The Secrets We Keep From Each Other

by ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers

Summary:

After a couple choice words, Joseph discovers the memories of his time in the basement no longer cause him anguish when he thinks back on them. With that revelation comes reflection, and a realization that maybe he wouldn't mind retrying some of the concepts he was introduced to.

He also learns that, maybe, it's okay to have the occasional secret between himself and Hannah. Or himself and Francis.

Chapter 1: The Secret With Hannah

“Good boy, Vladdie, good boooooy!”

 

That's where the trouble started. An odd twinge in his gut, his muscles tensing for no discernable reason. Francis glanced over at him.

 

“You alright?”

 

Joseph nodded stiffly, unsure what was going on, nonetheless how to convey it to Francis. He didn't press Joseph, thankfully, just squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Grace's shriek distracted them both.

 

“GOODBOYGOODBOYGOODBOY!” 

 

Despite being 100 pounds of muscular body guard, Vlad showed an infinite amount of patience for the toddler. He stilled as Grace sped towards him, enduring her affectionate smacks to his side with little more than a wince.

 

“Gracie, gentle with him, remember?” Hannah went to correct her overenthusiasm, “Like this, Gracie.”

 

“GOOD BOY VLAD GOOD BOY!” Grace put her energy into her voice instead of her pets. Vlad’s stubbed tail wagged appreciatively.

 

The Italian villa was the most tranquil stop so far on their European tour, warmer and brighter than the moorlands of the UK. He sat on the patio, Francis' arm draped over his shoulders, and watched the rest of their family play in the grove. Hannah held the tennis ball aloft and all three competitors tensed, ready for the chase. She pretended to throw it, then held it behind her back.

 

“Go get it!”

 

Grace shrieked again and bolted, either fooled or oblivious to the object of the game. Vlad hesitated, glancing between Hannah and Grace, before deciding the latter had spotted something he hadn't and chasing after her. Freddi gave Hannah an exasperated look, easing out of her ready stance and glancing at her hands.

 

“I think my dog is smarter than our daughter,” Joseph teased.

 

“Fuck off,” Francis removed his arm, “Freddi's played fetch for years, Grace is still learning.”

 

“What's Vlad's excuse then?”

 

“Leave him alone, he's a good boy.”

 

Yet another annoying part of living with supernatural hunters was how they could pick up on the slightest movements. Half the time they caught on to his feelings before he did; a nervous twitch, a held breath. Francis tilted his head, examining Joseph.

 

“Well well,” he murmured, “That was…intriguing.”

 

Whatever micro expression he had caught didn't matter, as Joseph felt the blush rising to his cheeks and his heart pounding loud enough that he was sure Hannah could hear it. Francis' eyes flicked towards the house then back to him, raising an eyebrow. Joseph gave a shy nod.

 

“Back in a bit, love,” Francis called to Hannah, “We’re going to go figure out if Joseph's a good boy or not.”

 

She shot him a glare, “Of course he’s a good boy! He’s always a good boy!” She insisted.

 

“Need to check, can't be too careful.”

 

It turned out that Joseph, by Francis' estimation, was indeed a good boy.

 

The rest of the day and the next he kept coming back to those two words; good boy. He knew why they stood out. Hannah and Francis had both used the phrase frequently as they “trained” him, one of many humiliating and degrading tactics to rid him of his sense of self. It was a piece of their past he pretended to forget though sometimes he was still haunted by what had occurred over the span of three months. It had been years since he’d given those words any real attention

 

This time though… He didn't feel sick to his stomach, or furious, or ashamed when the memories resurfaced. It wasn't painful to reflect on living in a dog cage, scared to death and unsure of anything. The harshness of that period had softened to the point he could actually think about them without getting too upset. It felt like a different life, just like his past in Middlesbrough.

 

It was a different life. The insecurities were a trickle after all they had been through to keep both him and Grace. They had marked him as their equal and the worst thing he had to worry about from them in the present was his spouses tricking him into a strip club. Now that he knew without a shadow of a doubt he loved them and they loved him… His recollection was recoloring those long days and nights.

 

“Euro for your thoughts?” Hannah asked as he washed dishes and she dried them after supper.

