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rsadellePart 1
They have a morning skate that leaves everyone too cranky to make plans to hang out or get lunch or anything; they all just want to go home and forget about it until game time.
Mike is one of the guys stuck there after skate because the doc and the trainers want to check on his shoulder. It doesn't hurt anymore, and they tell him it looks good and that they don't have to check on it again unless it starts to hurt or he gets hit again.
That, at least, is a relief, but he's still irritated and on edge. He and Jeff took separate cars to the rink. If Jeff left just after practice, he's got to be almost home by now. It's probably pushing a little, but Mike texts him, I'm leaving the rink now. Make lunch.
He can smell something cooking when he gets home, and Jeff calls, "I already took Arnold out," so Mike kicks off his shoes and goes to the kitchen with Arnold at his heels.
"It'll be ready soon," Jeff says.
Mike walks around the counter into the kitchen and looks over Jeff's shoulder. "Do you need to do anything with it right now?"
Jeff turns to face him. "It needs to be stirred every couple of minutes."
"On your knees." Mike usually tries to be careful of Jeff's knees, but if it's only going to be a few minutes, he can be on the hard kitchen floor, and telling Jeff to make lunch wasn't enough to satisfy what Mike wants right now.
Jeff folds without question. He clasps his hands together in front of him and keeps his eyes down.
Mike strokes Jeff's hair and then cups the back of his head and draws him in so Jeff's forehead is resting on his thigh. He lets Jeff stay there for a moment, both of them relaxing and breathing easier, before he says, "They said my shoulder's good. After lunch I'm going to tie you up with the rope I bought for you."
Jeff presses his forehead hard into Mike's thigh. "Yes, please."
Mike cups the back of his neck. "I'll take care of you," he promises. "Now get up before lunch burns."
Jeff's moving easier when he gets up, and Mike certainly feels better.
They eat lunch with Arnold darting around them and under the table, whacking them with his tail and hoping for them to drop something.
"Leave the dishes," Mike says after they're done. It'll make more work for later, but he doesn't want to wait for Jeff to clean up. "Upstairs. My room. Wait for me."
Jeff goes, and Mike takes a couple of minutes to pet Arnold and grab a couple of bottles of water before he goes upstairs.
Jeff's waiting in the middle of Mike's bedroom, still dressed and standing. Mike ignores him while he puts the bottles of water down on the nightstand and gets the rope out of the closet. He tosses the rope on the bed. Jeff's eyes follow the rope, and Mike stands between it and Jeff to break his focus. This is Mike's show, and Jeff will get what Mike gives him.
Mike pulls Jeff's shirt up by the hem. He could tell Jeff to do it himself, but it's a good reminder for Jeff that everything is Mike's choice.
"Arms up." When Jeff obeys, Mike pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side, guides Jeff's arms back down to his sides. He unbuttons Jeff's jeans, unzips them, and kneels to pull them down and balance Jeff while he steps out of them.
Mike makes sure Jeff's steady, arms at his sides, and he picks up the rope.
"It looks like the other rope," Mike says. He runs a length of it through his hands. "But it's bamboo. Softer than nylon or cotton." He drapes it over Jeff's shoulder and slides it over so Jeff can feel it. He gets a shiver of response out of Jeff.
Mike steps around behind Jeff and waits for a moment, making Jeff wait, before he starts twisting and looping rope around him. It takes a while, and Mike works slowly and carefully. He touches Jeff as much as he can while he puts the rope where he wants it and ties it off. In the end, it forms a harness of sorts, rope over Jeff's shoulders and crisscrossing over his chest with knots and loops forming lines down the center of his body, front and back. Mike tugs on it to make sure it's going to stay, and that it's not too tight or too loose.
"How does that feel?"
"Good."
"Yeah?" Mike runs his hand down Jeff's chest, running over rope and skin and pulling the rope a little. "How do you like the bamboo?"
"I like it," Jeff says. His head is tipped down just a bit, eyes closed, and he sways toward Mike a little. "Soft."
Mike chuckles and rubs his hand over one of the pieces of rope, rolling it against Jeff's skin. "Good on your skin?"
"Yes," Jeff says. "Mike, please."
Mike takes a step back so he can reach a new piece of rope, a shorter length. "Give me your hands." He wraps up Jeff's wrists, looping the rope around and around in thick cuffs and tying it off. "Try that." He taps Jeff's wrists to get Jeff to try to pull them apart.
Jeff makes a noise, and Mike taps his wrists again.
"Okay?"
Jeff turns dazed eyes on him. "I love this rope."
Mike loves it too, for what it does to Jeff. He puts an arm around Jeff and lets Jeff lean his forehead on his shoulder for a minute. "You want more of it?"
Jeff straightens up. "Yes, please."
Mike grabs a length of rope from the bed and crouches down. He ties Jeff's ankles together with just a little play between them. He runs a hand up the back of Jeff's leg from his ankle to his knee.
"Still good?"
"Yes."
"Good." Mike stands, takes a couple of steps backwards, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Come here. You can kneel here."
Jeff shuffles forward in tiny not quite steps, and when he's close enough, Mike holds onto him so he doesn't fall as he kneels.
Jeff sighs and folds forward even more so his forehead is on Mike's knee.
Mike strokes his hair, even, repetitive motion while Jeff's muscles go soft and relaxed.
It works on Mike, too, making him so calm he forgets about their shitty skate and thinks only about Jeff tied up and on his knees.
Mike rests his hand on the back of Jeff's neck when it's been long enough for Jeff's knees. "Come up here."
Jeff rolls his forehead against Mike's knee. "Let me stay. Please."
"It's going to hurt your knees," Mike says. "And we have a game later. We need a nap."
"I don't care."
"You will." Mike tightens his hand. "Come on, up." He pulls Jeff up onto the bed without making him stand all the way. He unties the knots at Jeff's ankles carefully and slides the rope across Jeff's skin when he pulls it away. He does the same thing with his wrists, and he has to move Jeff's arms apart to get to the knots holding the rope on his chest together.
"This isn't the only time," Mike promises when he pulls the last length of rope across Jeff's skin and away. "I bought it for you, and I'll tie you up with it again."
"Thank you," Jeff says.
"You're welcome." Mike runs his hands over Jeff's chest, and down to his wrists. "You're such a good sub." He tugs Jeff up the bed. "Come up here and take a nap with me."
Jeff settles in next to him, his breath already slow and even. Mike watches him make the almost imperceptible slide from awake to asleep, and even thinking ahead to the game or back to skate doesn't disturb his calm.
*
Mike has his phone counting down the days, and he tells - doesn't ask, but tells - Jeff that they're staying in after practice on the last no game, no travel day of their month. If Jeff isn't tracking their time that closely, he at least has to know what kind of thing Mike is planning.
Mike has Jeff cook lunch and do the dishes afterwards. He makes Jeff wait after that, hanging out on the couch with his phone until Jeff kneels next to him of his own accord. After a few minutes, when Jeff settles, Mike strokes Jeff's hair, over and over until Jeff is leaning into him and Mike doesn't want to leave him on his knees any longer.
He takes Jeff upstairs and ties him to the bed. It's enough to send Jeff under, but Mike's still itchy. This works well, and he doesn't think Jeff is going to want to stop, but their month is almost over.
Mike puts his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "I'm just going across the room. I'll be right back." He has a sleep mask - there are probably a couple of them in the house - and plenty of ties, but that's not what he wants. He wants something that will fit better with the rope, and somewhere in his closet is a piece of black silk just the right length.
He finds the drawer it's in, and folds it over as he walks back to Jeff. Jeff's eyes are open, and he's not so gone that he can't watch Mike, or figure out what Mike's doing. He lifts his head up before Mike tells him to.
"Good," Mike murmurs, and he pats Jeff's cheek before he wraps the cloth around his eyes twice and ties it off to the side, so Jeff isn't lying on the knot when he puts his head down. "Okay?"
"Yeah." Jeff turns his head toward Mike. "Really good."
Mike strokes his hair, and nudges Jeff's head back to center. It's better, having Jeff blindfolded, better to have him that much farther under Mike's control. Mike watches Jeff's chest rise and fall with slow, easy breaths. Then he puts his hand on Jeff, palm flat against Jeff's chest, fingers draping over a length of rope, and keeps it there for a minute before he takes it away for a while, and then puts it down on the other side of Jeff's chest.
Jeff twitches every time Mike puts his hand down, small shifts of muscle as he reacts to being touched, and his breath hitches more than once. It's better than just having Jeff tied up, even better than having him tied up and blindfolded.
Mike could get up and find something else to change the sensation for Jeff, but he likes making Jeff feel things with just his hands.
He does it for a while, watching the light on Jeff's chest as the afternoon sun lengthens. It's meditative, in a way, like tying Jeff up is, and Jeff stops reacting to it after a while, just takes it with the kind of easy acceptance that makes Mike so proud of him.
Mike just looks at Jeff for a couple of minutes after he stops touching him, and then he touches two fingertips to Jeff's cheek. "I'm going to take the blindfold off. Keep your eyes closed for a minute."
He unties the knot and slides the silk off of Jeff, the same way he always slides the ropes off, so Jeff can feel it. Jeff has his eyes closed, and Mike watches him scrunch them tighter against the light, then slowly, slowly open them.
