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Maybe Ryan had a problem with spoiling his pup a bit too much. It wasn’t his fault that he was predisposed to buying his pets treats and toys; he’d always spoiled Miley, after all. Adding in that Vinny was also his boyfriend (his “pet boyfriend,” as Vinny would call himself), it was pretty obvious that Ryan’s wallet was going to be in trouble.
Not that Vinny ever asked how much things cost. He also didn’t demand presents or gifts, never requested expensive items — though he would try to bat his lashes and jut his bottom lip in order to convince Ryan to buy him food fairly often. “I’m a drummer,” he’d point out when Ricky heckled him for it, “I always need food, or I’ll get too hungry and fucking die.”
So it probably didn’t raise any red flags when Vinny came over and Ryan announced he had a present for his pup. (Now that Ryan thought about it, he wondered if Vinny ever saw red flags in any situation, or if he just never cared enough to react to them.) He beelined for Miley, ignoring Ryan save for a, “Update: my boyfriend got me a present,” as if he needed Ryan to know Vinny had, in fact, heard him.
He just cared more about Ryan’s dog, apparently.
While Vinny got on the floor with Miley to shower her in attention, Ryan went to grab the box. He’d been moving it around his room, putting it in different spots like he was worried someone would find it (he only lived with Miley), and he had to swallow down uncharacteristic nerves at the thought of Vinny thinking it was too much.
They probably should have talked about it. Actually, they definitely should have talked about it. Ryan had just seen an, uh, artistic video with a cute guy in a collar and leash (and nothing else), and he’d decided to go for it. The worst that happened was Vinny wasn’t into it — which had earned a shrug at the time but felt like a much more serious outcome now.
It took a few seconds for Ryan to get Vinny’s attention, and then Vinny made the whole situation a lot more intense by crawling his way over to where Ryan had dropped down onto the couch. Ryan almost wondered if Vinny realized what he was doing, but then Vinny gave him a lopsided little smirk as he sat on his knees at Ryan’s feet and made it clear that, yeah, he was doing it on purpose.
“What’s up, Daddy?” Vinny asked, tilting his head with a flop of hair. His eyes found the box and he frowned. “Is that the present?” He held out his hands expectantly, not waiting for a response.
Ryan chewed his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, it’s—” He sighed and handed Vinny the box, pulling out his vape and taking a hit as he watched Vinny shake the box, pause, shake it again, and then actually start to open it.
The collar wasn’t anything special to look at. It was black leather, smooth and custom-stitched. There was a d-ring on the front to clip a leash to (Ryan had bought a leash already but figured he’d introduce that later, though the visual alone had certainly done it for him the last two times he’d jerked off), and a small heart-shaped charm hung down that said “Pup.”
It was quiet as Vinny examined the collar. He looked at it for a moment, flicked the metal heart hanging on the front, and then ran his thumb along the leather as if to get a feel for its texture. “I always knew you were into weird shit,” Vinny announced, finally, as if they hadn’t discovered that they were both into weird shit.
Ryan snorted and scratched at his chin. “Yeah, well, figured I needed to get you a collar in case you got lost,” he quipped, watching Vinny’s expression for a hint that he didn’t like the gift.
“I can wear it in public?” Vinny asked without hesitation, and the grin he wore as he asked made it very clear he knew exactly why that would be a problem.
Of course Ryan would have to clarify. Because Vinny was the type of guy who’d trot around a Sam’s Club in a dog collar; it was unclear if Vinny didn’t notice the unspoken negative feedback some of his behavior got in public or if he just didn’t care. Either way, the result was the same, and Ryan was still usually reining him back in (though, occasionally, he’d indulge Vinny’s weird impulses — sue him).
Now that Ryan thought about it, there wasn’t anything saying that Vinny couldn’t wear a dog collar in public, was there? It’d be kind of hot if— “We’ll come back to that,” Ryan finally offered, noncommittal at best, and shook his head to dislodge the musings before they could catch.
Vinny seemed pleased enough by that answer, scooting a little closer on his knees and wiggling about as he held up the collar. He bared his throat, chin lifting as he shook his hair out, and grinned. “We gotta make sure it fits,” he explained.
As if Ryan would have gotten Vinny a collar that wouldn’t fit. Ryan took the collar from him, trying to focus on sliding it on and buckling it rather than how nice the contrast was between Ryan’s thick, tattooed fingers and Vinny’s inkless throat. He slid two fingers under the band of leather, wiggled them just a little, and then scratched at Vinny’s chin when he pulled them free. “Perfect fit.” And maybe he sounded a little smug about it.