 

Joseph sighed, trying to pick the best approach to the conversation, “I’ve just been reflecting on…my time in the basement.”

 

Hannah stopped mid-wipe, “Oh.” She bit her lip.

 

He scrubbed hard at a lipstick smear on a glass, taking a deep breath before looking at her, “Was…all of that… Just manipulation or was…was there more to it?”

 

Hannah shrugged, her face carefully neutral, “Both? Not gonna lie and say there weren't…psychological tactics at play to try and get desired results. But it wasn't just cold emotionless torture either.”

 

It was an unnerving admission, but not unexpected. She was searching his face now, trying to read his reaction.

 

“You alright?”

 

Joseph snorted, “Probably not but what else is new.”

 

He set the glass back down into the sudsy sink. Hannah finished drying off the plate in her hands and stacked it in the cupboard. She turned to face him; he stayed facing the counter, gripping it for support.

 

“Knowing what I know now, I… I keep wondering… If maybe I didn't see things clearly, the intentions. Or maybe it's just rose-tinting the past, I can't be certain.”

 

She folded her arms, “I mean there was love, obviously, but… Fuck if we knew what to do about you. It was this fucked up purgatory where you knew too much, but you also meant too much, but we didn't know if we could trust you. So there were some…mixed signals.”

 

Mixed signals was one way to put it.

 

“...it doesn't hurt to think about that time anymore,” he murmured.

 

“That's…good, right?”

 

“I think so. But now I'm trying to find a new context, yeah, knowing what I know? It's confusing and I think it's healthy but…my scraps of sanity disagree.”

 

Hannah was quiet, mulling his words over, “I…think I get what you're saying? Like you can't change the past but you can accept it, maybe even be grateful for it. There's a lot of shit I hate about what happened in my life but…if I didn't go through it, would I still get my happy ending? Would I even be me without all the fuck-ups?” She shrugged, “God’s plan, yada yada.”

 

He snorted and smirked, “Yada yada,” he echoed.

 

She gingerly reached over and rubbed his back, “Like I dunno if we're the most impartial people to talk to but… We’re always here for you.”

 

“I know.”

 

Joseph flinched as a stuffed wolf smacked against the wall. Hannah growled.

 

“Fucking jealous needy prick,” she picked it up and hurled it the way it came, “We’re having a moment,” she hissed.

 

There was a hissed reply back but his mortal ears couldn't pick up on it. He rolled his eyes and finished up the dishes, as their husband clearly was getting bored with whatever show Grace was glued to.

 

Joseph's thoughts kept returning to the memories, like feeling the smooth new skin after picking off a scab and it no longer bleeding. There were good moments… That first morning they all woke up together. Most of the, ah, lessons. And of course those two words… Which Joseph swore Hannah was using more frequently than before.

 

Good boy. Good boy. Good…boy.

 

It took him several days to work up the courage to speak to Hannah again and Francis graciously took their daughter to get gelato (or “latolatolato” according to her, their adorable parrot). Hannah showed equal grace as she didn't immediately ask what he wanted to talk privately about, or even jump his bones at the opportunity. She just suggested a cuddle on the couch while they tried to figure out whatever show was currently on (her Italian was coming along, but his still needed some help).

 

“How did you…” He began then immediately clammed up.

 

Hannah stroked his hair, patiently waiting for the rest of the question. He took a deep breath, trying a different starting point.

 

“...the dog cage…was yours before…”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Francis wouldn't…unless you…or maybe he… I don't know.” His cheeks flared up. 

 

“It was me,” she said, “I brought it up to him.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I was curious. Other stuff had me realizing I liked that sort of thing, and you know he's down for fucking anything.”

 

“Why do you…like that sort of thing?”

 

Hannah worried her lip as she mulled it over, “I guess it's because I don't have to worry when we're playing those games. Like being a kid where you don't have any responsibilities and can play pretend. Except naughtier. I trust Francis completely and I know he’d never harm me… Hurt me yes because I’m a freak, but not harm. You get the difference?”

 

Joseph nodded. Francis was good at that, intuiting lines, easing through discomfort. It made all the sense in the world Hannah would submit to him.

