Eoin could pinpoint the exact moment he first laid eyes on him. It was at one of Ambrose’s rugby games he had been dragged to, and as he stood at the side of the pitch wondering how likely he could get away with fratricide – because really, who willingly gets up early on a Saturday morning – he saw the man who would upturn his life. Dirty blonde hair shone in the bright morning sun as he barrelled past his opponents, throwing himself into tackles and skirmishes with all the ferocity of an avenging god. Eoin was not a jealous person, but seeing the way he grabbed and handled the other players stirred something dark deep in his stomach.

He was later able to weasel out of Ambrose that this man was one Paddy Mayne, general menace on and off the pitch, who also happened to have formed a solid friendship with the older McGonigal through their shared law course. So, when he was invited to the after-match drinks in recompense for his spectatorship, Eoin jumped at the opportunity. 

It was the start of an obsession.

He found Paddy to be a quiet fellow, only speaking when he had something to say. He was nice enough to Eoin when they got introduced, but he couldn’t tamp down the sliver of disappointment when he was only given a cursory once-over before Paddy returned to speaking to the other players.

Not the ideal first meeting, but Eoin was nothing if not determined, especially when he wanted something. He changed tactics, launching a charm offensive to befriend the rest of the rugby lads, and religiously appearing at every game under the guise of ‘supporting’ Ambrose. He made sure his name was on everyone’s lips, his face a regular fixture in the group, forcing himself into the orbit of Paddy’s consciousness until the man had no choice but to pay attention. It was easy enough; he got on with Reg, Dave, Pat and the rest, which meant Eoin had the added benefit of gaining a new set of friends. Soon, he was getting invited to the pub even when Ambrose wasn’t there, no longer known as the baby brother but one of the lads in his own right. A genius plan, he thought, only marred by the disappearance of his precious silver cigarette case, passed down from his grandda. He had filled it with Marlboro Golds on the off chance Paddy would ever ask him for one, practically waving it in the man’s face in a clumsy advert of his usefulness. 

He’d lost it the night it finally served its purpose, being able to offer Paddy a cigarette and watching hungrily as he wedged it between plump lips, Eoin could barely look away as his throat bobbed to inhale that first hit of tobacco. The things he wanted to do to those lips, God, he was going to have to get away from here before getting a hard-on before half the pub. Quickly excusing himself to the loo, he scurried away, missing the amused glance Paddy threw at his retreating figure.

Paddy wasn’t stupid; he had seen how the younger man looked at him, how his breath would hitch, and his eyes light up at every touch. He was flattered that a man as bright and beautiful as Eoin would have eyes for him, more mangy stray than human some days. Seeing the memento he had left on the pub table, silver glinting in the dim light, he couldn’t help but reach for it. Strong hands cataloguing every groove and scuff on the surface, clearly loved and worn over time. A strange, burning sensation flashed through him; he wanted to own every bit of Eoin’s love, of his care. Paddy barely registered slipping it into his coat pocket until Eoin returned and started frantically searching for it. He feigned ignorance, swearing he’d put it right back on the table while the weight pressed heavily against his chest. He couldn’t help but look concerned when Eoin explained its importance, doe-eyes large and watery, looking at Paddy like he held all the answers. He could get addicted to that look, he thought, of Eoin needing him, depending on him. 

Aside from that, Eoin thought his plan worked without a hitch. He formed a solid friendship with Paddy between rounds of cheap beer and the blur of nights out. He found his reputation for violence was well-founded, being the one to pull him out of many pub fights after Paddy had one too many and someone inevitably got his goat. He was the one Paddy started to gravitate to at the rugby socials, spending long hours chatting about anything and everything. 

Eoin soon realised a poet was lurking under his roughened exterior, simply waiting for an audience that would listen. And listen, Eoin did, soaking up every syllable that deep, rich voice uttered. He realised Paddy was smarter than he let on, sharp eyes not missing much around him. There was also something else, something Eoin couldn’t quite put his finger on. He would be talking to one of the others and turn to find eyes as blue as ice staring him down, peeling back the charm, the banter, the deception to reveal the twisted mass of want at Eoin’s core. It thrilled him to feel so seen by the person he craved so much. He would always put a stop to that line of thinking, though, not wanting Paddy to know the lengths he had gone to sate his desire for the man. That look in his eye was just imagination, or at least that’s what he told himself. Eoin was confident, perhaps too much, in his abilities - in being able to steer this relationship at the pace he wanted. Slowly, naturally enough, until he became a permanent feature by Paddy’s side. 