There was a moment where Vinny stretched out his neck, tilted his head first one way and then the other, and then he grinned up at Ryan, a hand moving to paw at his stomach. “Okay, so, I don’t know about you,” he started, touch drifting lower to settle on Ryan’s groin with the same insistent press of his palm, “but this is really fucking hot and now I’m horny.”
It never took much to get Vinny eager and desperate for sex. This time, Ryan was right there with him (admittedly, he usually was — something about Vinny specifically caused Ryan’s self-restraint to crumble far more easily than his pride would care for him to admit), and he grinned, hooked a finger in the d-ring on Vinny’s collar to tug a couple of times.
Ryan gnawed on his bottom lip as he watched heat flood VInny’s cheeks, his eyelashes flutter. “Yeah? Puppy wants to get fucked?” he asked, and he sounded far more fond than he’d meant to. It wasn’t his fault that Vinny seemed to soften everything about him (Justin found it hilarious regardless).
Vinny nodded enthusiastically and even tried his hand at a bark. He paused, tilted his head and scrunched his nose. “Dude. I think I suck at that.” Sucked was a strong word for it, but it certainly hadn’t come out the way Vinny had intended. (Ryan might have snorted a little.) A beat later and Vinny moved on, previous thought forgotten. “Yeah, I do, Daddy.” More rubbing at Ryan’s dick through his sweats, which definitely counted as an underhanded means of getting what he wanted.
Usual Vin behavior, then.
And, with that, Vinny was crawling toward the bedroom with what had to be an intentional sway of his hips, one that had Ryan’s eyes locked on his ass. He realized he needed to get moving or risk complaints from an impatient puppy, and he grunted as he stood, following Vinny and murmuring to Miley that she was a good girl on the way — she always deserved praise, after all.
He made sure to shut the bedroom door behind him.
There was always something about being at Ryan’s feet that made Vinny want to whine and beg. This angle specifically, with Ryan sitting on the edge of the bed and Vinny settled between his spread legs, had his tongue lolling out: Ryan sat with a slight slouch, and from Vinny’s vantage point, he was given a beautiful visual of the curve of his stomach.
Vinny headbutt Ryan’s leg and lifted a hand to fondle Ryan’s stomach, appreciating the give for every eager squeeze. And being bracketed between his boyfriend’s thick thighs was a lot like being trapped in the sexiest cage imaginable.
Speaking of gnawing on the bars of his enclosure—
Vinny snagged Ryan’s sweatpants with his teeth, biting down on the fabric as he shook his head back and forth and growled softly. He wanted Ryan naked, of course, but the pants seemed like the main priority, especially since he could be face-to-dick right now if a few unnecessary pieces of clothing were removed.
Ryan laughed and ruffled Vinny’s hair. “I can’t take my sweats off if you’re fighting them,” he pointed out, earning an unamused huff.
He was right, though, so Vinny released his mouthful and just sat back on his heels, giving another excited, full-body wiggle as he made a second attempt at a bark. It sounded better than the first. Still not good, though.
“Can I suck your dick?” Vinny asked, licking his lips at the thought. There was something about how thick Ryan was, the way he filled Vinny’s mouth and sat heavy on his tongue, that made him drool.
That earned a snort from Ryan. “Sure as shit not gonna tell you no,” he replied, doing his best to wiggle his sweats and boxers off all in one go — Vinny had to scamper back a bit for Ryan to manage, but he was immediately crowding once more when Ryan had the clothes tossed aside.
Ryan was only half-hard, but Vinny was still grinning and swatting Ryan’s hand away to wrap his own smaller one around the base. He liked the way Ryan would fill out as Vinny gave him head; that, combined with how desperate he was to taste, prompted him to immediately swallow down as much of Ryan’s cock as he could manage.
In his haste, it wasn’t much. Vinny gagged and pulled back just enough to recover, brow scrunching a little in concentration. He bobbed his head a few times, one hand following his lips as he pulled back to stroke the spit-slicked skin; the other fondled Ryan’s balls, earning a low groan that went right to Vinny’s gut.
As Ryan’s cock hardened, Vinny kept just the head between his lips and jerked the rest of his length in a loose grip, blinking up at his boyfriend and hoping he looked pathetic enough to get dicked down the way he wanted.
