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The handcuffs are familiar. So is the chair. The fact that most of his body isn’t in some sort of pain isn’t, although the twinge in his lower back is enough to make him remember the taste of gasoline in his mouth.
A familiar weight settles on his lap, stopping his leg from bouncing and forcing his heels to stick to the ground.
“Comfy?” Jody asks, arms hooking around his neck. She’s smiling, but there’s a twinge of apprehension creasing her eyes.
Colt smiles back, feeling himself relax as her fingers card through his hair. “I am now.”
He tries to lean forward to kiss her, but the grip on his hair tightens, keeping him still. He lets out a breath, face inches from her but unable to reach. His head is pulled back, gently, no pain. Just pressure.
“Getting too ahead of ourselves, are we?” Jody grinds her hips down. His head falls back with a punched-out sound. He’s wearing a pair of old sweats. Nothing else. They’d be doing a bad job of hiding that he’s already half-hard even if Jody wasn’t right there to feel it.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he mutters, hips bucking as much as she’ll let him, which is barely at all. “I have my beautiful, smart, funny—”
“Successful and witty, too.”
“—girlfriend in my lap. Can you really blame me?”
“Guess I can’t,” she smirks. She slides a bit lower, until his crotch is left woefully empty but her weight still keeps his feet planted on the floor. He grunts in protest, which gets those fingers to slide against his jaw instead, holding his face, making him meet her eyes as they turn serious. “But that’s not why we’re here, are we?”
A thumb presses soothing little circles into his cheek. It hurts with something sharp and long-healed. “So you’re telling me there’s no sex in the whole ‘healing sex’ thing?”
“Oh, no, we’re definitely having sex,” Jody reassures, taking the opportunity to take her top off. Colt’s mouth moves towards her chest before he even registers the thought. The only things stopping him from wrapping his lips around one dusty nipple are the fingers which once again tug at his hair. It’s more forceful this time, makes pain prickle his scalp, the sensation going straight to his dick. With a quick ‘shit, sorry!’ the fingers relax, massaging gently where they just pulled. He melts back into the sensation with a hum. “But we gotta do the healing part, too.”
“Do we, though?” Colt asks, giving her his best rendition of puppy eyes. She snorts out a laugh. Oh, well. An actor, he is not. “Can’t we just skip to the good part?” He strains to bounce his leg slightly, watching with satisfaction as Jody’s breath stutters while his thigh grinds up into her. He can feel the wet patch on her sleeping pants slowly soak through his own sweats.
“Mmm.” She tightens her legs around him, meeting his movements, eyes falling shut and fingers losing their hold on his hair. He immediately chases her mouth with his, coaxing it open with his tongue, encouraging her to let him in. For a few moments, Jody loses herself, kissing back, grinding down on his thigh, sweet little noises falling from her throat for him to swallow down.
Then she bites his tongue, hard. He flinches back with a yelp.
“No, nope, we’re doing it,” she says sternly, chest still heaving. “This is about making you feel good.” Jody’s eyes settle on his mouth. “Shit, are you bleeding?”
Colt sticks out his tongue with a raised eyebrow. She frowns, one hand keeping his mouth open by pressing down on his tongue while the other angles his face this and that way. “Okay, I think we’re good.” He wraps his lips around her fingers as they slide out of his mouth, sucking, trying to keep her in. Jody laughs and wipes them off on his pants. “No more derailing. I’m serious.”
“Yes, Miss Director,” Colt smiles innocently. His hands flex in the handcuffs. He could get out of them if he really wanted. It’s cheap plastic, padded. Won’t leave any marks, nothing like the real deal, nothing like zip-ties digging into skin, either. “I’m just saying, we could start out with me making you feel good.”
“Maybe I should gag you,” Jody mutters, more to herself than him. He bites down on a groan. “Oooh, you like that?”
“I like everything you say,” Colt says, because it’s true. He gets a kiss as a reward, just a quick peck on the forehead, but it still makes him melt into the chair. “I love you.”