 

He swallowed roughly, “Do you ever…put a collar on him?”

 

Hannah wrinkled her nose, “We tried once, didn't feel right.”

 

“Does it…have to be like that? With the cage and the collar?”

 

“Nah, it's sex, you can do it however you want.”

 

He couldn't look her in the eye, his heart pounding, “There…there were some things I liked… I, I think I'd be open to… Letting you… I don't know.”

 

Her finger moved from her scalp to his cheek, caressing him, “...you want to be my pet, Joseph?”

 

Fuck. He did, but he still had no idea what that meant, what he wanted. He just…he wanted those feelings back, not that they were absent but it was different . And the fact he was tearing up wasn't helping his case that he was willing to try… She tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her sweet, determined face.

 

“If we do this, we do it right this time, okay?” She said, “We talk it through, you decide what we do and what we don't do. You will call the shots.”

 

“Doesn't that defeat the purpose?” Joseph wondered.

 

“Do lines defeat the purpose of a coloring page?” She retorted, then frowned, “Well, for most people I mean, Grace is still working on her fine motor skills…” Her thumb stroked his cheek, “You draw the lines, and I’ll color the picture in. I promise.”

 

He couldn't help a few tears slipping out from relief and appreciation. He knew his wife was more than a sadistic monster but to hear that he wasn't in fear of losing control more than he was comfortable with… Considering where they started from, it meant the world.

 

Hannah assigned him the homework of making three lists; things he liked, things he was okay with, and things he did NOT like. The dislike column was easy; he hated the cage, hated the collar, hated sleeping on a dog bed and eating out of dog dishes. Basically anything that dehumanized him went into the dislike column. The other columns took more thought as he reflected, untangling his mess of feelings about each kink they had tried. 

 

He liked being called a good boy. He liked most positions. He was okay with the tamer toys, vibrators and dildos and such. He disliked being restrained, biting or being bitten, knives… He liked touch and caresses. He liked kisses and when she played with his hair. He liked post-sex cuddles. He was fine with being naked, though he clarified that he’d prefer only a couple of hours instead of 24/7 like it had been.

 

Looking at the list, Joseph realized how utterly boring he was in the bedroom. There was nothing kinky about this; Hannah would laugh and suggest they just have regular sex if he was going to be this dull. Once he had written all he could think of, he handed it to her. 

 

She took a full day to consider it, and then they discussed. Hannah hadn't thrown out his vanilla requests, only clarifying some points and offering other topics he hadn't considered. Especially the idea of service, which she patiently walked him through. He wasn't sure what was supposed to be sexy about chores but he was willing to find out.

 

Without explicitly agreeing to it, neither spoke to Francis about their possible arrangement. Francis, apparently sensing it was a private matter, didn't pry as he usually did if he suspected he was being left out of fun. Joseph felt bad but… He wasn't sure if he wanted to play with Francis that way. He was so…intimidating, even though he’d be just as considerate as Hannah. It felt more menacing picturing him in control… Maybe once Joseph had a better grasp on this submission thing.

 

Hannah had the decency to give him a heads up on his first task, which he fretted over for an entire day. Francis informed them he was taking Grace to the park (her chant of “latolatolato” either a suggestion, or she thought “lato” meant going out).

 

“You wanna get set up on Grace's play table?” She asked.

 

It felt odd but since this part wouldn't be explicitly sexual, he went along with the suggestion. He draped a sheet over it and then went into their bathroom. Going through Hannah's makeup felt invasive despite the permission… He picked up her caddy of nail supplies and one of a hundred different shades of red and returned to the living room. He set the items down and then grabbed a pillow for her to sit on.

 

Hannah reentered the room as he spread out the tools, nearly knocking over the nail polish remover.

 

“So thoughtful,” she cooed, settling down onto the cushion.

 

“I’ve never done this before in my life,” he mumbled, as if it wasn't obvious.

 

Hannah reached across the table, cupping his chin. He looked up at her, his heart skipping a beat. He still wasn't immune to her crystal blue eyes, ever-changing as the sky but always beautiful.

