51 - Blue & Purple

Morning light sifted softly through the curtains, pale as a whispered apology.

Sebastian winced, sitting up. His thighs throbbed, his lower back pulsed with bruises he didn’t need to see—though curiosity won. In the mirror, blue and purple bloomed along his hips, where Ezra’s grip had claimed him.

He traced a mark, jaw tight. “Lovely,” he muttered. “You little slut.”

“Mmmm, Daddy, have you seen my—ohmyGod!” Mia’s voice cut in.

Sebastian spun, fumbling the robe. “Privacy, you animal!”

She snorted. “My black hoodie—the one with red stripes?”

“Nope. And even if I had, I wouldn’t return it. You stole my moisturizer.”

“You steal my hoodies.”

“I’m making better fashion choices.”

She smirked and shut the door.

Sebastian exhaled, leaning on the counter, muscles still buzzing from Ezra’s touch—the lingering heat of Ezra’s rut scent close by, sharp and wild beneath the soft lavender that clung to him.

Downstairs, coffee and something cooking.

He padded in, scarf loose around his neck, oversized shirt clinging just enough to remind Ezra of the marks beneath.

Ezra stirred by the stove, sleeves rolled, the scent of sandalwood and spice thick around him, mingling with Sebastian’s lavender—tension humming between them.

“I made oatmeal,” Ezra said quietly.

Sebastian teased, “No eggs benedict? No apology roses?”

Ezra’s fingers brushed his wrist—light, reverent before kissing his temple.

Sebastian didn’t pull away.

Before words could come, the twins stormed in.

“Daddy, Camden said poop isn’t a feeling!” Caleb announced, barreling into Sebastian.

Sebastian blinked. “It’s not. What are you two talking about?”

“Camden said it feels like poop in his heart,” Caleb said, dead serious.

Sebastian lifted his scarf dramatically. “Same, baby. Like hell.”

Ezra tried not to smile. “Language.”

Sebastian shot him a look. “You’re one to talk.”

Ezra shrugged, then later, when the twins were distracted, leaned close behind Sebastian’s chair, lips grazing just below his ear.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

Sebastian didn’t meet his eyes. “You left bruises.”

Ezra’s hand gripped the chair tighter. “I know. You don't like it?”

Dark eyes finally locked with Ezra’s. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Ezra’s breath hitched. His grip tightened.

“I just don’t want to explain to six-year-olds why I’m waddling like a penguin.”

Ezra laughed softly, head dipping, his breath warm against Sebastian’s neck.

“Don’t get smug.”

“You’re wearing a scarf.”

“Covering your marks.”

“I’m curating a look.”

Ezra kissed the edge of his jaw once and sebastian didn’t leaned in.

“Daddy! See balloons!”

The shrill cry cut through, two socked feet thundering in.

Camden waved a red packet. Caleb held pale, rubbery shapes.

Sebastian blinked.

Ezra muttered, “Oh hell.”

“Daddy, look! We found more balloons!” Camden said proudly.

Sebastian picked up the packet like it might bite. “Whose brilliant idea was this?”

Caleb held up a condom, twisting it.

“Found ’em in the bin! The kitchen bin!”

“In the—”

“Where Dad threw away Aunt Clara’s gift!”

Sebastian froze.

Ezra paled.

The silence thickened.

Sebastian turned slow, eyes narrow. “Clara’s what now?”

Ezra, shell-shocked: “I thought I tossed them. Like, a week ago. You made me swear.”

Sebastian hissed, “You did! You said you dumped the whole box!”

“I did! I swear! I threw them away the second you stormed out!”

The twins bounced condoms like jellyfish.

Sebastian crouched beside them, voice soft, calm. “Baby, what do you mean about Aunt Clara’s gift?”

Camden grinned. “She put it in Dad’s pocket!”

“When?” Sebastian asked.

“Yesterday, yesterday, yesterday,” they paused then chorused. "Eight yesterdays."

Sebastian stood slowly.

Ezra’s throat worked. “She put it in my pocket?”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “I’m gonna kill her.”

