Tactical Submission: A Windsor Club Story

by Ada Maria Soto

  Isaac dried him just as carefully as Jack had dried him that morning, then helped him dress. The clothes felt strange again, the jeans restrictive. He was beginning to understand nudists.

  Isaac led him into the front room and sat them down on the couch. The shadows through the high windows were getting long. Murrcat jumped into his lap. "How are you feeling? Honestly. Head to toe, but especially head."

  He pet the cat who purred at a level that shook his whole body. It was nice. "Steadier. Clearer than I was. Focused, I think. Bit sore. Still a little—" he waved his hand trying to convey the idea that he still wanted to sink, but knew he could handle the world. "Tired. I think I could take another nap."

  "Then you should." Isaac got up and patted the padded arm of the couch. "It's actually quite comfortable."

  "Really?"

  Isaac patted the arm again. Jack felt silly but he stretched out, Isaac draped a blanket over him, Murrcat jumped on him and began to purr, and he fell asleep.

  Chapter 23

  Jack settled into sleep, Murrcat purred, and Isaac watched from the side chair. He was tempted to fall asleep himself to the sound of purrs and Jack's steady breathing, but falling asleep in that chair always did a number on his back. He was going to be sore for a week already.

  Instead he got up as quietly as he could so he could pack a few extra things into Jack's bag. He couldn't say he wanted Jack to go home. Not just because he wanted Jack around, but because he wasn't sure if Jack knew how well he truly was. If he was used to running out the door and taking care of himself after scenes, his guideline for 'fine' might not actually be fine, or even good. He still seemed a hair unsteady on his feet, and there was laziness in his blinking. That he went to sleep so easily, even with Murrcat's chainsaw of a purr, said something as well.

  He made a couple of sandwiches, one for Jack later, and settled in with the whole 'what to do next' question? Amalie was going to ask him the second she came through the door. There had certainly been a few moments, usually when holding Jack tight, when he'd felt something in that little spot under his breastbone. It scared him, probably as much as the whole thing scared Jack. He'd messed up before, he'd run before, he'd put his heart out before. And he came with the baggage that anyone who loved him back would be sharing him.

  He knew Amalie loved him as much as she loved Lydia, and he’d known that before they got married. He never for one second asked her to choose, and he never would. And while he had nothing Lydia was even remotely interested in, she was still one of his closest friends. She kept rice milk in the fridge and a half dozen power suits in the closet. There was an open suggestion that she move in, but it was also well accepted between the three of them that it was her career and reputation in the Prosecutor's Office that was most at risk if everything came out.

  There weren't many people who could handle that, even if they thought they could at the start. The time management and scheduling alone could be a nightmare. Jack obviously feared being outed as well but a stable relationship can't be built on sex, even really good sex. Getting him out the door for breakfast had been a mission and a half. A romantic dinner, a concert, a weekend away would take a hell of a lot of work. And that's assuming Jack even felt the same way. He might just be thankful for someone to submit to who won't kick him out if the phone rings.

  Isaac rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel the start of a headache. One step at a time. Get Jack steady and back on his feet.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The pink-orange of sunset was peaking around the curtains when Jack was finally awakened by the force of Murrcat jumping off him. Isaac set aside the journal he'd been reading. "Hey, sleepy head."

  Jack sat up blinking at the orange light. "It's late."

  "Heading that way. I made you a sandwich. Think you could eat?"

  "Yeah, I'm a bit hungry."

  Isaac grabbed the sandwich from the kitchen, glad he'd made it extra-large. He had a feeling 'a bit hungry' actually meant 'I could finish off a rack of ribs in about five minutes'.

  He added half an extra avocado and another layer of ham before bringing it out. Jack finished it in about three minutes, along with extra glasses of orange juice and water.

  "Feeling better?"

  "Yeah. I'll eat avocado on just about anything though. I think it's half the reason I stay out west."

