"Jack" Series, Part 3: Jack Accepts

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. The story is finished and I will try to post as regularly as possible. I know this chapter is a little short so I will try to get the next one up soon. The next chapter starts the narrative that will take us to the end of the story, and the series.

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7. Lions

One night Rocky made dinner for me – it was one of Tom’s nights off – and I told him he could stay and eat with me. As he was putting the food on the table, Rocky apologized for the quality of his cooking. "Nothing like what you’re used to from Tom I’m afraid, sir," he said. "Tiran would kick my ass if he knew how I was treating you."

"Don’t exaggerate," I chided, coming over to sit down. "Tiran’s never been rough with you."

Rocky looked genuinely surprised. "Where did you get that idea?" he asked. "Sir," he added as a respectful afterthought.

"That’s what Sol says … He said Tiran never really hurts you guys, beyond the occasional slap or something. Ironic, don’t you think?"

Rocky laughed as he filled my plate. "You mean because Gabe might actually like it? I guess so. Maybe Gabe doesn’t get it as much because he’s my son. Tiran probably still thinks of him as about sixteen. Would you beat up your friend’s teen-age son?"

"I don’t know," I said dryly. "Ask me if I’d make him my legal slave and let him service me every night too."

Rocky looked sheepish. "Good point. I guess that’s not it." He thought for a minute, sitting down himself. "Anyway, I seem to recall Ti hospitalizing Gabe once, back in the houseboy days."

"Really?" I surveyed my plate, and it didn’t look too bad. "Tiran put Gabe in the hospital? He must have been guilt-ridden about it."

Rocky shrugged a little. "Not that I noticed." He picked up his fork as I started to eat. "Actually I think things got better after that. Probably helped Ti get it out of his system."

"And how did you feel about what he did to your son?"

Rocky paused and looked at me evenly. "His property, his choice."

I found that hard to believe, but whatever. I did a little mental math. "Gabe wasn’t his property then ... was he?"

Rocky smiled a little. "Tiran always owned Gabe."

"So … wait," I said, backing up. "You’re saying Tiran gets physical with the rest of you?"

"Some of us."

"Who? You?"

"Sure, me." Rocky studied me across the table, holding his glass. "You thought he didn’t, sir?"

"What, you mean a little play-fighting? A little wrestling to see who tops?"

Rocky snorted. "If we did that, he’d be the one standing up at the breakfast table most days. Why would he wrestle with me? He knows perfectly well I can take him. He got bored of that in adolescence."

"You can take him?" I asked curiously.

Rocky looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course I can take him. Look at me – especially with your workouts, sir." He stopped and smiled a little coquettishly at me, over the top of his glass. "The thing is, I’m a working man. Not like Tiran. I didn’t have a lot of money, growing up – my body was my ticket out. I went to school on an athletic scholarship; I coached kids for a living. Ti never needed that – he spent his days working with money. We were more evenly matched in high school, but after that … class took its toll."

"So … " I was still trying to get this straight. "He’s not wrestling you for fun. And he always says he doesn’t have the patience for real punishment. Does he ever use – tools?"

Rocky paused, then shook his head slightly. "Maybe once or twice – but it was long ago. Is your dinner okay, sir?"

"It’s fine." I wasn’t going to be distracted. "So what does he do?"

Rocky shrugged. "He’ll slap me around a bit, when he’s really pissed or whatever. Belt me one, backhand me. I’ve had a few cuts and bruises."

"And you … "

"I just take it. If he needs to do it, then I don’t mind taking it."

I frowned a little. "Does he realize you’re letting him do it?"

"I guess. I mean, I think that’s part of the appeal. He likes that I’ll stand still for him. I don’t even think it’s about the – the pain or anything. He’s not really trying to hurt me, he just likes to know he can do it."

I nodded. "That you’ll put up with it."

"Yeah. I mean, most of the time he doesn’t even bother – it’s too much effort. It’s easier just to humble me – make me kneel or kiss his foot or whatever. That way he doesn’t even need to work up a sweat."

I laughed a little, putting up my wineglass for Rocky to refill. "He really is lazy."

"Just very hedonistic, sir. If it’s not enjoyable, it’s not worth the effort for him."

"So beating you isn’t enjoyable."

"It’s not enjoyable enough. He can get the same amount of pleasure with less effort. That’s why you’re so perfect for him, Mr. Obernikoch." Rocky paused and grinned at me. "Same results, even less effort. He really loves watching you put me in my place, you know."

I nodded. "I know." I’d noticed that too. "It’s odd, considering how worried he is about making sure you’re still his friend, too."