His friendship with Paddy was everything to Eoin. He loved it, needed it like he needed air. But he couldn’t help but want more, need more. Every touch, every moment in his presence set off a deep hunger within him that refused to be satisfied. 

~~~~~

In Eoin’s defence, the stealing started innocently enough, before spiralling into something uncontrollable. The club had a big mix-up, and Ambrose somehow ended up with Paddy’s rugby shirt. Eoin, now better friends with Paddy than he was, offered to drop it back to him when they met at the pub later. Except, he spent too long trying to find the perfect top (casual, nice, but not try-hard) and, in his hurry to get out the door, left it behind. By the time he realised his mistake, it would have been too awkward to bring it up, besides, Paddy never mentioned anything, so Eoin assumed it wasn’t missed too badly.  

In his tiny bedroom, holding the shirt up to his body, Eoin never considered the possibility of keeping something belonging to Paddy. It would be like having a piece of the man at home with him. Shrugging on the top, Eoin twisted to look in the mirror. No surprises that it came up short on the torso, but the sleeves just about fit, and anyway, the white font of M-A-Y-N-E looked so delicious stretched across his back. Yes, he would definitely be keeping this.

From there, it became an itch he couldn’t scratch, especially when the smell of Paddy’s detergent and body spray had faded from the fabric. Eoin still curled up around it at night, desperately wishing the man himself were there with him. But it wasn’t enough anymore.

It became a compulsion, an addiction, after that to hoard small pieces of the object of his desire. It was easy - a bit too easy looking back – to amass a small collection of Paddy’s items he had managed to filch from various nights out: a half-empty bottle of cologne carelessly left in an open kit bag, a tiny book of poetry half falling out of his coat, an old hoodie Paddy forgot in the pub one night. 

Eoin didn’t even consider that these items would be missed, that Paddy would notice their absence. He barely cared, too wrapped up in his need to consider the consequences. The thrill of getting each item was its special rush, a hit of adrenaline and anticipation only matched by the times Eoin could get his hands on Paddy, however brief that may be.

As the weeks ticked by and Eoin started to get more comfortable, Paddy began dropping by the bookstore where Eoin worked, multiple times a week, as if the man were checking up on him. Between lectures or on his way to practice, Eoin could expect Paddy to pop in, usually launching straight into a spiel about his latest read, or how the lecturer that day had gotten his goat. He always bought the books Eoin recommended, which caused his heart to do a funny little dance in his chest, because ‘you have such good taste, sweetheart’. In those weeks, the budget for poetry and history mysteriously grew, and Eoin developed a stiff neck sitting for hours on end meticulously researching the latest publications and articles. Anything to keep Paddy interested, to keep him coming back day after day. It got to the point that Eoin would be seeing the man every couple of hours, if he hadn’t engineered a meeting, then Paddy would be popping up seemingly out of nowhere - on his running route, at the shops, hovering around the entrance of his lectures. Eoin thanked God for these coincidences, lapping up each second he could spend with the man.

One day, he hit the jackpot: they didn’t have a particular book in stock, and Paddy asked for it to be sent to his house when they did. Bingo. Eoin tried to hold back his grin when he typed the address into the battered old computer, a mantra of ‘keep cool, keep cool’ running round his head. He knew the vague direction of his house but hadn't been invited over yet, something Eoin was furiously trying not to mull over. Paddy was very private about his space, and rarely had people in it. Eoin wanted to be one of those select few; he needed to pull the house down brick by brick and rebuild it until he knew every detail of how the other man lived.

It took him a week to work up the courage to do what he was about to do, travelling to the edge of town whenever he could to scope out the small fenced house Paddy Mayne called home. The front garden was neatly maintained, the lawn trimmed, and the bushes kept from spilling onto the road. He had identified a small side gate leading around the back that looked promising - all week it had been left wide open, and Eoin was itching to shut it. Paddy should have been more vigilant about things like these.

He picked a busy Friday evening to put his plan in action, having double-checked that Paddy was out before heading over, palms sweaty on the steering wheel as he stared at the house. Eoin sighed with relief at the lack of lights coming through the windows, steeling himself before getting out and going through the front garden to the side gate. Ignoring the slight shake in his hands as it clicked shut, he tiptoed to the back of the house, grass muffling his footsteps. In the twilight gloom, Eoin could make out white roses gleaming like little diamonds nestled in the dark green of the shrubbery - he knew Paddy kept meticulous care of them, often a topic of conversation. Creeping forward towards the back door, he found it…unlocked? Paddy should really be more careful about his house; Eoin would hate for him to have a proper break-in. The door swung open, well-oiled hinges aiding his entrance. Finally, he was in.

A small kitchen was laid out before him, a wooden table and chairs taking up much of the floor space. For the first time, Eoin let his excitement build; he was here! In Paddy’s house! Now ready to have a good poke around, he went round to the closed door on the other side of the room, giddily anticipating what he might discover. Not that he made it far. No sooner had Eoin stepped into the corridor, edges shrouded in the dim gloom, than he got a solid whack to the head, and the last thing he saw was the floor coming up to greet him. 

