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It started as a joke.
Well. Not a joke, exactly. But it wasn't a serious request. Jack hadn't opened his mouth and said, "I'd love to tie you up and see how you like it" and expected anything to actually come of it.
But here they were. Here they were, in Dark's living room, next to Dark's nice couch, on his nice carpet, and Dark just-
-on his knees, patient and calm, as Jack tried to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to tie off the end of the rope at Dark's wrists.
And, you know, if it was just the wrists, it would be one thing. Having Dark bound in some way did something funny to his head that he wasn't prepared for, that he didn't really have any kind of precedent for, and he was curious about that.
But Dark didn't have him just tie his hands and be done with it. No, when Dark decided he was going to teach Jack how to do this, he decided he was going to teach him right. He'd given him knots to practice, given him reading material, showed him how to loop the rope over and over and over again, around his own leg, or arm, or practicing on a chair.
He'd been thorough enough that by the time Dark had knelt in his living room, long lengths of rope laid out for Jack to use, Jack had actually had a fair bit of confidence in what he was doing, enough knowledge to follow Dark's direction as he instructed him on how to wrap him up in an intricate web of pretty knots, until he was strung up like some kind of artistic . . . something.
"Now check the knot," Dark murmured when Jack managed to make something close to a presentable knot. "Make sure it's not pressing directly over bone, or cutting off circulation."
Jack swallowed, and ran his hands carefully around Dark's wrists, checking the pressure along there, and realizing he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for.
Which, of course, Dark picked up on.
"You can also just ask if it's comfortable," Dark said, amused, and Jack was too nervous to even cut him a look at that.
"Is it comfortable?" Jack asked in a hushed voice, and Dark hummed, twisting his wrists experimentally. It did something - it did something - to his brain to watch the man twist in the bindings that Jack had put him in, that Dark had let him put him in, and it took so much effort to stay focused, to listen to the answer, to be aware of anything but the way he could see the rope digging in lightly around Dark's skin.
How did Dark do this?
"Yes," Dark said finally, evenly, looking back up at Jack with a simple, easy expression, and Jack blew out a breath, and just . . . looked.
Dark was shirtless, kneeling on the floor next to the couch, his hands tied neatly behind his back. His arms were pulled back, lengths of rope wrapped around his wrists, his elbows, his upper arms, forcing his back into a light arch that accentuated the lengths of rope that framed his body in taught, elegant lines. They looped over his chest, down his sternum, wrapped tight around his abdomen in a thicker band that restricted the breath he could draw, pressed soft marks into his skin.
It was . . . it was a lot, it was a lot to see him like this, to see him just sitting there, patient, on his knees, looking up at where Jack sat on the couch and just . . . waiting.
"I-" Jack started, and then had to clear his throat, licking his dry lips and looking away from Dark's steady gaze.
"Jack," Dark said, quiet, and Jack looked back nervously, not turning his head all the way back, like he was hoping he could hide the blush on his cheeks. "Color?"
He almost laughed. Almost. It seemed ridiculous to be asking him for a color right now, to check in with him when Dark was the one on his knees, tied up, at Jack's mercy.
But at the same time . . . no. No, it really wasn't ridiculous, because Jack was . . .
He was really scared he was going to fuck this up.
"Green," Jack breathed. Which was true, for now. "Just- nervous."
"Yes," Dark agreed simply. He turned his head, looking up at Jack with a crooked smile. "It is nerve-wracking to have something completely helpless in your hands, isn't it?"
"You're not helpless."
"Aren't I?"
Jack shivered and looked away.
"Okay," he said, hushed, swallowed. "Now what?"
He expected Dark to leave the ball in his court, tell him he could do whatever he wanted, that Jack was in charge. But instead, he made a soft, considering sound, shifting on his knees.
"Put your hands on me."
Jack looked back at him, biting his lip. Dark still looked so calm, patient, and Jack was almost worried that touching him would break that, would have the man jerking away from him. But he put a hand out anyways, placing his palm over the center of Dark's collarbone, fingers brushing over the rope looping up behind his neck.
Once he was touching him, it was . . . easier. His fingers ran over familiar warm skin, and he let out a shaky breath, and brought his other hand up to join the first, cupping along either side of Dark's neck. It was easy to lean forward then, bring his forehead down to press against Dark's, eyes closed, and just . . . listen to him breathe - listen to him exist - for a few quiet moments.
