Brought to Heel Ch. 07

If Conall had any sense he wouldn't be refreshing his email inbox every half hour and counting the days since he'd last heard from Eon. If he had any sense, which he apparently didn't, based purely on how often his thoughts wandered in their direction.

Despite the bitter awareness that it made him a liability to everything Orpheus was working for, he still kept checking for Eon's next message. The irresponsible part of him, which kept bringing back up the fantasies created by his overcooked brain, was desperate to hear from them. As were the parts which were charmed by them, and stubbornly admired them still. The part of him which said it was all a terrible idea insisted that he email them again to tell them he would be unable to contact them any further, to make his apologies and to block their email address to prevent any chance of temptation.

But, he just.

Couldn't.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Eon didn't email him back until several days later regardless, which had Conall feeling both anxious and grateful. Anxious, because what if they had lost interest in him all of a sudden - an absurd feeling to have when he had literally considered blocking them - and grateful, because he had time to try to get himself back to some kind of baseline of self-control. He clearly needed that time after how he had imagined them... After he'd imagined them calling him their pet and gotten off on it. The thought made him shiver in a way that he couldn't pretend was solely apprehension. Maybe it would have been better if they'd taken even longer to reply, if the memory of what he'd done retained that amount of power over him.

Still, he couldn't help the flutter of simple excitement when he opened their newest message. He had waited to read it until after work, in case there was anything in there which might make him inclined towards distraction. The upside was that he had something to look forward to after work other than eating alone in his apartment and listening to music.

"Dear Conall,

You are too kind, as always. It was a pleasure to see you again. If only we had gotten closer when I was still site director, hmm? I hope we will have cause to meet in person again before too much time has elapsed, albeit without any more messy accidents on my part. (For which I must profusely apologise, regardless of it being entirely involuntary on my part.)

Yes, I promised to give you some recommendations! Forgive me for delaying in my reply, I wanted to narrow it down to just one to start so you don't get too overwhelmed, but it's so hard to pick favourites. It took me a while to get down to a shortlist, especially since favourite is such a subjective term. Does it mean one I enjoyed, or found moving or profound, and then what about the technical and stylistic aspects, or significance in cinema overall? It's a lot to consider. So, don't take it to mean this is my number 1 movie of all time, but I think you could start by watching The Twelve Sacrifices, directed by Emilio José Ríos. I doubt you've heard of it, or at least not in any great detail, but please don't look up anything about it before watching. I want to know what you think without filtering it through any expectations you would get from reading reviews and ratings. Please? ;)

I would very much enjoy getting to hear your unvarnished opinion on it! Afterwards I can send more recommendations, but don't rush yourself. Let me know when you've watched that one first. If you want to send any music or other recommendations in return I am of course open to them!

Kind regards,

Eon''

Conall blushed like he always did when they wrote some kind of flattery directed at him, and then blushed harder again when they alluded to their 'messy accident'. It was sweet of them, expressing an interest in meeting again even if it probably wouldn't - and shouldn't - happen. Not as long as he had a single conscious thought in his head to remind him of what a bad idea it was.

At least he had an answer as to why their reply had taken so long. It was... Cute, honestly, that they took picking out a movie recommendation so utterly seriously. He caught himself wondering if they usually thought about him as much as he did of them - whatever the context - in between emails. Or did this only get their attention so much because it was related to their passion for cinema?

It surprised Conall how strongly he wanted them to be thinking of him.

As tempted as he was to look up details of the movie to know what he was in for, he also wanted with an unsettling intensity for them to be pleased with him.

Ah, fuck. There he went again. It was only an email about movies, for goodness' sake.

But that didn't stop the shivery feeling that accompanied the idea of them being pleased with him.

It also didn't stop the shudder of his breath as the feeling deepened, along with the thought that they'd be pleased that he was so easily affected just by the idea of them.

He was being ridiculous. It was a conversation about movies. He could at least reply to the email before his libido started dictating to him.

"Dear Eon,

I would have very much enjoyed the chance to get to know you when we still worked together, but that doesn't mean we can't converse now. You'll have to forgive my caution, but I think it's best to avoid future in person meetings, given our respective positions. It is a pleasant thought at least, even if it will stay just that. We can still keep in contact! I don't see any harm in that, especially in simply talking about movies.

Never let anyone say you're not serious about your cinema. Perhaps I will have to be more specific next time I ask about movie recommendations? I could have narrowed it down to a single genre, at least. No need to worry about the delay, I appreciate the passion you put into answering. I can't say I've ever heard of that movie, so you're in luck there. I promise not to look up anything about it before watching. The mystery makes me a little apprehensive, but it's the least I can do after you put such thought into the selection.

Please don't expect any intelligent analysis of it afterwards, though; I'm not really a movie guy, so I can't promise I'll appreciate whatever makes it one of your favourites. I'll let you know my thoughts once I've had a chance to watch it.

Kind regards,

Conall"

Okay, there. He'd replied like a normal human being who didn't get worked up simply from receiving an email.

Annoyingly, he still felt a little aroused from imagining Eon being pleased with him. It was only a conversation about movies! There was no need to get all shivery and sensitive, all because he'd happened to get himself off a whole week ago thinking about them being pleased with him, thinking about them praising him for touching himself, thinking about them calling him a good boy over and over until he came into his own fist.

It had been enjoyable, admittedly. That might even be underselling it. If he'd ever been that relaxed after an orgasm before, he couldn't remember it.

Conall chewed on his lip as he recalled that. There was no harm in just thoughts, surely, same as there was no harm in just emailing someone. He needed to relax, right? It was one way to relax. Plus he hadn't so much as touched himself the whole week long, in the hopes of getting how good it had felt out of his thoughts. He was starting to feel pent-up, which would be counterproductive to keeping a clear head. It was time enough to relieve some tension.

With that decision made, he put his phone aside to go prep. As he did, he tried to decide what to use as inspiration during. He wanted to at least attempt to find something more compelling than Eon to think about while getting off - there had to be something. Nothing on PornClub seemed to fit the bill, mortifyingly enough. His attempts at looking up vanilla porn were disappointingly unsatisfying, while anything featuring his recently identified kinks got him going but also inevitably got him thinking about Eon, which he was trying to avoid.

Maybe it wasn't really Eon, though.

Maybe... Maybe he was into furries and he hadn't realised it? And petplay happened to have enough of the 'pretending to be an animal' aspect for him to find it fulfilling? He had found himself worked up over the lion and tiger wrestlers, after all. It was worth a try, even if he wasn't confident about rerouting his one-track mind. A lot of his fantasies lead back to Eon now, but that didn't mean all of them had to.

He vaguely recalled having heard of a furry gallery website called FurIdentity. That was probably a good place to start. He made an account so he could view mature content, and then with a wry little smile to himself he tried searching for 'petplay'.

The FurIdentity interface was confusing to navigate as a new user. He almost gave up before he figured out how to filter the search results to remove the things that made him grimace. Almost gave up. He was too stubborn.

Then he had the right search terms and a page full of art that felt like being slapped with abrupt, sharp arousal. There was an animation of werewolves or wolf people or maybe they were supposed to be dog people, one fucking the other's ass and pressing his head against the ground with a broad hand, showing dominance. Conall ended up staring at it for multiple loops, feeling lightheaded as his hard-on came back full force.

With slightly clumsy hands he stretched himself while letting the animation run in the background. He slid the dildo up his ass and sat gingerly on his computer chair, testing how it felt to rock back on the toy. It was nice, but not quite enough by itself. He cleaned his fingers and scrolled through the next page of search results. Honestly, he was a little envious of the bottoms in the art. What he wouldn't give to be fucked so hard it drove all the thoughts from his head. Oh, sure, it was art, it was exaggerated, but he wanted to feel like that, like his thoughts were being fucked right out of him. Not to mention the array of interesting dicks on display.