“Well, Romeo, you’ll have to wait for the gag, because I need your mouth empty for this.”
“Boring.”
“We’ll see,” Jody tuts, settling down on his lap with more force, keeping him still. Something in his back twinges. He doesn’t react, just keeps smiling. “All I need you to do is tell me how you feel.”
Colt gives her a quizzical look. “I just did that.”
“Not here.” She rasps her knuckles gently against his temple. “Everywhere else. I want you to tell me what hurts.”
He lets out a breath, slow and steady, like he does in the few seconds before the camera starts rolling. “Well, one part of me is aching right now.”
Jody smiles, sweet with an edge of something impish, and slowly slides down from his lap to sit between his open legs. “Up.”
His hips lift immediately and she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, pulling. His cock rests in the jut of his hip, not quite fully hard but well on its way there. Jody leans against one of his legs, cheek pressed to his thigh and gently, slowly, tugs the limb down until the bouncing stops. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. Colt swallows, swears he tastes something sharp and chemical in the back of his throat.
Jody looks up at him, cheek pressed into his open thigh. “We’re going to play a little game.” Her breath ghosts over his neglected cock, making it twitch with interest.
Colt’s heartbeat quickens. “What are the rules?”
“Just one. It’s very simple.” She smiles, fingers tugging absentmindedly on the hairs on his leg, smallest little pinpricks of pain. “All you have to do is keep talking.”
“Any particular topics I should stick to?”
“As I’ve said, I want you to tell me what hurts.” Slender fingers travel up his leg, kneading gently. They skip right over where he wants them the most and tangle in the coarse hair of his happy trail. “It doesn’t have to be something that hurts now, either. Anytime you were hurt, no matter how small. I want you to describe the pain. Honestly.”
Colt swallows. The handcuffs feel like they’re burning brands into his skin. Memory of welts on his wrists that’s healed over a year ago, the gasoline soaking through his clothes, making every wound sting, every bruise ache. “And if I stop?”
Jody’s hand returns to her side. Her cheek lifts from his leg. “Then I stop, too.”
He laughs, low and breathless. “You’re evil.”
His voice cuts off into a gasp as her hand wraps around his dick. “Sorry, what was that?” She strokes him in slow, deliberate movements.
Colt’s head falls back with a groan. “You’re an angel.” He bucks his hips into her hand, fully hard and dripping. “A real saint.”
The hand stops, thumb resting on the underside of the head. “Flattery will get you nowhere tonight.”
Colt tries to buck, but Jody just follows his movement, not giving him any friction. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
The hand disappears completely.
“Nonononokay, okay, my back hurts!” The fingers return, barely any pressure at all. Just holding.
“Good or bad day?” Another hand digs into the meat of his calf.
He shifts in the chair. Jody put a pillow between the hard wood and his back, and it helps, but it doesn’t stop the quick, sharp stabs sparking up along his spine. They’re familiar, easy to ride out, even easier to smile through. “Moderate day. Nothing I can’t handle.”
She gives him a single stroke for that, thumb swiping over the leaking head. “So, worse than usual?”
“Very manageable,” Colt mutters. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Can barely feel it.”
The pressure holding his hips down disappears and he manages to fuck into Jody’s hand once before it, too, is gone. He whines, feeling suddenly very cold and exposed in the middle of their living room. His eyes follow her until they can’t anymore, until she’s right behind him, soft breasts pressed against his shoulders as she leans down.
“New rule.” Blond hair escapes her messy bun to tickle along his collarbone. “Anytime you minimize your pain, we take a break.”
“Oh, Jodes, c’mon,” he huffs, hands flexing in the handcuffs with a little more desperation. His leg starts to bounce again, violent enough that the chair creaks. His breathing’s coming too fast. He’s not sure why, he’s never had any issues being restrained. You can’t be, in his line of work. But the dizzying mixture of desire pooling in his groin, the pain radiating from his lower back and cold air on his sensitive dick makes everything feel suddenly too sharp.