"Good," Dark murmured, softly, so softly, and Jack let out a shuddering breath, before he leaned back again, swallowing.
"Yer gonna . . . tell me if I do something you don't like, right?"
"Yes," Dark said simply. He was sitting back on his heels, relaxed into the ropes holding his arms back, into the gentle grip Jack had along his neck. He still wore a pair of dark jeans, but his belt was gone, and they were slung low on his hips, the edge of his boxer-briefs just visible, and it was . . . it was a lot, all of this was a lot. "I won't let you hurt me."
And that . . . helped, yeah. Jack closed his eyes, swallowing down that wave of nervousness, the crawling, buzzing feeling that made him feel like he was about to do something wrong, and instead just . . . thought about it. Thought about how it felt, knees in the soft, soft carpet, the weight of the rope around his arms, the way Dark's hand on his face felt when he couldn't do anything other than sit there and let him touch him.
He wondered how familiar Dark was with that feeling. If it was overwhelming or unpleasant or if he was just . . . experiencing it. Letting it wash over him. He wondered if even Dark knew how he would respond to certain things while he was like this, while he was- helpless, and suddenly Jack wanted to know.
Jack opened his eyes, watching as he framed his hands on either side of Dark's neck, over his shoulder, digging his fingers lightly into his skin, before he suddenly dragged his nails roughly down Dark's chest.
Dark seemed unprepared for that, his breath hissing in past his teeth, back arching slightly with the touch, before he opened his mouth to breathe out, eyes closed and brow furrowed.
"Okay," Jack breathed, and then again, a little louder, as a question. "Okay?"
Dark's eyes opened, dark and deep, fixing on him unflinchingly, and Jack felt weak.
"Yes," Dark rumbled, and Jack's hands were shaking where he had them pressed against Dark's stomach.
Dark's shoulders shifted, tightened and then relaxed again, like he wanted to move them in a way that the ropes wouldn't allow, and for a moment Jack was worried he was uncomfortable before he recognized the motion.
"You wanna touch me?" he asked, eyeing the way Dark had leaned forward just slightly with the motion. Dark's eyes cut back to him, narrowed, mouth tightening for a moment, before he seemed to relax again.
"Every day," he said, and Jack laughed, awe in the sound.
"Yeah, but right now."
". . . yes."
Jack ran his teeth carefully over his bottom lip, considering it for a moment, before he shifted on the couch, spreading his legs wider and scooting lower. He pulled his shirt over his head almost as an afterthought, tossing it to the side without taking his eyes off Dark.
"Come here?"
Dark's face did something interesting, beyond Jack's ability to read, but there, before he shifted forward, covering the short distance between them on his knees.
And even on his knees, he loomed, leaning over where Jack had slouched down on the couch. Jack swallowed, watching the little flicker of the hunger he was familiar with flashing through Dark's eyes, before the man leaned down to press his mouth over his collarbone, open and wet, and Jack let out a shaky breath, and closed his eyes.
This was familiar, at least. Dark's mouth on him, hot and insistent, hints of teeth scraping over skin before moving on to a new place. He mapped a line out across one collarbone, then up into his neck, biting harder there, pulling a gasp from Jack before he soothed it with a long swipe of his tongue.
Dark never seemed to bore of this part either. Touching him. Tasting him. Mapping out parts of his body he was more familiar with than Jack was now, and Jack let his head fall back and just . . . experience it for a while, relax into the familiar cadence of it, of Dark slowly lighting his skin on fire, the heat dripping down into him until it kindled a fire that would have him squirming and gasping and begging.
Except . . . he didn't need to beg, he realized. Dark's mouth moved lower, nipping across his chest, and Jack could feel that impatience prickling along his skin, that desire for Dark to move faster, even though he never did.
But when Jack opened his eyes and looked down at him, looked down his back to where his hands were still tightly bound, where muscle shifted uselessly under rope, Jack realized he didn't have to wait.
The hand he settled over Dark's hair was nervous, hesitant. Dark hummed at the touch, licking roughly over Jack's nipple, and Jack jerked, blowing out a breath, before he got a grip on the hair under his hand, and tugged.