  "I'll remember that." There was a sudden uncomfortable silence, the first of the weekend, and Jack's eyes darted to his bag waiting by the door. "You don't have to go home tonight. You can stay and have some dinner, take another night to sleep, relax, head out early tomorrow."

  Jack didn't answer right away but eventually shook his head, to Isaac's disappointment. "I should get home. Check messages. See how much of the county burned down or blew up while I wasn't looking."

  "Probably not much if I didn't get called in. But, before you go, I want you to stand on one foot, and touch your finger to your nose." Jack laughed. "I'm serious. Before I let you out of here I want to see physical and mental equilibrium."

  Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. Isaac was tempted to threaten him with a spanking for being bratty about it. He stood on one leg, closed his eyes, and touched his finger to his nose repeatedly. "Would you like me to do the alphabet backward?"

  "Most people I know can't do it sober."

  Jack gestured to the perfectly ordered shelves then did the alphabet backward nearly as fast as Isaac could do it forwards.

  "I am officially impressed."

  Jack gave a bow.

  "Okay, but, and I'm not being clingy here, I want you to give me a text when you get home so I know you made it. I want you to eat something. Preferably not microwaved, order delivery if you need to, and before you go to bed I want a SitRep, head to toe. I want to make sure I didn't break you."

  Jack smiled softly. "You didn't break me."

  "Sometimes it takes a while to tell." Isaac kissed him. He kept it soft but let it linger, collecting Jack’s taste and the warmth of his body one last time. "Okay, you can go, but text me and eat something."

  Jack grinned. "Yes, sir."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Jack pressed his head to the steering wheel of his truck. The bruising might be nearly gone but he could still feel it when he sat.

  Stay another night. He wanted to, but it would be too tempting and too easy to go right back onto his knees. He had work in the morning. He had real life in the morning, where he would be looked at to lead. Despite saying the alphabet backward, which honestly, he could do while drunk, it was his party trick, he could still feel a faint haze of that lust fog pulling around the edges. He needed his own space to burn it off.

  He turned on his truck and felt the twelve cylinders roar to life sending a heavy vibration through him. He pressed his forehead to the wheel again. Getting half a boner every time he turned on his truck was going to be a problem. Time to work on compartmentalizing.

  He drove carefully on the way home. It felt almost like he was learning to drive again. For two days his body had not been fully his, and like his brain, it was taking a bit of extra focus to bring it all back together. He would also feel bad if he crashed on the way home, and left Isaac wondering what happened.

  His bag felt heavier as he went through his front door. Isaac had said he'd put in a few books. He looked around his plain apartment and it truly felt plain. In two days he'd gotten used to the old wood, heavy furniture, and shelves of books. A lived-in coziness that he hadn't developed for himself.

  He took out his phone and turned it on for the first time all weekend.

  Made it home, he texted.

  In less than thirty seconds his phone buzzed.

  Good. Go eat something.

  Before he could reply his phone buzzed again and again. A weekend worth of emails, voice mail notification, and a couple of texts came through. He swiped away the mailing list junk, ignored the texts from his sister about thanksgiving that year, and skim read the briefing on the Friday explosion. There we
re three people inside which made Jack think it wasn’t connected to the leaks, but he couldn’t rule it out entirely. His phone said he had three missed calls from Dan and one voicemail. He listened to his voicemail while he rummaged through the freezer. Isaac had said no microwave, but ravenous hunger caught up with him and he didn't want to wait for pizza to be delivered.

  "Hey there. You are not picking up your phone and I know you don't like texts. I don't think you are as far out of town as you are saying you are. I'm at this party and there are three lovely and single people here and I am pretty sure at least one of them has got to be your type. So, call me back. And if you don't I'm going to assume you are with Kinky Married Complicated, in which case have a good time."

  Kinky, married, complicated. That did sum it up. He also couldn't deny that he had a good time. He watched a Stouffer's lasagna spin around his microwave. He didn't like microwave meals, and he could always feel Clare's highly disapproving look in the back of his head, but after painfully long days, or weeks it was sometimes all he had the energy for.

