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Summary
“What do we say?” Cleo asks, fixing him with a stern glare. It sends a pulse through Etho’s core, and he wonders to himself if he’s prepared for what he’s gotten into.
The room is simple. A bed, some bedside tables, patterned curtains drawn. It smells of floral candles, which sit around the room, flickering a dull orange hue. Under Etho’s ass, the sheets are a little rough, but silky pillows brush his lower back, ever inviting.
Sitting in front of him, Cleo awaits his response. He swallows, and offers a smile. “Thank you, Sir.”
Series
- Part 8 of Costello's Kinktober 2026
