The Gay Prop Takes It After the Match: A Rough MM Rugby Collar Obedience Romance

Every match ends with me pretending the aggression is all there is, but the truth is I need Keith to strip it away in the only place we can risk it, the sweat-heavy equipment room where the rest of the team never goes. He doesn't speak when he pulls me inside after the final whistle, just grips my neck like he owns the right to decide what happens next.

The leather collar rests open in his hand, hovering at my throat while his fingers tighten their hold, and I feel the line I'm about to cross with every breath. My position on the squad, the club we've both bled for, even the small chance that this time he'll want more than my obedience all hang in the balance if I let him buckle it. The worst part is how badly I want him to anyway, no matter what it costs me.