~~~~~~

Eoin regained consciousness a couple of hours later.  Soft night sky filtered through closed blinds, and a small lamp next to him cast a warm glow into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom. He was lying on the bed, and the faint smell of familiar cologne and bodywash revealed exactly who it belonged to. Trying to sit up, Eoin found his arms crossed at the wrists with a thick rope which ran through the wooden headboard, with silk covering the part touching his skin. Fuck. He had been caught.   

Kinky, his mind rather unhelpfully supplied, he always imagined he’d like being tied up in bed, and regretted that this was his first experience. Still, Paddy did it, so it must count for something; he would squirrel this moment away in the depths of his mind when he was particularly desperate. Eoin refused to acknowledge that he was particularly desperate for Paddy most of the time. 

His shoulders were already starting to burn from the angle, and Eoin knew if he didn’t get out of the ropes soon, his arms would be good for nothing. Not ideal when caught breaking into the house of the man he had been stalking for the last couple of months. So far, this situation didn’t bode well for him. Double fuck. 

Fruitlessly tugging at the rope achieved nothing but pulling him slightly higher up the bed, half-sitting, half-lying like a marionette doll with the strings cut. There was no give in the knots; he was stuck. Something small and helpless made a home in his ribs, weighing heavily on his chest. Had he overplayed his hand? Would this be the end of his relationship with Paddy? Eoin blinked back the tingling in his eyes at the thought, all his hard work, all that time gone because he pushed too far, too soon. Triple fuck. 

Taking stock of himself, Eoin found that, aside from a mild ache in his head and the aforementioned arm situation, he was otherwise unharmed. This would have relieved him if he hadn’t known Paddy so well. For most people, breaking into his house would have landed them in the hospital, but why he wasn’t a battered and bloody mess right now set him more on edge than he liked to admit. What was Paddy up to? Why go to all the trouble of dragging Eoin upstairs and leaving him like this? Scanning the room for clues, his eyes alighted on a small glinting object on the bedside table. His cigarette case, the one Paddy had said was lost all those months ago, was now gleaming front and centre, right in Eoin’s eyeline, like a taunt. Like Eoin was a fly that had only just realised it was caught in a spider’s web.

A shiver went down his spine. This was not good, not good at all. Paddy was playing with him - he tried not to feel so special about that, but to what end, he still didn’t know. Limp on the bed and processing this newfound revelation, Eoin missed the sound of padded feet coming closer, and the door opening. Only gentle raps on the wood announced the arrival of a rather ungracious host. Eoin whipped his head back from where he’d been intently staring at the knots to see Paddy, in all his golden glory, looking incredibly domestic in a creamy fisherman's jumper and dark jeans, glass of water in hand as he leaned in the entrance. 

A stare-off ensued, Eoin unable to peel his eyes away from the vision before him, and Paddy quietly assessed him, a gleam of satisfaction as he soaked in the sight of Eoin, bound and bewildered on his bed. An expectant silence fell over the room, one Eoin was loath to break - for once, he had no way to weasel out of the situation, his swallow audible as his throat suddenly dried up.  