Jeff is still totally gone, turning toward Mike without seeming to really see him.
Mike puts his hand on Jeff's forehead, strokes it through his hair. He keeps doing that, just touching Jeff some more, until Jeff comes back to himself a little and says, "Thank you."
Mike says, "You're such a good sub for me," and keeps Jeff tied up for a while longer.
*
They're on the road on the last day of their month, and Mike shares a shrug with Jeff that's all they can really do to mark the occasion.
They play Dallas the next day, and fly home that night. Jeff leans his head back in the car on the way home and asks, "We going to talk?"
"Not tonight," Mike says around a yawn. "I'm going to bed as soon as we get home. Tomorrow."
They go to bed when they get home, and Mike sleeps late in the morning and gets up to Jeff making lunch and coffee. They don't talk over lunch, and Mike gets up to help when Jeff starts cleaning up after they eat.
They sit down at the table after that, Mike with empty hands and Jeff with a bottle of water.
"That was a month," Mike says, because if he leaves it to Jeff to start this conversation, they'll probably be here all day.
"Yes." Jeff flashes him a grin. "A good month."
Mike grins right back at him. "Except for my fucking shoulder, a good month."
Jeff's hands tighten around his water bottle. "Does that mean we can keep going?"
Okay, so maybe he could have let Jeff start.
"Yes," Mike says firmly. Domming fills his need for control in a way other things don't, and doing it to Jeff is better than he could have thought. "I want to keep playing with you if you're sure you want this."
"Yes," Jeff says. "Please."
"You're getting much better at asking for what you want," Mike says. "We know it works," he waits for Jeff's nod, "so do you want to do another set period of time or leave it open-ended?"
Jeff's breath catches at that, and he puts his water bottle down. "Open-ended."
"We're going to have check-ins," Mike warns him, "like this, to sit down and make sure it's still working."
Jeff makes a face. "I hate talking about it."
"I know," Mike says, "but we should. I'm trying to be a good dom here."
"You are," Jeff says. "You're really good."
"And I'm going to be responsible and make you talk about it," Mike says. "Check-ins. End of the season, once over the summer, beginning of the season, and every other month during the season. You don't complain about it, and we talk about things honestly. Deal?"
"Deal," Jeff says. He rubs the back of his neck.
It's a tell; Mike gestures at him to keep going.
"During the playoffs. I'm probably going to want you to hurt me."
Mike might not have guessed it, but it makes sense. Playoffs are tough, grueling. It makes sense that Jeff's going to want something more then, and he'll probably want to do something sharper then too. "Only between rounds."
"Obviously," Jeff says.
"Anything else?" Mike asks.
"No," Jeff says. "Anything else you want from me?"
"No," Mike says. "You're a really good sub now that you're not manipulating me into it."
Jeff manages to smile and look apologetic at the same time.
"And you did good when I hurt my shoulder."
Jeff snorts. "I know how to deal with you when you're cranky."
Mike can't argue with that. "Same rules as before," he says. "You do what I say when it's just us, I won't micromanage you, you always have permission to hook up, and you ask for what you want. Good?"
"Yes," Jeff says.
"Good. If you ever want to stop, you can say so, even if it's not a check-in." Mike waits for Jeff's nod of agreement, and then he says, in the same tone of voice. "On your knees."
It's barely a second before Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees on the floor. Mike walks around the table and rests his hand on the top of Jeff's head, then bends down over him so he can wrap his hands around Jeff's wrists.
Jeff slumps out of his perfect posture, back coming to rest on Mike's legs.
Mike listens to him breathe, even and calm, trusting Mike with his body, with control. Mike only stays for a minute; he wants Jeff on his knees, but not on the hard floor.
He lets go and steps away, watching Jeff struggle not to fall toward him with the movement.
"Get up," Mike says. "You can come kneel in the living room." He turns away, trusting Jeff to do as he's told, and he hears Jeff's footsteps following him a second later.
*
They don't have a lot of time between the first round and the second, but it's enough for them to get one complete day off from practice. Mike and Jeff both sleep late, and they go out for brunch. When they get home, they take Arnold for a long walk on the beach.
Jeff's quiet, but more than quiet. He's tense, in a way that walking along the beach for an hour doesn't seem to do anything about.
Mike uses the walk to come up with half a dozen things he could do when they get home, depending on how Jeff acts and whether or not he asks for what he wants.
Mike, at least, is calm when they get home, Arnold tired out enough to make a mess drinking most of what's in his water bowl and then flop down on his dog bed. Mike stretches a little, watching him and readying himself for whatever Jeff is going to need.
Jeff goes to the kitchen and gets two bottles of water without being asked, and he takes the empty bottles to the recycling after they each drink one down, Mike on the couch and Jeff standing next to him.
Jeff comes back from the kitchen and sinks to his knees next to Mike, leans in and puts his forehead on Mike's knee. Mike runs his hand through Jeff's hair and down to his neck. If Jeff doesn't ask, Mike will, but he gives Jeff some time first.
Jeff takes a shuddering breath after a minute of Mike's hand resting on the back of his neck. "Will you hurt me?" he asks.
That's one of the things Mike thought about while they were walking, and he's ready to do that. "Yes," he says, scratching his blunt nails against Jeff's skin. "Any requests?"
"Tie my hands," Jeff says.
"That it?"
"Yes."
"Red and I stop," Mike says. He scratches the back of Jeff's neck, then gently pushes him away. "Get undressed. Everything. I'll be back in a minute."
He puts Arnold in the garage and goes upstairs for what he wants. He's had more than enough time to think about it, and to remember where everything he needs is. He isn't upstairs for more than two minutes, and he comes back downstairs to Jeff kneeling naked.
Jeff's head comes up a little as Mike comes toward him, and he sucks in a breath when Mike drops everything onto the coffee table. It's a satisfying reaction to get out of him.
"Hands behind you," Mike says, and Jeff does it without looking away from the table. From the hairbrush, unless Mike misses his guess.
Mike leans over him to put the cuffs on and clip them together. The angle would be easier on him if he sat down, but this isn't about what's easy for him; this is about what he is to Jeff.
Mike sits down once Jeff's hands are secure, and makes Jeff wait before he says, "Over my knees." He helps, so Jeff doesn't fall without his hands, but only so far as getting Jeff safely over his knees. Then he picks up the hairbrush.
He makes Jeff wait so long he starts fidgeting, and that's when Mike smacks him with the back of the hairbrush, right on the fleshiest part of his ass.
Jeff huffs out a breath and stills.
Mike hits him again, on the other side, and then he sets up a rhythm, evenly spaced blows light enough that he can keep going, layer on the pain until Jeff's gasping with every hit. Mike turns the brush over and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's ass and down to the untouched skin of his upper thigh.
Jeff swears, and Mike hits him again, harder now. Over and over again, distributing blows evenly, until there isn't anything in his world except the rhythm of the hairbrush and Jeff's reactions below him.
Jeff swears again.
Mike brings the brush down, hard, on Jeff's upper thighs, just below his ass, and Jeff yells. Mike does the other side, then back and forth while Jeff yells and protests and tugs at his bound hands. He can't go anywhere and he doesn't say "red." Mike hits him and hits him.
He stops, turns the brush over, and scrapes the bristles hard over Jeff's thighs.
Jeff goes silent for a breathless second, and then he gasps out a sob.
Mike scrapes the bristles up, over the curve of Jeff's ass, to his lower back, up one arm to his shoulder, down the other. He uncurls Jeff's hands and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's palms.
He listens to Jeff's sobs, heedless crying that means Mike's done his job and gotten Jeff out of whatever headspace he was in and into one where the only thing for him is what Mike's doing.
Mike lets up, running the bristles over Jeff's skin lightly, then turning the brush over and running the flat side of it over Jeff's heated skin. It's enough, Jeff as far gone as he's going to get, Mike completely calm and satisfied with getting him there. Mike leans over Jeff to drop the hairbrush on the coffee table and exchange it for the lotion he brought down from upstairs.
Jeff's crying tapers off while Mike rubs lotion into his skin. His breath is still heavy when Mike's done, but he's not sobbing anymore.
Mike taps his hip. "Up." He helps Jeff off his lap. "Knees."
Jeff settles all the way down, hissing when his ass comes to rest on his heels.
Mike grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the table. He uses one to wipe the tear tracks off of Jeff's face. He holds another to Jeff's nose. "Blow." After Jeff does, Mike says, "Stay there."
He knows Jeff's not going anywhere, but that's not the point.
Mike throws the tissues away in the kitchen and grabs a couple of cold packs and some water. The cold packs go on the coffee table while he holds a bottle of water for Jeff to drink from. He waits patiently between sips until Jeff drinks the whole thing.
"Stand."
Mike keeps his hand under Jeff's elbow as he struggles to his feet. He doesn't pull Jeff up, really, is just there so Jeff won't fall, which is a real concern with how wobbly he is. Mike's careful, when he has Jeff step into his underwear, to make sure Jeff's leaning on him. He doesn't want to hurt Jeff in any way he doesn't mean to.