A lot of ones with thick - knotted was the word, he gathered from the descriptions - knotted bases. The thought of taking something like that sent an intrigued flutter through him. He saw plenty of those dicks in the art - there were a lot of furry wolves and dogs. Lions and tigers featured heavily too. Some bears. So many dragons - the FurIdentity userbase would probably lose it if they found out 'dragons' were real in metahuman form. Hmm. There definitely had to be metahumans using the website too. Was someone from Orpheus monitoring it?

God, Conall, stop thinking about work for one evening. Look at another animation and just jerk off for once.

On the next page there was a piece of artwork that stopped him thinking about work right away. In it, someone had drawn a goat furry reaming a dog furry. An unusual pair. The goat looked nothing like Eon - wrong number of arms, for one - but... It reminded him of them. Before he could stop himself, he'd started to imagine himself in the same position - being bent over by clawed hands, wreathed with the scent of incense and arousal, hot breath on his neck, fur brushing his skin along with the hot press of breasts against his back...

The thought scattered in panic the moment after. He squeezed his thigh so hard with one hand that his nails dug in. That was too much. Thinking about Eon praising him - it was a bad idea, but it was whatever, them only talking to him or looking at him was a relatively harmless little fantasy, even if they were a metahuman. It wasn't him thinking about them touching him. Naked and full-body contact.

Conall bit his lip and took deep breaths through his nose, clicking away from the browser window. He was still turned on. The shock of noticing his own thoughts hadn't stopped them from being hot. Fuck, what was he supposed to do about that? He was so bad at not thinking about Eon. By trying not to, he'd ended up doing it again but worse.

If he couldn't stop himself thinking about them while jerking off, he could at least stick with the safer option. Just looking at him, just praising him. That was okay, wasn't it? Even if it ever happened in reality, he couldn't end up transformed only from that. So it was - it wasn't fine really, he was still thinking about a metahuman - it was better. Just watching him. Conall closed his eyes and called to mind the image of Eon staring at him, expression oh so pleased, and he took his hand away from his thigh. Looking at him, exactly like that. Safe distance, but close enough for their voice to carry even if it dipped into a husky whisper. He wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock and sighed into the thought of Eon calling him good because he'd touched himself. The twinge of guilt over betraying his resolution to keep Eon out of his fantasies didn't lessen his arousal at all.

They'd suggested meeting and while that wouldn't - couldn't - happen, the idea of them being there and watching him... He groaned aloud. Maybe they would sit on a seat across from him in his living room area, his coffee table maintaining the safe distance between them while they watched him with dark, attentive eyes. Conall rocked back and forth on his chair slightly, making the toy rub his insides, and imagined doing the same while Eon watched. If they praised him for that - or teased him, called him a horny, needy puppy who'd rut against any length put in him - how could he ever last? Oh fuck, fuck, if he was on the floor across from them, if he had a toy he could ride more easily, he could show off. He'd show them how eager and desperate a pup he could be, and fuck himself on it in front of them. Be a needy pet for them, showing off for them. The way they looked at him made him want to act like he was just a mindless pup who was desperately horny, desperate for their approval. In reality he stroked himself hard and fast, while in his fantasy he showed off that he could be as shameless as Eon was, if they only murmured words of encouragement and made those deep throaty noises of satisfaction he'd heard when they were in his office.

If they got off on watching him like that... The thought sent heat down through him like a meteor strike. If showing off for Eon could turn them on as much as imagining it turned Conall on... He was fucked if he'd ever be able to contact them without getting horny over that idea. They'd never even said they wanted to see him like that, but their glances and voice and mannerisms were suggestive enough to imply it and that implication was hot enough to start him going off on all these wild tangents. They'd left a thought hanging there to pick up on and he'd gone and taken that and completed the thought and ran with it and here he was getting off on the thought of them getting off to him... If they ever said it to him plainly, his brain might melt. He really was desperate, taking an idea and running so far with it, a dog with a bone, just a desperate dog, but if they wanted him he could be so good for them, anything to hear them call him a good boy, a good dog. Good boy...

Conall's mind chased the scenario round and round and kept repeating the words as he shifted back and forth, back and forth, stroking himself up and down, up and down. A good dog. A good boy. Such a good boy. They'd be so pleased with him. Doing all of this by himself... Getting himself ready for them. Conall whined and shuddered and came in his hand. He was a good boy, and he felt so good because of it.

A pleasant fuzziness stayed with him afterwards, as he cleaned and then followed the impulse to look up something he could put on the ground and ride like he imagined. He'd seen some fantasy toy makers on FurIdentity, and he still had a site tab open. With a cursory search he found that there were lots of makers and they had lots of interestingly shaped designs. He followed the links to a few Itsy shops.

He hadn't realised before that there were people selling dildos on there as well as yarn and art. He bit his lip as he looked at the ones with knotted bases, but maybe those were a big leap from the plain John Doe of a model he still had up his ass. A different one caught his eye, somewhat long and tapered, elegant but thicker towards the base. It was long and the widest part of the shaft a bit intimidating, but he could still use the rest as he worked towards taking the whole thing. It came with a suction cup option too. Why were there so many colour options? It was too much to think about so soon after coming. He picked an arbitrary combination and checked out before his brain woke up enough to make him reconsider a luxury sextoy purchase.

With that done, he gingerly stood up from the chair. His arousal had cooled and now he was hungry. He took out the toy and left it in the bathroom sink to rinse later, washed his hands and microwaved a plate of the food he'd cooked at the weekend. By the time he was done eating, he was present enough mentally to blush and fret a little over the direction of his fantasies. He'd at least kept a physical distance between him and Eon even in his imagination, though, so no matter what weird thoughts he'd had, it was okay. More or less okay. It was as safe as a fantasy about a metahuman ever could be. A laughable thought in and of itself, although it was only a fantasy.

He'd keep his distance in his thoughts and in real life. That would have to be good enough, because he couldn't stop himself thinking about them. If he couldn't stop it, at least he could do damage control. No thoughts about touching them, no meetings with them. Distance. Damage control. It would have to be enough.

-

Conall stared at the screen in front of him as the credits rolled, seeing the names pass by but not really reading them. He was still trying to understand what he had witnessed over the last two hours.

Before he could second-guess himself, he opened the email app on his phone.

"Dear Eon,

What in the world did I just watch?

Yours sincerely,

Conall"

He mechanically stood and got himself a glass of water, brow furrowed. His phone beeped with a notification.

"My dear Conall,

You'll have to forgive me for laughing when I received your message. I take it you had a chance to watch The Twelve Sacrifices? It tends to have that effect on a lot of people on the first viewing.

In fond amusement,

Eon"

Conall felt his ears heat in embarrassment at the amused tone of Eon's reply. Well, he never claimed to be a film expert!

It maybe wasn't entirely embarrassment. He read back over the 'my dear Conall' part with his heart beating a little harder than necessary. It was only an email, not some Victorian billet-doux.

"Dear Eon,

It's a relief I'm not the only one to come out of the movie feeling extremely confused. Don't forget that I'm hardly as au fait with cinema as you are! If there was anything in the visual language that explained it all, I couldn't see it past the copious amounts of fake blood in the final scene. I'm still not sure why the protagonist kissed the priest on the cheek before running him through with a spear. I hadn't picked up any sort of sexual or romantic tension between them? It's probably supposed to mean something but I'm completely lost, honestly. I feel like maybe there was a metaphor in there somewhere but I couldn't make it out. Help?

Yours sincerely,

Conall."

The embarrassment wasn't the nicest feeling to sit with while waiting for a reply. Well, he'd done as asked and watched it without any spoilers, so that had to count for something even if his impressions were shallow and childish.