 

“You know how to do this,” she assured him, “You’ve watched me do it dozens of times, and I saw you reading up on it last night. It's going to be the best manicure I’ve ever had.”

 

She spoke softly, hitting the lower range of her voice. It wasn't one he associated with a particular mood; the closest was her groggy sleepy voice. It sent a chill down his spine, the good kind. Her fingers trailed down his neck, gliding over his Adam’s apple and tracing the hollow of his throat.

 

“My handsome boy,” she murmured.

 

This must be what it's like to be lured by a siren, he thought. No wonder men fell for it.

 

He leaned forward and they kissed, grounding him in the moment, in this special time with his wife.

 

Joseph started with her left, trimming and filing her nails. Hannah's soft, slender hand rested in his and he resisted the urge to bring her knuckles to his lips like a Victorian gentleman.

 

“See, you know what you're doing,” she said, voice still low and husky, “You know the exact length I like to keep them at.”

 

It was stupid, extremely stupid… But he couldn't deny the warmth filling his chest at the praise. It wasn't sarcasm, or praise for the sake of it. It was sincere and earned, and he basked in the sensation. He poured himself into the manicure and Hannah continued to dole out compliments at regular intervals.

 

Even when he screwed up, she turned it around into something positive. When he forgot to have the soak bowl prepped, she insisted he was just waiting so the water would be nice and warm. When he had to use polish remover for the bits he got on her skin, she lauded his attention-to-detail and perfectionism. It didn't necessarily arouse him, but it had definitely scratched an itch he had no idea how to reach previously.

 

It had aroused Hannah though and, once her nails had properly dried, she was dragging him off to the bedroom.

 

“You alright?” She asked afterwards, chin on his chest.

 

“I'm too alright,” he confessed.

 

“That's not a thing.”

 

“Yes it is.” He sighed, running his fingers through her hair, “...it made me ridiculously happy, just…taking care of you like that, hearing that praise…”

 

“It made me ridiculously happy, too,” she said, “I can't fuss over Francis like that. You know how he is, one compliment and his ego balloons for a week. But praising you… It's like watching a thirsty plant soak up water. Makes me sad to think about how long you went without it.”

 

He glanced away, “...I’m sorry it's so tame compared to how you like it.”

 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to be careful, starting out. We can dial it up, or not, long as you're happy.” She reached up and playfully tapped the tip of his nose, “ That's the important part.”

 

He smiled, “I thought the important part was you getting your rocks off.”

 

“Okay yes, just as important, but I'm so fucking horny for you it doesn't take much.” Her face softened, “...I love you.”

 

There had been a time he questioned that, when he didn't know enough to realize the significance of his survival. And now, with him as close as possible to being on the same playing field as them, he could recognize the misguided attempts of his dearly beloved psychos.

 

They could not change their past, but Hannah and he were trying to make a better version of what had happened. Taking the basement games and making it fun for the both of them.

 

“I love y-”

 

The front door slammed unnecessarily loud and Joseph jumped. They must've missed Francis' warning text. Hannah stilled, listening carefully.

 

“He’s getting her settled with a snack and a movie,” she relayed to him.

 

He smirked, “That gives us a few more minutes.”

 

Hannah giggled, wriggling up to make out with him. It was another game her and Francis liked to play, and Joseph was happy to play along. He rolled to position himself over her, stroking her sides and waiting. She broke the kiss abruptly, lips puckering into a surprised “oh”.

 

“Shoot, I think my husband's home.” 

 

“You said we had the whole day together.”

 

“Yeah, well, I guess he forgot something. You need to hide.”

 

“ Where?! ”

 

“Anywhere! Hurry!”

 

He wasn't very good at making a run for it when it was his turn to be the lover. He shimmied backwards underneath the sheet and Hannah stifled a laugh, covering him up. He rested on her legs and waited.

 

Sure enough, the bedroom door opened moments later, “Hey honey.”

 

“Sweetie! What are you doing back so early?!”

 

“I thought I’d take the afternoon off, spend some time with my lovely, completely faithful wife.”

 

Joseph kissed along her thighs and Hannah squirmed, hips lifting up instinctively.