It left him breathless to watch Dark go with his grip. To not fight it, just let Jack- let him move him, effortless, and he thought he might have made some pitiful noise at that, but he didn't let Dark go. He led his face down, down, feeling the way his fingers were trembling slightly as he shoved the heat of his mouth down over his trousers, over where he was half hard in the joggers he wore, and Dark didn't hesitate to open his mouth over the shape of him.
"God," Jack whispered, awed, as Dark mouthed over his dick, two layers of cloth between them, but more than enough, more than enough. Dark had to arch slightly to reach him, and Jack had such a pretty view, the black of the rope accentuating the color in Dark's skin, the shape of him, the lines of veins and tendons running down his arms. He watched him spread his knees for balance, watched the way that motion rippled through the muscles in his back, watched as his shoulder blades shifted under his skin as he flexed to reach Jack.
It was the hands that did him in. They were balled in fists at first, tight knuckles. And then they opened, stretched out like they were reaching for something, twisted in their bindings, and then balled up again, and Jack groaned, tightening the hand in Dark's hair as he reached down to roughly shove his joggers and pants down with his other.
Dark made a noise, something low, rough, and Jack faltered, breath catching in his throat.
"I-" Jack started, and then swallowed. "Color?"
Dark made another noise, this one longer, less ambiguous, and Jack's toes curled.
"Green," he said, voice low, low, low, and sure, and Jack had to look up at the ceiling for a moment, catch his breath.
"God," Jack whispered again, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them to watch as he led Dark back down. Dark went easily, glancing up as he went, a brief flicker of his eyes, but it punched some undignified sound out of Jack's throat when they met his own, and he almost had to look at the ceiling again.
And then his mouth was on him, hot and wet and unobstructed, and the sound that rattled out of Jack's chest put all the others to shame.
He wasn't even blowing him. He was just . . . mouthing his way down his length, tongue sliding wetly along him, devastating slick friction, and it was enough to have Jack fisting his hand harshly in Dark's hair, tugging unintentionally when Dark laved his tongue over the delicate skin of his balls.
"Easy," Dark said, low around a hissed-in breath, and Jack pulled his hands away, balling them tightly onto the couch beside him, only for Dark to look back up at him, steady and intense. "Put your hands on me."
"I don't wanna hurt-"
"I know," Dark said simply, still holding his gaze. "Put your hands on me, Jack."
And Jack shivered, and closed his eyes, and did as he was told, sliding his palms over Dark's shoulders as the large man leaned down and licked another hot line over his dick.
Dark took his time, because of course he did. He was slow, and thorough, keeping his tongue and lips lax, just soft, slick pressure, and Jack moaned quietly with each stroke, fingers digging in lightly, lightly, into Dark's shoulders. When Dark dipped lower again, mouthing over delicate, sensitive skin, Jack sucked in a breath, and curled his fingers around rope, gripped it the way he wanted to grip at Dark, and this time, when he tugged, it earned him a sound from Dark that was distinctly good.
"Okay," Jack breathed, and then a little louder, shifting on the couch. "Okay. Okay, I wanna ride you."
Dark's tongue slowed along the base of his dick, lingering there for a long moment before running the full length of him, flicking just under his head and pulling a whine from Jack.
"Do you?" Dark asked, a touch of roughness to his voice, and Jack nodded up at the ceiling, where he'd turned his face, because this was all- just- too much.
"Yeah," Jack said in a rush of air. And then he yanked back on the rope in his hand, the double line running down between Dark's shoulder blades, and pulled, dragging Dark back up, onto his knees. "Yeah, just- stay."
Dark blinked at him, slow, and then his lips curled up slightly, a little huff of air, before he leaned back and sat on his heels again, looking patient and steady and unconcerned again.
"Alright," he said, easy, and Jack swallowed around the picture of him, sitting there so nicely, mouth wet, tongue slipping out over his lip, catching on his teeth on the way back in, and Jack's mouth went dry when his eyes trailed down lower, to where he could see him hard in his jeans.
"Fuck," Jack said eloquently, and Dark's smile picked up just that much more, like Jack was something cute and amusing, and yeah, you know, that was probably fair.