"My dear Conall,

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shame you for not understanding the film. I honestly really enjoy getting to hear an unvarnished first impression - if you were watching the movie beside me, I would be spending half my time watching your expressions instead of the screen. It can be a bit impenetrable on the first watch, but that's normal. I remember being weirdly moved by it before I sat down to think about why.

While the visuals take a lot of cues from surreal art and Cremisi cinema, it's also on a deeper level an allegory for Mexican society and a metaphor for the Twelve Apostles and Jesus Christ, so there is a lot going on thematically. The priest is an anti-Christ figure (you may have picked up on some of the visual cues) and the Twelve Sacrifices are characters representing parts of society which have been used or betrayed by the Catholic church. The protagonist takes the role of Judas in this metaphor, delivering the kiss of death to Christ (but this time, killing him directly). That's what the kiss on the cheek was about. Except here it's an act of liberation. :)

Maybe you picked up on it from the resemblance of my Metahuman form to a depiction of baphomet, but I've never been much of a fan of organised religion, particularly the Catholic church. I hope this isn't where you tell me you go every Sunday and we can't talk anymore.

Kind regards,

Eon"

Conall made chamomile tea for himself as he mulled over Eon's email. Their sincerity was nice... He hadn't expected an apology, but it did make him feel a bit better. It sounded like they got carried away in their enthusiasm, which he could definitely relate to. He shoved aside the memory of watching his teenage crush's eyes glaze over at an explanation of what made Mozart a genius composer. It was two and a half decades ago, he could stop cringing whenever he remembered it.

With the explanation of the central metaphor, the movie made a lot more sense. He blew air on his tea to cool it. He didn't feel quite as stupid now. If he rewatched it, which he didn't plan to, it would be much easier to pick up on whatever the visuals were trying to imply. He had noticed a lot of crosses, but the number twelve hadn't rang any bells.

It was hard to tell if Eon was really worried that he wouldn't keep talking to them, or if they were being glib. He'd send one last reply that night and put their mind to rest if they were actually serious - he hadn't been to a church service in almost 20 years, even if it was more apathy than antipathy.

"Dear Eon,

It's okay, it was more of a misunderstanding than anything. I can get wanting to share something you're passionate about with people. So long as you don't mind my lack of any particularly cogent commentary!

Now that you explain it, that makes much more sense. There's really a lot of layers of meaning in it, I can see why it's one of your favourites, since it seems like something you can come back to repeatedly and notice a new aspect of it each time. Although I can't say I've ever heard of Cremisi? I looked it up and all I got were results about the Italian word for the colour crimson, I'm guessing it has some other meaning. It's pretty interesting to have a narrative where the Judas stand-in is the hero of the movie, I'm guessing that was controversial when it came out? Considering the Catholic church and all.

On that note, you don't need to worry about me breaking off contact because you're a cloven-hooved heathen. I might not be as dyed in the wool in my dislike of the church as you are, but it's a long time since I stepped foot in one. Religion doesn't really figure into my life. If it did I'd probably be spending all my time worrying about how metahumans fit into it all. To be honest, I didn't think of baphomet when I saw you. Your metahuman form put me more in mind of an ancient god.

Kind regards,

Conall"

Was it weird to include the last line? Conall scratched the side of his neck as he wondered. He was only being honest after all, even if it sounded like a strange sort of flattery. He settled into the couch more and channel surfed while waiting for Eon's reply.

"My dear Conall,

Careful, you might unlock an infodump if you keep asking cinema-related questions. ;) Yes, Cremisi is the Italian word for crimson, but it's also a genre of Italian movies, primarily of the pulpy kind. Mystery, dramatic twists and reveals, striking visuals, that kind of thing. And yes, the Twelve Sacrifices was hugely controversial when it came out, considering it points the finger directly at the Catholic church for upholding oppressive systems of power, as well as the role reversal with who the saviour character is. It's gradually become a classic back home, but the church still finds opportunities to condemn it now and then, along with everything else that's any fun.

Dyed in the wool! : D That's a good one. I may add "cloven-hooved heathen" to my CV outright, I'll take that as a badge of honour. It's very sweet of you to compare me to a god... If you're trying to flirt with me, I can tell you that it's working!

Very flattered,

Eon"

Conall felt himself blush intensely when he got to the last paragraph. They liked the dyed in the wool bit, which was gratifying, but he hadn't really thought through that the god thing could be considered flirting. It really ought to have. It was a comment about Eon's naked body after all.

At least they liked it?

Talking to them made him feel kind of stupid sometimes, like he was tripping over his own words. But this time it wasn't necessarily in a bad way. It was more embarrassing than anything.

He'd flirted with Eon accidentally, and they liked it. He was honest enough to admit to himself that the fluttering feeling in his chest wasn't anxiety.

No way was he replying again that evening. He'd probably trip up again but in a not-so-charming way if he did it while he was flustered. Which mattered to him, although it really, really ought not to. But. He wanted Eon to like him and want to talk to him. And part of him wanted a bunch of other things he couldn't have, too, but talking was alright.

He ended up letting off steam to thoughts of them again that night, thoughts blessedly empty of any possible implications afterwards.

-

When Conall read back over the email thread the next morning while formulating his reply, it struck him as odd that Eon had all of a sudden changed from addressing their emails to him with "dear Conall" to "my dear Conall". Well, it struck him as odd and made him get a little flustered all over again. God, it was like he had a crush or something.

They'd switched over before his accidental flirting, too.

He read back and forth over the exchange a few times, before he noticed it.

It was right after he sent them the email signed off with "yours sincerely".

Oh. That was... It was something. He hadn't fully noticed he'd done it, as boggled as he was by the movie he'd watched. He'd also only done it twice, but Eon still picked up on it.

Conall was going to have to mull that over more later. He dashed off a quick reply before rushing out the door to go to work, face still hot from the turn the conversation had taken.

"Dear Eon,

Does it count as flirting if I'm only telling the truth? As a former student of classics I could hardly think otherwise. You can't be unaware of what an imposing figure you cut, in metahuman form or otherwise. I'm relieved I didn't somehow offend you or overstep with the comparison.

I wouldn't mind hearing more about cinema from you. It's nice to hear about your topic of interest, even if I know next to nothing in comparison. Again, so long as you don't mind the lack of any particularly cogent commentary on my part. (Except in this case to remark upon how stifling the Catholic church can be, no matter where in the world it holds authority. You'd never believe the amount of fuss that was made over condoms becoming available in Ireland. Encouraging fornication and all that.)

If you have a chance, could you send on the list of other movie recommendations you hinted at? It would be nice to have something new to watch in the evenings and to have a list put together by someone who actually knows what they're talking about. Looking at any streaming service, the selection is so large I wouldn't know where to start. I'd be better off to have an expert narrow it down a bit for me!

Kind regards,

Conall"

With his reply written and having mostly gotten over his clumsy, accidental flirtation, Conall's attention in his spare moments at work that day went instead to weighing up the implications of Eon changing how they addressed him. What it implied - and whether he should be worried about it.

By now Conall was reasonably sure that Eon was solely demonic-aligned and he had stopped double-checking his emails for statements a fae metahuman might exploit, so it simply slipped through. If they had been fae, however... Using 'yours sincerely' in communication with fae would give one a measure of power over you. Most fae wouldn't treat it like a binding oath, since signing off a letter or email was a regular, rote act, but it still contained some power.

He could have handed Eon means to influence and ensnare him, if they were actually fae. It was just as well he was almost entirely certain they weren't. Admittedly, satyr-like metahuman creatures were almost as well represented with the fae as they were with demons - but he didn't think Eon was one.

If they were, though... If they were a demon-fae hybrid metahuman, as rare as that was, then he'd given them that little bit of power over him. A way to make their suggestions sound a little better, to nudge him in the direction they wanted. The idea was a little frightening, if mitigated by how much Eon leaned into their demonic appearance, which was probably not what a fae hybrid would do.