Then he lets Jeff lie down on his stomach on the couch, head on Mike's thighs and hands still bound behind his back. Mike puts the cold packs over Jeff's ass and thighs. He doesn't turn on the TV, doesn't want the distraction for either of them, just lets them sit there in silence while he runs his hand through Jeff's hair over and over.
Jeff heaves in a breath after a while, and turns his head to look up at Mike, eyes shining with adoration.
Mike strokes his forehead, down to his cheek. "I've got you," he says, and Jeff sighs and puts his cheek down on Mike's thigh.
Mike unclips Jeff's wrists but leaves the cuffs on while he rubs Jeff's shoulders. Jeff stays limp and relaxed, and after a while, Mike takes off the cold packs and pulls a blanket down over him.
He turns on the TV sometime after Jeff falls asleep, and he still has it on low when Jeff wakes up. Jeff stretches and looks up at him.
"How's your ass?" Mike asks.
"Hurts," Jeff says. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. You going to be okay?"
"Mmhmm. Probably needs more ice."
Mike cups his hand over the back of Jeff's neck. "You stay there. I'll get it." He slides out from under Jeff and picks up the room-temperature cold packs from the coffee table.
Jeff grabs his wrist before he can go to the kitchen. "Thank you."
Mike carefully shifts his wrist out of Jeff's grip, pulls his hand up with the movement so he can squeeze Jeff's hand. "I've got you, Cartsy."
*
Neither of them is desperate to leave the city after their season is over. Losing in the playoffs is always a bitter disappointment, but in LA they can go to the beach or out to eat without being accosted by the combined disappointment of an entire city.
It gives them time, too, to decompress before they sit down and talk, which they don't do until after they've both bought plane tickets.
Mike keeps it simple to start with. "You still want this?"
"Yes," Jeff says promptly. "You?"
"Yes," Mike says. He puts a little bit of emphasis on it so Jeff will know just how much he means it. "That means we have to talk about summer. We're not going to be here," he waves at the house, "at all."
There's only a moment of hesitation before Jeff asks, "Can we just do the same thing in Kenora or Sea Isle? When it's just us?"
"It's not going to mess with your head to do it somewhere else?" It won't bother Mike, but their arrangement has been confined to the house so far, and that might carry weight for Jeff that it doesn't for him.
Jeff shakes his head. "No, and I don't want to go all summer without it."
"Fine with me," Mike says. He looks at Jeff for a second and then says, "You're getting good at asking for what you want."
Jeff shrugs, and looks away. "You give it to me when I do."
That's a huge thing Jeff just handed over, trust and acceptance all wrapped up together, and Mike lets them sit there with it for a couple of seconds. Then he says, "You always have permission to hook up. What about playing with other people?"
Jeff's eyes snap to his. "What?"
"You're going to be in Sea Isle for a while," Mike says. "I know you played with people in Philly."
Jeff stares at him. "What about you?"
"This one's up to you," Mike says. "I know some people near the lake, and if you want to play with other people, I might hit one of them up, but if you don't want to play with other people, I won't either."
Jeff just looks at him for a long time, and Mike lets him without looking away or interrupting his thought process.
"No," Jeff finally says.
"Okay," Mike says. "I might hook up with girls who will let me hold them down, but I won't play with anyone the way we work. Same deal for you. Hookups who will tell you what to do are fine, but not what we do."
Jeff stops looking so tense and nods.
"And if it doesn't work," Mike says, "we can change it. If it's not working for you, we'll talk about it even if it's not time for a check-in. That's an order," he adds, and gets a firmer nod from Jeff.
"Okay," Jeff says. "Thank you."
Mike reaches across the table to touch him, wrap his fingers around Jeff's wrist. "I like what we do," Mike says. "And I don't mind not sharing."
Jeff's lips quirk into a smile.
Mike grins at him and squeezes his wrist.
*
Mike settles easily into summer on the lake, fishing, hanging out with his brothers and his parents, playing softball. He texts Jeff a lot, and they talk at least once a week and Skype a couple of times so Jeff can say hi to Arnold. Mike's generally the one starting that, so he's a little surprised when Jeff texts him to ask if they can Skype.
For all that it's a little off, it starts out like usual, Mike getting Arnold to come look at the screen before he tries to lick the keyboard and Mike pushes him away, and Jeff smiling at both of them.
Jeff's smile doesn't last long, though.
"What's up, Cartsy?"
On the screen, Jeff tips his head back so he's looking at the ceiling instead of at the screen. He looks back before he asks, "Can I kneel for you?"
Mike hesitates. If they were in the same place, he'd say yes in a heartbeat. "I don't know," he says. "I'm not there to keep an eye on you."
"Please," Jeff says. "Even just for a couple of minutes."
"I want you to be safe."
"Please," Jeff says again.
"Okay," Mike says. He's worried about not being there, but also about not giving Jeff what he needs. "But just for a little while." He waits for Jeff to get comfortable and move his laptop to where they can still see each other. Mike's view is a little wider, so he can see Jeff kneeling on a cushion, and he's pretty sure Jeff's put him on the couch.
Even through the Skype connection Mike can see that Jeff's relaxing, but he still asks, "Better?"
"Yes."
Mike talks then, telling Jeff meaningless stories about his softball team and a roundup of family gossip. He keeps his voice calm, trying to make it a substitute for being right there where he can touch Jeff if he needs to.
It's been more than a few minutes when Mike stops talking.
"You good?" he asks after a couple of seconds of silence meant to make Jeff pay attention.
Jeff nods and when he looks into the camera, his face is dazed. "Yeah, thanks."
"Take a nap," Mike says, "and eat something, and call me later to let me know you're still okay."
"Yeah," Jeff says, "okay," and he still looks dazed when he disconnects.
Mike worries a little about whether or not that was a good idea, as satisfying as it was, but Jeff seems good when he calls later.
It also means Mike isn't surprised when Jeff shows up in Kenora unannounced. Mike has a deck full of people at the time, family, half his softball team, a couple of neighbors, a bunch of kids and dogs running around, and he doesn't notice Jeff at first.
It's Mark yelling, "Carts!" across the party that catches his attention, and then he looks up from the conversation he's having to see Jeff coming down from the house.
Most of Mike's family gets to Jeff before he does, and Jeff already has a beer by the time Mike hugs him.
"You didn't tell us Jeff was coming," Mom says.
"I didn't know." Mike throws an arm around Jeff's shoulders. "You should have called me. I would have picked you up at the airport. Or sent one of my brothers to get you."
Jeff shrugs. "Didn't want to bother you."
"You wouldn't have." Mike squeezes his shoulders and then lets go of him so Jeff can get something to eat.
It's a pretty big party, and people with kids leave pretty early, but everyone else stays until well after dark. It's late by the time it's just Mike, Jeff, and Arnold. Arnold flops down easily on his bed, tired out from all the excitement, and Mike and Jeff climb the stairs with only a little more energy.
They pause in the hallway upstairs. Mike knows why Jeff came, why he showed up unannounced, but they're both too tired and too drunk to do anything about it now.
Mike reaches out and takes Jeff's wrists in his hands. He waits to make sure Jeff's paying attention, and then he squeezes.
Jeff exhales all in a rush.
"I'd tie rope around them for the night," Mike says, "but I'm too drunk for it. I'll tie you up tomorrow if you want."
"Yes," Jeff says, "please."
Mike grins at him, unaccountably proud, and fond like he's always been where Jeff is concerned. He drops Jeff's wrists and pulls him into a hug instead.
*
Mike has Jeff kneel and ties him to the railing on the steps between the kitchen and the living room after they have a late breakfast. He sits across the room where he can keep an eye on Jeff and laugh when Arnold goes to investigate and whines when Jeff can't pet him.
Jeff says, "Sorry, bud," and Mike calls Arnold over to him.
"Sit," Mike says, and Arnold sits, and stays when Mike goes over to Jeff. "Okay?"
"I'm good," Jeff says. He tugs against the rope a little, and stops when Mike steps closer. Close enough for Jeff to lean his head against Mike. "Thank you."
Mike ruffles his hair and leaves him tied up for a while longer.
He leaves enough time between untying Jeff and lunch that Jeff's together enough for them to talk after lunch. It's different, sitting side by side at the counter in the kitchen instead of across a table, but Mike turns so he can see Jeff.
"I'm going to make you talk about it," he warns Jeff.
Jeff makes a face but nods.
Mike waits, because Jeff knows what he means, and he's willing to let Jeff take time to figure out how to say whatever he wants to say.
"I got used to it," Jeff says after a while. He shrugs one shoulder. "I didn't think it was going to be like this, but it felt weird not to have you telling me what to do."
"You can stay as long as you want," Mike says, "but we should probably figure out how to make this work for you. You could play with someone else."
Jeff shakes his head. "No."
"Cartsy," Mike says, "I'm not the only dom in the world." He likes being Jeff's dom, and he likes not sharing, but it might be the best thing for Jeff.
"No," Jeff says more firmly. "This works. I don't want to have to go through what it takes to get something like this again."
"I think you'd be better at it now," Mike says, "but okay. Long distance is harder. I don't want to do anything that's going to put you in danger."
"I know," Jeff says with a sigh. "Kneeling for you over Skype helped, but I missed having you actually there too."
