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Jason and Lucas cleaned up the dishes once we’d finished eating. From my comfortable spot on the couch, I could hear them arguing over the clatter of dishware, their voices rising with increasingly potent threats and taunts. It made me snicker, getting the attention of Manson and Jess as they snuggled on the other end of the couch.
“I think those two need to fuck it out,” Jess said, surprising us enough that Manson burst into laughter.
“I agree with you,” I said. “But when Jason wants a particular reaction, he’s going to keep pushing until he gets it.”
Manson shook his head. “These damn brats and their terrible communication methods.”
Jess looked like she was winding herself up to protest that assessment. Lucky for her, Jason came out of the kitchen just then, and spoke up before she could.
“That was a damn good morning, Jess,” he said, leaning over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Are you down to go for a run with me? I’m going to fall into a food coma if I don’t get some blood flowing.”
“She’ll be staying with us,” I said. “After all, she still has duties to fulfil for her master.” Jess gave me a wide-eyed expression, and I grinned when she turned those beautiful eyes toward Manson.
“I’d hate to neglect my duties,” she said with such a sweetly demure look that I could barely resist snatching her off his lap for my own nefarious purposes.
But I’d made Manson a promise that I’d handle things today. Not that there was anything particularly serious to be in charge of; we were on vacation after all. It was symbolic power more than anything else. Manson needed a way to convince his brain to chill, and I’d do whatever I could to give him that.
We weren’t at our best when one of us was struggling, but we wouldn’t let each other struggle alone.
“Suit yourself,” Jason said. “I guess you’ll behanging aroundtoday, huh?”
Lucas came out of the kitchen, wiping his damp hands on a towel that he twisted up and snapped toward Jason’s ass.
“How about you leave the terrible puns to Vincent,” he said, when Jason yelped and leapt back from the towel’s bite. “Stick to being our resident gym brat.”
Jason rolled his eyes as he rubbed his ass. “Pretty sure this gym brat can lift more than you can.”
“I don’t care what you can lift, buddy,” Lucas said. “I only care how fast you can run. Come on. You want to go for a jog, I’ll go with you.”
“All right, you’re on. Let me get my shoes.”
They were still taunting each other when the front door slammed behind them a few minutes later. Manson groaned contentedly, leaning his head back on the couch as he snuggled Jess closer. She trailed her fingers over his bare chest, tracing the tattoos he had inked there. She followed the lines of his collarbone, then went lower, her fingers lingering on the small patch of dark hair low on his belly.
Watching her gentle touches gave me shivers, especially when she started kissing her way down his chest.
“Enjoying yourself, baby?” I said, and she nodded her head. Manson’s eyes were still closed, his entire body relaxed — except for the tension straining in his sweatpants. His eyes opened briefly when I got up off the couch, and I said, “Keep making him feel good. I’ll be right back.”
My supplies were packed away in my bag, so I went to the bedroom to grab them. I was generally a pretty goofy guy, but when it came to bondage, I took it seriously. Obviously, I’d still do it all with a smile, and I couldn’t resist cracking a good joke. But some things were far too important to be lax about.
Being a rigger had, in many ways, forced me to mature. I’d developed an interest in rope early, and I’d been lucky enough as an adult to meet people with far more experience than I had, people who were willing to teach me and put me on the right path.
Typically, I cringed away from anything I had to take too seriously, but this was different. Bondage could be subversive, it could be healing. Playing with power dynamics and control could be the most freeing thing some people would ever do.
I grabbed my duffel bag from the bedroom and returned to find Jess and Manson had moved to the floor. He was lying on his stomach, his arms folded beneath his head as Jess scratched her nails soothingly along his back. He looked like he could fall asleep at any moment, which was perfect. I wouldn’t be doing a damned thing unless he felt calm enough.
Jess lifted her head curiously as I unpacked my supplies. I had several long coils of well-used hemp rope, as well as a few shorter lengths. I also had a pair of EMT sheers, a backup cutter that I left in my bag, and a first-aid kit.
When I looked up, Manson had opened his eyes and Jess looked excited. “Am I getting tied up today?” she said.
“I am,” Manson said, and she looked down at him in surprise.
“The rope is for you?” she said. “But your list said restraints on yourself were a limit.”
He nodded, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “They’re a soft limit.”
“Perhaps more of a medium firm limit,” I said, and he grinned. “Manson doesn’t get off on being restrained like you do, Jess. It’s a platonic interest.” I stood, uncoiling the rope. “Why don’t you undress him, baby?”
She didn’t have to be told twice. He didn’t have much on to begin with, but she pulled his sweatpants off him, kissing and caressing him as she did. She paused before taking off his briefs, a question in her expression.
