In the car, Monty cuts a sharp figure against the dark leather interior. They look nothing like a typical Companion would aside from the simple leather collar securely fastened around their throat and the small silver nametag that dangled in the center that had stamped upon it Property of Justin Baruch in a tasteful script.

Their face lights up the moment Justin sits down, even though their Patron doesn't spare them a single glance. The car purrs to life and starts to drive and for a moment, Monty is flooded with worry, their gaze cast down at their own feet. Was Justin ignoring them? Whenever Justin did, it was usually an intentional form of punishment, a manifestation of their Patron's displeasure. Did I do something wrong? they think, their fingers rubbing over their own knuckles nervously. Maybe they shouldn't have leaned so heavily into their masculine presentation, maybe they should have asked for permission first, maybe when they looked like this it wasn't as attractive to their Patron as when they were slight and girly and pretty -

But then the sudden pressure of Justin's hand reaching over and grabbing onto the small curve of their cock beneath their clothes makes Monty squeak, their knees pinching together cutely. "S-sir," they murmur helplessly, hips starting to squirm. They grip onto their Patron's wide wrist as if to try and push him off, as if they didn't want this (but they do, they really, really do).