“Surprised you didn’t come sooner, sweetheart, kept me waiting all week - started to think you’d gone off me to be honest.” Eoin took a moment to register the words, stunned by the implications. His heart gave a stutter - what else had he missed? Had he been that obvious? Shifting to try and get the blood flowing back into his arms, and unwilling to go on the defence yet, he asked, “What d’ya mean, you’ve been waiting?”

A throaty scoff sounded from the doorway before Paddy entered the room, sitting beside Eoin on the bed, setting the water down and clasping a warm hand around his thigh. Despite the fabric separating them, Eoin felt it like a brand against him. Paddy was rarely one for initiating touch, so this caused something bright and warm to bloom inside him. He wanted Paddy to keep touching him forever. Ignoring Eoin’s question, he said, “You’re not very subtle, you know? I was gonna take it easy with you, gentle, seemed like the kinda lad who’d appreciate that. But no, you just had to go and jump the gun, didn’t ya?” Paddy teased, soothing voice completely at odds with his pointed words. Smirking as he heard Eoin give a faint whimper in response. 

“Paddy, I -, what’s going on?” Eoin, voice small and confused, struggling to understand how the tables had turned so rapidly. One minute, he was calm and in control, sure of his next move. Now, he was dancing to Paddy’s tune, relying on his mercy. Not that it was a bad thing, Eoin trusted Paddy wholeheartedly, wanted the other man to take him, keep him and own him, however he saw fit. 

“What's going on, sweetpea?” Hands travelling up to Eoin’s chest, “What’s going on is that you’ve been whining for more attention for months now, except you got impatient, like a needy pup.” The name sparked heavy and hot inside Eoin, dick beginning to get hard in the tight confines of his best jeans. 

He watched as Paddy stroked lower and lower, excitement bursting forth and fizzing about his chest, until those sinful fingers danced over the bulge in his jeans, teasing Eoin with the barely there pressure, “say it.”

“Paddy, no I-, I’m not - “, the fingers suddenly turned vice-like, Paddy’s palm coming down harshly to crush Eoin in a bruising grip. Tears welled in his eyes again while he struggled not to buck into the pleasurable pain. His mind reeled with the multiple sensations warring within him. Increasing his hold, Paddy’s voice came firm and unrelenting, “Say it, sweetpea, you know it’s the truth”. The tears were rolling down his cheeks now as Eoin attempted to squirm away, bound wrists limiting his movement, inadvertently rubbing himself even more against the pressure. It was simultaneously the best and worst thing Eoin had ever experienced.

Fighting back a sob, he managed to choke out, “Paddy, ah, I'm sorry, please, let me go,” in a last-ditch attempt to get out of the situation.  

“No, no, no, Eoin, see, I don’t want to let you go. I want you to tell me what you are,” that did bring forth a half-moan, half-cry sort of noise from within him, realising that Paddy was being dead serious, and was ruthless enough to keep this up all night. Oh god, Paddy was gonna make him say it, and Eoin would do something stupid like beg him to call him more names. Just thinking about the possibilities sent a sharp wave of heat through him. 

“I’m a…I’m a needy pup,” Eoin managed to stutter out, breathing ragged, words catching on small moans. Icy eyes scrutinised him, the thin twist on Paddy’s lips indicating his disappointment. Eoin hated that look and wanted Paddy to return to looking at him like he was the world again. 

“Hmmm, not quite. Do it again, properly” Eoin didn’t even realise he was still grinding up into Paddy until the other forcefully pulled his thigh away, limiting Eoin’s movement even more. 

“I’m a needy pup who got impatient and just wanted some attention, please,” he begged. 

“Whose attention?”

“Yours, Paddy, please, please  - put me in my place,” Eoin whimpered, tone soft as if in prayer. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile, hands melting back to gently palm him. Most importantly, Paddy leaned in and kissed Eoin. His mouth was bruising, passionate and dominant, moving like he already knew he had free access to any part of him. 

“Good boy, sweetpea, see, it’s so much nicer when you tell the truth.” Appreciative eyes swept over his body. Eoin couldn’t imagine what he looked like, curls in disarray, face red and blotchy from crying, pre-cum beginning to stain the fabric of his crotch. His top had rucked up throughout the squirming, baring the soft of Eoin’s stomach to Paddy’s gaze, like he really was a pup submitting to a more dangerous creature. Paddy quickly divested Eoin of his clothes, until he was completely bare in front of the fully clothed man. Something about the contrast creating a lovely haze in Eoin’s mind, cock throbbing with desire. 

