Bonus Predicament

Bonus: Predicament

"You ready, sweetheart?"

Channon nodded, forcing himself to relax. Today was supposed to be a challenge, and he was ready for it. "Yes, Sir," he said, looking Jack in the eye.

"Good," Jack said, reaching for a hank of rope. "Okay. Let"s begin."

He started at Channon"s feet. Channon stood with his ankles apart, hands behind his back, watching Jack on the floor. To have Jack kneel in front of him was strange, but as Jack lashed Channon"s ankles to a pole to keep them separated, the strangeness went away. Jack glanced up, his fingers lingering possessively on Channon"s calf, and the sharp look in his eye took away the last of the strangeness—there was no question of who was in charge here.

Jack"s hands were loving as they moved up Channon"s body and wrapped Channon"s torso in rope. Raw jute today— "I"m feeling traditional," Jack said, chaffing a hank against the underside of Channon"s arm to make it itch. Channon shivered and accepted his fate.

Jack had hooked a chain to the ring in the ceiling of the playroom, and now he tied Channon"s chest-harness to it. It would give him something to hang against, letting him redistribute his weight. He didn"t need it yet, but he knew he would. They"d done things like this before, after all.

His arms were bound together above and behind his head, and then leashed to the hanging chain. Jack tightened the leash to keep them in place, putting pressure on Channon"s shoulders. It burned. Jack cinched the rope a little tighter, watching Channon"s face as he winced.

"Good?" Channon nodded. Jack"s eyes softened. "Good might not be the right word for it," he said wryly, and Channon breathed out.

You asked for this,he reminded himself. So he said, "Green," and Jack was satisfied.

It was so tender, the way Jack tied him, the way his hands moved on Channon"s skin. Jack was especially tender with Channon"s balls as he leashed them. "Comfortable?" he asked. Channon blew out a breath. Was it ever comfortable to have rope tied around your sack? But he nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"You sure?" Jack stroked the taut flesh. "It"s going to get worse."

"I know, Sir. I can take it."

Was that true? Channon hoped it was.

Jack anchored a rope to the one above his hips and looped it around the pole. "Up on your toes," he said as he drew the rope taut. Channon exhaled, his body folding, and pushed up with his toes to try to keep his balance. He couldn"t straighten, not with that rope keeping him folded. He pointed his feet, trying to push himself up to get a little relief. That burned too, too much weight on his toes for him to hold it easily. It felt so awkward, but Jack looked at him with pleasure, and Channon knew this was exactly what he wanted.

"Can you hold that?" Jack asked.

"Yes, Sir," Channon promised.

Jack smiled. "Good."

He turned away, moving to the wall. There was an electric kettle set up, and he flicked it on. Channon would have been more worried about it if he hadn"t already seen the cup beside it. He watched as Jack made himself a cup of tea. and Channon bit his lip.

Jack came back with his tea and sat in the armchair he"d set up for the best viewing angle of his handiwork. The tea would have been too hot to drink, but the smell of it bloomed in the air, and Channon closed his eyes, wondering if that smell would bring this moment back to him later, if he"d always remember it when Jack drank that particular tea.

His calves burned, his thighs too. He felt his breath getting shorter and shallower. He tried to focus on the goal here, which was to endure this for as long as he could. We"ve barely started. He tried not to think about that.

"Channon," Jack said softly.

Channon opened his eyes. Jack smiled. It made Channon"s heart race. He loved that smile. He"d do anything for that smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Kind of...off balance," Channon confessed, his voice sounding strangled. "It"s weird."

"Your feet don"t normally do that," Jack said, nodding at them. "It"s unnatural for you. But imagine you were wearing high heels."

Channon thought high heels were a fair bit different but didn"t say so. He breathed, and settled against the rope at his back that held him up, balancing on his toes. It wasn"t that bad, really. He could handle it.

"You look almost comfortable," Jack said, leaning forward to run his fingers over Channon"s balls in their rope prison. He caught the tail of the rope, the leash, and tugged gently. Channon shivered, trying not to wobble. "I should do something about that."

And then Jack pulled the leash down, stretching Channon"s balls as he looped the rope around the pole between his ankles. A sound of dismay slipped out of Channon"s mouth, but Jack just smiled and pulled the rope tighter. Channon"s toes took the brunt of it, as he tried to hunch over himself, his breath coming faster. It ached. God, it ached, and the itch of the rope made it worse. As he bent, the pressure on his arms deepened until they burned. Oh god, it was getting worse by the second.

"Too much?" Jack asked, more curious than concerned.

Channon inhaled and then let the breath go as slowly as he could, breathing out the ache with it. Did that relieve it? Not really, but somehow he could stand it better.

"I can take it," he said, his voice a little wobbly.