A hand slides over where his fists are clenched and shaking. Clever fingers pry his own open until they can slot together. The angle is awkward due to the handcuffs, but the contact makes him relax somewhat, tethers him back to reality.
“You’re going to count to sixty for me, okay?” Jody’s free hand is in his hair, gentle, calming. “Then we’ll continue.”
Colt lets his head fall onto her shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Good,” Jody whispers next to his ear. “You’re doing great.”
The slight praise makes him a different kind of dizzy. He feels his dick twitch where it was starting to flag slightly by his stomach.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
He counts, and Jody just… holds him. She holds his bound hand, which must be uncomfortable with the angle, and she cradles her long fingers through his hair, scratching pleasantly at his scalp every once in a while. When he reaches thirty, she starts nosing at his exposed throat, and he lets his head fall even further back, tries to give her even more access. She doesn’t kiss him, just presses her lips to the column of his throat, breathing him in. His voice stutters on the few final numbers as she licks a drop of sweat from his sternum, just a quick swipe of her tongue before it’s gone.
“…sixty,” Colt finishes. He feels less like he’s about to buzz out of his skin, but the fuzziness is still there.
Jody moves to stand in front of him again, palms cradling his jaw. “Beautiful. So good for me.” She kisses him, tender and sweet. He sighs into it, handcuffs rattling as he instinctively tries to reach to hold her back.
She settles back down between his spread legs. “Tell me about something else that hurts.”
All the counting must have made her extra generous, because her hand immediately goes to his dick, stroking languidly. It’s gone a little soft in the past minute, but Jody hardly seems to mind. Colt’s hips move to meet her and she lets him, fingers warm and slick with his precome. It’s enough to make him forget that she wanted something from him, at least until he’s back to full hard and the hand starts to slowly drift away.
“My knee,” he groans. Even with his brain not firing on all cylinders right now, it’s easy to find another example. “Hurts if I put too much pressure on it.”
Jody hums, hand resuming its stroking. “From that fall you took last week?”
“Y-yes… Fuck, Jod—” His dick is straining against his stomach, leaking and red. Jody’s thumb rubs quick little circles into the underside of the head and his hips buck so hard the chair slides against the floor with a screech. “I can walk, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.” The hand stops. Squeezes, like a warning. Colt sucks in a sharp breath. “But it still hurts. Just a little. Barely notice it, really, but it’s th—there, shit, right there.”
“Anything else?” Jody’s voice is low and husky and so fucking hot. Colt cranes his neck to look down, to catch a glimpse of her face and almost comes there and then. Her eyes are large and dilated, two dark, hungry pools staring up at him, cheek pressed against his thigh. One of her hands is working his cock in slow, deliberate movements and he’s leaking so much at this point that he can hear it, the wet slide of her fingers on his flushed skin. Her other hand is stuck down her sleep pants. Colt feels his mouth water.
He jumps slightly when she bites the meat of his thigh, just hard enough to bring him back down to Earth. “I asked you a question.” She drops a quick kiss on the spot she just bit, against the indent her canine made in his skin.
“R-right,” he pants, tearing his eyes away from her and squeezing them shut. “Uh. My—ngh—my hands are starting to get—to get sore. But—fuck!” Jody’s tongue swipes a long, wet line up his cock. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary, Jody, fuck—but it doesn’t feel bad. I mean—shit—I mean it’s pain but…” He trails off, mouth falling open around a gasp as she wraps her lips around his head and sucks.
“Good pain?” she asks, wiping the wetness at her mouth away with her thumb.
He nods enthusiastically. “Good pain.”
“Good.” She brings both of her hands to his dick, one stroking along his shaft and the other focused on the head. They stop moving immediately after, just resting there. “Tell me about bad pain. Something old.”
Something old, something old, he tries to focus despite the way his heartbeat thunders distractingly in his head and the way her fingertips dance along his leaking cock. “Uh, set of some action flick, I don’t remember the name—” He doesn’t remember much of anything from that week, to be honest. “Fight scene, guy was supposed to break a beer bottle over my head.” Jody’s hands start moving and his hips twitch desperately up into them. “Grabbed the real—ah—the real deal instead of a breakaway one. Stupid accident. Hurt like a motherfucker.”