It was also, regrettably, very hot. The moment after the realisation crept prickling up his spine, arousal slid right down the other way. It was already a turn-on to think of Eon giving him commands, but it was twice as much to imagine the curl of magic on their tongue making him pliant and responsive to suggestion. That they could make him a tiny bit more inclined to listen to them, all because he'd sent an email that all but declared he was theirs.

He could not be thinking about this at work. Fuck. He shouldn't be thinking it at all - would never have done so before meeting Eon - but if he couldn't avoid it entirely, which he knew he couldn't because it was too fucking hot to ignore entirely, then he could put it aside for later. There were some lines he couldn't cross, and letting himself indulge while at work was one of them. So he chewed the back of a pencil to pieces while trying to focus on reading departmental reports instead.

By the time he got home he was already gripped by jittery excitement before he even removed his jacket and tie. There was an undercurrent of apprehension as well, because Conall was aware that beyond doubt he never would have entertained the sort of idea swirling around his head before meeting Eon. One little meeting and it had apparently unleashed something in him. His sex drive? Maybe, but he'd never been so adventurous about it before. Maybe it was a very late kinky awakening that Eon happened to trigger, but...

If this was where his thoughts were going after one meeting with them moaning his name and then Eon not saying a single suggestive word in subsequent communications, meeting them again and letting them pour words of temptation directly into his head would be disastrous. He'd be ruined one way or another even if he didn't end up turned into a metahuman then and there.

All his apprehension was still not enough to stop him from getting turned on by that exact possibility, especially not the idea of Eon's voice dripping with fae magic. An allure enough to quiet his worries into insignificance. To silence the ever-ringing alarm bell reminding him of his duty. To set aside his fear of what it might mean to touch -

No.

Regardless of how enticing a fantasy might be, he couldn't think about touching them. He had to keep some distance in his mind, regardless of how indulgent his thoughts had become.

Besides, Eon wouldn't need anything except for words to drive him to distraction.

Conall picked up the lube and a toy from his room, undid his trousers and sat back on his couch. It was easy to relax and slip the toy inside himself, which made his face burn. He'd gotten better at taking it without issue. He wondered if he could do the same with the toy he'd ordered, if he practiced over time.

His breath caught when he thought of Eon's reaction. Them looking at him filling himself and purring that he'd trained himself like a horny pet should. Fuck. God, them looking down at him right now would turn his thoughts to mush.

Seeing them stare down at him, so much taller, presence so imposing even if they did nothing else, and watching their approval as he showed off how he'd been training to be a better pet would be beyond hot. He had trained himself, he realised, and he wanted to keep doing it, wanted the bigger toy he'd ordered to arrive already so he could start using it. He imagined their encouragement as he lifted himself up off the toy and sat back on it.

That's it, pet. So needy. You want more, don't you?

"Yeah... I want more."

Conall heard his own voice and shivered at how needy he sounded, fucking himself on a toy all alone in his apartment. He thought of Eon again, and wished blearily that they really were there to tell him what to do and what to think. It would be hot to be controlled like that, by their words and his own eagerness to please. To be controlled by how much he wanted to be a good pet. He wanted to show how good he was. A good, needy puppy who trained himself to take a toy with ease.

In that moment he wanted to think and feel nothing else. To be a horny puppy who only thought simple puppy thoughts. No worries or apprehension, only the bliss of being praised for obeying. That was all. He didn't want to have to think about it. He wanted to obey and be called a good boy.

He wanted Eon to look at him and say it.

Good boy, Conall. Who's a good boy?

He pictured them smiling and holding a collar and leash, ready to slip around his neck. He clenched around the toy, stroking his twitching cock at the same time.

"I'm a good boy," Conall moaned. "'m a good boy."

Be a good boy and put this on for me.

His breath caught as he imagined how it would feel to wear a collar. To have something to show how good he was. To feel the weight and slightly rough texture of it, and smell the leather, and have a tangible reminder to be a good pup, the feel and scent of it tugging his thoughts in the direction of obedience.

"I'm a good boy," Conall repeated. He could nearly feel it, the idea was so vivid - the leather sitting solidly at the base of his neck, brushing his throat every time he swallowed. His cock twitched and he stroked faster. He wanted it, he wanted it so badly. To be told what to do and think, and be told it made him a good pet, and to get to wear a collar to remind him to be good and to show that he was good and he was owned.

"I'm a good boy. A good boy. Good boy. Good boy..." He stroked himself every time he said it, working himself to a feverish crescendo.

His hips twitched and jerked, his body carried on a wave of pleasure that wiped away every thought other than the two words he gasped over and over as he came.

"Good. Hha. Boy. Good! Boy. Good, good, ahh. Good boy..."

Warm, hot, pleasure. He touched and stroked until it was verging on uncomfortable, until the urgent desire pounding in his veins crested and then drained away into a quiet hum.

White noise washed over his thoughts. His breath moved in and out like the tide against the shore.

He blinked and stared at the ceiling. The white noise was comforting, but monotonous. He wanted to listen to something else.

He stumbled over to his hi-fi set and pressed play on the last CD he had in there. A selection of Debussy pieces. Then stumbled back to the couch and reclined to listen as his sound system began to fill the apartment with gentle piano.

He let the quiet swell of music notes carry him away. He closed his eyes and drifted, the long tail of his afterglow keeping his thoughts muffled. He didn't analyse what he heard. He didn't reflect on the history and context of the pieces as the sounds flowed around him. He didn't ruminate on the past or plan for the day ahead. He floated on the music, reaching a rare quietude, and felt himself smile.

Conall didn't quite sleep, but he drowsed until the music came to a halt, last song softly fading out of perception. He yawned and stretched and looked at the clock.

He'd lost two hours in idle reverie. He brushed his hair back from where a few strands had fallen into his face. It was late... All he had time for was eating dinner and going straight to bed for the night after a quick shower.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret the time that passed, or what had lead to it. There was a lack of tension in his body that he hadn't felt in a while. The hard edges of his worries were still swaddled in the remnants of the serenity he had felt. It was hard even to work up the appropriate level of concern about the thoughts he'd gotten off to. It was worth it to finally, properly relax.

-

Conall stayed reasonably relaxed all the way until he arrived at work the next morning, which was something of a miracle. It was astounding how much stress he'd been holding in his jaw muscles all the time. Not to mention his arms, and his legs, and his back. He physically hadn't felt that good in a long time, he realised with a start. His body and mind had gone on a little restorative holiday.

And all he had needed to do was wank himself silly thinking about being a pet.

By thinking about being Eon's pet, as if there was any special importance in having Eon on his mind rather than anyone else. It could have been someone else, someone who wasn't a metahuman. It would have felt as good.

Conall let out a sarcastic tch in the solitude of his office, as he checked his emails on his personal phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. He couldn't have fooled anyone with that attempt at denial, not even himself. He was well beyond pretending he didn't wait on their messages. Eon was magnetic. He felt drawn to thoughts of them, regardless of them not being around, regardless of only having met them once since Epsilon-1's fall. They were simply that charming, without any magic or trickery involved. Anyone in Conall's position would have been enthralled, but nobody save for Eon could be so enthralling.

Conall bit the inside of his cheek to snap himself out of it, and winced. It hurt more than expected, but it was effective. He forced himself to do some work. Focus was hard to find. A little of the drifting, relaxed feeling had lingered, making his thoughts a fraction slower. He managed to get through his to-do list somehow.

Eon's reply came very soon after he'd arrived home that evening. Face hot with the memory of the night before, Conall put a different CD in his sound system and settled in to read the email.

"My dear Conall,

I think it still counts as flirting. ；) If I call you cute will you do it again? Or maybe you prefer handsome? You can compare me to a god as often as you like, it's never overstepping.