Honestly, Jack had no idea what he was doing at this point. He wasn't used to just . . . wanting something, and getting it. Or, no, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't used to being in charge of the logistics of getting it, and for a moment he sat there, staring at Dark waiting for him, still in his jeans, Jack's own joggers still trapped around his thighs, bottle of lube all the way over on the side table, and Jack was just . . . overwhelmed.
How did Dark make this look so effortless all the time?
"Okay," Jack said, running his hand through his hair, looking around like he could find answers to what the fuck he was supposed to do somewhere in the room. He couldn't focus, all he could think was that he wanted Dark's dick in him, and there were so many steps to getting there, and-
"Would you like to get undressed?" Dark asked, simply, and Jack looked back at him, a wave of gratitude washing over him.
"Yeah," he said, nodding. And then he stood up, because yeah, getting undressed, that was a good first step. It only took a moment to wriggle out of his pants and trousers, letting them pool around his ankles before he kicked them off completely. And then it was easier, already standing, to grab the lube off the table and toss it onto the couch within reach.
And then it was just Dark to deal with, and that was suddenly easier too. Dark had dipped his head, twisting his neck to stretch it out, crack it in a familiar gesture, and it was interesting seeing the hair along the back of his neck, watch that motion from this angle, and it felt like the easiest thing in the world to run his fingers through the short hairs there.
And then it was just as easy to twine his fingers in it, tighten his grip, and use it to pull Dark's head back, to force him into a further arch, watch his back curve to yield to the pressure, and yeah, yeah, Jack got why Dark liked doing this to him. The man's mouth had parted, a small breath sucked in sharply, and his eyes slid shut for a moment before he looked back at him, brow furrowed, letting the breath back out in a short huff.
He was so . . . pliant like this. So willing to yield, to let Jack do what he wanted, figure out what he wanted, and Jack was just . . . he was sure, if he wanted to, he could just- Dark would let him just use him like this. Hold his head right here, and press his dick between those softly parted lips, and just let that be the end of it.
But there was this itching under his skin, this urge to touch, to be closer, actually feel him. It was strange not to have Dark's hands on him, and it made him itch for contact, even if the picture he made like this, tied up, on his knees, helpless, was going to be burned into his head for years.
Jack loosened his grip on Dark's hair, letting his hand trail down to cup his neck instead, thumb pushing up along his jaw, and Dark hummed, and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch in a way that had Jack's mouth watering. He really was-
"You're pretty," Jack said, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission. Dark's eyes cracked open, peering up at Jack, that little amused smile returning.
"Thank you," he said simply, and Jack felt his cheeks heat, clearing his throat, before he wrapped his hands around the ropes looping over Dark's shoulders, and pulled.
Dark got the message easily, shoving up onto his knees again, and let Jack lead him until he was backed up against the couch, still on the floor, on his knees, but with something to lean against as Jack stepped over him and dropped into his lap.
Like this, Jack felt the most in control he'd been since Dark had first laid out the rope. It was familiar being here, thighs spread over Dark's hips, looping his arms over Dark's shoulders and feeling the heat pouring off his body as Jack leaned against him, leaned in and kissed him.
It was weird not having Dark's hands on his hips, or his sides, or in his hair, but the way he kissed was the same, slow and single-minded, and the press of his dick through his jeans against Jack's stomach was familiar and exciting, and Jack took the time to really savor it. Dark didn't seem to be in any hurry, humming softly when Jack nipped at his lip, biting back in return, and Jack could feel him shift under him, feel his hips press up just slightly, before they stilled again, and that break in control was exciting and thrilling and so fucking hot Jack was actually dizzy with it.
He was glad Dark had ditched the belt. He wasn't entirely sure he would have been able to figure it out right then. The button and zipper on Dark's jeans gave him enough trouble as it was, and Jack whined a little in frustration as he fumbled with it, earning a little sound of amusement from Dark.
But then he had the stupid jeans open, and he had a hand down Dark's pants, and it was Dark's turn to make a wanting noise, even if his was a little more dignified than Jack's. The way he huffed against Jack's lips when Jack tightened his grip around his dick, though, that was nice.