It was an emphatic mission success. “Fuck, pup,” Ryan grunted, twitching fingers tangling in Vinny’s hair. He let Vinny bob his head, tip to almost-base now, a few more times before yanking him off. Ryan’s teeth worried at his bottom lip and then he jerked his chin up. “C’mere.”
Vinny eagerly climbed into Ryan’s lap, their stomachs bumping as Vinny threw his arms around Ryan’s neck and kissed him furiously. Thankfully, Ryan didn’t seem to mind that he could taste himself as Vinny licked into his mouth, something mindless and eager and sloppy.
Big, hot hands wandered over Vinny’s body, fingers settling on the little bit of plushness at Vinny’s hips to squeeze with enough force to earn a moan. Ryan grinned and tried to say something, but Vinny chased his mouth and swallowed every single syllable down. He wasn’t done kissing, thank you very much.
Ryan grasped Vinny’s face in both hands and pulled his head back. “Pup,” he managed, sounding breathless enough to earn a proud, pleased shimmy from Vinny, “you’re wearing too many clothes. Give me a minute.” He sounded far more amused than annoyed, and his gaze held a warmth that matched even with the hunger Vinny could see in his eyes.
“You want me to strip, Daddy?” Vinny asked, making a point of batting his lashes and widening his eyes.
A laugh wasn’t the reaction Vinny was going for, but it was Ryan’s laugh, so he wasn’t upset about it. “The last time you tried to do a strip tease, you fell on your ass and hit your head,” he reminded Vinny.
And, well, he wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’ll need you to do it, then,” Vinny sighed, his exhale big and heavy and dramatic, like it was a very reluctant and painful allowance on his part.
“I’ll make it quick, pup,” Ryan promised, grinning something devilish as he added, “I know how bad you need it.” And Vinny rocked his hips forward so Ryan could feel just how true that was.
Getting Vinny undressed was usually a challenge: unless Vinny was shucking his own clothes (and stumbling around a bit in the process), Ryan had to chase his body around to snag his shirt, his pants, his underwear. He had long since given up on the socks — they could stay on for all he cared. Especially when Vinny was already so hard that he was leaking, tip red and flushed, and he canted his hips up into the air like he was trying to rut against something.
For all his enthusiasm and hunger, Vinny pounced on Ryan, and they both went tumbling back onto the bed. Ryan allowed himself to be bowled over, intentionally moved with the force because otherwise he wouldn’t have gone anywhere, and he laughed freely as they tussled back and forth. It wasn’t a long period of roughhousing, and it also slanted lopsidedly in Ryan’s favor from the beginning. Maybe Ryan could have been nice and let Vinny have his moment, but it was too hot to just manhandle Vinny onto his back and pin him there.
Vinny blinked up at Ryan with bright, wide eyes and a flushed face. His lips were parted slightly, and he panted freely, tongue peeking out. “One day, I’ll get you on your back,” he insisted, as if there was any chance of that. Ryan felt Vinny start to move beneath him, a shuffle about that was clearly a fruitless attempt at a wiggle: Ryan was seated on his thighs, both of Vinny’s hands pinned by one of Ryan’s big, rough hands above his head.
“Yeah?” Ryan chuckled, taking a moment to just admire the sight of Vinny pouting. A helpless push of Vinny’s hips, no movement actually achieved, and his back bowed up off the bed as he made a frustrated noise. “You think you’ll ever overpower me?” he asked.
That earned a more pronounced jut of Vinny’s lower lip. “I’m gonna get swole as shit, and you’re gonna get old and creaky, and I’m gonna do some freaky wrestling move on you,” he explained, as if he’d envisioned that moment multiple times already. Knowing Vinny, he probably had.
Old and creaky. Honestly, Ryan was already there, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Vinny — besides, he wanted his puppy to have something to aspire to, especially if it meant they could have these moments of rolling around like idiots. They always ended in Vinny being pinned or tossed (or both), and that was hot enough that Ryan didn’t want to lose the opportunity.
Speaking of opportunity. Ryan fisted his own dick, a little soft for the playful back-and-forth they’d had, and grinned down at Vinny (still leaking and visibly twitching, clearly enjoying how helpless he was). “You don’t send me enough gym selfies,” he grunted softly, working his own length.
“That’s the secret to making gains? Getting my boyfriend horny with gym thirst traps?” Vinny asked, snorting at first but then shifting to a more contemplative expression. “Maybe there’s something there.” He scrunched his nose a little, and Ryan could tell some ridiculous detour was about to occur if he didn’t interrupt it.