Mike thinks for a couple of minutes, about what he can do when he's not there that will give Jeff what he wants without being dangerous.
"What if I told you to do things?" he asks slowly. "Like what to have for dinner or what kind of drink to order when you go out. You wouldn't need me to be there, and you'd still be obeying orders." Mike looks at Jeff. "And I'd still get to be in charge."
Jeff's quiet for a minute, which means he's thinking about it. "That could help."
"Okay," Mike says. "We'll try it when you go back to Jersey." He cups the back of Jeff's neck, thumb sweeping up and down Jeff's skin. "We'll figure it out."
Jeff quirks half a smile at him. "Does this count as our summer check-in?"
Mike laughs. "Nope. You just got yourself even more check-ins with this."
Jeff frowns at him, but his eyes are still bright, so he's just faking it.
*
Mike texts Jeff orders at least every other day after Jeff goes back to Sea Isle. Jeff acknowledges them as briefly as he acknowledges any other text, and Mike trusts him to do as he's told. Jeff doesn't say whether or not it's helping, so the problem of how to make it work over summers keeps hovering at the back of Mike's mind, even as he likes the hit of control he gets from telling Jeff what to do.
He goes to Sea Isle, of course, to spend some time hanging out with Jeff and the crew they used to hang out with when they lived in Philly. Jeff seems calm enough, less desperate than he was when he came to Kenora.
Mike orders him around, has him kneel for a while, and hand feeds him lunch when they have a long, lazy afternoon with no plans.
It's another afternoon with no plans when Mike tells Jeff to clean up after lunch and come back to the table.
Jeff does it and sits down with a resigned sigh. "Another check-in?"
"I told you there would be more." Mike looks at Jeff, content and easy in his skin. "Is it working?"
"Yes," Jeff says. "It's better when you're here, but yes. I'm not going to show up unannounced in the middle of another party on the lake."
"You can," Mike says, "but good." He looks at Jeff for a minute, taking in how relaxed Jeff looks, feeling what that does for him too. "Stay there." He gets up and goes to get his laptop, opens the page he bookmarked. "I have another idea." He sits down so he's not looming over Jeff. This is an offer, not an order, no matter how much he wants Jeff to take him up on it. "You can say no if you want." He turns the laptop around and pushes it toward Jeff.
Jeff says, "Oh," and his hand comes up to touch his neck. His eyes don't leave the screen.
Mike scrolled down before he turned the laptop to Jeff, so he knows which collar Jeff's looking at, black leather with a hefty looking buckle.
"You don't have to," Mike says, "but it could be a reminder for you. I'd tell you to wear it sometimes, but other than that it would be up to you when you wanted it." It could be for Mike too, to know that Jeff is always his to have like this.
"Yes," Jeff says. "Yes, Mike, please."
Mike goes around the table to sit next to Jeff, chair pulled close and at a little bit of an angle so his knee presses into Jeff's thigh. "You don't have to beg me for it, Cartsy." He squeezes the back of Jeff's neck. "If you like one of the other ones better, you can have a different design."
"No," Jeff says. "You picked this one."
Mike squeezes the back of Jeff's neck again. "This one then. On your knees." There's no point in doing anything else now; just looking at the collar has Jeff half under.
Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees at Mike's feet. He leans his forehead against Mike's thigh and stays there while Mike buys him a collar.
*
Mike has Jeff's collar sent to him in Kenora. He's not going to be in Sea Isle long enough to wait for it there, and he's going to be the one to put it on Jeff the first time.
He thinks it should feel bigger than it does. It should because it's a responsibility, a commitment, a promise. It doesn't because it's Jeff and Jeff is probably the person he knows best in the world. Having Jeff trust him with everything Jeff trusts him with, and trusting Jeff in return, is the easiest thing in the world.
His plan is to give Jeff the collar the next time he comes up to Kenora, a planned trip this time, for the golf tournament.
Jeff arrives with a bunch of other friends, people who are coming up a couple of days early so they can all hang out, drink and fish and party before they have to behave themselves for a charitable cause.
Mike invites a bunch of people over, and they invite a bunch of people, and pretty soon there's a party spilling out of the house and over the deck. Cabbie has a mix going on the speakers and is unsuccessfully trying to get a couple of girls to dance with him.
Mike and Jeff are both laughing at him when a voice behind them says, "Hi, Mikey."
Mike turns and bends down to kiss Holly's cheek. He's known her for a couple of years, has both heard a lot of stories and learned from personal experience what to expect from her. He's had fun with her, but tonight he's not really looking for the kind of jockeying for power hooking up with her would mean.
"Have you met Jeff?" Mike pulls Holly forward a little, and watches Jeff lean in to say hi to her.
Holly gives Mike a smirk, like she knows what he's doing. Jeff most certainly does know what he's doing, and he doesn't so much as look away from Holly when Mike wanders away from them.
Some of the guys go to bed alone later, but not all of them. Mike doesn't, and he's pretty sure Jeff and Holly disappeared from the party at the same time.
For his part, Mike ends up with Renee, who he thinks is a friend of one of the guys he plays softball with. He's not entirely sure, and he doesn't care as much about how she ended up at the party as he does about what it's like to have her moving under him in his bed. She's gone when he wakes up in the morning, which is kind of a relief; he's a little too hungover to feel like fucking this morning, and now he doesn't have to figure out who she is and if they like each other enough to see each other again. They'll run into each other again somewhere or they won't.
Mike takes a shower and goes downstairs to find Jeff making breakfast, red fingernail scratches visible on his neck above the collar of his t-shirt, and Holly sitting at the counter watching him.
"Are you making enough to share?" Mike settles into one of the other stools at the counter.
"For you, sure," Jeff says, and he cracks a couple more eggs. "Not for everyone."
Holly laughs, and looks away from Jeff to grin at Mike. "If anyone deserves it, it's the two of us."
Mike grins back at her, because he was the one who set them up, and that obviously worked out well.
Jeff brings him a cup of coffee after he starts the eggs, and he serves both Mike and Holly before he gets a plate for himself and sits down between them.
Holly leaves after breakfast, but she tugs Mike down to kiss his cheek first. "Thanks, Mikey. Hell of a party." Then she goes to Jeff, and kisses him with more tongue than Mike really needs to see, her hand tight around the back of Jeff's neck and fingernails digging into his skin. "And thank you. I'd party with you any time."
Jeff grins at her, and watches her ass as she walks away.
"Good night?" Mike asks mildly once she's out the door.
"Really good," Jeff says. "You knew it would be."
Then Mike lets his smugness show, which just gets him Jeff shoving at his shoulder and leaving him with the dishes.
*
The actual tournament, after they've all had time to recover from their hangovers, is fun, even though they're all playing in foursomes with donors. Golf is golf, and Mike has enough experience with charity events that he knows how to do this. Plus, one of the guys in his foursome is someone he's met before, so he can also remember to ask about the guy's kids and let that take up some of their conversational time.
They party a little after, but everyone but Jeff is flying out the next day, so it's nothing too crazy.
"You need anything while we're in town?" Mike asks after they drop everyone off at the airport.
"No."
Mike sees, but ignores, the looks Jeff keeps shooting him. He drives them home without giving anything away, lets Arnold out to run around on the deck while he and Jeff drink bottles of water.
Mike whistles for Arnold after a while, and they go inside where Mike tells Jeff, "Go sit in the living room, on your knees next to the couch."
Jeff's exhale is loud in the silence of the house, and Mike grins at him.
"I didn't forget about you, Cartsy."
Jeff grins back at him and goes to do as he's told. Arnold also does as he's told when Mike sends him to go lie down on his bed.
Mike heads upstairs and gets the box out of his closet, hidden under a stack of t-shirts in a drawer so no one who was there for the tournament would get to it. It's a plain black box, but the way Jeff's eyes follow Mike's hands when he goes downstairs mean it's obvious to him what's in it.
Mike sits down next to where Jeff is kneeling. "You sure you want this?" He doesn't think Jeff will back out now - doesn't want him to - but it seems worth checking, and Jeff's still with it enough to give him a clear-headed answer.
"Yes." Jeff looks up to meet Mike's eyes.
"Okay." Mike opens the box and takes out the collar, soft leather slipping through his fingers. It'll be easy for Jeff to wear; he can even sleep in it if he wants.
Putting it on Jeff for the first time also feels like it should be bigger than it is. Mike slips it around his neck, buckles it, makes sure it's not too tight. It's as easy as anything he's ever done with Jeff, easier than a lot of them. He lets his fingers linger at the edges of the collar, his visible mark on Jeff.
Then he looks at Jeff's face, and it is bigger than that. Jeff is staring back at him with the brightest look Mike's seen in his eyes since they won the Cup, and he's grinning from ear to ear.
"Good?"
"Yeah," Jeff says. He starts to laugh, giggles that bubble out of him like he doesn't mean to. "Really good." He bends his forehead to Mike's knee, still laughing.
It brings an answering joy filling Mike up, quieter, but just as certain. "Good, Cartsy, good." He rubs his hands through Jeff's hair. "It's not getting you out of check-ins."
Jeff's laugh takes on a more deliberate edge, and he grins up at Mike. "I know," he says, certain and calm behind his laughter. "You're doing what you need to do to take care of me."
