Chapter Ten

The fine art of shibari had been handed down, Catia to Sal, Sal to Jack, until this “gift exchange”

on a lazy Christmas. Sal had never been prouder of his student. Really, was it right to call Jack a student with the ropes anymore? Now they learned from one another.

Sal couldn’t spare the headspace to admire Jack’s work before he’d come for the first time. That always seemed to chase out a few cobwebs. By the time he was hard again, he noted with professional pride the beautiful knots, the perfect tension, and he was so free with his compliments, Jack refrained from putting the rope back in his mouth and only blindfolded him.

“Do you really think so?”

Jack caressed one of his own knots causing friction across Sal’s nipple. “Just last month you said I tied like a drunk, one-armed monkey.”

“I was having a bad day. And, to be fair, so were you.”

“I’m moving your legs,”

Jack warned him, running hot fingers down thighs and ropes.

Sal chuckled. “You don’t have to be so polite all the time, Jack. I’ll tell you to slow down if I need to. And I have a safe word.”

The truth was, although Jack was learning to be less polite, Sal had never once used a safe word with him. It was, in fact, one of Sal’s ambitions to do so, to see how far he could push Jack, and, moreover, how far Jack could push him.

They would get there.

Jack took the hint this time, giving no verbal warning before he thrust into Sal, breaching him with a lube-slick cock but no preamble that left Sal tensing up, swearing. Sal, hands and feet tied, rope around his eyes, fought down his own instinctive responses, eager to let Jack have him, pulling in a real breath. Not that Jack was deterred by Sal’s momentary disquiet. Good.

Jack resumed talking only when he’d had those first thrusts, holding himself in up to his balls while he reached around to stroke Sal’s cock. “I pictured this with you all last night. I wish I could have had you there at the event.”

“How about a room for New Year’s Eve?”

Sal panted.

“You’re on.”

Jack pressed his mouth to the back of Sal’s neck in a long kiss. “I don’t want to come until you’re ready. Talk to me.”

“More. There. Work my balls too. Jack? I shouldn’t have said that about the drunk monkey. You’re getting better at this by leaps and bounds.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Then we still have a ways to go.”

“Just have to practice more.”

“Please.”

“Sal, I don’t think I can…”

“It’s alright, I’m ready. My balls are so fucking tight. I’m right there with you.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.”

“Sal—”

The sensation of Jack’s release inside him was exactly the nudge Sal needed to tip him into his own orgasm. He said nothing, the better to listen to Jack repeating his name over and over as he thrust.

Only when Jack removed enough knots to let him lie on his side, head on Jack’s sweaty chest, did he return to musing.

“Where could we get one of those chandeliers?”

Jack laughed. “Doesn’t go with the look we had in mind for the minimalist house.”

“Not too late to change.”

“No,”

Jack murmured, kissing his hair. “Never too late. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack.”

Was it too sappy to say? Too sentimental? He plowed on before the after-sex high left him. “I hope … we’ll start our own Christmas traditions together.”

“I think we just did.”

A hush, then they were both laughing, kissing, and still laughing. A merry Christmas indeed.