“Holy shit, Colt.” Jody sounds genuinely concerned, her movements flagging.
“Y-yeah, um…” He gasps when she speeds up again. “I—I spent two weeks in bed with a killer headache, puking my guts out. Shitshitshit.” He’s close, so close, thighs shaking, hips bucking, pleasure pooling in his gut with each twist of Jody’s wrist and his mouth moves on auto-pilot. “I—fuck!—I got into a fight with the stunt director over it. Wouldn’t let me, ah, return to the set even though I was f-fine to film. I mean—the pain was—was pretty bad and the puking—ugh!—the puking—I could hold it in if I tried hard enough, I just wasn’t—I wasn’t trying hard enough, I could have done it, I know I could—could have, they had to find another guy because of me—waitwaitwait where are you going, please, no, I’m so close Jodes, please, I’m sorry!”
But it’s too late. She’s already stepping away from him, taking all her heat and pressure away and he whines long and high in his throat, dick twitching against his stomach. He keeps babbling apologies, feels his eyes sting. He shakes in the chair, arms straining behind his back uselessly, the plastic handcuffs rattling.
When Jody finally touches him again, it’s gentle but firm, two hands holding his face, angling it to make him look at her. She’s breathing heavy, almost as hard as him, but there’s a shine to her eyes, a twist to her frown that makes alarm bells start sounding off in his brain, even through the haze of arousal and desperation. Her fingers are wet with a mix of them both.
“You are so…” she trails off, voice wrecked. He pants, open-mouthed, not bothering to stop the soft little ‘ah-ah-ah’ from escaping his lips. Jody shakes her head, wiping moisture from his cheeks. He’s crying. He doesn’t remember when he started. “Do you think you can count for me?”
Colt whines, trying to hide his face in his chest, but her hands hold him steady. All his muscles feel like they’re made of jelly. His dick hurts with how hard he is. He bucks his hips a few times, chasing any sort of relief and whines louder when he finds none. Jody just holds him, gentle, grounding pressure.
His throat bobs. “O-one…”
“Wonderful.” She kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, nose, wipes another tear from under his eye. Colt sobs out the next number. “So good for me. C’mon, baby, you can do it.”
He knows he can, because she asked him to. He’d do anything for her. So Colt keeps counting, even as his voice shakes, alongside every other part of him. The words come slow, and Jody has to correct him a few times. She moves to stand behind him again, presses herself against as much of exposed skin as she can with the chair in the way. Her fingers smooth down his shoulders, his arms, massaging, keeping him tethered to the here and now even as his mind wanders. She keeps peppering kisses all long his face, too, licks the occasional tear from his cheek. It’s torture. It’s bliss. He feels the pain in his back spark with each tremble of his body, but it’s faint against the sparks of electric pleasure following Jody’s fingers. He swears he can smell salt on the air, feel a harsh breeze hit his naked skin.
“Six—sixty. Fuck, Jodes, please, please, I can’t—”
“Shh, you’re okay, you’re good.” She’s already back between his legs, palms sliding up his thighs, coaxing them apart. “You did so well.” Her breath ghosts over his poor cock and he sobs, too far gone to worry about how pathetic he must sound.
When she takes him in her mouth, Colt feels like he’s been electrocuted, his whole body seizing. Even with her hands holding him down, he bucks hard enough to make her gag, and his pleas devolve into a string of shaky apologies. Jody just hums between his shaking thighs, and the vibrations on his cock make him throw his head back with a yell. He’s not sure if their game is still in effect, but the thought of Jody stopping now seems so daunting that his mouth opens on its own, words spilling out in a desperate rush and he starts describing the first memory of pain that comes to his mind, that’s been bouncing around in his skull since his hands were first cuffed behind his back and secured to the chair.