They have a morning skate that leaves everyone too cranky to make plans to hang out or get lunch or anything; they all just want to go home and forget about it until game time.
Mike is one of the guys stuck there after skate because the doc and the trainers want to check on his shoulder. It doesn't hurt anymore, and they tell him it looks good and that they don't have to check on it again unless it starts to hurt or he gets hit again.
That, at least, is a relief, but he's still irritated and on edge. He and Jeff took separate cars to the rink. If Jeff left just after practice, he's got to be almost home by now. It's probably pushing a little, but Mike texts him, I'm leaving the rink now. Make lunch.
He can smell something cooking when he gets home, and Jeff calls, "I already took Arnold out," so Mike kicks off his shoes and goes to the kitchen with Arnold at his heels.
"It'll be ready soon," Jeff says.
Mike walks around the counter into the kitchen and looks over Jeff's shoulder. "Do you need to do anything with it right now?"
Jeff turns to face him. "It needs to be stirred every couple of minutes."
"On your knees." Mike usually tries to be careful of Jeff's knees, but if it's only going to be a few minutes, he can be on the hard kitchen floor, and telling Jeff to make lunch wasn't enough to satisfy what Mike wants right now.
Jeff folds without question. He clasps his hands together in front of him and keeps his eyes down.
Mike strokes Jeff's hair and then cups the back of his head and draws him in so Jeff's forehead is resting on his thigh. He lets Jeff stay there for a moment, both of them relaxing and breathing easier, before he says, "They said my shoulder's good. After lunch I'm going to tie you up with the rope I bought for you."
Jeff presses his forehead hard into Mike's thigh. "Yes, please."
Mike cups the back of his neck. "I'll take care of you," he promises. "Now get up before lunch burns."
Jeff's moving easier when he gets up, and Mike certainly feels better.
They eat lunch with Arnold darting around them and under the table, whacking them with his tail and hoping for them to drop something.
"Leave the dishes," Mike says after they're done. It'll make more work for later, but he doesn't want to wait for Jeff to clean up. "Upstairs. My room. Wait for me."
Jeff goes, and Mike takes a couple of minutes to pet Arnold and grab a couple of bottles of water before he goes upstairs.
Jeff's waiting in the middle of Mike's bedroom, still dressed and standing. Mike ignores him while he puts the bottles of water down on the nightstand and gets the rope out of the closet. He tosses the rope on the bed. Jeff's eyes follow the rope, and Mike stands between it and Jeff to break his focus. This is Mike's show, and Jeff will get what Mike gives him.
Mike pulls Jeff's shirt up by the hem. He could tell Jeff to do it himself, but it's a good reminder for Jeff that everything is Mike's choice.
"Arms up." When Jeff obeys, Mike pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side, guides Jeff's arms back down to his sides. He unbuttons Jeff's jeans, unzips them, and kneels to pull them down and balance Jeff while he steps out of them.
Mike makes sure Jeff's steady, arms at his sides, and he picks up the rope.
"It looks like the other rope," Mike says. He runs a length of it through his hands. "But it's bamboo. Softer than nylon or cotton." He drapes it over Jeff's shoulder and slides it over so Jeff can feel it. He gets a shiver of response out of Jeff.
Mike steps around behind Jeff and waits for a moment, making Jeff wait, before he starts twisting and looping rope around him. It takes a while, and Mike works slowly and carefully. He touches Jeff as much as he can while he puts the rope where he wants it and ties it off. In the end, it forms a harness of sorts, rope over Jeff's shoulders and crisscrossing over his chest with knots and loops forming lines down the center of his body, front and back. Mike tugs on it to make sure it's going to stay, and that it's not too tight or too loose.
"How does that feel?"
"Good."
"Yeah?" Mike runs his hand down Jeff's chest, running over rope and skin and pulling the rope a little. "How do you like the bamboo?"
"I like it," Jeff says. His head is tipped down just a bit, eyes closed, and he sways toward Mike a little. "Soft."
Mike chuckles and rubs his hand over one of the pieces of rope, rolling it against Jeff's skin. "Good on your skin?"
"Yes," Jeff says. "Mike, please."
Mike takes a step back so he can reach a new piece of rope, a shorter length. "Give me your hands." He wraps up Jeff's wrists, looping the rope around and around in thick cuffs and tying it off. "Try that." He taps Jeff's wrists to get Jeff to try to pull them apart.
Jeff makes a noise, and Mike taps his wrists again.
"Okay?"
Jeff turns dazed eyes on him. "I love this rope."
Mike loves it too, for what it does to Jeff. He puts an arm around Jeff and lets Jeff lean his forehead on his shoulder for a minute. "You want more of it?"
Jeff straightens up. "Yes, please."
Mike grabs a length of rope from the bed and crouches down. He ties Jeff's ankles together with just a little play between them. He runs a hand up the back of Jeff's leg from his ankle to his knee.
"Still good?"
"Yes."
"Good." Mike stands, takes a couple of steps backwards, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Come here. You can kneel here."
Jeff shuffles forward in tiny not quite steps, and when he's close enough, Mike holds onto him so he doesn't fall as he kneels.
Jeff sighs and folds forward even more so his forehead is on Mike's knee.
Mike strokes his hair, even, repetitive motion while Jeff's muscles go soft and relaxed.
It works on Mike, too, making him so calm he forgets about their shitty skate and thinks only about Jeff tied up and on his knees.
Mike rests his hand on the back of Jeff's neck when it's been long enough for Jeff's knees. "Come up here."
Jeff rolls his forehead against Mike's knee. "Let me stay. Please."
"It's going to hurt your knees," Mike says. "And we have a game later. We need a nap."
"I don't care."
"You will." Mike tightens his hand. "Come on, up." He pulls Jeff up onto the bed without making him stand all the way. He unties the knots at Jeff's ankles carefully and slides the rope across Jeff's skin when he pulls it away. He does the same thing with his wrists, and he has to move Jeff's arms apart to get to the knots holding the rope on his chest together.
"This isn't the only time," Mike promises when he pulls the last length of rope across Jeff's skin and away. "I bought it for you, and I'll tie you up with it again."
"Thank you," Jeff says.
"You're welcome." Mike runs his hands over Jeff's chest, and down to his wrists. "You're such a good sub." He tugs Jeff up the bed. "Come up here and take a nap with me."
Jeff settles in next to him, his breath already slow and even. Mike watches him make the almost imperceptible slide from awake to asleep, and even thinking ahead to the game or back to skate doesn't disturb his calm.
*
Mike has his phone counting down the days, and he tells - doesn't ask, but tells - Jeff that they're staying in after practice on the last no game, no travel day of their month. If Jeff isn't tracking their time that closely, he at least has to know what kind of thing Mike is planning.
Mike has Jeff cook lunch and do the dishes afterwards. He makes Jeff wait after that, hanging out on the couch with his phone until Jeff kneels next to him of his own accord. After a few minutes, when Jeff settles, Mike strokes Jeff's hair, over and over until Jeff is leaning into him and Mike doesn't want to leave him on his knees any longer.
He takes Jeff upstairs and ties him to the bed. It's enough to send Jeff under, but Mike's still itchy. This works well, and he doesn't think Jeff is going to want to stop, but their month is almost over.
Mike puts his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "I'm just going across the room. I'll be right back." He has a sleep mask - there are probably a couple of them in the house - and plenty of ties, but that's not what he wants. He wants something that will fit better with the rope, and somewhere in his closet is a piece of black silk just the right length.
He finds the drawer it's in, and folds it over as he walks back to Jeff. Jeff's eyes are open, and he's not so gone that he can't watch Mike, or figure out what Mike's doing. He lifts his head up before Mike tells him to.
"Good," Mike murmurs, and he pats Jeff's cheek before he wraps the cloth around his eyes twice and ties it off to the side, so Jeff isn't lying on the knot when he puts his head down. "Okay?"
"Yeah." Jeff turns his head toward Mike. "Really good."
Mike strokes his hair, and nudges Jeff's head back to center. It's better, having Jeff blindfolded, better to have him that much farther under Mike's control. Mike watches Jeff's chest rise and fall with slow, easy breaths. Then he puts his hand on Jeff, palm flat against Jeff's chest, fingers draping over a length of rope, and keeps it there for a minute before he takes it away for a while, and then puts it down on the other side of Jeff's chest.
Jeff twitches every time Mike puts his hand down, small shifts of muscle as he reacts to being touched, and his breath hitches more than once. It's better than just having Jeff tied up, even better than having him tied up and blindfolded.
Mike could get up and find something else to change the sensation for Jeff, but he likes making Jeff feel things with just his hands.
He does it for a while, watching the light on Jeff's chest as the afternoon sun lengthens. It's meditative, in a way, like tying Jeff up is, and Jeff stops reacting to it after a while, just takes it with the kind of easy acceptance that makes Mike so proud of him.
Mike just looks at Jeff for a couple of minutes after he stops touching him, and then he touches two fingertips to Jeff's cheek. "I'm going to take the blindfold off. Keep your eyes closed for a minute."
He unties the knot and slides the silk off of Jeff, the same way he always slides the ropes off, so Jeff can feel it. Jeff has his eyes closed, and Mike watches him scrunch them tighter against the light, then slowly, slowly open them.