Now that you've said you don't mind hearing more about movies from me, I have to keep you. That's the rules. Once I have found a captive audience I never let them go. (Only joking.) Don't worry about cogent commentary or whatever, so long as you're genuinely interested I'm happy. If I wanted an in-depth debate I could talk to some of the Epsilon-1 staff who have opinions about movies. Of course with the site location, more than a few of said staff are French and as such have strong feelings about what counts as Cinema with a capital C. It's nice to info dump on someone who won't disagree with me! (I say that fondly. I still love all of my former staff even if some of them have movie opinions I disagree with at times.)

Lucky for you, I happen to have a shortlist of recommendations already! These are in no particular order, and the genre and atmosphere vary a lot. All I can say is have fun and please swear that you'll tell me what you thought whenever you finish one! Have at them:

Mermaid's Purse

Blood Nuns of the Mourne Mountains

ReCut of the Dead

My Father's Hands

Paranoia

Substitution Game

Albert Stross

The Aperture

Mothwing

A Million Miles

Teething Pains (aka "How to Regrow Your Teeth At Any Age")

Fond regards,

Eon"

Conall felt himself growing flustered as he read, face flushing hot at Eon asking him if he preferred to be called cute or handsome. His stomach flipped in half fear half excitement when Eon mentioned keeping him. Oh, that was dangerous. Even as a joke. They were interested. In him.

All the products of his overheated imagination were one thing, Eon actually flirting with him with zero ambiguity was another thing entirely.

Conall getting lightheaded over it, though? That was a far more dangerous thing.

Thank god they went back to talking about movies afterwards or his brain might have melted. As it was he felt like he came close when Eon signed off with 'fond regards'.

They were interested in him.

Conall dizzily started to draft a reply, biting down on his lower lip by reflex and wincing when it hurt more than expected. That was the second time in the last day. What, were his teeth after getting pointier out of nowhere or something? No, that was ridiculous. That kind of thing didn't happen.

The bit of pain didn't stop the lightheaded feeling as Conall flexed his fingers a few times until his brain came up with some coherent response to the flirting.

"Dear Eon,

It's flattering that you find my inept compliments welcome. If you want to call me cute or handsome, either is welcome... Though I probably shouldn't encourage it, for obvious reasons. That's not to say I don't like it, personally speaking. But, I'm sure you know what I mean.

Thank you for the recommendations, I have to say that the titles look pretty intriguing. I'll tell you my thoughts whenever I finish one, I promise. It's kind of a relief that you don't mind if my comments aren't all that deep. It's nice talking with you but I think if I had to defend my movie interpretations to a French cinephile I would die. You're braver than I am.

Kind regards,

Conall"

Alright, "coherent" might have been overselling it. He'd barely put his words in the right order. Conall internally defended how barebones the response was by reminding himself that Eon had joked about keeping him. He couldn't be expected to use his words properly while still wrestling with the contradictory set of emotions that that brought up. Whatever evolutionary reason the human body had for being able to feel giddy and alarmed at the same time, it was a fucked up one.

He really really hoped Eon wouldn't press him on what the 'obvious reasons' he shouldn't encourage Eon's flirting were. Of course they knew, and he knew, but actually typing it out would be forcing him to explain himself. He didn't want to talk about it or think about it or be reminded any more than he was whenever he stepped inside the doorway to Phi-2.

An unpleasant bitterness constricted his throat while he thought about it, bringing him back down to earth. He wanted to talk to Eon without having to think about any of that. He wanted to talk to Eon and let himself enjoy their attention without second thoughts. Or any thoughts.

It wasn't an option. Not when he was treading such a fine line by talking to them at all. Trying to stay steady while balancing duty and desire was close to impossible. Any misstep and he felt he would unbalance and fall right off the tightrope walk he was making. If he hadn't already.

Before Conall could contemplate that ominous idea any more, his phone pinged with a notification. A new email.

"My dear Conall,

It's not inept at all. I think it is really quite cute, and so are you. Cute and handsome. I never would have guessed that such a sweet man was hiding behind the stern face you presented at directorial meetings. I'm more pleased than ever that of all the site directors to receive my initial email, the one to reply was you. You've endeared yourself to me very effectively over the course of our correspondence, enough that I'm a little jealous of your commitment to Orpheus."

Conall was hyper-aware of his heart speeding up before he'd gotten past the first paragraph. He didn't think he was the type of person to squirm in his seat but he was squirming. He should have expected Eon to jump on the chance to flirt with him, but his brain kind of wasn't working.

Was he really the only site director to contact them? Had Eon waited the whole time to tell him that? It was flattering but also embarrassing. The way they said it made him feel special, but an objective corner of his brain retorted that it made him uniquely foolish. It didn't stop him feeling fluttery over their attention, and the way they said they were jealous...

"Of course you're not supposed to, but isn't it more fun this way? If it's something you like I am more than happy to keep doing it, and more than delighted to have permission even if you say you 'shouldn't' encourage me. But shouldn't is a dull word. What about what you want? That's what I'd like to know.

I very much look forward to your thoughts on any/all of the movies I mentioned! Don't worry about me standing up for myself in the face of French film criticism - I went to film school, I can give as good as I get. ;)

Fond regards,

Eon"

Conall's chest lurched in a sort of vertigo induced fear and excitement when he read their questions. He barely skimmed the last short paragraph.

What did he want? He could hardly think. His brain was a loud mess of contradictory emotions and impulses. His breath was coming short and shallow. Harsh in his ears.

He forced himself to slow down and fill his lungs properly. In and out, counting as he went, until the chaos abated enough.

There was only one answer he could give, dramatic as he knew it would sound.

"Dear Eon,

It doesn't matter what I want.

Regards,

Conall"

He was still steadying his breathing when the reply came.

"My dear Conall,

):"

That was all.

Conall felt a different kind of lurch in his chest.

The thought of Eon feeling sorry for him was unbearable. It wasn't like he was talking about his entire life! It was about Orpheus.

His shoulders hunched as he typed a reply.

"Dear Eon,

Don't frown at me. Please. You know what I meant.

Regards,

Conall"

Of course they knew. They used to be a site director.

Their reply arrived between one breath and another.

"My dear Conall,

I do. You deserve better.

Kindest regards,

Eon"

Conall blinked at the words. The sentiment was incomprehensible. His eyes were wet. He blinked some more.

Eon had to be playing with his emotions. It was not okay. 'Kindest regards'? He felt suddenly angry at their attempt at manipulation.

He was poised to write a hostile response when the anger drained away as suddenly as it arrived. It left him feeling mostly just... Sad. A bit empty.

God, his emotions were a fucking mess.

He didn't know how to respond to Eon's message. Didn't even know what to think of it, honestly. So... He didn't reply.

Even if they were sincere it was irreconcilable with Conall's perspective. If anything, Orpheus deserved better from him. At least insofar as what was essentially fraternisation.

Fuck, he really needed to cut off communication with Eon.

In a way, this was almost fortuitous. He couldn't figure out how to reply to Eon so he just wouldn't. He'd leave the conversation there. He'd step away from the whole ridiculous balancing act he had been inching ever further into.

He'd found his resolve, or as close as he could get to it. All he had to do was not contact Eon back and he could once again pretend he was the model site director everyone seemed to mistake him for. What a shame that that person wasn't actually in charge, didn't actually exist. Instead there was Conall. Conall, who felt more guilt than relief about not emailing Eon back.

Conall closed his email app and put on a CD he enjoyed, although he hardly heard it. He made himself eat dinner. He made himself get ready for bed. He made himself go to sleep early. Most of all, he made himself think of anything except Eon.

When he pulled himself out of bed the next morning, it wasn't so bad, until he checked his emails on his phone and automatically looked for one from Eon before his half-awake brain caught up with him. Eugh, right. That whole exchange from the night before...