Paddy studied him, head cocked to one side in thought, “Could keep you like this couldn’t I, put a plug in your arse and leave you all tied up and wanting for me.” Eoin gave a broken whimper at that, suddenly struck by an image of him plugged and bound, on his knees sucking Paddy’s cock. “Wonder how long it would be before someone notices you're missing? What, two, three days maybe? Would you still be so needy after that? I wouldn’t let you go, though, not even if the police were knocking down my door.”

That sounded like heaven to Eoin; he didn’t want to leave either. Content to stay in Paddy’s bed, in his house. In his life. He would happily never step outside again if it meant he could be with Paddy. He’s a decent cook, would learn to clean, and he’d be a calming respite for Paddy from the world that constantly gets his goat. Just the two of them, in their own little bubble. “Please, please keep me,” he begged, too wrapped up in the fantasy to be ashamed of his earnestness.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, I am, I will.” he peppered little kisses over Eoin’s face before pressing one to his mouth, surprisingly chaste considering his earlier words. Eoin craned forward as much as he could, craving to be near Paddy as much as possible. Lips parted in silent invitation, tongues coming to dance with each other as Paddy mapped out every part of his mouth. Eoin felt like he was on fire, his head swimming with lust, unable to do anything but take it.

Paddy’s licking his lips as he pulls away, like Eoin’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, eyes as blue as a summer’s day. wide, open and adoring. It's fascinating as they turn to shards of ice with his next words, “Pups like you need to learn to behave. So far, you’ve been an impatient boy, haven’t you? Stealing all those things from me, shirt’s probably covered in your cum right now isn’t it.”

Fuck, Eoin thinks, moaning low in his throat, how could Paddy have possibly guessed that? Right now the shirt was, in fact, at the top of Eoin’s laundry pile, stained with his release after fingering himself to the thought of Paddy fucking him in it. He says as much in response, earning a litany of curses, and Paddy finally comes to straddle his thighs, effectively cutting off the movement in the lower half of his body. With Eoin trussed up the way he is, there’ll be no way for him to buck him off; just the thought of his lack of control has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Paddy could do anything right now, and Eoin couldn’t stop him. He had to heave in deep breaths to stop from cumming at the thought. 

“Paddy, please, please touch me, won’t last long, please.” Christ, he was starting to sound like a broken record, although if he got so addled he could only say ‘Paddy’ and ‘please’ for the rest of his life, Eoin would die a happy man. 

“Aw, is the pup that desperate for it?” Paddy said, voice dripping in faux sympathy, “Not sure you deserve it, what with the breaking in and the stealing…need to learn that good pups ask for what they want. But..since you’ve been so fucking needy I’ll give it to you.” A considering pause followed…then, “let’s say four, yeah? One for each thing, see if that don’t stop you.” 

Without giving Eoin the chance to respond, Paddy shuffled down and took Eoin into his mouth, soft tongue searing his taut flesh, hands coming to pin his bucking hips to the bed. Each lick, bob and swallow sent Eoin hurtling closer to the edge. His body stretched out and wound tight as his world narrowed now to the red hot contact around his dick. Through whimpers and half-breaths, Eoin tried to warn Paddy. All he got in response was Paddy sucking him down to the back of his throat. The little choked-out noise was what finally got him, pleasure coursing through him and shooting fireworks behind his eyes. Paddy pulled away, lips puffy and shiny with drool, face flushed with exertion. Wordlessly, he came up, hand leaving Eoin’s hip to hold his jaw tightly, forcing his mouth open in a delicate o. When Eoin realised what Paddy was about to do he strained to open it wider, right as Paddy leaned in and spat Eoin’s cum back into his mouth, sealing it with an open kiss. It was filthy. messy. depraved. Eoin craved more of it, the heady taste of their combined saliva and his release spilling onto his jaw, the chill of it a stark contrast to the flames rebuilding inside him. Paddy's face was in a similar state as he pressed sticky kisses down Eoin’s neck, biting and sucking in a way that would leave bruises in the morning. 

