Ben Loves a Challenge Ch. 09

"You have?" he croaked, feeling sheepish.

She moved inside and Dean kicked his shoes off and followed her. "Sorry," he whispered under his breath to Ben. "She's a very physical person."

He nodded, then followed Dean into her home. The hall instantly opened into a living room that blended seamlessly into a small kitchen. She had clear tackle box style boxes open on every surface of her living room, on the coffee table, the dining room table, the side tables, the couch, recliner, even on the two wooden benches that lined table. They all seemed to be filled with jewelry.

"Welcome to my home," Sheila said, beaming back at him. "You're looking to be collared?"

"Uh." Ben said. "Yeah?" He was overexposed, feeling pale.

Dean looked at him nervously. "Did you wanna take a look?"

He shook his head and Dean flinched slightly. "I, ah." He blushed hard, then stepped closer to Dean, tugging on his jacket to pull his ear lower. "You should pick it out, right? Like, if it's yours. I wanna wear your collar, Dean, not just a collar."

Dean stood stock-still, his body rigid under Ben's hand. "Yeah, that's okay. It's, like, yeah. Sure. Very okay. Super okay." He nodded, then squeezed Ben's hand and stepped away. Dean looked up at Sheila. "Is it okay if I just look around?"

"Of course. Did you want, you seem... Did you want some privacy? I can go upstairs, you could just call me when you decide?"

Dean smiled, looking gratefully at Sheila. "Thank you, please."

She nodded. "Of course. I'll just be upstairs." She disappeared upstairs, but Dean didn't watch her go. He moved around the room, appraising each box with his full concentration.

"Come here," he said after he'd gone through a few boxes. Ben approached him, his eyes on the metal chain in Dean's hand.

"I thought it would be more like a dog collar," he said.

Dean grimaced. "You can't wear a dog collar to work. You were wearing your tag under your shirt, I thought, I mean, if you'd rather a dog collar I can-"

"I can't wear a dog collar to work," he agreed, cutting Dean off before he could get himself worked up.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Um. This, these, um. Sheila makes BDSM collars. Once they're locked on only the Dom, I mean, only I could take it off."

"Are you my Dom?" Ben asked, realizing this was the first time they'd put labels to anything they did.

Dean flushed, looking down at the silver chain hanging from his fingers. "I thought. I mean, I wanna be. If you, I know we didn't talk about it, I'm sorry."

Ben watched Dean, unsure how to feel, but also unsure how to make Dean feel better. He knew he was submissive to Dean, enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. He hadn't thought about being collared, hadn't realized what it would mean. It wasn't just playful, it was a lot more meaningful than he'd realized. The way Dean was watching him told him everything he needed to know about how he felt about it, and about him.

"No, you're right. A dog collar would be a bit much. Can I see what you're looking at?"

Dean was trembling, he could see it as the hanging part of the chain shook. "Yeah. Is it okay? I should've waited, shouldn't I? I'm doing this all wrong."

He breathed out slowly. "Dean, please. Relax. It's all good. You pick one out for me."

Dean nodded, then dug into the boxes. Ben watched him raptly, watched how he moved with determination, how he evaluated each piece of jewelry, turning it over in his hands, then replacing it with a slight shake of his head. Ben approached his boyfriend slowly, enthralled with how important this was for him, and nervous about being collared by Dean.

He played with that statement in his mind. Getting collared by Dean. "What does it mean to you?"

He hadn't realized he'd even asked those words out loud, but Dean turned around sharply. "What? What does this collar mean to me?"

Ben nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah."

Dean flushed again. "Oh. Um. Like, you're mine. I'm not saying you're a thing, I don't mean it like that, but, like, you belong to me, in a dating lovers kinda way. Not a possession, not like that."

Ben nodded. "Not a possession, but possessive." He nodded again, things falling in place in his mind. "You really go from one extreme to the next, don't you?"

Dean flushed, looking away. He regretted saying it. "I just... It's just that important. To me, I mean. You're not gay. I..." He sighed. "I wanna tie you to me. It's selfish, I know, but I don't wanna let you go."

He nodded. "I like it. Can I see the one you've been holding onto?"

Dean had been carrying around a chain that looked like a miniature metal leash for a dog. Dean pulled it behind his back instinctively, his cheeks perfect little roses. "I, ah..."

"Please?"

Dean nodded, swallowing hard before he held out his hand. The chain was silver, like almost all the jewelry in the room, and really did look kind of like chainlink. The tiny links were thicker than normal, which was what gave it the leash appearance, and connected in a loop by a small hoop only slightly smaller than a nickel.

"Should I try it on?"

Dean shook his head. "No, this isn't quite right. I'm looking still... I don't wanna have you try anything on. I want... I want to put it on you, the right one, and not take it off."

"God, that's hot," Ben said before thinking. Dean took the collar from his fingers and put it back into a box.

"You really think so?"

He stepped up to Dean and grabbed his hand back, then brushed it over his pants. Dean's eyes rose as his knuckles brushed over Ben's hard-on. "Yeah."

He released Dean's hand. Dean stood there for another second, just looking in awe at Ben, then returned to his hunt, twice as determined. It was probably only two minutes later when he reached down into a box and pulled out something black. He looked up, then down at the collar again, then turned to Ben. "Sheila!"

Dean's squat friend made her way back downstairs looking pleased. "You found what you were looking for?"

"It's perfect," Dean breathed. "How much?"

Sheila's deep brown eyes flicked from Dean to Ben, then back to Dean. "Weren't you gonna put it on him first?"

Dean shook his head. "Not here. No, but this's it, I know it."

Sheila took it from him and looked at it, then returned it to him, then nodded to Ben. "I'll text you. You can Paypal me or whatever."

Dean nodded. "Is it expensive?" he asked. Dean pursed his lips.

Sheila turned to him. "Ben, hon, it's not about the cost." Dean nodded. "Go on, I can tell you're dying to put it on him."

"Thanks, Sheila, you're seriously the best and I love you forever!" Dean exclaimed, grabbing Ben's hand, slipping his new collar into his pocket with the other. A stab of jealousy tightened his gut over Dean's declaration of love.

"Hold up, here's the key, do you want an extra one?" Sheila asked, pulling a small black rod from one of the boxes.

"Yes, please," Dean agreed. He took two small rods from her and shoved them into his pocket.

"Don't you have dinner reservations?" Sheila asked, smiling, the light catching on a small stud through her lip. Ben did a double take, he hadn't noticed it before.

"Shit, right, dinner," Dean said, looking a little wild eyed. "Thanks, Sheila. Really."

"No problem, love. Ben, it's wonderful to meet you. Go on, get. You'll be late."

She practically pushed them out of her house, then shut the door behind them. "Should we go get dinner now?"

He bit his lip. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Ben?"

"Can we go back to your place instead? And do the collar?" He whispered the last part.

"Fuck, Ben," Dean moaned, then practically threw himself into his car. Ben followed, nervous and horny as hell.