Ezra stepped forward. “Seb—”

Sebastian turned, lips tight. “Keep your crazy pregnant ex in check, Ezra.”

Ezra swallowed. “I didn’t know, Seb, I swear—”

Camden tugged Sebastian’s pants. “Are they not balloons?”

“No, sweetie. Those are Daddy’s past mistakes.”

Ezra swore softly, gathering the twins. “Okay, okay. Let’s put those away. Real balloons later. No more digging in the trash.”

The boys groaned.

Sebastian folded his arms, back turned, throat tight, ribs aching—not just from bruises, but from the sting of betrayal.

Ezra’s hand ghosted over his back. “I’m sorry.”

Sebastian exhaled. “Of course you are.”

That evening, the house was dim and humming with the quiet noises of post-dinner lull.

The front door creaked open just as the last sliver of sunlight died over the trees. Ezra’s boots hit the entryway with quiet weight, and he let out a sigh that seemed to drop from somewhere deep in his chest.

The kids were already down for the night—he could hear the faint hum of their white noise machine through the hallway upstairs.

From the living room, a voice floated out, soft and amused: “You’re late.”

Ezra looked up to see Sebastian curled on the couch, one knee drawn up beneath the oversized hoodie he always stole from Ezra’s closet. His curls were damp from a shower, pushed back from his face. Lavender threaded the air like a physical hand dragging Ezra closer.

“I had to make a stop.” Ezra held up the small black box in his hand. “Told you I’d take care of it. Come upstairs.”

Sebastian followed him without another word.

The bedroom was dim—only the lamp beside the bed was on. Ezra sat on the mattress, exhaling, and patted the space beside him. Seb curled up next to him with that soft curiosity he wore so well. Ezra opened the box.

The collar lay inside, a clean line of matte black leather with soft grey suede inside to cushion skin.

At the back was a reinforced magnetic lock, smooth and seamless. The key was slim, resting in its own little slot. It wasn’t something you could undo easily, not in the middle of sex, not when instinct kicked in.

Seb’s fingers grazed the edge of the collar. “That’s… kind of beautiful.”

Ezra’s voice was lower than usual, almost hoarse. “It locks at the back. I won’t be able to rip it off, even if I want to. Should keep me from marking you.”

He lifted the collar, gently pulled Sebastian forward so he sat with his back to Ezra’s chest. Ezra’s fingers were careful as he wrapped the leather around that delicate throat. The soft scent of lavender swelled beneath his touch, sweet and maddening.

“It’s snug,” Seb murmured, voice low.

“Should be,” Ezra replied, fitting the lock into place with a soft click. The collar sat like it was made for him—because it was.

Seb reached up, touching the metal tag at the front.

Then, with a wicked little smile, he shifted—sliding off the bed and lowering himself between Ezra’s legs, knees pressing to the floor, palms on Ezra’s thighs.

The look he gave him was deliberately soft.

Submissive.

“Alpha… do I look good?” he asked in that sugar-sweet Omega voice, head tilted, lips parted, the collar glinting against his throat.

Ezra’s fangs ached instantly, pressure flaring behind his gums. His tongue flicked across one canine like it might help.

“Sebastian…” he growled.

Seb blinked up at him, all innocence and mischief. “Yes, Alpha?”

Ezra braced a hand on the edge of the bed, the other resting firmly on Seb’s cheek. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

Seb rolled his eyes and pushed up to his feet with a little noise of protest. “Relax. Teasing you is half the fun.”

Ezra watched him stand—long legs, collar snug, hoodie barely covering the curve of his thighs. His voice dropped low, heated and rough.

“Now I can fuck you any way I want,” he said, slowly, “without worrying about losing control.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him.

“You better not dare lose control,” he said crisply, stepping around him toward the dresser. “Because some of us still need to be able to walk to work in the morning.”

Ezra leaned back on his elbows and grinned, dark and hungry.

“No promises, Omega.”

Seb didn’t turn around. But the curve of his smirk, reflected in the mirror, said everything.

Challenge accepted.