Eoin let him, boneless and hazy in the afterglow of his orgasm, he almost didn’t register Paddy shuffling about and the snick of the lube cap until his legs were pushed wide, slick fingers gently prodding at his entrance. “Ah fuck, yes…yes!” Nevermind that his dick had still yet to recover, Eoin was suddenly aware of the gawing emptiness inside him, tilting his hips up to try and coax Paddy further inside. 

Paddy smiled down at his attempts, warm and fond, still petting over Eoin’s hole like he didn’t have a rapidly dampening patch on his jeans. “Ever had anyone else in ya, sweetpea?” At that, he stilled; he had never, wanting his first time to be meaningful, with someone who saw and loved him. Looking everywhere but at the man before him, Eoin shook his head, old insecurities running through his mind. “Good” was all Paddy said, a grin evident in his tone as two solid fingers abruptly plunged into Eoin’s heat. Paddy groaned, gaze locked on where their two bodies met. “Can tell too, such a tight hole pup, been saving yourself just for me, huh?”

Eoin jolted at the words, shoulders beginning to strain with his movements as his dick came back to life under Paddy’s care. Fingers twisting and turning, carving his own space deep within him. His vision blurred as a third digit was added, Paddy finding the spot that set Eoin ablaze, honing in on it with military precision, watching as the curly-haired man fell apart under him. His legs fell limp around him, mouth hanging open in silent ecstasy, eyes cloudy and beginning to take on a vacant spark, face tacky with their lovemaking. “Doing so well, doll, “ he praised, “gonna give me the second one, yeah, then you’ll have my cock,” Eoin gave a weak moan, cum splattering across his stomach as his dick jolted with the promise of what he would, finally, be getting. Paddy continued to tease him through it, stopping as Eoin’s hips twitched, pleasure turning sharp within him. 

Paddy layered soft kisses on the buttery skin of his inner thigh, a litany of praise spilling from his lips, how well Eoin was doing, how good he was being, all sweet and pliant for Paddy, his pretty little pup, how he would never have to steal from Paddy again, he could have it all. Eoin couldn’t take it in, eyes struggling to focus, just content to let the balm of Paddy's voice wash over him, sucking in lungfuls of air as his body trembled from the force of two orgasms in such short succession. 

Eoin could barely react as the warmth of Paddy’s clothed body left him, arms now a dead weight above him. He let out a relieved sigh as his head was tipped and cool water poured down his throat, a gentle hand coming to brush stray droplets from his lip. Eoin caught the digits in his mouth, too far gone to realise what he was doing and languidly sucking, tongue catching the last of the water. Distantly, he hears a breath hitch and glances aside to see Paddy palming himself through his denim, enraptured by the sight before him. He whined when the fingers were removed, instantly missing the weight on his tongue. 

Paddy untied one of his arms, massaging his wrists under the silk, kissing where his pulse was pounding reverently. Letting more slack on the other arm, he manoeuvred Eoin onto all fours, his arms instantly collapsing onto the bed and his thighs shaking with the effort. The sheets were warm against Eoin’s chest as he greedily inhaled the scent of Paddy from them, moaning as he felt strong hands spread his cheeks apart, exposing himself for Paddy’s viewing pleasure. He heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down and the familiar clanking of a belt unbuckled. Eoin arched up, hips pushing back to show himself off, entirely focused on the presence of the man behind him. When the silence stretched on, he wiggled about, frantic need welling in his chest and spreading slowly along his sternum. Impatient for Paddy to get. on. with. it. 

A harsh slap sounded from behind him, pain beginning to bloom at the top of his thigh. Calloused fingers curled in his hair, yanking Eoin up until Paddy’s hot breath brushed his ear, “Still such a show off, sweetheart. Can’t help yourself, can you?” He moaned; he hoped that slap would leave a mark, buzzing warmth spreading from the area. God, he wanted Paddy to do everything, every nasty little thing to him. Eoin was dropped back down, elbows coming out to stop him from faceplanting into the bed, his hips crushed in a bruising grip as Paddy slid into him, sparks rippling across his body, already beginning to feel the zap of overstimulation within him. The stretch his cock was divine, and Eoin could do little more than cling to the sheets as he set a brutal pace. The denim of Paddy’s jeans created a harsh friction against his thighs whenever the other man bottomed out, the cool metal of his belt pressing into his shaking flesh. It made the whole experience dirtier, as if Eoin’s only purpose was to be open and willing for Paddy whenever he wanted. He could feel drool pooling next to him where his face was half pressed against the bed, but couldn’t muster the energy to swallow. He felt completely removed from his body, lost to the feel of Paddy surrounding him: in his hole, across his hips, in the stinging kisses he was lavishing across his shoulders. This was everything he wanted and more. 