It took him a minute to get Dark's pants far enough down to give him the access he wanted, and Dark was back to laughing at him - softly, under his breath, but Jack could hear it, asshole - so Jack cut him a glare, reaching out blindly along the couch to find the lube and watching the way Dark laid his head back against the couch and just fucking . . . watched him, with the tiniest curl to his lips again, and it did something to Jack the same way it always did.
It also did something to him when he slicked up his hand before returning it to stroke over Dark's dick, and the man groaned.
"Fuck," Jack whispered, pressing closer as he stroked another line down his length, and then back up, listening to the way Dark's breath just barely caught, softly, so softly. He could feel his hips move under him too, flex subtly, and Jack tucked his face into Dark's neck as he reached between his own legs, pressing slick fingers against his entrance, and letting out a shaky moan when he pressed two inside him, to the knuckle.
"Jack," Dark bit out, and Jack moaned again, shoving his face up higher into Dark's neck and biting, earning a sharp inhale, and then another groan from Dark.
"Want- you," Jack gasped out, stopping the rest of the sentence before it could continue, before he told Dark that he wanted him inside him, which would be just about the filthiest thing he'd ever let past his lips before. It was Dark that usually rambled, that usually told him how pretty he looked, how we wanted to leave bruises in the shapes of his fingers all over his hips and thighs, how he wanted to fuck him until Jack couldn't taste anything besides Dark's name.
But now Jack wanted to ramble. Wanted to fill the space between them with something, wanted to tell Dark how much- how much he-
"God, you're so-" Jack started, and then let his breath out on another shaky moan as his fingers brushed over his prostate. "Dark."
"Ride me," Dark ground out, commanded, and Jack realized that was- that was his form of begging. Realized that Dark had hit that point Jack was all too familiar with, where the want overrode the pride, and any coherent plans he'd made beforehand went right out the window, consumed by the need to fulfill whatever itch was clawing under his skin.
And Jack had never been the patient one. Dark could take his time, languid and unhurried, but Jack hated it, hated the waiting, wanted to feel that satisfaction when he got what he was looking for, and there was no reason for him to not do exactly what Dark told him to now.
So he did. He leaned up, pulled his face out of Dark's neck and looked down at him as he lined him up and sank down on him.
It was probably too fast. He could feel the sharpness of the stretch, the deep ache inside him that said he should go slower, but he didn't care. It was worth it, it was worth it to watch Dark's face then, to watch the way he closed his eyes, hear the low noise he made that sounded like it had been gutted out of him.
Jack sank to the hilt, basking in the feeling, in the fullness, in the way Dark's head dropped back against the couch, eyes still closed, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Jack shifted, not quite lifting off, but wiggling his hips, just to feel him, and Dark hissed, opening his eyes to look up at Jack with an expression that was just as hot as it was frustrated.
"Yeah?" Jack asked, rocking over him again, and Dark growled, lips pulling back lightly over his teeth. His arms strained in their bonds again, harder, and Jack watched the movement flex through his arms, his shoulders, his chest, until he made another short noise, and dropped against the couch again.
Jack ran his hands roughly over Dark's chest, like an apology, fingers catching over rope, before he made it back up to his neck, cupping it on either side, as he lifted himself up, and dropped back down.
They both groaned at that, Dark's eyes opened again to look up at him, expression pained, hazy.
"Jack," he said again, and Jack felt himself tighten around his cock, earning another sound out of both of them, even as he shifted closer, wrapped his arms around Dark's shoulders, and kissed him again.
Dark seemed to come alive under Jack's lips, mouth opening fast beneath him, before he nipped sharply at him, hungry, rough. Jack twined one of his hands up into the man's hair and held him steady, held him against him as he slowed the kiss into something he could manage as he rolled his hips again, slowly starting to fuck himself on Dark's cock.
And it was good. It was really, really good, and it wasn't going to take long at all. Dark let out a low sound against his lips, and Jack felt himself tighten around him again, whimpering against his mouth as he tried to find that perfect rhythm, the one that would have both of them losing it.
At some point, Dark turned away from the kiss, turned his face into Jack's neck, and Jack threw his head back and let him, focusing on the motion of his hips, in getting the slide just right, in squeezing down every time just to hear the way it made Dark's breath hitch. He never got to listen to him like this, he was always too far gone, too wanting and desperate after however long Dark had dragged things out, and it turned his head to mush to hear him now, hear the low groan he let out occasionally, hear the way he cut the sounds off, short, and strained, when they got to be more than barely audible, and know that he was causing it.
