#m|m

Stan had still looked over his shoulder three times before following you down the sandy path, his bag slung over one arm and his hair tied back in a loose little tail.

"You sure you're not setting me up?" he muttered, scanning the dunes.

"Relax" you grinned, catching his wrist and tugging him closer. "If I was, you'd be cuffed already."

That earned a snort.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Stan smelled like sun-warmed skin, salt, and something rougher –old smoke, motel sheets, and leather.

His tank clung to his chest, streaked with sweat and sunscreen, and when he peeled it off, his thick body hair glistened under the light.

You loved that about him.

The unruly curls across his chest, the soft fur down his arms and belly, the way it made him look like something wild, something claimed.

And right now?

You wanted him claimed.

"Off" you said, thumbing at the waistband of his shorts.

He gave you a look.

"We're outside!"

"We're alone."

Stan hesitated, eyes narrowing under his fringe.

"You really think this is a good idea?"

"I think" you said, stepping into his space and running a hand slowly down his chest, "that you've been caged for three days straight. You're pent up and aching. And I think you like it when I tell you what to do."

His jaw clenched.

He didn't deny it.

You dropped your voice.

"Take. It. Off."

The shorts hit the sand.

He stood before you...

Naked, flushed, caged.

The metal hugged around his cock and balls, snug and unmistakable.

It wasn't the clunky kind, either. It was sleek, close-fitting, subtly curved to his shape, like it was designed just for him.

You had picked it, after all.

Stan crossed his arms.

"You're staring."

"And you're shaking" you murmured, circling around him, eyes dragging across his back, the dark trail of hair down his stomach, the flush crawling up his neck.

He growled.

"Not ‘cause I'm scared."

"No. ’Cause you like being watched."

"N—Not in public."

"But there's no one here, remember?" you said sweetly, pressing your palm to the base of his spine.

"Just me and my good boy with his hairy chest and his locked-up cock."

Stan sucked in a sharp breath.

"Fuck."

You leaned up, lips brushing his ear.

"Not today."

The teasing went on.

You walked the shoreline while he trailed behind, every muscle tense, flinching whenever the breeze brushed over his bare skin.

You blocked the dunes with your body when he wanted to sit. Draped a towel across your lap and pulled him into you. Held his chin and kissed him softly when he got too flustered.

And when he grumbled about getting caught?

You just laughed.

"You've done time" you whispered. "Wouldn't be your first run-in with the law."

He groaned.

You grinned.

"What would they even put on the report? Stanley Pines, wanted fugitive, caught sunbathing in a chastity cage? That'd spread like wildfire, babe."

He shoved your shoulder.

"You're a menace."

"You love it."

"Maybe..."

"Say it."

He looked away.

You reached down and tapped the cage with two fingers.

"Say it, Stanley."

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.

"…I love it."

"Good boy."

Eventually, he calmed.

He let his head fall against your shoulder, breathing steady, his body warm against yours as the tide rolled in.

His hair was messy.

His skin was salty.

His freedom was a lie.

But in that quiet stretch of sand, under your watchful eye, he was safe.

Chained by choice.

Unraveled by affection.

And yours.

Wholly, humiliatingly, gloriously yours.

If you enjoyed this fic & want to support my work, tips are always appreciated! Thank you!!

[my PayPal, Kofi, & Stripe links]

☀️ my masterlist