Paddy was aware Eoin had gone near silent underneath him, letting out a stream of tiny moans and half-slurred words beginning with P. He pulled him up again, readjusting so Eoin was half leaning against him, back to chest. He peered up at his face and was delighted with what he saw. Eoin’s glazed eyes stared unseeingly back at him, curls flattened to the side of his face, giving up a breathy little whimper as Paddy wrapped a hand around his cock, too weak to bat him away. Arms coming up to curl in the cradle of Paddy’s own. Eoin was full-on crying now, fat tears rolling down his face that Paddy itched to lick away. It was the most beautiful Eoin had ever looked, all fucked out and doll-like on his cock, something snarling and possessive took hold of him then. This was his. No one else would ever see his pup like this, no one but Paddy would make him feel this way. 

Eoin shuddered as he felt Paddy’s thrusts get more erratic, stuttering to little grinds as white-hot warmth seared inside, permanently staining him with Paddy’s touch. It felt like a claim, a homecoming, a promise all wrapped into one. His own cock gave a valiant little spurt onto the sheets, twisting to plant shaky kisses along the other man’s face, Paddy turning to meet him in a tender embrace. “Paddy..” he let out, unable to say much more. He seemed to understand, though, laying Eoin gently back down, avoiding the mess below, smoothing down his trembling body, stretching out his legs and adjusting the arm still tied to the bed as Eoin stared into nothingness. 

“Paddy it’s -, don’t let it -,” struggling weakly to get his free arm under him to stop the trickle of cum working its way out of his arse. He wanted to be full of Paddy all the time. Stuffed full and bursting. He longed to walk around knowing he had a bit of Paddy deep inside him, carrying his warmth everywhere like a treasured secret. He hissed as a weighty plug was pushed back inside him, cool metal sending waves of pain through his over-abused hole. Paddy came to curl up beside him, letting Eoin bury his face into the crook of his neck, still tilting into the hand holding the plug. It would have been fine if Paddy hadn’t started working in and out of him, zaps of ‘too much too much’ zinging up to his sluggish brain, drowning out the filthy squelch of Paddy fucking his cum back into Eoin.

“Just one more pup, so brave, I know it’s a lot, but this is the only way you’ll learn your lesson.” Eoin tried to slur assent against the hollow of Paddy’s throat, free arm scrabbling uselessly at his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Of course, he thinks, Paddy would know best. Paddy was so good to him. Reining him in and not letting him escape when Eoin took things too far. Putting him in his place like a good boy. 

Black spots were beginning to mar his vision as he sobbed into Paddy, getting larger with every twist inside him, hips failing to twitch away from the overwhelming onslaught. Eoin welcomed it, the aches and pain proof that he had finally got what he wanted. Free arm scrabbling uselessly at Paddy’s back as the final orgasm wrung its way out of him, Eoin wasn’t sure if any liquid came out, but the sensation was still the same pressure building up and releasing as the darkness overtook his sight, passing out in Paddy’s arms. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Eoin woke up the morning after that initial night, sore, thankfully clean, to find Paddy curled around him, hugging his back like he was afraid Eoin would slip away (even though rope was still curled around his wrist - he wasn’t going anywhere). 

After that, they settled into a comfortable routine, intimate domesticity coming as naturally to them as breathing. Eoin now had an M-A-Y-N-E shirt that actually fit him, but had never got around to wearing it outside the house. The sight of him wrapped in Paddy’s name guaranteed Eoin would be bent over the nearest available surface and limping for hours after. He loved it. Paddy got them a matching pair of silk bracelets and copied the key to his house on their sixth-month anniversary - a memento, he said, of their first time together. Brushing off the significance of the gift in the way he did when he cared about something a lot. Eoin saw right through it, and his heart ached with how much he loved this man. This man was his best friend, his partner, his joy, and his life. Who saw all of Eoin and loved him wholeheartedly in return. 

He would make sure it stayed like that. Forever.

END.

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