Dark made that sweet, sinful noise because of Jack, because Jack had fucked down on him just right, pulled his hair, slid his aching dick along Dark's stomach and held onto him like he'd break if he let go.
Jack had earned that sound from Dark, and it was doing things to him.
He was surprised to realize he knew when Dark was going to come. There was a different tone to each breath he took, the sounds cut off faster now, and Jack wrapped his hand around the back of Dark's neck, up into his hair, clung to him and rolled his hips and didn't think about anything else besides how perfect he felt right then.
"Come on, Dark," Jack breathed, letting his own head fall back to look up at the ceiling, mouth open and panting and listening as Dark started to unravel under him. "Come on, let me- feel you- please-"
Dark groaned, a sound like grinding stone, and then turned his face into that meaty place where shoulder met neck, and bit, harsh, deep, and Jack jerked, crying out, rhythm stuttering before he found it again, frantic, and he almost cried when Dark fucked up into him, groaning, growling, teeth still buried in his neck as he pulsed inside him.
It was almost an afterthought, reaching his own hand down to wrap around his weeping cock, stroking it fast and desperate, hardly needed more than a few stripes of his hand before he was shuddering through his own orgasm, rocking his hips weakly and feeling a phantom ache there, where he knew Dark's fingers would be leaving bruises if he could reach him.
Jack went to mush after. He always did, the strength going out of his limbs as he slipped limp over Dark's chest. There was a thin layer of sweat between them, and Dark's skin was hot against his, his heartbeat thrumming away against Jack's chest, and Jack sank into and just . . . experienced for a while.
It took him a good few minutes before he realized the position . . . probably wasn't comfortable for Dark. The other man hadn't complained, face tucked into Jack's hair, but Jack knew from experience that sitting in rope for that long would make all kinds of things sore.
But he still hesitated before he moved, twining his fingers carefully through the little hairs at the back of Dark's neck.
"Good?" Jack asked, softly. Dark hummed against his hair, a noncommittal noise, and it took him another few moments before he shifted, pressing his lips against Jack's temple.
"Yes," he said, voice rough but steady, and Jack hummed back, leaning into the touch, before he attempted to disentangle himself.
He winced immediately, aware of an ache in his ass, an ache in his knees. The floor probably wasn't a great place to do this in the future, even if it had been hot, and Jack winced again as he realized Dark's knees were probably in worse shape.
"Okay," Jack said, pushing himself up to his knees, and then swinging his leg up and over Dark, dropping to the floor with an unhappy sound. "Floors suck."
Dark huffed out a noise, something on the edge of a laugh, and Jack glanced back at him, watched him roll his shoulders, and then push up slightly, letting his head drop forward as he twisted his arms slowly in their binds.
"Hold on, I'm- uh, hold on." Jack stood, legs weak but holding him, and turned to snatch his boxers out of the pile of his joggers, yanking them on over the mess he was, before he turned to crawl onto the couch. He made his way behind where Dark was sitting, throwing a leg to either side of the man still on the floor, and scooting up until he had a good reach of the lattice of ropework still pressing marks into Dark's back. "You wanna lean forward for me?"
Dark did easily, doubling over and letting his forehead touch the ground, giving Jack the access to his arms that he wanted.
But when Jack started undoing the knots, starting at his wrists, slowly releasing the pressure until Dark's arms started to slip loose, Dark made a . . . sound. Something he hadn't heard before, low and . . . something. Lost almost, and Jack hesitated, running his thumb over Dark's arm, and making a questioning noise.
"You okay?"
"Mm," Dark hummed back shortly, affirmative, but Jack wasn't so sure. He let his hands run slowly over Dark's arms, smoothing over the rough marks the ropes had left in Dark's skin as the man had strained against them, opening his mouth to ask again, only for Dark to continue in a halting voice. "Ropes- can be-"
And then Jack got it. Dark didn't tie him up all the time - he usually preferred to hold him down, pin him to something, or make him keep himself still - but he used them often enough that Jack was familiar with them. And sometimes, when Dark had really pushed him, when the ropes keeping him still and trapped became his entire world, it was . . . not so fun to get out of them.