  The microwave dinged and he let it sit for the recommended three minutes. He'd been mocked for being the only person on earth who actually waited but he didn't care. He'd had enough steam burns in his life that he didn't put up with getting them from a microwaved lasagna.

  Three minutes later he carefully pulled the film off the lasagna then sent a text.

  Eating.

  This time it was a good minute before he got a response.

  We'll talk about the quality of your microwavable food at some point in the future.

  Jack looked around. He was pretty sure there were no spy cameras in his apartment and it was simply a guess on Isaac's part, but it was still a little creepy.

  Didn't want to wait for pizza.

  Next time stay and I'll feed you.

  Chapter 24

  The street lights had blinked on and Isaac was stretched out on the couch, drifting in his own way when Amalie got home.

  "How was your weekend?" she asked before Isaac could even say hello. "Dropping?"

  He shook his head. "Nah, not hard, wafting gently downwards." She patted his feet and he lifted his legs so she could sit. "It was good, nice, he was good. And fucking hell is he amazing in rope"

  She smiled at him. "I'm glad it was good. By the way, why are there yellow stickies on all our bookshelves?"

  Isaac grandly waved his arm toward the shelves. "All our books are now arranged by the Library of Congress Catalogue system because my new boy has a bit of an obsessive streak and the LCC memorized."

  "Neither of us has used the LCC since college. We'll never find anything in here."

  "We couldn't find anything in here to begin with."

  "That's true." Murrcat jumped onto Isaac's legs. He spread them to give the cat access to Amalie's lap. "So, your new boy makes excellent coffee, looks pretty in rope, organizes books, and judging by how relaxed and happy you look, I'm thinking he's a keeper."

  He rubbed one of his feet along her leg. "I'm always happy."

  "I know. But that happy is steadier when you've got someone that enables you to be your whole self. So, are you keeping him?"

  Isaac gave a thumbs up. It wasn't even really a question. "If he's willing to let himself be kept."

  Amalie reached over and tapped the center of his chest. "And how is this feeling?"

  He knew she was going to ask and had been thinking on it, examining the stray thoughts and feelings he'd pushed down over the previous few days. "It's changing shape. Broader in some moments. It's scary," he answered honestly.

  "These things usually are. And how's he feeling?"

  "Not sure. I offered for him to spend another night, just relax, but I think he needed his space. Needed to get his own thoughts in order."

  "For what it's worth, when it happens, I think being in love looks good on you."

  He had been avoiding the word love. It was too big a word, too fast and if he went there he wasn't sure if Jack would follow. "I'm always in love."

  Amalie smiled. "Yeah, but we're well-worn love. We've got some scuffs and scrapes and tread marks."

  "I love how you compare our relationship to hardwood flooring."

  "There's something to be said for shiny new love." Isaac stretched out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I should probably get a chance to chat with him before you two get too much further and start admitting to feeling things."

  Isaac knew that was going to be necessary, as necessary at their first long weekend together, but it wasn't going to be easy. That had always been the problem. A wife, even an incredibly supportive one, might be accepted in theory but not always in practice. He knew he was capable of loving equally, but he'd also never had the energy or will to put up with other's jealousies.

  There had been a brief stint, hardly more than a day, many years earlier, when he had found himself jealous of Lydia, but he'd gotten over it when he accepted that Lydia loved Amalie as much as he did and it would be cruel to take or drive away that much love from someone's life.

  "Be gentle. He's still skittish."

  "I'm always gentle."

  He snorted with laughter. Amalie lightly ran a single nail along the bottom of his foot. Isaac squealed and rolled from the couch flat onto his face.

  "See, gentle."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The microwave lasagna had not been particularly satisfying on a culinary level, but it provided enough carbs and protein to get Jack through until breakfast. Now fatigue was nipping at the edges of his mind but he didn't want to sleep, yet. Plus, he promised to text Isaac a SitRep.

