“Yes?” Griffin repeated.

“Yes,” Michael said. “I’m saying yes. I’m saying it about a thousand times. And I’m saying it in words and in paint and in wax, and if you want me to get a ‘yes’ tattooed on my body, I’d say it in permanent ink, too.”

Griffin pointed at the painting. “No, this’ll do.”

His voice was thick with emotion. Michael wanted to touch him but he still had something left to say and he needed to say it before Griffin kissed him again.

“I have a question to ask you,” Michael said. Slowly Griffin tore his gaze from the painted black wings on the wall and met Michael’s eyes.

“What’s the question?”

“You asked me, so I’m asking you,” Michael said. “Will you marry me?”

Griffin gave him a look like he was about to burst into laughter. It was a pretty silly question considering they were now already engaged. Griffin pointed at the mantel.

“Are those the good candles?” Griffin asked.

“You mean the wax-play candles?” Michael asked. “Yeah.”

“Good. Get your collar.”

Michael walked straight to the bedside table, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a black-velvet drawstring bag and passed it to Griffin.

“Shirt off,” Griffin said. Michael almost reminded Griffin that he hadn’t answered the question yet, but he had a feeling he was going to get his answer soon enough. He just had to be patient—not easy when Griffin was looking at him like that, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks and Michael was a feast fit for a king.

Michael let his shirt fall on the floor. Griffin stepped close and wrapped the collar around Michael’s neck. It was the same one Griffin had given him during their silly sexy collaring ceremony held at The 8th Circle over three years ago. Griffin had offered to get a new one now that this one was so lived-in and starting to fade. But Michael hadn’t wanted a new one. Nora told him she still wore the same collar Father S had given her almost twenty years ago. That was Michael’s dream, that even in ten and twenty and forever years from now, he’d still belong to Griffin, even if their love did get a little lived-in, worn out and faded.

Maybe it was just a submissive thing, but Michael always breathed better with a collar buckled round his neck. Especially when Griffin tilted Michael’s head to the side so he could press hot slow kisses along the edge of the leather, under Michael’s ear and over his shoulder. Griffin’s fingertips lightly scoured Michael’s bare stomach causing him to inhale sharply at the twin sensation of tickling and teasing. Griffin unbuttoned Michael’s jeans, slipped one hand inside and stroked upward with a firm grip.

“I missed your cock,” Griffin said into Michael’s ear. He had one hand down Michael’s jeans, another hand on his neck.

“I—”

Griffin pushed his thumb into Michael’s mouth.

“No talking,” Griffin said. “You asked a question. I’m going to answer it. My way.”

Michael liked Griffin’s ways.

“God, you’re hard,” Griffin said as he stroked Michael. “Nora didn’t let you come when you two played?”

Michael shook his head.

“That sadistic bitch,” Griffin said. “I’m so much nicer than she is. I’ll let you come…eventually.”

Michael started to growl—Nora had taught him how effective a good growl could be against an intractable dominant—but he stopped when Griffin shoved his thumb a little deeper into his mouth and pressed it against his tongue. There wasn’t much in the world that made Michael feel more like a piece of property than when Griffin put his thumb in this mouth like this. It aroused him as much as it infuriated him and it infuriated him because of how much it aroused him. Even more arousing was the pressure of Griffin’s hand on his cock, pulling and rubbing. Griffin’s body was hot against him. Although Michael wasn’t the same skinny teenager he’d been when he and Griffin fell in love, Michael still wasn’t as heavily muscled or broad-shouldered as Griffin, so when Griffin pushed Michael down onto his knees in front of him, Michael went down without a fight.

Griffin didn’t have to tell him what to do. They’d played this game a thousand times before. Michael opened Griffin’s jeans and wrapped his mouth around Griffin’s beautiful cock. As always, Griffin cupped the back of his head, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair and holding him in place while Griffin fucked his mouth. Griffin was big all over and his cock nudged the back of Michael’s throat. In the beginning, it hadn’t been easy for Michael to take Griffin like this, but time and Griffin’s patience had trained him well. Now he craved being used like this and would have asked for it if it hadn’t been more fun to wait until Griffin ordered him to do it. God knew, he never had to wait long. He spent half his weekends with Griffin’s cock in his mouth and that was fine by both of them.

“My beautiful sub,” Griffin said, tugging Michael’s hair. “Mine, all mine.”

Griffin released Michael’s hair but only to take off his shirt. Griffin’s jersey landed on the floor next to Michael’s t-shirt. Michael decided he’d be a happy man as long as his clothes and Griffin’s clothes ended up in the same pile on the floor for the rest of their lives.

Slowly Griffin started to pull out of Michael’s mouth, something that did not make Michael happy. Griffin laughed at how Michael instinctively tried to stop him from moving with two hands on Griffin’s hips.

“Cock slut,” Griffin said. “You’ll get it, don’t worry.”

Michael wasn’t worried. He was horny. There was a difference. But an order was an order so Michael let Griffin go. He sat back on his knees and with the back of his hand wiped at his wet lips.

Griffin stared down at him.

“There, right there,” Griffin said. “The way you’re looking at me right now…that look that says you want it, you need it, and you need it from me because nobody else knows you the way I know you…That’s my whole life right there, Mick. You on your knees in front of me with that look on your face. That’s my whole damn life.”

Michael was sure he’d never seen Griffin looking so possessive of him in their three years together. And that was saying something.

“Get up,” Griffin said. “On the bed. On your back.”

Michael almost jumped to his feet before he remembered his training from Nora. Slow down, she’d said. Put on a good show for your owner. They deserve it. Instead of rushing, Michael tucked his bare toes underneath him and rose off the floor in one straight smooth motion.

