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“Hey, babe… Remember how I said I wanted to try something new?”
Ford hums. He looks up from his book to arch a brow at you.
“I remember,” he confirms. He taps his pen against the page a bit. “Though I don't recall you explaining exactly what you meant by it.”
You hold up a bag in one hand, the contents shifting noisily as the unmarked black plastic swings from your fingers. “Wanna find out?”
While it isn't often that you stop in at the nearest sex shop, it happens frequently enough that Ford can easily recognize the suggestion behind the lack of visible branding. He gazes down at his book once more, the tip of his pen hovering over an underlined sentence you can't read from your angle. You can see the moment his curiosity wins.
“...Sure,” he says as he dogears his page.
Setting the book aside with his capped pen at a perfect parallel angle with the spine, Ford stands before offering a hand to you. You accept with a smile, lacing your fingers through his.
“I could probably do with a break at this point, anyway,” he adds, fondness in his eyes.
It may not sound romantic to everyone, but you know him well enough to know what it means that he's willing to take breaks for you.
You lead him into the bedroom by your linked hands.
☆•°○%.%○°•☆
Once you're positive the door has been secured to prevent entry by any unsuspecting relatives, you direct Ford toward the bed with a gentle nudge.
“Here, sit,” you say as you begin to rummage through the bag.
Ford obliges you. As he sits, he pinches the lapel of his blazer between two fingers.
“Should I undress?”
You hum thoughtfully as you begin withdrawing items from the bag, setting them on the nightstand. Finally, you say, “Everything but your underwear.”
Ford nods his understanding and obeys your instructions, watching you with open curiosity as he peels off his coat and turtleneck. He furrows a brow as he takes in the supplies you unveil one by one: lube, a string of condoms, a ball gag.
Ford tears his gaze away from your task as he looks down to unfasten his belt and open his button fly. As he does, he says, “You're domming tonight, I presume?”
You smile as your fingers close around the item you're most excited for—the one that gave you the idea for this scene in the first place. You don't bring it out just yet, but you answer Ford's question.
“Unless you're not feeling it. You’ve been so tense lately, I figured this might help you relax.”
Ford smiles bashfully, huffing a laugh through his nose as he shimmies his pants down his thighs. “Perceptive as always, my dear. I swear sometimes you know how I'm feeling before I do.”
“Just call me the Ford Pines expert,” you say with a grin. “Okay, ready?”
He cocks an eyebrow at you, looking mildly amused by your question.
“I've taken my clothes off, as requested,” he answers. “I can't really know if I'm ready for something that hasn't been explained.”
You laugh. “Okay, smartass, I see your point. Here, now that you’re undressed I can show you the main event.”
You reach back into the bag for the big surprise, your fingers closing around a multi-layered material that’s leather on the outside and padded, breathable fabric on the inside. The collar is a desaturated red that matches Ford’s favorite sweater, and the silver buckle glints in the soft light of your bedroom.
Ford raises both eyebrows, his gaze fixed on the collar in your hand. “...I’m gonna be honest, I wasn’t expecting that. What, am I meant to pretend to be a dog? I don’t really get it.”
You waver a hand in the air. “Sort of? It’s more like… Well, it’s the ‘taking care of you’ part that I thought would be nice. You get to give up control and be taken care of for a little while. You don’t have to do it, I just thought it might add a little to the—”
“No!” Stanford interjects suddenly. His face is flushed, and you have to fight the urge to coo over him. He fidgets, looking pointedly away from you as he says, “I… think I might like to use the collar. It… sounds nice, the way you put it.”
You smile at him, starting toward him with the collar open and ready to put on. “Yeah? You think you’d like being my good puppy, Ford?”
Ford’s face turns a deep red. He can’t meet your eyes, but you can tell that his interest is piqued because his face is turning such a brilliant shade of crimson that it’s impossible to interpret in any other way.
“I–I, I uh,” he clears his throat. “...Y-Yes?”
You grin. “You remember the safe word? Er—signal?”
Ford nods, his face still a deep shade of crimson.
“Okay, pup,” you say gently. You put the collar around his neck, letting it settle against his collarbone and buckling it to the right size. “You think you’re gonna be okay with a gag, too?”