Frowning into his morning tea, he told himself to stay strong. He added an extra teaspoon of sugar.

Eventually he'd be able to convince himself that he really had made a narrow escape from temptation and not just abruptly ghosted someone like a total dick.

-

It was as if all and sundry could see the pall hanging over him like his own localised rain cloud, judging by the kindly way everyone from Marcy to the cafeteria staff asked him how he was doing.

Early summer sunshine came in through the cafeteria windows and he sighed, feeling out of sync with the sunny mood of the conversations around him now that the weather was nice enough to really call it summer. He also felt very stupid and overdramatic for letting an email exchange affect him so much. He was a grown man!

He was poking his mashed potato around the plate with his fork when Oskar placed a lunch tray down on the table and slid into the seat across from him.

"How goes?"

Conall managed half a smile. "Alright. Nothing strange honestly. I'm just gone off my potatoes."

"I'm pretty sure that means the world is ending, man. When the Irish guy says he's gone off his potatoes. You feeling okay?" He raised an eyebrow, half joking and half sincere.

It made Conall let out a snort. "How dare you pull the Irish stereotypes on me. It's nothing really. Just. Feeling the weight of responsibility, I guess."

"Talk about cryptic! I guess I wouldn't want to be in your shoes either, though. Keeping this whole circus running smoothly. Especially after the Epsilon-1 shit."

"Pretty much," Conall said wryly. 'Epsilon-1 shit' barely even began to describe it. He was thankful when Oskar led the conversation from there, starting with telling Conall about how his colleagues had been complaining a bit about implementing the changes Conall recommended as director but how they agreed (mostly) that the recommendations were sensible, and then progressing on to small talk. By the end of his lunch break, Conall actually felt a tiny bit better as he told Oskar he'd see him around.

The lift in his mood didn't last all the way until he got home that evening. He probably should have taken advantage of the good weather and gone for a walk, or went into the town centre to idly browse and maybe buy something for the sake of it. Now that his quiet apartment was in front of him and he had to fill the time before bed, he felt listless.

There was always some sort of chore to do, at least. He did his laundry. He vacuumed the living-slash-dining room. He wiped dust off his furniture and CD collection with a damp cloth. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that he doesn't need to check his emails every two minutes, because he wouldn't find anything new.

Or at least, nothing interesting. None of the messages he seemed to have trained himself to look forward to.

It was genuinely laughable how empty his evenings felt that week, without the addition of Eon's correspondence to obsess over. He really did laugh at himself over it, albeit in a derisive sort of way, when he realised how much of his time had been spent thinking about them or reading what they'd sent or carefully composing his replies.

He was sort of pathetic for letting that take such a central role in his day. The way he was moping, he might as well have gone through an actual breakup rather than cutting communications with someone he never should have been corresponding with in the first place.

When the toy he'd ordered off of Itsy arrived on the Thursday of that week, he barely even glanced at it before shoving the package in his wardrobe. It did look interesting, but whenever he started to get horny he'd think of Eon - another thing he'd apparently trained himself to do - and then he'd get sad and mopey about it, and then that would kill his libido all over again. It was sort of pathetic, too. Definitely miserable.

He didn't necessarily feel sad whenever he failed to stop himself thinking about Eon, but there was a dull ache in his chest. It was enough to eclipse any sort of satisfaction he might have gotten from doing the right thing, to dampen whatever pride he tried to drum up in himself. Without external validation his attempts fell flat. Not to mention he'd caught himself on multiple occasions when he was about to go reread their email chain.

He was pining for their attention. How pathetic was that?

What he needed was to spend more time with other people, outside of work. So he didn't feel reliant on Eon for contact. Conall slept on the idea, and weighed up his options while on the way to work. His regular meet with his old college buddies was two weeks away. It would be too awkward to join a new club or take up a social hobby to feel less lonely - getting to know new people took time, and he wasn't exactly the most personable individual. Not on first impressions. Maybe he could ask Oskar if he was free? They got along fairly well, and Oskar had offered to hang out.

Conall didn't even have to go looking for him - they took their lunch breaks at the same time. He chose not to approach the table, because it could have made things a little awkward for Oskar's coworkers if their boss sat there all of a sudden and struck up conversation. So he ate alone and waited. Afterwards, he said hello as they were both returning the cafeteria lunch trays.

"Hi, how's it going?"

"Pretty good! It's Friday, the sun is shining, the metahumans haven't broken containment, what more could a guy ask for? How about you?"

"I'm grand. Nothing strange, really. Actually, I was wondering..." Conall paused, tugging his shirt cuffs into place in lieu of biting his lip nervously. It was a hard habit to break, but it was hurting his lip lately. "Did you want to come over sometime soon? We could watch a movie. I got a couple of recommendations recently, it would be nice to have a friend to watch one with. In the next few days maybe?"

Oskar looked surprised for a moment before smiling and bumping Conall's shoulder. "Yeah, absolutely! How does Sunday evening sound?"

Conall relaxed and smiled back. "Sounds great. I'm glad you're able to come on such short notice. Next time I'll plan things better." Oh. Was he being presumptuous mentioning 'next time'? Oskar's expression didn't falter, so it must be fine.

"It's lucky I'm free, honestly. Usually my weekends fill up kinda fast, but my other plans for Sunday fell through. I was gonna be going to a gig but it was cancelled. Guess I was meant to hang out with you instead."

"Lucky for me. You have my number from the site orchestra group, right? I'm thinking after dinner probably but we can iron out the details over text, I'll give you my address as well." It felt good to be making plans. He should have done this earlier.

"Yep. Gotta get back to work, so I'll see you Sunday evening, then. Just let me know the details."

"Will do! I'd better get going myself. See you Sunday!"

Conall gave a wave and they parted ways. He was smiling slightly to himself as he returned to his office. That wasn't as hard as he feared it might be. He'd even gone on a tidying spree earlier that week so he only had to choose a movie and get some snacks before Sunday.

He felt like maybe he would be fine after all. He didn't need to be so sad over not talking to Eon. He just needed to spend more time with people! All this time and he'd really only been a bit lonely, that was all. He hadn't been socialising enough.

Thinking on it, he realised he hadn't phoned his parents in a while either. It wasn't really expected of him, not as a man in his 40s, but they'd be happy to hear from him. So long as his Ma didn't turn the call into a list of the local births, deaths, and marriages, or ask him too much about the medical research company he supposedly worked for, it would be nice to catch up. They'd probably be watching the 9 o'clock news. He waited until afterwards to call.

His Ma sounded well, thank goodness. She was obviously happy to hear from him. Conall listened to the news about grandkids - his sister's kids - and about the ongoing attempt to get his Da to sell off the last handful of cattle, and it was so normal it was nice. It would be better if he had anything to talk about in turn, because between dodging questions about his work and whether he'd 'met anyone nice' he seemed to have little worth discussing except for the progress of the site orchestra, but he still finished the conversation feeling more settled than he had in days.

The brief thought passed that he'd never asked Eon about their family, and he let it go even if it was with a pang of discontent. He'd missed the opportunity to get to know them better, but he had to let himself get over it. He'd treat this like the breakup it felt like and get back to normalcy the same way.

It was progress towards that normal when he opened his door to Oskar on Sunday and invited him in, although he hadn't been able to resist choosing a movie that had sounded intriguing from Eon's list of suggestions. Who could blame him when it had a title like 'Blood Nuns of the Mourne Mountains'?

Oskar had kindly brought along some drinks and the two of them chatted a little while, with Oskar admiring Conall's CD collection and saying he might ask to borrow a few to copy sometime, before they sat down and Conall switched on the movie. His mind wandered into wondering what kind of movie watching set up Eon had, before Oskar speaking brought him back to the present.

"So did some movie nerd tell you to watch this or something? Because I've never heard of this in my life," Oskar said with good humour as the opening credits rolled.