“God, you’re good at that,” Griffin said. “Sorry. Forgot I was the dom there a second.”

Michael laughed but he did so very quietly and respectfully. When he was younger, he thought kink was all dark and scary and dangerous. He’d been drawn to that darkness and drawn to that danger. But with Griffin it wasn’t like that. Instead of being scared, he felt safe. Instead of being dark, it felt like this, like being in a room full of burning candles. It wasn’t dark like evil is dark. It was dark like night is dark and night was beautiful, his favorite time of day. He’d always preferred moths and moonlight to sunshine and butterflies anyway.

Michael lay on the bed as ordered. Griffin knelt next to him and roughly yanked his jeans off and sent them flying to the floor. Then Griffin straddled Michael’s stomach, grabbed his wrists, and pinned Michael to the bed, hands over his head.

Strong as Griffin was and as big as his hands were, it wasn’t hard for Griffin to hold Michael’s wrists by one hand while he reached for a candle on the side table with the other. Michael braced himself as Griffin held the candle over his panting chest.

“You asked me a question,” Griffin said, staring down into Michael’s eyes. “Here’s your answer.”

The wax fell onto Michael’s chest, a steady scalding drip right on the center of his stomach. Griffin went slowly, carefully, as he let the wax fall and congeal into messy letters. Three letters.

Y-E-S.

That made it official. They’d both asked. They’d both said yes.

They were getting married.

The reality of it seemed to hit them both at once. Griffin put the candle back on the table and released Michael’s wrists. He dragged Michael into his arms and they held each other while they knelt together and it didn’t matter who was kneeling to whom. They both owned each other tonight.

“I love you, Mick,” Griffin said.

“I love you, too, sir.”

“I want to fuck you as much as I want to cry,” Griffin said.

“I know the feeling.”

“You don’t get to fuck me,” Griffin said. “I’m the top.”

“You know what I mean, you insane dom.”

They were crying and laughing at the same time, which made them laugh all the more. They were getting married. It was real. They were really getting married. Michael wanted to stand on the rooftop and shout it to the world. But that could wait. They had to celebrate together and alone first.

Griffin took Michael’s face in his hands and kissed him hard again, hard and deep, deep and long. It was only seconds before Griffin had pushed him flat on his back on the bed again. Their cocks rubbed together as they kissed with abandon.

“Are you ready for me?” Griffin whispered into Michael’s ear. Michael had never been readier. He’d anticipated sex tonight so he’d prepared himself in advance like the good little cock slut he was. Griffin gently eased out the butt plug that Michael had put inside himself earlier and massaged him inside with his fingers. It felt so good, too good to stay silent, and Michael moaned as his shoulders came off the bed.

“This is the real reason I’m marrying you,” Griffin said. “Good power bottoms are so hard to find these days. I gotta lock you down.”

Michael would have laughed if he hadn’t been too busy writhing and panting. Griffin fetched the lube from the drawer and slathered it all over both of them. He took his time, no rushing, which added to the torture, which added to the pleasure. Slowly Griffin pushed Michael’s knees up and into his chest, opening him for penetration. Griffin rose up on his knees and pushed his jeans down his hips before bracing himself over Michael to enter him. The first thrust was careful and the second thrust deep. By the third Griffin was fully inside him and Michael was as happy as he’d ever been in his life. When Michael tried lifting his hands to Griffin’s shoulders, Griffin caught his wrists again and pushed them down into the bed. Michael lay there, pinned to the bed, impaled by Griffin’s cock and wallowing in love and pleasure.

They fucked in silence; the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the quiet creaking of the bed beneath them. Michael was about to lose himself in the moment, but before he did he looked at Griffin, at this man over him, on him, inside him—the strong tattooed arms, the hazel eyes glowing in the candlelight, the sweat on his skin and the slightly parted lips. He’d remember this night on his last day on earth. Then Michael closed his eyes and surrendered his body to Griffin. There was no reason to surrender his heart to Griffin. He’d already done that long, long ago.

Griffin’s thrusts were measured and restrained, but only at first. The minutes passed and his self-control waned, and soon he was giving everything to Michael and Michael was taking everything he was given. He loved being penetrated, impaled, taken and made into Griffin’s slave. Even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt. Not that it hurt tonight. He could have taken a brutal fucking tonight and not flinched and that was a good thing because Griffin was fucking him brutally. The bed rocked and the room swayed and Michael’s vision swam. His back arched off the bed and Griffin wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him so close they were one flesh for one perfect second.

Griffin lowered Michael back to the bed. He wrapped his hand around Michael’s cock and stroked it while they fucked.

“Come with me,” Griffin ordered.

Michael was too far gone to speak so he merely nodded. He was there already, in that place where not even a train crashing into their apartment could stop him from coming. Griffin stroked him inside and out, with hand and cock, and brutal biting kisses on his chest and shoulders. It was painful to hold back but he did. He held back and waited until Griffin put his mouth to Michael’s ear and whispered a hushed, harsh “Now.”

Michael stopped holding himself back. He came in a hot rush all over his stomach and chest and Griffin’s hand. The orgasm was blinding, and Michael was barely aware of Griffin coming inside of him. He only knew it was happening because of the unbearably erotic sounds Griffin made when he came—a sort of almost-silent groan that ended in the filthiest grunt ever heard by human ears.

Griffin slowly pulled out but didn’t let Michael up from the bed. They stayed where they were, Griffin pinning Michael down and Michael happy to stay there forever.

“Last question,” Griffin said. “What made you say yes?”

“Easy answer,” Michael said, a sleepy smile on his face. “You.”