"That’s just it, I think," Rocky agreed. He got up to serve me seconds. "With you keeping me down he doesn’t have to worry about it, so he can treat me like an equal the rest of the time. Works out perfectly for him, having someone else do the humiliating."

I thought about that for a while. "I don’t think it’s so much that he likes seeing you humiliated," I said finally, "as tamed. He likes to see you tamed."

"Tamed?" Rocky frowned a little. "He knows I’m tame. I’ll take anything."

"Except for that one time," I reminded him pointedly. "When you didn’t."

I saw the quick flash of pain in Rocky’s eyes. "In my experience," I went on, more mildly, "you humiliate someone when you’re angry at them. I don’t think he’s angry with you. You tame someone when you’re wary of them. Like a lion-tamer. The lion-tamer never really trusts the lion, ‘cause he always knows the lion could turn."

Rocky looked slightly astonished. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of what I said, or the fact that I was saying it. "You … " he began, after a pause. "You think Tiran still doesn’t trust me?"

"You know he does," I said sharply. Tiran’s single-minded faith in Rocky was still a bit of a sore point with me. "Let’s just say ... he knows you choose to submit to him. And when you choose to do something, you could also choose not to."

Rocky frowned again. He had finished eating and was sitting across the table watching me intently. "Don’t all subs choose to submit?"

I almost laughed. "Don’t kid yourself, Van. You’re not a sub. And no," I added, turning back to my plate. "I wouldn’t say it’s a choice for most of them. Ask Gabe if he made a choice to submit to Tiran."

I don’t think Rocky even heard the rest of my words; he was fixed on the first part. "I’m not a real sub, sir?" he said, his voice suddenly quiet and somehow wistful.

"Of course not. That’s why you’re so bad at it."

"I know I’m terrible – I can’t keep him happy – "

I cut him off. "That’s not what I mean. It has nothing to do with how well you serve Tiran. He makes impossible demands – no one could keep him happy all the time; even Gabe can’t do it, and he’s one of the most natural subs I’ve ever met. You do okay, considering. But it’s because you try so hard, not because it comes naturally."

I wasn’t quite sure why he looked so sad. I changed the subject, just to be nice. "Dusty’s the same way," I added.

Rocky still seemed a little distracted. "Dusty asked Tiran to take him on. May I get you anything else, sir?"

That was interesting. I hadn’t heard it before. "Oh yeah?" I said, pushing my plate away and shaking my head slightly. "He did? How come?"

Rocky seemed to notice what he’d just said. He looked at me seriously for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure whether to say any more. "Have you ever seen Blackie with his shirt off?" he asked finally.

I hadn’t, I realized. But I understood immediately. "Another Sal ... ?" I asked quietly.

"Not quite, sir," Rocky replied. "That’s not quite fair. But he could have been."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Dusty saw what he could turn into, so ... he gave himself up to Tiran to stop it?"

Rocky got up to take our plates into the kitchen, and came back with the coffee pot. "It was around the time Dusty was becoming a bit famous himself," he said reflectively. "He could see what was going on around him, people he knew who became minor celebrities. My brother, for one," Rocky added in a low voice. My eyes met his, and a moment later he went on. "They hurt themselves, or they hurt the people around them. Dusty already owned Blackie, and he knew he could do more damage. He recognized his own tendencies. That’s when he made the deal with Tiran. And he’s stuck by it pretty well, as far as I know."

"It’s almost cost him his career, a couple of times," I observed.

Rocky lifted a shoulder. "He knew that was the risk when Tiran took him on. If push comes to shove, Dusty would rather stay alive, and not be a monster, than have a career in the film industry."

"It’s a credit to him," I said a little grudgingly. "He’s a natural dom." I sat for a moment, contemplating. It was starting to seem like Tiran owned more tops than bottoms. "What about Pat?" I asked finally.

Rocky laughed a bit, affectionately. "Not a top, sir," he said. "Never was."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ti’s pretty tough on him."

"Yes, sir," Rocky agreed. "Patty knows he needs it."

"Don’t you ever want to ask Ti to go easier on him?"

Rocky cocked his head. "I keep telling you, sir. I don’t speak for other people. If Pat needs a break, he can ask Tiran for it himself. Or hope that you do." He smiled at me.

Something occurred to me as we were talking that night, though I didn’t mention it to Rocky. Gabe, Pat, Dusty – it seemed that they’d all asked Tiran for his dominance. Blackie, Adele and Tom came along with the territory, and Rusty just wanted to fit in. I didn’t doubt that Tiran cared for all of them. But Rocky was the only one he needed to submit.


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Next chapter: A night out goes wrong