 

“Why are you naked? Are you running a fever?”

 

“N-no, I was… Just… Waiting for you!”

 

“...you didn't know I was coming home early…”

 

“I felt it, in my h- heart! ”

 

Joseph had steadily moved up to the apex of her thighs. Her legs remained clamped but he kissed and licked at what he could of her mons.

 

“You're acting veeeeery peculiar, honey.”

 

“Maybe…maybe I do have a fever… Oh fuck…”

 

“Allow me, then.”

 

Joseph and Hannah were suddenly exposed as Francis ripped the covers off. Hannah gasped dramatically, covering herself with her hands, and Joseph scrambled away, holding his arms up defensively.

 

“This isn't what it looks like!” He claimed, even though it was exactly what it looked like.

 

Francis watched him with a mix of amused arousal, “Pray tell what is this, then?”

 

“...I’m you from the future.”

 

He rolled his eyes, “Alright, mood ruined by time travel paradoxes.”

 

Joseph got off the bed, “Well I thought it was pretty clever for an off-the-cuff explanation…”

 

“Maybe we can flesh that idea out some other time,” Hannah offered. 

 

He kissed her and then kissed Francis, who cupped his arse to pull him close. As much as he wanted to welcome their husband home along with Hannah, someone had to keep an eye on Grace, and he’d already had his turn. Joseph dressed, doing his best to ignore the pair of them getting tangled up in each other.

 

It was a good call that he didn't linger; he had forgotten to put away the nail supplies and Grace was trying her damnedest to unscrew the cap on the polish.

 

“Daddy help,” she said pitifully, holding the bottle up to him, “I want pretty nails.”

 

“Well then pretty nails you shall have,” he promised, kneeling down in front of her.

 

Grace was considerably more difficult to paint, even without a full manicure. The concept of waiting for the polish to dry was beyond her, and they were smeared to all hell despite him saying “wait Gracie, they're wet” at least forty times.

Still, the shriek of delight she made when Mommy came back from her nap and Grace realized they matched warmed his heart. And when Hannah met his eye and winked… He warmed for completely different reasons.

Chapter 2: The Secret With Francis

Joseph used to be a man of God. Not a perfect one, but at least he couldn't tell at a glance the difference between murder rope and sex rope.

 

He set the bundle aside and continued shifting through the package until he found the batteries he asked Francis to add to the next Amazon order. He grabbed them and, after a brief hesitation, the length of rope.

 

It made for an entertaining day. Francis searched the box several times, triple checking the order form. He asked Joseph if he had seen “something fun” once but otherwise left him out of the investigation. His main suspect, of course, was Hannah.

 

“I didn't do anything with your fucking rope!” She finally snapped.

 

“Swear jar,” Joseph reminded her.

 

Hannah shot him a glare but Joseph continued working with Grace on her project. He was 73% sure they were building a castle out of the blocks, but Grace was having a difficult time communicating her vision with her limited vocabulary and constant idea switches. With an explosive noise she knocked over the southern watchtower, apparently deciding it needed a renovation.

 

“Well there's only four people in this household, and two don't give a fig about it.”

 

“Why would I take it?! Maybe they forgot to pack it…”

 

“I’m not contacting customer service until I'm positive it isn't here.”

 

“Well fucking contact them then!”

 

“Swear jar.”

 

“Joseph I will shove that swear jar right up your ass…”

 

Grace looked him dead in the eye, “Up your ass,” she echoed.

 

“Grace sweetie don't say that.” He shot Hannah a glare, who had the decency to look slightly guilty.

 

Francis stayed turned around for a full two minutes until he was sure he could keep his composure. Hannah huffed and met Joseph's eye.

 

“Did you take his stupid rope?”

 

Lying had never been a talent of his in general; lying to them was damn near impossible. His head dropped quickly and he focused on his tower.

 

“Awww, honey, you don't need to do that,” Hannah said, misconstruing his action as an act of defensiveness rather than playfulness. 

 

Joseph felt Francis' approach, his face getting warmer and warmer as he crouched down, intent brown eyes watching him. Joseph squirmed, biting back a smile.

 

“...are you toying with me, little lamb?”