Jeff is still totally gone, turning toward Mike without seeming to really see him.
Mike puts his hand on Jeff's forehead, strokes it through his hair. He keeps doing that, just touching Jeff some more, until Jeff comes back to himself a little and says, "Thank you."
Mike says, "You're such a good sub for me," and keeps Jeff tied up for a while longer.
*
They're on the road on the last day of their month, and Mike shares a shrug with Jeff that's all they can really do to mark the occasion.
They play Dallas the next day, and fly home that night. Jeff leans his head back in the car on the way home and asks, "We going to talk?"
"Not tonight," Mike says around a yawn. "I'm going to bed as soon as we get home. Tomorrow."
They go to bed when they get home, and Mike sleeps late in the morning and gets up to Jeff making lunch and coffee. They don't talk over lunch, and Mike gets up to help when Jeff starts cleaning up after they eat.
They sit down at the table after that, Mike with empty hands and Jeff with a bottle of water.
"That was a month," Mike says, because if he leaves it to Jeff to start this conversation, they'll probably be here all day.
"Yes." Jeff flashes him a grin. "A good month."
Mike grins right back at him. "Except for my fucking shoulder, a good month."
Jeff's hands tighten around his water bottle. "Does that mean we can keep going?"
Okay, so maybe he could have let Jeff start.
"Yes," Mike says firmly. Domming fills his need for control in a way other things don't, and doing it to Jeff is better than he could have thought. "I want to keep playing with you if you're sure you want this."
"Yes," Jeff says. "Please."
"You're getting much better at asking for what you want," Mike says. "We know it works," he waits for Jeff's nod, "so do you want to do another set period of time or leave it open-ended?"
Jeff's breath catches at that, and he puts his water bottle down. "Open-ended."
"We're going to have check-ins," Mike warns him, "like this, to sit down and make sure it's still working."
Jeff makes a face. "I hate talking about it."
"I know," Mike says, "but we should. I'm trying to be a good dom here."
"You are," Jeff says. "You're really good."
"And I'm going to be responsible and make you talk about it," Mike says. "Check-ins. End of the season, once over the summer, beginning of the season, and every other month during the season. You don't complain about it, and we talk about things honestly. Deal?"
"Deal," Jeff says. He rubs the back of his neck.
It's a tell; Mike gestures at him to keep going.
"During the playoffs. I'm probably going to want you to hurt me."
Mike might not have guessed it, but it makes sense. Playoffs are tough, grueling. It makes sense that Jeff's going to want something more then, and he'll probably want to do something sharper then too. "Only between rounds."
"Obviously," Jeff says.
"Anything else?" Mike asks.
"No," Jeff says. "Anything else you want from me?"
"No," Mike says. "You're a really good sub now that you're not manipulating me into it."
Jeff manages to smile and look apologetic at the same time.
"And you did good when I hurt my shoulder."
Jeff snorts. "I know how to deal with you when you're cranky."
Mike can't argue with that. "Same rules as before," he says. "You do what I say when it's just us, I won't micromanage you, you always have permission to hook up, and you ask for what you want. Good?"
"Yes," Jeff says.
"Good. If you ever want to stop, you can say so, even if it's not a check-in." Mike waits for Jeff's nod of agreement, and then he says, in the same tone of voice. "On your knees."
It's barely a second before Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees on the floor. Mike walks around the table and rests his hand on the top of Jeff's head, then bends down over him so he can wrap his hands around Jeff's wrists.
Jeff slumps out of his perfect posture, back coming to rest on Mike's legs.
Mike listens to him breathe, even and calm, trusting Mike with his body, with control. Mike only stays for a minute; he wants Jeff on his knees, but not on the hard floor.
He lets go and steps away, watching Jeff struggle not to fall toward him with the movement.
"Get up," Mike says. "You can come kneel in the living room." He turns away, trusting Jeff to do as he's told, and he hears Jeff's footsteps following him a second later.
*
They don't have a lot of time between the first round and the second, but it's enough for them to get one complete day off from practice. Mike and Jeff both sleep late, and they go out for brunch. When they get home, they take Arnold for a long walk on the beach.
Jeff's quiet, but more than quiet. He's tense, in a way that walking along the beach for an hour doesn't seem to do anything about.
Mike uses the walk to come up with half a dozen things he could do when they get home, depending on how Jeff acts and whether or not he asks for what he wants.
Mike, at least, is calm when they get home, Arnold tired out enough to make a mess drinking most of what's in his water bowl and then flop down on his dog bed. Mike stretches a little, watching him and readying himself for whatever Jeff is going to need.
Jeff goes to the kitchen and gets two bottles of water without being asked, and he takes the empty bottles to the recycling after they each drink one down, Mike on the couch and Jeff standing next to him.
Jeff comes back from the kitchen and sinks to his knees next to Mike, leans in and puts his forehead on Mike's knee. Mike runs his hand through Jeff's hair and down to his neck. If Jeff doesn't ask, Mike will, but he gives Jeff some time first.
Jeff takes a shuddering breath after a minute of Mike's hand resting on the back of his neck. "Will you hurt me?" he asks.
That's one of the things Mike thought about while they were walking, and he's ready to do that. "Yes," he says, scratching his blunt nails against Jeff's skin. "Any requests?"
"Tie my hands," Jeff says.
"That it?"
"Yes."
"Red and I stop," Mike says. He scratches the back of Jeff's neck, then gently pushes him away. "Get undressed. Everything. I'll be back in a minute."
He puts Arnold in the garage and goes upstairs for what he wants. He's had more than enough time to think about it, and to remember where everything he needs is. He isn't upstairs for more than two minutes, and he comes back downstairs to Jeff kneeling naked.
Jeff's head comes up a little as Mike comes toward him, and he sucks in a breath when Mike drops everything onto the coffee table. It's a satisfying reaction to get out of him.
"Hands behind you," Mike says, and Jeff does it without looking away from the table. From the hairbrush, unless Mike misses his guess.
Mike leans over him to put the cuffs on and clip them together. The angle would be easier on him if he sat down, but this isn't about what's easy for him; this is about what he is to Jeff.
Mike sits down once Jeff's hands are secure, and makes Jeff wait before he says, "Over my knees." He helps, so Jeff doesn't fall without his hands, but only so far as getting Jeff safely over his knees. Then he picks up the hairbrush.
He makes Jeff wait so long he starts fidgeting, and that's when Mike smacks him with the back of the hairbrush, right on the fleshiest part of his ass.
Jeff huffs out a breath and stills.
Mike hits him again, on the other side, and then he sets up a rhythm, evenly spaced blows light enough that he can keep going, layer on the pain until Jeff's gasping with every hit. Mike turns the brush over and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's ass and down to the untouched skin of his upper thigh.
Jeff swears, and Mike hits him again, harder now. Over and over again, distributing blows evenly, until there isn't anything in his world except the rhythm of the hairbrush and Jeff's reactions below him.
Jeff swears again.
Mike brings the brush down, hard, on Jeff's upper thighs, just below his ass, and Jeff yells. Mike does the other side, then back and forth while Jeff yells and protests and tugs at his bound hands. He can't go anywhere and he doesn't say "red." Mike hits him and hits him.
He stops, turns the brush over, and scrapes the bristles hard over Jeff's thighs.
Jeff goes silent for a breathless second, and then he gasps out a sob.
Mike scrapes the bristles up, over the curve of Jeff's ass, to his lower back, up one arm to his shoulder, down the other. He uncurls Jeff's hands and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's palms.
He listens to Jeff's sobs, heedless crying that means Mike's done his job and gotten Jeff out of whatever headspace he was in and into one where the only thing for him is what Mike's doing.
Mike lets up, running the bristles over Jeff's skin lightly, then turning the brush over and running the flat side of it over Jeff's heated skin. It's enough, Jeff as far gone as he's going to get, Mike completely calm and satisfied with getting him there. Mike leans over Jeff to drop the hairbrush on the coffee table and exchange it for the lotion he brought down from upstairs.
Jeff's crying tapers off while Mike rubs lotion into his skin. His breath is still heavy when Mike's done, but he's not sobbing anymore.
Mike taps his hip. "Up." He helps Jeff off his lap. "Knees."
Jeff settles all the way down, hissing when his ass comes to rest on his heels.
Mike grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the table. He uses one to wipe the tear tracks off of Jeff's face. He holds another to Jeff's nose. "Blow." After Jeff does, Mike says, "Stay there."
He knows Jeff's not going anywhere, but that's not the point.
Mike throws the tissues away in the kitchen and grabs a couple of cold packs and some water. The cold packs go on the coffee table while he holds a bottle of water for Jeff to drink from. He waits patiently between sips until Jeff drinks the whole thing.
"Stand."
Mike keeps his hand under Jeff's elbow as he struggles to his feet. He doesn't pull Jeff up, really, is just there so Jeff won't fall, which is a real concern with how wobbly he is. Mike's careful, when he has Jeff step into his underwear, to make sure Jeff's leaning on him. He doesn't want to hurt Jeff in any way he doesn't mean to.