Jack wasn't entirely sure how to put it into words, just that sometimes, when Dark started unraveling the knots keeping him in place, it felt like something was unraveling in his chest, something important, something that was keeping something critical in place, and the freedom in his limbs translated into a terrifying openness in his chest.
The first time it had happened, Jack had ended up wrapped up in Dark's arms, crying confusing tears into his chest, letting Dark's hands run up and down his back until the gaping hole in his chest had closed up, and he could breathe again.
Dark didn't look like that now. He'd opened his eyes, taking a slow breath in as he rolled his shoulders again, and he didn't look like his chest was cracked open, like there was something terrifying and feral clawing out of it, but Jack realized he didn't really know what that would look like on Dark anyways.
"Okay," Jack said, softly, returning to meticulously undoing the ropes, gently, gently, but as fast as he could. "Okay, hold on."
It only took a few moments to get enough of the ropes undone to free Dark's arms, and then Jack slipped back onto the floor, crawling around until he was in front of Dark, burrowing up under where he was still hunched over, and forcing himself into the curve of Dark's chest, arms coming up to wrap around him, and just . . . hold him for a moment.
Dark's arms wrapped around him almost immediately, still trailing rope, and some thick, devastating relief washed through Jack, a sigh rushing out of his body as Dark dragged him back against him, shifting until he was sitting flat on the floor, back against the couch, and Jack in his lap.
That felt right, for the first time that night. This had all been- hot, so hot, so incredibly hot, but there was something that settled deep in his chest, happy, content, right, with Dark's arms around him again. He nuzzled up under his chin, burrowing his face in Dark's neck, and letting out some soft sound as Dark's hands ran the length of his back.
Jack wasn't sure how long they sat like that. Eventually, Dark's hands were moving lazily over other parts of him, brushing down his arms, running through his hair, and Jack sighed, feeling liquid and floaty and happy.
When he finally leaned back again, it was to blink up at Dark, offer him a smile that was only a little exhausted.
"Hi," he said, soft, almost nervous, and Dark hummed, running a hand through his hair.
"Hello, Jack."
"That was . . ."
"A lot?"
"There's so much thinking involved."
Dark paused, hand freezing in Jack's hair before the laugh seemed to be startled out of him.
"Yes," Dark said, still laughing. "Yes, I suppose there is."
"I don't know how you manage to think that much."
"I like thinking."
"Gross."
Dark laughed again, and Jack burrowed back up against him, tucking his chin over his shoulder, and pulling idly at the ropes still crisscrossed over his back.
"Are you okay?" he asked finally, nervous that the question would be . . . unwelcome, or awkward, or- he didn't know.
But Dark answered him easily, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles into Jack's sides.
"I am," he said simply. And then, softer, "Are you?"
"Yeah," Jack sighed, turning his head to lay his cheek against Dark's shoulder instead. "I can't believe you let me do that."
Dark hummed, fingers moving to trail up his back. "I wanted you to experience what it's like."
"Well, it was a lot," Jack mumbled against his shoulder, and Dark laughed again. Jack hummed, and turned his head again, running his hand down Dark's arm, tracing the rope marks as he went. "Is that like . . . is it a thing for you?"
"Is what a thing for me?" Dark asked patiently, and Jack shifted, clearing his throat.
"Being tied up."
"No," he told him, and Jack could hear the smile in his voice. "I much prefer having you in the ropes."
Jack shivered, and Dark made an amused noise before he continued.
"I believe that's your preference as well."
"Yeah," Jack sighed, rubbing his face against Dark's shoulder to scratch an itch, before he leaned back again, doing his best to look at Dark properly even as he shied away from eye contact. "Thank you, though. I know this was, like . . . this was a thing, and I appreciate it, and it was really, really, really hot."
Dark laughed, and leaned in for a brief kiss, dirty, and then lingering, and Jack was a little breathless when he pulled back.
"You're welcome, Jack."
"Ah . . . can we have a bath?"
Dark's mouth hooked up in that little amused smile again, and Jack tried not to squirm in his lap.
"Yes, pet," Dark rumbled, running his hand through Jack's hair again. "We can have a bath."