So Ryan leaned down and kissed Vinny, still stroking himself and panting softly into the kiss. Once Vinny had gone boneless and pliant beneath him, he pulled back, and he could feel the mischief lighting his own expression. He sat up, still straddling Vinny’s thighs (and hopefully not hurting him, though Vinny hadn’t protested yet), and slapped his dick down on Vinny’s stomach.
Vinny’s own cock was mostly resting against his stomach, the soft little bit of flesh there, though it arched up slightly for how hard he was. He shifted his weight a little and lifted his head enough to look down, eyes widening; Ryan followed his gaze and felt something in his own gut twist and tighten, coil into a need that threatened to unravel him.
It was no secret that Vinny had a smaller cock. Ryan would have argued it was the perfect size: he could mostly tuck it into a pair of panties, it bounced when he rode Ryan, and Ryan’s fist almost enveloped it when he jerked Vin off. And Ryan wasn’t hung by any means, but he was a smidge above average in length and thick — and placing them side by side like this, resting snug against each other, the difference was apparent.
“Look how fucking cute you are,” Ryan rumbled, sliding his palm up along both their lengths. His grip on Vinny’s wrists tightened, and he took a moment to just admire the sight. Like everything about the two of them together, Vinny looked small and dainty compared to Ryan.
And, god, the way Vinny was staring up at Ryan — eyes wide, pupils blown, lashes fluttering — when Ryan finally tore his attention from their cocks. He looked like someone Ryan wanted to take apart and then piece back together, both with the sort of care and affection he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to muster five or ten years ago.
There was that softening that he was accused of, always inspired by Vinny himself.
Vinny whined and writhed a little, tugged on the hand restraining his own. “C’mon, Ryan,” he managed, sounding a little flustered, “just fuck me already. I’ll look even cuter with your dick in me.” His cheeks were flushed, and his tongue made another brief appearance as he gasped in a few breaths.
“Ryan, huh?” It was more amusing than anything. While Ryan kept Vinny restrained with one hand, the other went to hook his index finger in the d-ring on the front of Vinny’s collar: he tugged hard, with enough force to lift Vinny’s head a little, and tilted his head. “What happened to Daddy?” he asked.
The yank on the collar coincided with a twitch of Vinny’s cock, one that Ryan felt against his own. And once Ryan reminded Vinny of his title, it poured from his lips. “Daddy, please, please, Daddy, Daddy, fuck me,” he rambled, damn near babbled, clearly reaching the end of his patience. He was never one for waiting, quick to tears if Ryan denied him — and Ryan was too wrapped around Vinny’s finger to draw it out for long, despite how pretty Vinny looked with damp eyelashes.
So Ryan gave one last kiss, brief and only a little clumsy for the way Vinny clutched and tried to hold him close. He managed to extract himself and thumbed over the top of Vinny’s cock, watching him shudder and twitch as Ryan released his wrists and stood up. “I gotta get lube. Try not to fall off the bed,” Ryan remarked.
“And you need to take your shirt off,” Vinny all but whined as Ryan turned around, rolling his eyes in amusement and peeling the clothing off as he walked. He heard Vinny hoot and holler, could only imagine the look on his face, and wondered how he’d never gotten noise complaints for how vocal Vinny was.
By the time Ryan made it back to the bed, Vinny had scooted to the middle of the mattress — he’d learned a while back that any sort of lingering on the edges meant that they’d both eat shit. He also had his dick in his hand, jerking himself something desperate and needy, chin hitched up to bare his collared throat. His free hand kept pressing fingertips to the leather, feeling around with a fascinated sort of arousal thrumming through his body.
Vinny made another valiant attempt at a bark, this time a little higher pitched but much closer to an actual dog sound. Vinny grinned, toothy and bright, when Ryan snorted and clambered back onto the bed. “You think Miley’s gonna freak out when I get good at barking?” Vinny asked absently, grabbing at Ryan with both hands.
Fingers scrabbled for purchase — Ryan’s hair was just long enough to grab, but they weren’t super secure fistfuls, and Vinny momentarily debated hauling him in by his ears — and Ryan seemed to understand what he wanted, decided to humor him by bracketing Vinny’s body with his own. Even hovering on his elbows, their stomachs were flush, and Ryan’s thick thighs kneed up between Vinny’s legs to spread them.
The position meant their cocks bumped, and Vinny took advantage of the friction now available to rut up against Ryan and moan. He completely forgot he’d even asked a question, reason why he made a confused sound when Ryan said, “I think she’ll know it’s you.” A snort from Ryan, a press of hips to pin Vinny’s down into stillness, and he added, “Miley. She’s gonna know it’s you no matter how well you bark. So she’s not gonna freak out.”