Then he lets Jeff lie down on his stomach on the couch, head on Mike's thighs and hands still bound behind his back. Mike puts the cold packs over Jeff's ass and thighs. He doesn't turn on the TV, doesn't want the distraction for either of them, just lets them sit there in silence while he runs his hand through Jeff's hair over and over.
Jeff heaves in a breath after a while, and turns his head to look up at Mike, eyes shining with adoration.
Mike strokes his forehead, down to his cheek. "I've got you," he says, and Jeff sighs and puts his cheek down on Mike's thigh.
Mike unclips Jeff's wrists but leaves the cuffs on while he rubs Jeff's shoulders. Jeff stays limp and relaxed, and after a while, Mike takes off the cold packs and pulls a blanket down over him.
He turns on the TV sometime after Jeff falls asleep, and he still has it on low when Jeff wakes up. Jeff stretches and looks up at him.
"How's your ass?" Mike asks.
"Hurts," Jeff says. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. You going to be okay?"
"Mmhmm. Probably needs more ice."
Mike cups his hand over the back of Jeff's neck. "You stay there. I'll get it." He slides out from under Jeff and picks up the room-temperature cold packs from the coffee table.
Jeff grabs his wrist before he can go to the kitchen. "Thank you."
Mike carefully shifts his wrist out of Jeff's grip, pulls his hand up with the movement so he can squeeze Jeff's hand. "I've got you, Cartsy."
*
Neither of them is desperate to leave the city after their season is over. Losing in the playoffs is always a bitter disappointment, but in LA they can go to the beach or out to eat without being accosted by the combined disappointment of an entire city.
It gives them time, too, to decompress before they sit down and talk, which they don't do until after they've both bought plane tickets.
Mike keeps it simple to start with. "You still want this?"
"Yes," Jeff says promptly. "You?"
"Yes," Mike says. He puts a little bit of emphasis on it so Jeff will know just how much he means it. "That means we have to talk about summer. We're not going to be here," he waves at the house, "at all."
There's only a moment of hesitation before Jeff asks, "Can we just do the same thing in Kenora or Sea Isle? When it's just us?"
"It's not going to mess with your head to do it somewhere else?" It won't bother Mike, but their arrangement has been confined to the house so far, and that might carry weight for Jeff that it doesn't for him.
Jeff shakes his head. "No, and I don't want to go all summer without it."
"Fine with me," Mike says. He looks at Jeff for a second and then says, "You're getting good at asking for what you want."
Jeff shrugs, and looks away. "You give it to me when I do."
That's a huge thing Jeff just handed over, trust and acceptance all wrapped up together, and Mike lets them sit there with it for a couple of seconds. Then he says, "You always have permission to hook up. What about playing with other people?"
Jeff's eyes snap to his. "What?"
"You're going to be in Sea Isle for a while," Mike says. "I know you played with people in Philly."
Jeff stares at him. "What about you?"
"This one's up to you," Mike says. "I know some people near the lake, and if you want to play with other people, I might hit one of them up, but if you don't want to play with other people, I won't either."
Jeff just looks at him for a long time, and Mike lets him without looking away or interrupting his thought process.
"No," Jeff finally says.
"Okay," Mike says. "I might hook up with girls who will let me hold them down, but I won't play with anyone the way we work. Same deal for you. Hookups who will tell you what to do are fine, but not what we do."
Jeff stops looking so tense and nods.
"And if it doesn't work," Mike says, "we can change it. If it's not working for you, we'll talk about it even if it's not time for a check-in. That's an order," he adds, and gets a firmer nod from Jeff.
"Okay," Jeff says. "Thank you."
Mike reaches across the table to touch him, wrap his fingers around Jeff's wrist. "I like what we do," Mike says. "And I don't mind not sharing."
Jeff's lips quirk into a smile.
Mike grins at him and squeezes his wrist.
*
Mike settles easily into summer on the lake, fishing, hanging out with his brothers and his parents, playing softball. He texts Jeff a lot, and they talk at least once a week and Skype a couple of times so Jeff can say hi to Arnold. Mike's generally the one starting that, so he's a little surprised when Jeff texts him to ask if they can Skype.
For all that it's a little off, it starts out like usual, Mike getting Arnold to come look at the screen before he tries to lick the keyboard and Mike pushes him away, and Jeff smiling at both of them.
Jeff's smile doesn't last long, though.
"What's up, Cartsy?"
On the screen, Jeff tips his head back so he's looking at the ceiling instead of at the screen. He looks back before he asks, "Can I kneel for you?"
Mike hesitates. If they were in the same place, he'd say yes in a heartbeat. "I don't know," he says. "I'm not there to keep an eye on you."
"Please," Jeff says. "Even just for a couple of minutes."
"I want you to be safe."
"Please," Jeff says again.
"Okay," Mike says. He's worried about not being there, but also about not giving Jeff what he needs. "But just for a little while." He waits for Jeff to get comfortable and move his laptop to where they can still see each other. Mike's view is a little wider, so he can see Jeff kneeling on a cushion, and he's pretty sure Jeff's put him on the couch.
Even through the Skype connection Mike can see that Jeff's relaxing, but he still asks, "Better?"
"Yes."
Mike talks then, telling Jeff meaningless stories about his softball team and a roundup of family gossip. He keeps his voice calm, trying to make it a substitute for being right there where he can touch Jeff if he needs to.
It's been more than a few minutes when Mike stops talking.
"You good?" he asks after a couple of seconds of silence meant to make Jeff pay attention.
Jeff nods and when he looks into the camera, his face is dazed. "Yeah, thanks."
"Take a nap," Mike says, "and eat something, and call me later to let me know you're still okay."
"Yeah," Jeff says, "okay," and he still looks dazed when he disconnects.
Mike worries a little about whether or not that was a good idea, as satisfying as it was, but Jeff seems good when he calls later.
It also means Mike isn't surprised when Jeff shows up in Kenora unannounced. Mike has a deck full of people at the time, family, half his softball team, a couple of neighbors, a bunch of kids and dogs running around, and he doesn't notice Jeff at first.
It's Mark yelling, "Carts!" across the party that catches his attention, and then he looks up from the conversation he's having to see Jeff coming down from the house.
Most of Mike's family gets to Jeff before he does, and Jeff already has a beer by the time Mike hugs him.
"You didn't tell us Jeff was coming," Mom says.
"I didn't know." Mike throws an arm around Jeff's shoulders. "You should have called me. I would have picked you up at the airport. Or sent one of my brothers to get you."
Jeff shrugs. "Didn't want to bother you."
"You wouldn't have." Mike squeezes his shoulders and then lets go of him so Jeff can get something to eat.
It's a pretty big party, and people with kids leave pretty early, but everyone else stays until well after dark. It's late by the time it's just Mike, Jeff, and Arnold. Arnold flops down easily on his bed, tired out from all the excitement, and Mike and Jeff climb the stairs with only a little more energy.
They pause in the hallway upstairs. Mike knows why Jeff came, why he showed up unannounced, but they're both too tired and too drunk to do anything about it now.
Mike reaches out and takes Jeff's wrists in his hands. He waits to make sure Jeff's paying attention, and then he squeezes.
Jeff exhales all in a rush.
"I'd tie rope around them for the night," Mike says, "but I'm too drunk for it. I'll tie you up tomorrow if you want."
"Yes," Jeff says, "please."
Mike grins at him, unaccountably proud, and fond like he's always been where Jeff is concerned. He drops Jeff's wrists and pulls him into a hug instead.
*
Mike has Jeff kneel and ties him to the railing on the steps between the kitchen and the living room after they have a late breakfast. He sits across the room where he can keep an eye on Jeff and laugh when Arnold goes to investigate and whines when Jeff can't pet him.
Jeff says, "Sorry, bud," and Mike calls Arnold over to him.
"Sit," Mike says, and Arnold sits, and stays when Mike goes over to Jeff. "Okay?"
"I'm good," Jeff says. He tugs against the rope a little, and stops when Mike steps closer. Close enough for Jeff to lean his head against Mike. "Thank you."
Mike ruffles his hair and leaves him tied up for a while longer.
He leaves enough time between untying Jeff and lunch that Jeff's together enough for them to talk after lunch. It's different, sitting side by side at the counter in the kitchen instead of across a table, but Mike turns so he can see Jeff.
"I'm going to make you talk about it," he warns Jeff.
Jeff makes a face but nods.
Mike waits, because Jeff knows what he means, and he's willing to let Jeff take time to figure out how to say whatever he wants to say.
"I got used to it," Jeff says after a while. He shrugs one shoulder. "I didn't think it was going to be like this, but it felt weird not to have you telling me what to do."
"You can stay as long as you want," Mike says, "but we should probably figure out how to make this work for you. You could play with someone else."
Jeff shakes his head. "No."
"Cartsy," Mike says, "I'm not the only dom in the world." He likes being Jeff's dom, and he likes not sharing, but it might be the best thing for Jeff.
"No," Jeff says more firmly. "This works. I don't want to have to go through what it takes to get something like this again."
"I think you'd be better at it now," Mike says, "but okay. Long distance is harder. I don't want to do anything that's going to put you in danger."
"I know," Jeff says with a sigh. "Kneeling for you over Skype helped, but I missed having you actually there too."
