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    Summary

    Piers nodded soundlessly, giving Ingo the opportunity to digest the idea. He let him have a few minutes before he explained, “…As long as ya wear this, yere my pet. And I’ll take real good care of ya, love.”

    Ingo felt his throat suddenly dry at the affectionate term, his face flushing hotter. He reached out, fingers hesitant to brush the leather and he almost gasped at how soft it felt. The thought of it- of letting himself be Piers’ pet and just forgetting about all of his worries… It was too good an offer to pass up. What did he have to lose…?

    “…Yeah, sounds good. …I-I’ll be your pet.”

    —————————

    Another name for a railroad sleeping quarters.

    Part of my IngoFucksTM Propaganda

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