Ford seems to mull it over for a moment, and then he nods. You’re stricken by how natural this seems—not just for Ford, but for you. He looks down at his collar as much as he can, touching it with one hand as that flush returns to his face.
“Okay, babe, then get ready,” you murmur softly. “Open your mouth for me, pretty boy.”
He does so without any further instruction, and you slot the ball of the gag into his mouth, letting him get used to the intrusion before you buckle it behind his head.
“Just tap the signal on me if you need me to stop, okay?”
He tries to speak around the gag in his mouth, but he ends up producing little more than a muffled murmur. He gives a thumbs-up, and you reach out to stroke his hair. He hums and leans into your touch, not noticing your hand creeping up until it’s hooked in his collar and dragging him forward. Whining around the gag in his mouth, Ford follows you obediently until he's on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. You smile at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.
“What a good doggy,” you stop petting his head to cup his cheek. “Who's my good boy?”
He looks up at you with the most trusting eyes, and your heart feels like it's being squeezed by a vise. Seeing Ford vulnerable always reminds you of how lucky it is that he feels safe with you; he's had his autonomy taken by force so many times, and here he is now giving it away.
“Okay, doggy, let's see if you know any tricks…” You stroke his fringe back from his forehead. “Roll over.”
Ford blinks, processing the command, and then he carefully turns onto his back. He tips his head to one side and hums, and you realize he's asking for your approval.
Smiling brightly, you say, “Good boy! Such a smart puppy, aren't you, Ford?”
Ford blushes again, turning his head away bashfully.
You run a hand over his chest, fingers carding through his sparse chest hair on the way down to his stomach. You stroke your hand over his belly a few times, petting him, before you brush your fingertips over the trail of hair that vanishes under the hem of his boxers. You’re a little surprised when you glance down to see that Ford’s already starting to get hard.
“Aww, does my sweet puppy like tummy rubs?” You coo, letting your fingers dip beneath the waistband of Ford’s underwear. “What a naughty, naughty doggy. You want me to touch you there, boy?”
Ford whines, squirming in place and tipping his hips toward your touch, but before he can get even the barest hint of stimulation on his cock you pull your hand away.
“Down, boy,” you say lowly, pushing his hips until they’re flat against the mattress. “You’re gonna have to show me you can behave before I let you have a treat. How about you do another trick for me?”
He furrows his brows, turning back to look at you with a question in his eyes.
You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, and then whisper in his ear, “Beg for me, doggy.”
Ford’s breath hitches audibly. He tries, by instinct, to speak—and when he remembers the gag, he pauses.
“You’re still trying to think like a person, silly,” you chide. “I want you to beg like a dog.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. He lifts his arms and bends his wrists until they’re about as close as can be to paws. He whines a few times, spreading his knees a little further apart to put his growing erection on display for you.
“Aww, that’s a good boy,” you say, reaching down to roll the pad of your thumb over one of Ford’s nipples. It leaves him panting, and you chuckle, adding, “You like that, Ford?”
He whines again. His cock is so hard that it’s tenting his boxers, and you think you spy the beginnings of a small wet patch forming near the head.
“Poor pup,” you say softly. You continue to grope him—his chest, his belly, his thighs—but you don’t give him anything in the one place he really wants it. “You hate getting teased, don’t you, puppy? So unfair.”
Ford remains obediently in the begging position, and you can see the glint of tears in his eyes. He whimpers one more time, rolling his hips against empty air.
“Okay, baby, okay. I guess you’ve earned a reward, huh?” You tug his boxers down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a slow stroke.
Ford moans, his cock twitching in your hand. He reaches out with both hands to grip at the sheets, a full-body shudder rippling through him as he watches you touch him.
You pause to spit into your hand before you increase your pace, teasing the head of Ford’s dick with your thumb just frequently enough to make the tears in his eyes finally overflow. He starts rutting into your hand, spreading his precum along his length without you even needing to try.
“Good boy, Ford. Good boy,” you murmur.
With the hand not occupied by his length, you reach up to toy with his nipples again, and it pleases you to note the way his cock responds to the additional stimulation.
