By Monday morning, the boundary line didn't just blur; it melted away entirely.
It began under the sharp, fluorescent lights of Dean’s bedroom as he dressed for work. Beneath the crisp collar of his white cotton dress shirt rested a thin, flat strip of supple black leather—a day-collar Kellan had handed him on Sunday evening. It was narrow, unadorned, and completely hidden beneath his silk tie, but it sat snug against his throat. Every time Dean swallowed, turned his head, or reached for his coffee mug, the slight drag of leather against his skin served as a silent, unrelenting tether straight back to Kellan.
In public, they remained stepfather and housemate. But inside the walls of the estate, the contract breathed in every room.
"Posture, Dean."
The command was delivered in a low, ev