"Something like that, yeah. And it's an Irish production so that was another reason to give it a go."

"Not a secret indie horror movie buff then, got it. Here I was wondering if you had another side you never show anyone at work, Mr Professionalism."

"Sorry, I'm just as boring as I seem to be."

"Hey, I never said that! Oh, look, the car's broken down in whatever passes for mountains in Ireland already. Where I come from we would call that a hill."

"I was going to say how unlikely the mysterious isolated convent is where the movie's set, but the script beat me to it. Feels like I just got told not to take everything so seriously."

"A film called 'Blood Nuns of the Mourne Mountains' not taking itself too seriously? Consider me shocked."

Comfortable banter flowed back and forth as the movie continued, and Conall found that it wasn't as awkward as he had feared to treat Oskar as a friend outside of their mutual interest in the orchestra. As the movie came to a close in a corn syrup soaked finale, he hoped that Oskar had felt the same. He wouldn't mind a repeat of the evening. They chatted amicably for a while about the movie.

"We've come a long way since the 20s, huh? These days you can have an evil sexy gay nun who seduces one of the protagonists and doesn't die at the end. That's what I call progress."

Conall laughed into his drink. "She even got the girl. That is progress. Shame the rest got mulched and spread around the convent flower beds."

"They're blood nuns. That's how they get the roses so red."

Conall choked a bit on his laughter. He thought of relaying that comment to Eon and then caught himself. He wasn't contacting them, not even for funny movie commentary.

"I really had a good time. Do you want to do this again at some point?"

"Yeah, definitely. Especially if you have more weird obscure movie recs. Tell your nerdy friend this was a good one."

Nodding, Conall picked the drinks containers off the table to start tidying up. He'd do no such thing, which he felt unexpectedly bad about, but otherwise this all had gone well. Oskar lingered and chatted for a bit longer, seeming curious about the source of the movie recommendation and the list of other films Conall ended up alluding to, but after checking his watch announced it was time to go and gave Conall a quick sideways hug.

"Thanks for the invite. See you tomorrow, eh? Back to Mr. Orpheus' Containment Circus."

"The founder wasn't called - " Conall stopped himself when he noted Oskar's grin. "But you know that already. Safe home, and I'll see you tomorrow!"

It had gone well, he had spent time with a friend, and he'd managed to distract himself. With the exception of his few mental slip-ups, he hadn't even been thinking about Eon at all! He could do this. He was going to get over his ridiculous obsession.

--

It was midweek and he didn't feel remotely 'over' anything. Even knowing that he had to let his confusing feelings towards Eon fade with time, there was a half-formed thought nagging at him and bringing them back to mind over and over again.

Was there something he'd forgotten? Relating to Eon? He was trying to put his finger on it but all he could discern was that he missed talking to them. Better not to think too hard about it. Better not to give himself any excuses.

At least, that was what he had tried to do. As the week wore on and the realisation set in that his weekend would be spent properly by himself this time, he couldn't help himself. Those thoughts reminded him that emailing Eon had been holding his loneliness at bay. Their communication was a presence more notable by its absence. Then, there was whatever he had forgotten.

What was he forgetting? Despite his best intent he kept worrying at the idea, picking over the thought that he'd forgotten something. There was something he hadn't done that he was supposed to. Not passing on Oskar's commentary, no, he hadn't really intended to, but something else movie related. He was convinced of it.

If he wanted to move on, he needed to not reread his emails, but... It had started to outright bother him.

It was on Saturday that his conviction wavered enough for him to take the slightest look back at the movie conversation so he could figure it out and put his mind at last to rest.

Or so Conall had intended.

Instead he was staring at his own words and chewing his lip because he'd forgotten his promise to tell Eon his impressions if he watched any of their recommendations.

Eugh, he'd bitten himself hard enough to draw blood.

He should ignore it! He should absolutely ignore it! Pretend he never watched the movie. What did it matter if he broke a promise over something so small? They'd never know about it. He wasn't a child, he could break an unserious promise for the sake of duties far more serious. 'Feeling bad' about it wasn't important.

But he did feel bad. He felt an awful crawling feeling of disappointment in himself. Didn't his word mean anything at all? Eon had been excited to share their favourites, had gone to the trouble of putting a list together for him. They would have been thrilled to know he had watched one.

Conall let out what could only be described as a whimper.

It was pathetic of him to miss that excitement so much, to want their approval so much. He was like a dog who'd run away from home and then got upset that his owner wasn't there. Now here he was whining and whimpering all alone in his apartment.

But he wanted to talk to them again so badly. He could at least tell them what he thought of a movie, couldn't he? Where was the harm in that? He would keep his promise. Then he would make his apologies and break off contact in a way that wasn't horribly abrupt and rude. He could do it in a way that didn't make him feel like an absolute arse.

Just, just that much. Just tell them what he'd thought of the film. Then he'd really cut things off for good. He would. He would.

Conall sat down to his desktop to type the message out.

"Dear Eon," he wrote.

Conall took a shuddering breath and then shook his head at his own drama. It was only an email.

"Please accept my apologies for the gap between my last message and now. In the meantime, I happened to watch one of your recommendations, and as promised I'm delivering my thoughts on it."

His thoughts, which were rapidly grinding to a halt in his head over the fact that he was writing to Eon again. There was a flush coming to his face. The movie review, focus on the movie review.

"The film in question was 'Blood Nuns of the Mourne Mountains'. Honestly I have absolutely no idea how you came across that because I never heard of it in my life, despite it being an Irish production. I had no idea what to expect other than blood and nuns, but it was entertaining and worth the time spent watching it.

I got the impression that the whole production absolutely revelled in how pulpy it was, with the combination of gore, the implausible scenario, and the home-made looking props. Thankfully for me it was much easier to comprehend than the Twelve Sacrifices. Does that statement make me anti-intellectual? I'm not good at picking up visual subtext, if I'm honest. Regardless, in this I could tell the actors were committed to their performances and really gave it their all, and while it was a bit over the top it fit with the overall atmosphere and the unlikely scenario.

I don't think the denouement would come as much of a surprise to any viewer, what with most of the group dying messily and only one escaping to tell the tale, but it was a pleasant surprise that the woman who got seduced by one of the nuns survived and the narrative didn't "punish" her and her seducer for being lesbians. It was... Strangely nice? That they seemed to be in love by the end? Even if she was going to be initiated into a convent of evil nuns. As a bisexual man I don't know if I have anything else to say on the topic other than it's good that we've moved beyond movies that make characters miserable or kill them off just for being gay, or have evilness be an inherent part of gayness and then kill them off. I guess it helps that some of the nuns were evil and straight, too, so it wasn't about their sexuality. The nuns were evil for other reasons, like all the murder.

Since I watched it with a friend I can tell you that he also said it was a 'good one' and he thinks that the Blood Nuns get their roses so red by using human mulch. Personally I don't think I ever saw a set before now where there was that much red food dye and corn syrup flung around. Or whatever horror movie productions use in Ireland since we don't have that much corn. Maybe it's still corn syrup, that's probably the best use for the stuff.

But I'm babbling. It was a fun recommendation, thank you.

That's all I wanted to say.

Kind regards,

Conall"

And there. Sent. He licked the bitemark he'd left on his lower lip.

He felt heat spread all across his face and start to creep over his body for no real reason. He shook his head again. He needed to think clearly.

The shiver down his spine didn't belong there. Except - he'd emailed Eon, and what he did after emailing Eon was... He usually ended up touching himself. Not always, but enough that his body expected it. That particular little self-indulgence. Even though the trigger for his arousal was as simple as sending an email, that didn't matter. He'd turned it into a trained response without trying to.

Shifting in his chair didn't help. He was warm, too warm, and increasingly aware of his body.

What was he doing? He was...