  He dropped his heavier than usual bag on his bed and opened it up. On top were a half dozen books each bristling with bookmarks. There was a yellow sticky on the top one.

  One size doesn't fit all but there are bits and pieces you might find helpful.

  He moved the books to his bedside table expecting to find his clothes and toiletries underneath. Instead there was a large dildo with a suction cup on one end. A second longer and narrower one. A pair of nipple clamps, a medium sized butt plug, and a cockring was also included. And tucked along the side, held together with red ribbon, were a half dozen thick leather cuffs. His hands shook slightly as he took them out. There was a note tied to the ribbon.

  No matter what, these are yours.

  There was of flash of something in his chest that felt like pain then faded into something warm. He ran his fingers gently across the leather and around the D rings. He'd never had his own anything when it came to the life he tried not to live. It was always things belonging to others, briefly on loan. He brought the leather to his nose and breathed deep. There was the strong smell of leather with a hint of sweat and sex. He'd have to look up how to properly clean and care for them.

  He was about to untie the ribbon when he felt the need to stop and count. There were seven rings of leather. Two small ones for the wrists, two larger ones for the ankles, two extra-large for the thighs, then there was a seventh, thinner with only one D ring at the front. It was a collar that must have come with the set and Isaac was giving it to him to keep even if he couldn’t wear it.

  He picked up his phone.

  SitRep: Feel fine. Tired. Sore in good way. Will get some sleep.

  He hit send and began unpacking the unused spare clothes when his phone beeped.

  Have you unpacked your bag?

  Yes. Thank you for the books and other things.

  That seemed innocuous enough.

  You should let yourself enjoy them as often as possible.

  Jack pictured sticking the dildo to the wall and fucking himself on it as he had the night before. It was a strange thought, arousing but he felt disconnected from it. He felt self-conscience even though it would be something he'd do completely alone. He ran the chain that connected the nipple clamps through his fingers. He remembered the idea of wearing them when he masturbated at home. At the time the thought had sent lust screaming through his body, but no
w there was again a disconnect as though those feelings and ideas belonged to someone else. Someone wild and uninhibited who lived with no doubts or responsibilities.

  He knew he should reply to Isaac's last text.

  Okay.

  He hit send and instantly wished there was an unsend button. Okay?! That was about as unenthusiastic a reply as you could get. That was what a kid said after being told to take out the trash for the fiftieth time.

  I'll do some reading tonight. He sent quickly hoping that sounded more engaged.

  I hope you enjoy it. You don't have to take all or anything from those books but they might give you ideas or questions to ask. Get some sleep as well.

  I will.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Isaac put his phone on his bedside table.

  "Your boy in one piece?" Amalie asked in the middle of her own text conversation with Lydia.

  "So he says."

  "You don't believe him?"

  Isaac shrugged. "I'm not sure if he fully knows himself. I guess we'll find out."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Jack's eyes snapped open a few seconds before his alarm was due to sound. He stretched, his body twinging in a few places. He stretched again and it felt good. Better than a post workout stretch or even a standard post sex glow, he felt good. He padded to the bathroom, his mind already planning the day, at least as much as law enforcement days could ever be planned.

  He stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd slept naked, even his shorts feeling constrictive. He checked himself for marks and again only found ten tiny bruises at his hips. He closed his eyes, a shiver running through him, and a smile stretching his face. A laugh bubbled up in him. In the past he'd done his best to carefully conceal every possible mark on his body, even the ones no one would ever see. Isaac had been careful. So careful to respect his wishes, to keep his skin clear of any evidence of his desires, except for ten tiny little points on his hips where he'd held on a little too hard again.

  His cock rose at the memory and he shivered as the touches of the weekend filled him. The night before he'd slid between his cold sheets, his mind still twisting with little threads of uncertainty and embarrassment at the new contents of his bookshelves.