There was also the fact that Miley was just, overall, the best girl in the universe, but it was hard to think about his dog daughter when Ryan was kissing Vinny like he wanted to swallow him whole. Teeth dragged against Vinny’s bottom lip and he keened, toes curling and heels pressing into the mattress. “Daddy,” he gasped against Ryan’s lips, “please.”
Ryan pulled back and sat up a bit, one hand flipping the cap on the lube and the other sliding across Vinny’s chest. Fingertips teased at Vinny’s nipple and he twitched — his shoulders, his dick, his hips up into the air. “Puppy really wants me to fuck him, huh?” Ryan cooed, and something about such an overly sweet tone felt teasing without (much) condescension.
It helped that Ryan was right. “Yes,” Vinny agreed breathlessly, nodding furiously and spreading his legs. He paused and then grabbed his thighs just behind his knees, pulled his legs up and apart to expose himself. “Need you, Daddy.” He didn’t know how else to convey it if his leaking cock and trembling words couldn’t, so he whined something wordless and desperate, all needy puppy.
Something about the weight of Ryan’s body always turned Vinny’s brain to mush. When Ryan leaned down to kiss him again and seemed to press his entire body down against him, firm and solid, Vinny’s eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned into the kiss. He whimpered when Ryan pulled away, but any sort of protest he might have had dissipated the second he felt slick fingers against his entrance.
Ryan’s fingers were, like the rest of him, almost unbearably thick. Vinny wasn’t a chump — he could take a dick like a professional at this point, had toys bigger than Ryan for the days he was lonely and Ryan wasn’t there to help with his aching cock — but he also never seemed to remember how much of a stretch even one finger was until Ryan was sliding it inside him.
The coarseness of the pads, the texture of the callouses added to the intensity, and Vinny felt Ryan hold him down with his free hand pressed to Vinny’s lower stomach (probably to minimize the rocking and squirming). The pressure there, his inability to buck it off, just made Vinny moan louder, and he didn’t even think to touch himself, just fisted his own hair and clutched at the strands desperately.
“You take my fingers so well, pup,” Ryan remarked, working that single finger in and out of Vinny until the noises that left him were nothing but soft, pathetic whines. He paused, teased a second finger at Vinny’s rim, only pressed it in when Vinny nodded and started up more desperate rambling that Vinny himself couldn’t quite follow.
It didn’t matter what he was saying, though; all that mattered was that Vinny was being filled and stretched, those two thick fingers pressing knuckles deep now. They curled a little and Vinny clenched his teeth together, gasping audibly. “Daddy,” he whined. He felt like he was going to explode, and the last thing he wanted was to blow his load before Ryan had even fucked him.
Vinny usually wasn’t quite this pathetic. It was definitely the collar that had him unraveling — Ryan was three fingers deep now, and Vinny shuddered and writhed beneath the hand pinning him to the mattress. One hand kept tugging on his own hair, and the other hooked an index finger on the metal loop on the front of his collar to tug at it.
Even though the gesture was at his own hand, Vinny still moaned. Another tug, another noise, and Ryan hissed above him. “You really like that, huh?” Ryan murmured, slamming his fingers in as deep as they would go and earning what was definitely not a squeak. “Gonna have to leash you next time.”
The idle sort of suggestion had Vinny’s tongue lolling out. He nodded eagerly, far too many times in a row, and let go of his own hair to paw at Ryan’s shoulder. “You’re gonna fuck me now, though, right? Finally? Daddy, please,” he added, hating the way Ryan lingered. As far as Vinny was concerned, he should have already been getting fucked.
Ryan laughed as he pulled his fingers out. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he huffed, though Vinny was fairly certain he wasn’t actually upset by the neediness his puppy was displaying. Especially since Ryan was now slicking his dick, tapping it against Vinny’s for just a second — clearly just to tease, earning a little jolt — before rubbing the head against Vinny’s entrance.
Sometimes, Ryan insisted on torturing Vinny and moving slowly. He said he wanted to savor the feeling, like they didn’t fuck enough for Ryan to have committed the experience to memory by now. Vinny, however, was all for getting railed into the mattress every time, and now was no exception.