Mike thinks for a couple of minutes, about what he can do when he's not there that will give Jeff what he wants without being dangerous.
"What if I told you to do things?" he asks slowly. "Like what to have for dinner or what kind of drink to order when you go out. You wouldn't need me to be there, and you'd still be obeying orders." Mike looks at Jeff. "And I'd still get to be in charge."
Jeff's quiet for a minute, which means he's thinking about it. "That could help."
"Okay," Mike says. "We'll try it when you go back to Jersey." He cups the back of Jeff's neck, thumb sweeping up and down Jeff's skin. "We'll figure it out."
Jeff quirks half a smile at him. "Does this count as our summer check-in?"
Mike laughs. "Nope. You just got yourself even more check-ins with this."
Jeff frowns at him, but his eyes are still bright, so he's just faking it.
*
Mike texts Jeff orders at least every other day after Jeff goes back to Sea Isle. Jeff acknowledges them as briefly as he acknowledges any other text, and Mike trusts him to do as he's told. Jeff doesn't say whether or not it's helping, so the problem of how to make it work over summers keeps hovering at the back of Mike's mind, even as he likes the hit of control he gets from telling Jeff what to do.
He goes to Sea Isle, of course, to spend some time hanging out with Jeff and the crew they used to hang out with when they lived in Philly. Jeff seems calm enough, less desperate than he was when he came to Kenora.
Mike orders him around, has him kneel for a while, and hand feeds him lunch when they have a long, lazy afternoon with no plans.
It's another afternoon with no plans when Mike tells Jeff to clean up after lunch and come back to the table.
Jeff does it and sits down with a resigned sigh. "Another check-in?"
"I told you there would be more." Mike looks at Jeff, content and easy in his skin. "Is it working?"
"Yes," Jeff says. "It's better when you're here, but yes. I'm not going to show up unannounced in the middle of another party on the lake."
"You can," Mike says, "but good." He looks at Jeff for a minute, taking in how relaxed Jeff looks, feeling what that does for him too. "Stay there." He gets up and goes to get his laptop, opens the page he bookmarked. "I have another idea." He sits down so he's not looming over Jeff. This is an offer, not an order, no matter how much he wants Jeff to take him up on it. "You can say no if you want." He turns the laptop around and pushes it toward Jeff.
Jeff says, "Oh," and his hand comes up to touch his neck. His eyes don't leave the screen.
Mike scrolled down before he turned the laptop to Jeff, so he knows which collar Jeff's looking at, black leather with a hefty looking buckle.
"You don't have to," Mike says, "but it could be a reminder for you. I'd tell you to wear it sometimes, but other than that it would be up to you when you wanted it." It could be for Mike too, to know that Jeff is always his to have like this.
"Yes," Jeff says. "Yes, Mike, please."
Mike goes around the table to sit next to Jeff, chair pulled close and at a little bit of an angle so his knee presses into Jeff's thigh. "You don't have to beg me for it, Cartsy." He squeezes the back of Jeff's neck. "If you like one of the other ones better, you can have a different design."
"No," Jeff says. "You picked this one."
Mike squeezes the back of Jeff's neck again. "This one then. On your knees." There's no point in doing anything else now; just looking at the collar has Jeff half under.
Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees at Mike's feet. He leans his forehead against Mike's thigh and stays there while Mike buys him a collar.
*
Mike has Jeff's collar sent to him in Kenora. He's not going to be in Sea Isle long enough to wait for it there, and he's going to be the one to put it on Jeff the first time.
He thinks it should feel bigger than it does. It should because it's a responsibility, a commitment, a promise. It doesn't because it's Jeff and Jeff is probably the person he knows best in the world. Having Jeff trust him with everything Jeff trusts him with, and trusting Jeff in return, is the easiest thing in the world.
His plan is to give Jeff the collar the next time he comes up to Kenora, a planned trip this time, for the golf tournament.
Jeff arrives with a bunch of other friends, people who are coming up a couple of days early so they can all hang out, drink and fish and party before they have to behave themselves for a charitable cause.
Mike invites a bunch of people over, and they invite a bunch of people, and pretty soon there's a party spilling out of the house and over the deck. Cabbie has a mix going on the speakers and is unsuccessfully trying to get a couple of girls to dance with him.
Mike and Jeff are both laughing at him when a voice behind them says, "Hi, Mikey."
Mike turns and bends down to kiss Holly's cheek. He's known her for a couple of years, has both heard a lot of stories and learned from personal experience what to expect from her. He's had fun with her, but tonight he's not really looking for the kind of jockeying for power hooking up with her would mean.
"Have you met Jeff?" Mike pulls Holly forward a little, and watches Jeff lean in to say hi to her.
Holly gives Mike a smirk, like she knows what he's doing. Jeff most certainly does know what he's doing, and he doesn't so much as look away from Holly when Mike wanders away from them.
Some of the guys go to bed alone later, but not all of them. Mike doesn't, and he's pretty sure Jeff and Holly disappeared from the party at the same time.
For his part, Mike ends up with Renee, who he thinks is a friend of one of the guys he plays softball with. He's not entirely sure, and he doesn't care as much about how she ended up at the party as he does about what it's like to have her moving under him in his bed. She's gone when he wakes up in the morning, which is kind of a relief; he's a little too hungover to feel like fucking this morning, and now he doesn't have to figure out who she is and if they like each other enough to see each other again. They'll run into each other again somewhere or they won't.
Mike takes a shower and goes downstairs to find Jeff making breakfast, red fingernail scratches visible on his neck above the collar of his t-shirt, and Holly sitting at the counter watching him.
"Are you making enough to share?" Mike settles into one of the other stools at the counter.
"For you, sure," Jeff says, and he cracks a couple more eggs. "Not for everyone."
Holly laughs, and looks away from Jeff to grin at Mike. "If anyone deserves it, it's the two of us."
Mike grins back at her, because he was the one who set them up, and that obviously worked out well.
Jeff brings him a cup of coffee after he starts the eggs, and he serves both Mike and Holly before he gets a plate for himself and sits down between them.
Holly leaves after breakfast, but she tugs Mike down to kiss his cheek first. "Thanks, Mikey. Hell of a party." Then she goes to Jeff, and kisses him with more tongue than Mike really needs to see, her hand tight around the back of Jeff's neck and fingernails digging into his skin. "And thank you. I'd party with you any time."
Jeff grins at her, and watches her ass as she walks away.
"Good night?" Mike asks mildly once she's out the door.
"Really good," Jeff says. "You knew it would be."
Then Mike lets his smugness show, which just gets him Jeff shoving at his shoulder and leaving him with the dishes.
*
The actual tournament, after they've all had time to recover from their hangovers, is fun, even though they're all playing in foursomes with donors. Golf is golf, and Mike has enough experience with charity events that he knows how to do this. Plus, one of the guys in his foursome is someone he's met before, so he can also remember to ask about the guy's kids and let that take up some of their conversational time.
They party a little after, but everyone but Jeff is flying out the next day, so it's nothing too crazy.
"You need anything while we're in town?" Mike asks after they drop everyone off at the airport.
"No."
Mike sees, but ignores, the looks Jeff keeps shooting him. He drives them home without giving anything away, lets Arnold out to run around on the deck while he and Jeff drink bottles of water.
Mike whistles for Arnold after a while, and they go inside where Mike tells Jeff, "Go sit in the living room, on your knees next to the couch."
Jeff's exhale is loud in the silence of the house, and Mike grins at him.
"I didn't forget about you, Cartsy."
Jeff grins back at him and goes to do as he's told. Arnold also does as he's told when Mike sends him to go lie down on his bed.
Mike heads upstairs and gets the box out of his closet, hidden under a stack of t-shirts in a drawer so no one who was there for the tournament would get to it. It's a plain black box, but the way Jeff's eyes follow Mike's hands when he goes downstairs mean it's obvious to him what's in it.
Mike sits down next to where Jeff is kneeling. "You sure you want this?" He doesn't think Jeff will back out now - doesn't want him to - but it seems worth checking, and Jeff's still with it enough to give him a clear-headed answer.
"Yes." Jeff looks up to meet Mike's eyes.
"Okay." Mike opens the box and takes out the collar, soft leather slipping through his fingers. It'll be easy for Jeff to wear; he can even sleep in it if he wants.
Putting it on Jeff for the first time also feels like it should be bigger than it is. Mike slips it around his neck, buckles it, makes sure it's not too tight. It's as easy as anything he's ever done with Jeff, easier than a lot of them. He lets his fingers linger at the edges of the collar, his visible mark on Jeff.
Then he looks at Jeff's face, and it is bigger than that. Jeff is staring back at him with the brightest look Mike's seen in his eyes since they won the Cup, and he's grinning from ear to ear.
"Good?"
"Yeah," Jeff says. He starts to laugh, giggles that bubble out of him like he doesn't mean to. "Really good." He bends his forehead to Mike's knee, still laughing.
It brings an answering joy filling Mike up, quieter, but just as certain. "Good, Cartsy, good." He rubs his hands through Jeff's hair. "It's not getting you out of check-ins."
Jeff's laugh takes on a more deliberate edge, and he grins up at Mike. "I know," he says, certain and calm behind his laughter. "You're doing what you need to do to take care of me."