"That"s a good boy," Jack said warmly, and it wasn"t fair. When he said things in that voice, Channon was trapped, caught in the desire to be Jack"s very, very good boy.

Jack sat back and drank his tea, watching Channon as the ache solidified in him. It lurked in his arches and traveled up his calves, and every inch of it sunk him deeper. Slow, insinuating, it took him over, until it was all through him, echoing in every nerve. He strained to push himself up against the pain in his shoulders, and it drew the rope on his balls tighter. He had to choose every moment where to put the pain, where he could stand it. Every moment was a decision, and nothing was the right answer.

It was agony. It climbed his throat until he felt it in his breath, in every exhale. And Jack was watching him, rapt, as if this were exactly what he wanted.

Channon was simultaneously alone in the sensation, cocooned in it, and caught in the web of Jack"s attention. He felt like everywhere the rope dug into him was the touch of Jack"s hands holding him fast, insisting that he feel all of this. Channon heaved a breath, his throat thick. He let out a moan through his teeth, closing his eyes to concentrate. Did that help? God, he didn"t know.

He felt Jack draw close, heard Jack"s low hum of warning. Then Jack"s hand was on Channon"s side, sliding up. His fingers traced Channon"s armpit, making him shudder, his muscles tensing against the too-light touch. Jack chuckled, soft and deep.

"Oh, Channon. You"re doing so well."

The lump in Channon"s throat rose to choke him. He whimpered, not wanting to let it out.

"Is it too much?"

Channon shook his head, his lips pressed together against the intensity of what was being done to him.

"Can you take a little more?"

Could he? He tried to speak and found his voice was trapped beneath the lump in his throat. A sob bubbled up and out of him, his breath hitching dangerously. But it freed him. "Yes, Sir," he managed in a voice that was shaky and thick.

Jack exhaled, a long, low, satisfied sound. "Good. This is going to hurt."

The rope that trapped Channon"s arms above his head tightened. The agony in his shoulders flared hot and red behind his eyelids. He cried out, pushing himself up to meet it, but his feet were weak from the strain and nearly buckled under him. His body was a line of agony: toes, calves, thighs, balls, shoulders, and the place where the rope bit into his forearms.

It peaked, and Channon lost the last of his ability to stand it. The pain spilled out of his mouth. He heard himself beg Jack to stop, and his face felt wet.

The tension on his arms lifted. Not all the way, but enough for the ache in his shoulders to subside into a dull roar instead of an inferno.

"Give me a color," Jack said.

Channon couldn"t. He couldn"t say it. "Yellow" felt like failure, but "green" was so far away that it just wouldn"t come.

"Ah."

And the tension in his shoulders loosened, leaving him gasping in relief. He felt Jack move in front of him and felt the release of the rope that leashed his balls to the pole, then the one that kept him bent, and he shuddered, knowing this was coming to an end. Jack"s hands moved over him carefully, firm but soothing, rubbing him as the ropes came off, as he sunk to his knees on the floor, still shaking.

He leaned into Jack, and he could hear himself whimpering as Jack stroked him, as Jack took his weight and held him close. The scent of Jack"s cologne, woody and masculine, wrapped around him like a blanket, like the words Jack murmured to him.

"All right, sweetheart. It"s over. You did such a good job. I"m so proud of you for trying so hard."

The praise was too much. Channon turned his face into Jack"s neck and let himself sob. It was messy, but he had nothing left in him to care. The only things that mattered were Jack and Jack"s pride in him.

He lifted his head, and Jack kissed him on the mouth. "Good boy," he said. "That"s my perfect boy."

Channon breathed out and let Jack take care of him. He"d done his best, and that was all Jack ever asked.

Later, when they were curled up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate, Jack said, "Was it everything you wanted?"

"Did it make you happy?" Channon asked, lifting his eyes to Jack"s face.

Jack"s smile was soft, his thumb stroking over the indentation of rope on Channon"s forearm. "Very."

"Then yeah," Channon told him. He"d do it again, just to feel like this.

Jack kissed his hair. "I think you could handle a little more than that, next time."

Oh god. Channon snuggled into Jack"s chest. "I...probably, yeah. I could have, maybe, tonight."

"Mmm. Maybe."

Channon took a breath, feeling a little regret. "You could have gone further."

"You wouldn"t give me a color," Jack said evenly. "I"m not going to push you when you"re like that."

"I"m sorry, Sir," Channon started, but Jack shushed him.

"There"s nothing to be sorry for. You did your best, and I did my job. Which is what?"

"To take care of me," Channon said, feeling a rush of relief.

Jack nodded. "Exactly. Next time, though," he said with a smirk, "I have an idea for something you aren"t going to like at all."

It made Channon groan and hunch his shoulders. Of course Jack did. He probably daydreamed about it between conference calls.

But what he said was, "Whatever makes you happy, Sir." Because when Jack was happy, Channon was happy too.