One hand scratched lightly at Ryan’s chest, blunt nails catching on the hair there, and Vinny did pull Ryan in by the ear now, wordlessly demanding a kiss that bled into two, then three, then—
Vinny was too lost in how their lips moved together to realize Ryan was finally giving him what he’d been begging for, not until the stretch peaked as something sweet and burning. He moaned into the kiss, jaw going slack at the sensation; he felt Ryan bite his bottom lip and grunted softly, pleased that Ryan draped himself over Vinny completely.
The position meant a bit of compression, even with Ryan braced over him, and friction — Vinny’s cock trapped between their bodies now, rubbed against with every slow, taunting movement of Ryan’s hips. It was perfect, all of the noise in Vinny’s head fading to soft buzzing as he scrabbled at Ryan’s broad back and tipped his head back to howl.
“Does my puppy like that?” Ryan murmured against the shell of Vinny’s ear. His movements sped up a little but kept up the methodical push-pull, burying to the hilt and pulling back until he was dangerously close to slipping out. Which, honestly, would have been the world’s greatest tragedy.
It wasn’t even a conscious decision to wrap his legs around Ryan. All Vinny could think about was how full he was, how good the stretch felt, the sensation of Ryan’s stomach hair against the underside of his cock. Vinny nodded, jerky and stiff, and tried to ask for more, for faster, for harder.
What came out was some wordless keen in the vague shape of please, but it seemed to be enough. Ryan had to pause to adjust his knees and then he was fucking into Vinny at a quickened pace; he was moving hard and fast enough that Vinny could feel Ryan’s need in the movement now too, and there was something so fucking hot about knowing he had his boyfriend desperate and unraveling too.
Ryan kissed Vinny something messy and filthy, their teeth clacking gently and earning laughter from both of them. They moved together now, the type of settling into motion that came from countless times fucking, and Vinny’s eyes were scrunched shut, which meant he was missing out on Ryan’s expression but was still managing to hold on, to stave off his orgasm. The last thing he wanted was to fall apart now.
Except Ryan manhandled him around a bit, big hands effortlessly adjusting how Vinny was laying, and everything went white all at once. Vinny had no time to offer a warning, just tightened down around Ryan and keened as he came, some breathless form of Daddy tangled in the sound. Every slide of Ryan’s cock inside him sent another wave of pleasure through him, earned another shudder and shiver, but it eventually started to teeter on too much.
Just as it teased along the line of painful, Ryan’s hips stuttered — he’d kept that relentless pace, continued slamming into Vinny, edging him up the bed and biting down on his shoulder — and he growled around his mouthful of flesh as Vinny felt his cock twitch and spill inside him. Vinny moaned again, softer now, and they both settled as Ryan slowed and then stilled.
It was perfect, really, laying in the afterglow as Vinny’s fingertips twitched with faint remnants of ecstasy, until Vinny realized that he couldn’t really breathe. He wheezed dramatically, exaggerating it enough to earn a snort from Ryan. And maybe the first inhale after Ryan pulled out and rolled off of him was theatrical as well; Ryan swat at his side, and Vinny snickered.
Vinny stretched out, arms reaching up and toes curling, as if he was anywhere near as sore as Ryan would be. Maybe his boyfriend was closer to old and creaky than Vinny had realized. Then he turned to tuck against Ryan’s side, hand sliding over his stomach as he offered a big, cheeky grin. “Thank you, Daddy,” he offered because he was, in fact, the best boy.
“Mm, you’re welcome,” Ryan sighed, turning his head to nose into Vinny’s curls. “So you like the collar, then?” He definitely didn’t need to ask that, but Vinny guessed he wouldn’t tease him about it this time.
Instead, he nodded. “Yeah, I do. It makes me feel hot. Well.” A pause. “Hotter than usual. You know, me and the raw animal magnetism I get from being a WoW player,” he quipped. Vinny pressed his face against Ryan’s neck. “Update. I’m about to take a fat nap.”
Ryan snorted. “Of course you are. Guess that means I gotta take one too, since my puppy has me trapped,” he remarked, as if Vinny was anywhere near strong enough to keep him here if he didn’t want to be. They both knew that he would never move a sleepy puppy, though, so Vinny was content in the knowledge that his human space heater would be sticking around (and snoring softly).
Maybe they should have cleaned up first. Ryan did insist on taking his collar off, setting it on the bedside table carefully and checking his throat, but then they just snuggled up and wordlessly decided to be responsible later. Surely that wouldn’t backfire. As it was, though, Vinny got to knead Ryan’s stomach and doze off feeling warm and comfortable, mumbling a, “Love you, Daddy,” before everything grew fuzzy and then disappeared entirely into something sweet and fuzzy.