got what you need.”
Auston smirks where Mitch can’t see. He loves how Mitch’s confidence has grown since this all started. The sentimentality gets reburied under lust as Mitch pushes inside him, and it’s damn good that Auston’s slick enough to ease the way because he breaches pretty much dry.
“Fuck yeah,” Auston sighs as Mitch hauls back on his hips and grinds to seat himself deeper in these greedy little pulses that sting and send shivers of heat crawling over his skin.
Mitch moans eager agreement and ruts selfishly into Auston’s ass, smearing his slick around and getting his dick properly wet.
“Yeah, c’mon, gorgeous boy,” Auston pants out praise and shoves his hips back into the grind. “Make us feel good.”
“Oh, I love the way you said that,” Mitch whines and gets his mouth on Auston’s neck again as he does what he’s told.
Later, after Auston’s admitted that coming all over the front of the cabinets around uncovered food is both unsanitary and a pain in the ass to clean up, they’re cuddling on the couch while they wait for the ordered pizza to arrive.
Auston’s feeling a little tender and chewed on, littered with lurid hickeys because Mitch is giving addicted to the taste of his skin and has yet to quit mouthing at him. He hums and scritches his nails on Mitch’s scalp, still liking the feeling of Mitch obsessed with him, like Auston’s something he’s never going to tire of.
They’ve still not brought up the word ‘love’ between them, at least not directly to each other, and Auston’s not sure who’s waiting more for the other to say it first. Auston thinks he could say it and mean it, but he wants Mitch to believe him when he says it and that he’s not just saying it because Mitch is his best-case scenario. Then again, if Auston waits to say it only after Mitch has said it first, then Mitch is even more unlikely to believe that Auston’s not just saying it.
“What’re you thinking about?” Mitch wonders, smooching at Auston’s collarbones and peeking up at his face. His hair’s all out of sorts from dried sweat and Auston pulling his fingers through it repeatedly.
Auston’s heart swells with sudden fondness and he decides, fuck it. He cups Mitch’s face and rubs his thumb over his mouth, endeared by the way Mitch makes a point of kissing it.
“Just that I’m pretty sure I love you, and that I want you to believe me.”
Mitch goes still and he stares. Pink rapidly fills his cheeks before he hides his face in Auston’s throat. Auston can feel his mouth move like he’s trying to find the right words, so Auston pets his nape and waits patiently without offering an early out or excuse.
“I believe you,” Mitch finally decides, but in a tentative whisper. “I want to, so I will, because I love you like hell and I want you to be happy with me.”
Auston smiles, pleased by the honesty of the response. “I am happy with you, Mitch, that’s why I love you. You’re exactly what I want you to be.”
Mitch makes this odd, whiny, snuffling noise and smacks a noisy kiss under Auston’s chin. “I wanna fuck you again so bad but I don’t want the pizza to interrupt us and I’m starving.”
Auston snorts at the complaint and hugs his partner tight. “We’ve got all the time in the world, baby. It’ll keep.”