“My—my head h-hurts.” Jody’s movements stutter, and he takes it as another warning. “My jaw, t-too. I—ah!-ah!—I think my ribs are still bruised from the—from the car running me over, it’s—it hurts to breathe—no, wait, Jodes, please—” Her mouth leaves his aching cock, and he’s so close, so close, he can’t do this again. He babbles faster, tries to get her to come back. “My entire face hurts, just, so much, it almost feels numb, it’s so bad I can barely feel anything else. And—and the gasoline—”
“Colt—”
His leg bounces. The handcuffs rattle, biting into his wrist, and it feels much sharper than the padding should feel. His back hurts from the position, his shoulders strain with the effort to try to wrench himself free. His too hard dick just feels like another hot source of pain. He has to get Jody to come back, he has to—
“Everything stings—everything. All—all the cuts from the past—the past two days. It burns, my face burns, m-my mouth burns and—and—and—please, please I can’t Jodes, I can’t, don’t make me count again—”
Colt’s words are cut off with a groan when the hands returns. Jody strokes him fast and firm, and he’s so far gone that he barely notices the litany of ‘it hurts it hurts it hurts’ that escapes his throat even as he bucks into her desperately. He comes with a broken whine, head thrown back and whole body seizing, stuck between pleasure and the memory of pain. Jody is there the whole time, working him through it, another hand on his jaw, holding his head steady as it lulls.
Colt’s pretty sure he’s lost some film, because the next thing he’s aware of is a warm, familiar weight in his lap. All his limbs feel heavy, pleasantly tingly. His face is wet. So is his stomach—ugh—and he’s sweaty all over, and Jody’s crying into his shoulder—whoa, wait.
“Jodes?” he slurs, still orgasm-stupid. She must have uncuffed him at some point, because when he wills his arms to wrap around her shaking shoulders, the only thing slowing them down is his own fatigue. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
She grabs his face and kisses him, teeth clacking together with the force. It’s gross, and painful, and messy. When they break apart, her eyes are puffy and red. She looks like she’s not sure if she wants to strangle him or kiss him again.
“You never said they tried to burn you alive!” She grabs his face and shakes, like she can’t believe he’s real.
“Uh,” Colt feels something rattle around in his brain. “Yeah, I might have—might have skipped some of the details. Sorry.”
Jody shakes her head, disbelieving. “We’re gonna have a talk, Mister. You’re gonna tell me exactly what happened in that whole shitstorm with Ryder. I want a—a timeline.”
“A timeline?” he asks.
“Yes! Minute to minute account of each injury so that I can—I can—” She makes a growling, frustrated noise and plops back into his chest, breathing hard.
Slowly, Colt wraps his arms around her and holds her. “Well,” he says when she stops shaking and just lays slumped against him. “This was fun.”
Jody’s head rolls on his shoulder until she can look him in the eye, tucked into his side. She seems bemused. “Was it?”
“Oh, yeah.” He swipes a stray lock of hair away from her face. “I think this was the best orgasm I had in… ever, actually.”
She brightens at that. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks for suggesting this.”
She bites her lip, searching his eyes. “I wasn’t too mean?”
“I think you could have been meaner, actually.”
“Oh, you’re gonna eat those words, Seavers.”
“I’d love nothing more, Moreno” he smiles and kisses her, slow and sweet. She sighs into it.
“Okay,” she says after a few moments of squirming. “You’re gross. Shower?”
“Shower,” he agrees.
Jody helps him out of the chair, which is something he didn’t think he’d need, but, Jesus, he’s tired. Her hand settles on the small of his back, fingertips ghosting over the scar from his surgery. He loves her.
“Want me to eat you out?” he asks when they get in the shower, knees already hitting the bottom of the tub. His left one complains, but he barely feels the pain.
Jody stands above him with a frown. After a moment of thought, she pushes at his chest until his back hits the wall and he’s forced to settle on his ass instead. Her hand slides into his hair. Like this, Colt has to strain to lick at her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the hitch in her voice. Maybe being honest about what hurts him isn’t such a bad thing.