“Sweet boy… Look how excited you are. I hardly even had to lift a finger and you’re already throbbing and dripping for me.”
Ford whines, tugging at the sheets desperately. He’s crying from the overstimulation, and you can’t help but admire the way he looks with tears tracking down his face. You pause a moment and lean down to kiss his cheek, and then you leave a trail of them down across his jaw, along the length of his neck; you keep moving down until you’re kissing and biting at the curve of each of his hips.
Ford bucks his hips into the air again, whimpering and crying for you as his cock barely misses your mouth. He keeps his hands at his sides and doesn’t try to speak around the gag in his mouth.
“Okay, pup. You’ve been so good for me tonight, I’d be really mean to not let you finish. Isn’t that right, boy?”
Ford nods. It’s very clearly the only thing he wants—the only thing you’ve left him able to think about. Which means that your ultimate plan worked, and Ford’s finally giving his brain a rest for once.
You sit up, leaning close to pet his hair. “Okay, honey, okay. Think you can do one more trick for me first?”
The look in his eyes says, I will literally do anything you want, so long as you touch my cock.
“Okay pup. Speak. ”
Ford’s breath catches again, and searches your face for a clue as to what’s expected of him. You smile patiently, giving the slightly stubbly area below his chin a gentle scritch.
“We’ve already made sure the walls are decently soundproofed. Nobody will be able to hear; you can be as loud as you want.”
Ford inhales deeply, and then he gives his best rendition of a dog bark—at least, the best he can do with a gag in his mouth. When you don’t react, he does it again, earnestly trying his best to produce the right sound for you.
“Good, baby,” you say lovingly. You hook two fingers in the ring at the front of his collar and pull him toward you so you can kiss his forehead again. “Very good boy.”
Your hand closes around his cock again, and you start jerking him off in earnest—foregoing all the teasing and focusing instead on bringing him over the edge.
“Go on, baby. You’ve been such a sweet, dumb puppy for me,” you say, your voice low. A gift for Ford’s ears alone. “Wish I could keep you like this all the time, Ford… You’re a perfect dog.”
Ford’s entire body trembles as you stroke him, and when he finally cums, it coincides with a sob that tears its way out of his chest. His seed spills over your hand, all over his stomach and dripping onto the waistband of his boxers.
“Ooh, big one,” you comment, idly stimulating him through his orgasm. “You really liked that one, huh?”
Ford’s hand jerks up from the sheets to grip your wrist, and you pause as he taps a short rhythm against you.
“All done, babe?”
He nods, letting his hand fall back against the mattress. His eyes slip closed, and he sighs. He gets another kiss on the head for his troubles, and then you unbuckle the gag for him.
“Bleugh,” he says as he spits it out, reaching to wipe his chin. “Careful, I… I think I drooled a little.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you say, back to affectionately teasing him now that he can respond. You set the gag aside on the nightstand. “Here, lemme get the collar o—”
Ford reaches up with one hand to stop you, touching the collar reverently with his other hand. “Can I… Keep it on for a bit? Just until we have to go back above-deck?”
The way he’s looking at you, with his big brown eyes still wet with tears, you can’t possibly deny him this. The whole point was to help him relax and make him happy, after all.
“Of course, Ford,” you say, reaching out to pet his hair. He leans into it, and you scratch lightly at his scalp for good measure. “C’mere, it’s cuddle time for you.”
He finishes tucking himself away and turns onto his side. You lie down and wriggle up behind him, holding him with one arm thrown over his torso. Before you can say another word, he yawns so hard that his jaw pops.
“You really take it outta me, ya know,” he says playfully. “Have a little mercy; I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Whatever, old man. Like you’re not the horny one,” you press a kiss to the back of his head. “Take your glasses off and go to sleep.”
“Way ahead of you,” he sets his glasses, already folded up, on the nightstand before settling back against you. “Night.”
“Goodnight, Ford.”
The two of you fall asleep that way, and if Ford forgets to take the collar off before he leaves the bedroom, that’s between you and him.
...And also Stanley, who had some very uncomfortable questions.