#decraziness I’m posting this specifically for you now lol

[the-cookie-of-doom]

There’s a set of familiar clothes waiting on the closed toilet when Porchay gets out of the shower, and WIK is nowhere to be seen. He dresses himself in the soft shirt and pants. Finds the bedroom empty but hears movement in the main area of the apartment. He takes his empty glass off the nightstand and ventures out to find WIK. 

He’s in the kitchen making dinner. Porchay’s phone, which had been in his duffle bag with his clothes, sits innocently on the island. 

“How do you feel?” WIK asks, glancing up at him from where he’s chopping green onions. 

“Good,” Porchay answers. He’s still wearing the collar, as instructed. The silicone is waterproof so he doesn’t have to remove it to shower. It’s an unfamiliar weight around his neck that will take some getting used to. He fiddles with it under the weight of WIK’s stare, and wonders if he’s waiting for something else, something more. “Sir?” WIK smiles, and continues to stare. “Uh…”

“Are you okay?” WIK prompts him. “Any dizziness?”

“No?” Not anymore, at least. “I think I feel okay. It was… a lot.” Which is strange to say out loud, because WIK hardly touched him. “But I’m okay now.” 

“Good.” WIK points at a chair with the point of his knife. “Sit.” 

Porchay does. 

“You can call your brother, and anyone else who might come looking for you. Don’t tell anyone where you are. Don’t use my name.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Porchay does call, but it predictably goes to voicemail. He texts his brother instead, a twist of bitterness in his chest making him echo the same sentiment that Porsche left him with weeks ago. Thinks that the text isn’t necessary. His brother won’t be home to worry about him. He doesn’t tell WIK, though. 

To: Porsche Hia! I won’t be home for a while, I got a new job! I’ll be really busy though, and I don’t have good reception, so I probably won’t be able to answer my phone much. Don’t worry about me, though, I’m safe!Miss you, hia

After sending the messages, Porchay waits for them all to go through, then powers down his phone. He lays it face down, an arm’s length away. 

Porchay doesn’t know what to do with himself, now. He sits quietly while WIK cooks. Looks around the apartment, the parts of it can see from his seat, and picks at his nails. Fiddles with the collar around his neck. Listens to vegetables sizzle in a pan on the stove, the steady chop-chop-chop of WIK’s knife. 

WIK keeps glancing at him, half of a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. 

“You can speak,” he says eventually. 

“Oh.” Porchay didn’t know if he was supposed to wait until he’s spoken to. He discovers he has no idea what to say. Settles on a safe subject, asking, “What are you making?” 

“Fried rice and shrimp,” WIK answers. 

“It smells good.” 

“Mhm.” 

The collar has several rings stitched into it, lying flat against the silicone. Porchay hooks his fingers through the one in the center and pulls on it, imagines WIK clipping a leash to him. Imagines his hands bound to his own throat with chains. 

“If you have any questions, now is the time to ask.”

“Am I allowed to?”

“Mhm.” Duh, WIK just told him he was. “I might not answer everything.” 

“Okay.” Porchay thinks of what he wants to know. He had a million questions going through his head, earlier, but can’t seem to find any of them. “Why did you pick me?”

“Interesting question.” 

WIK doesn’t say anything else. 

Porchay tries not to be disappointed. 

WIK isn’t ignoring him, though, he’s only working over it in his head, considering his answer. Porchay appreciates that he’s putting thought into it, rather than giving him whatever placation comes to mind first. 

“My life doesn’t allow for casual dating,” WIK answers. “I don’t have the time or patience. For the kinds of things I want to do to a person… This is easier.” 

“But why me?”

“You’re attractive. Inexperienced but not unfamiliar with the scene—I won’t have to train any bad habits out of you, but I won’t have to worry about scaring you off, either. Will I?”

“You won’t,” Porchay confirms. WIK clearly outlined every detail of his expectations. Porchay wouldn’t say he wasn’t afraid of some of them, but he knows he can handle it. He wants to try. 

“And I could tell from the moment I meant you that you were meant for this kind of life.” 

Porchay doesn’t know what to think about that answer. He doesn’t think it’s wrong, but…

“Earlier, I felt like…” He doesn’t know. He felt warm and loose in his skin. His mind drifted away from his body, leaving him with nothing but sensation, no thought. 

WIK grins like he’s been waiting for him to ask this entire time. Maybe he was. Most likely. 

“Do you know what subspace is?” he asks. Porchay nods. “You weren’t there, yet. It’ll take more than that. But you submit very well.” WIK stalks him around the island, his voice dripping honey, the cooking forgotten. He hooks a finger through the ring at Porchay’s throat and draws him in. “It feels nice, doesn’t it, letting someone else take control.” 

Porchay swallows. “Yes.” 

WIK leans in, almost close enough to kiss. Whispers, “That’s why I chose you.” 

And then he’s gone again, and Porchay’s heart is beating in his throat. 

He doesn’t ask anymore questions. 

WIK finishes cooking, sets a plate in front of him, refills his water and tells him to drink it all, which Porchay does without question. WIK’s hand glides over the back of his neck. Positive reinforcement. 

It’s going to be a very interesting year.