He was having trouble thinking it through. How could he get turned on so easily? From something so mundane? It barely made sense. But that didn't change how he felt. And the more he tried to think of how it didn't make sense to be so turned on, the more turned on he got. His own susceptibility was somehow erotic. To be so easily affected... He was light-headed, and the more muddled his head got, the more prickly-hot he felt all over.

He was unreasonably hard. An entirely different kind of whimper escaped his throat. His left hand was palming his clothed cock. When did that happen?

It was too good.

Fuck, if Eon saw him. Like this from sending a fucking email.

He was so weak for the thought of them. The arousal that had died off in the last miserable two weeks was back in full force, perhaps even stronger. He could only indulge it.

He sat in his chair with his head thrown back and tried to think. Was it even possible for him to pull apart the association he'd made between Eon and pleasure? Did he want to? Somehow both had gotten tangled together in his mind. Doing this - panting and palming his crotch all on account of sending them a message - was the absolute opposite of untangling one from the other. But it felt so good.

He could only imagine how good it would feel for them to watch him and tell him how good he was being.

How good a pet he was.

Eon. Being Eon's pet.

Eon.

Being Eon's pet.

He couldn't separate the two concepts now that he'd connected them.

He'd gotten so deeply immersed in the fantasy that he could almost forget that Eon had never actually suggested it to him.

If they had, the direction his desires were going in would be their fault. But he'd become enthralled by the idea of being a good little pet without anyone ever mentioning it to him.

He could blame Eon for being attractive. But only he was to blame for connecting his attraction to them with the idea of being their pet.

It felt like it was meant to be. Every time he thought of submitting, he thought of submitting to them.

Conall pulled himself from the chair and stumbled towards his bedroom, still grinding his palm against his clothed crotch as he went.

This would feel so much better with the toy he'd bought.

He had looked at it when it came, but beyond that not given it too much thought. Now he turned it over in his hands, feeling the heft and flushing at the length of it as he traced the smooth taper from tip to widest girth. It was long. At the widest point it was thick. There was no way he was taking the whole thing without serious practice.

The size of the toy wasn't too far off from Eon in all their priapic glory. Wasn't that an idea...

He'd need to work up to it. Train himself. Conall bit his lip lightly and whimpered. Again it came back to training. Showing he could be a good boy, a diligent pet.

All trained up before Eon ever even touched him. He had the sudden image of presenting himself to them with a leash for them to clip onto his collar. Fuck, should he buy one? No, he was getting ahead of himself. They weren't even involved with each other yet, outside of Conall's imagination.

Conall threw a towel on the bed and crawled up on top of it, kicking off his pants and then grabbing at the lubricant he'd never put away from his bedside table. He slathered the thing in it, and his fingers, and hurriedly stretched and lubed himself. Before he even started to slide the toy in, he was panting.

He wanted to take the whole fucking thing so badly. But when he began inching the tip inside himself he knew there was no way he was doing that today. Still he wanted. God, there were a lot of things he wanted.

He wanted Eon watching him and praising him, sharp white teeth and pointed tongue flashing with every word they uttered. He wanted them to see how absolutely desperate he was. He wanted it to be one of their hands working the toy into his ass. He wanted them to use it as a substitute length to fuck him with.

With a pleasurable shudder Conall took hold of his cock, mouth going slack and open. The delirious heat in his body intensified. It took effort to concentrate on pulling the toy almost all the way out and then sliding it back again, very slightly deeper. That was his limit. Lying on his back, wide eyed, Conall clenched around it and jerked his cock. He thought of Eon looming over him. So close... They'd pull the toy out and slide it back in again and smile so indulgently. Eon leaning over him, so close but so far. Fucking him with the toy, breath hot enough to fog the air as their cock dripped, barely holding back from replacing the silicone with their real length. Conall heard himself moan, imagined the 'good pet' they'd reward him with for voicing his lust so openly.

He obsessed over the thought of Eon hearing and seeing Conall so clearly and wanting him in return, the careful distance between them simmering with barely controlled desire. It boiled over in the only way possible as Conall's hot cum splashed against his stomach, eyelids fluttering and chest heaving. He moaned wordlessly as he pumped his cock until there was nothing left.

It was almost disappointing how quickly he'd climaxed. But then, he had been truly worked up. And he felt so full. Fuck, he wished he didn't have to wait to get off again. Even if the fuzzy warmth in his limbs and head was lovely, leaving him all limp and relaxed. He'd missed this. He needed this. He lay there for a long time, simply enjoying the feeling. He didn't even want to move until the idea surfaced that Eon might have read his email and replied already. Then it was all he could focus on, even while his muscles refused to listen to him.

It didn't even matter that he'd ended up contacting them again. He just wanted, wanted... He needed their attention, their praise, their approval. It could be for anything, for telling them what he thought of a movie, whatever, the most inconsequential of things, even if it was completely unimportant, it didn't matter, he wanted any scrap he could get.

As soon as he could move again he wiped his hands on the sheets and then scrabbled for his phone, checking breathlessly if Eon had replied. Were they as desperate to hear from him as he imagined, as he hoped they would be?

There it was! Their reply! He perked up immediately, letting out an eager little gasp upon opening it and seeing a good paragraph of text. His embarrassment at himself was a barely there and fleeting thing, drowned out by the sheer excitement he felt.

"My dear Conall,

It's wonderful to hear from you again! I was afraid I had accidentally scared you away outright. I would be very sad if I did - you're charming and sweet, and very willing to indulge my obsession with movies. I want to keep talking and getting to know you better.

If you'd be willing to indulge me further, I'd like to invite you to dinner next weekend. My treat! You deserve a little time off now and then, and I'd like to see your face again. Consider it an apology for the mess I made in your office that time.

What do you say? Let me know if you're happy to get dinner. I'll adjust my expectations accordingly if you don't see an in-person meeting in the stars for us anytime soon.

I very much enjoyed your thoughts on Blood Nuns, too. Thank you for that! Just wanted to lead with my little dinner idea, because I'm excited to know what you think.

Fond regards,

Eon"

In sheer effervescent excitement that they wanted to talk to him and to see him, Conall wrote his reply straight away.

"Dear Eon,

It's great to hear from you, too. I would love to meet for dinner! Let me know where and when you were thinking of. I'm happy you liked my thoughts on the movie.

Kind regards,

Conall"

Email sent, Conall realised he'd done it while naked from the waist down with the toy still wedged inside him. It was ridiculously shameless of him. It was hot.

Heat settled low in his gut with the thought and he reflexively clenched around the length, feeling it rub against his insides. He was turned on again. It felt like the best idea in the world to touch himself more, heavy breaths and the slick slide of his fingers on his cock filling the room again as he worked himself off a second time.

The aftermath saw him pulling out the toy with a quiet "fuck" at how empty he felt without it. Conall lay back again, head fuzzy with both warm satisfaction and the excitement of seeing Eon again. Time stretched without him noticing, and he only moved again to pull the bedcovers over him, slipping into a contented doze afterwards.

It was only when he woke from dozing that he realised what he had done. Later, when he was more aware, he read back over his response and sighed heavily. Well, he'd said he would, he couldn't go back on his word now.

Conall couldn't have done it, anyway. Couldn't reject their offer so completely, not again. It had hurt him. Probably hurt them, too. He didn't want to.

So he'd failed terribly at following through on the idea of breaking things off. But talking to Eon wasn't so bad, was it? It was only talking. Or, well... Only meeting for dinner, which was a little more than 'only talking'. But if he could be content with that much... Wouldn't that make it easier not to reach the point of desperation?

It had to be okay to have a little bit of what he wanted. He couldn't bear it otherwise. A little was fine. Not everything, but a little. Like meeting for dinner. That was such a small thing in comparison to everything else, to all the things he wanted but couldn't let himself have. It would have to be enough.