 

“I would never,” he mumbled.

 

Francis moved towards him still in a crouch, gently predatory, “Where's my rope, Joseph?”

 

He shook his head, the smile spreading despite his best efforts.

 

“Tell me, or I’ll torture it out of you.”

 

Joseph preemptively curled up into a ball, shoulders hunching protectively, “Never.”

 

“Well, you asked for it,” he insisted.

 

Francis pounced and despite Joseph’s best efforts, he still managed to get a spot on his side. Joseph flailed, knocking aside several blocks in the process. Grace screeched and raced over, throwing herself on top of Francis. 

 

“Oof!” He tumbled over and Grace squealed, going straight for the throat.

 

He should know better by now, but it never ceased to amaze Joseph how gentle his husband was with their daughter. Grace was still learning how to tickle, all jabs and unintentional scratches, but Francis howled, rocking back and forth but ever mindful of her and her half-built castle. He did kick Joseph a few purposeful times, but otherwise his attention was on Grace.

 

“I yield! I yield!” He begged.

 

“Say the thing!”

 

“Uncle! Uncle!”

 

Grace giggled, sitting on top of him like a hunter posing with a safari trophy, “Save you, Daddy!”

 

“Yes you did, Gracie,” Joseph agreed, “My hero.”

 

Hannah watched them, the warmth in her gaze tainted by the sex appeal of watching her husbands be good fathers. He couldn't blame her, though; observing Francis fawning over Grace was incredibly arousing. Some sort of primal instinct of being attracted to good parents or something, he guessed.

 

Francis scoured the small house trying to find where Joseph had hidden the rope. Games like this were important; he had found similar to working class dogs, his wendigos needed mental stimulation or else that energy was in danger of being used for evil. Sometimes violent, sometimes destructive, sometimes horny… Better to give them puzzles to solve or tasks to accomplish rather than spin the chaos wheel and hope for the best. 

 

After dinner, Francis smugly cornered Joseph, showing him the bundle of rope.

 

“What's my prize?”

 

“The rope you were looking for, idjit.”

 

“That's no fun.”

 

Francis pressed him against the wall, taunting smirk mere inches from his own mouth. His heart hammered against Francis' chest and he looked down at the other man's shoulder to avoid his gaze.

 

“You don't have to hide toys to get my attention, Joseph,” he murmured, “All you need to do is ask. Whatever you want, it's yours.”

 

He wet his lips, working up the courage, “...I want you to show me.”

 

“Show you what?”

 

“...how to do the fancy tying.”

 

Francis' mustache brushed against his cheek before he kissed it, “There. That wasn't so hard, was it?”

 

“It's getting there, if you won't knock it off.”

 

Francis chuckled and stepped back, catching Hannah's eye in the living room. Grace was tucked in front of her, both of them settled in for a movie. Francis inclined his head towards the bedroom, gesturing between himself and Joseph. Hannah gave him a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

 

Joseph had been exploring with Hannah for several weeks now, taking baby steps in the shallow end of the kink pool. He wasn’t sure if he would label himself submissive, but he shockingly did like submitting to Hannah when there was no cruelty involved. It was extremely basic; he would perform tasks for her, and she would praise him or gently correct him. They had worked up to him doing chores in the nude such as vacuuming or picking up around the house; killing two birds with one stone, essentially, with their quality time and getting things cleaned up.

 

But he enjoyed that time together, loved the way she watched him and how readily she praised him. He loved being of service to her, and being reminded of his value, and Hannah seemed to be enjoying herself just as much. It was special, something between the two of them Francis knew nothing about.

 

And…he wanted to have a secret with Francis, too. Something only they did together that Hannah wouldn't know about. He had racked his brain for ideas before this had very neatly fallen into his lap. He still wasn't a huge fan of bondage but Francis was a fantastic teacher, and Joseph was genuinely interested in how he did some of those more decorative ties.

 

Francis went to one of their “overnight” bags, pulling out a bundle of murder rope.

 

“You're not going to want the new rope,” he explained as Joseph recoiled, “It hasn't been broken in yet, it’ll be very scratchy.”

 

“I’ll manage,” he decided.

 

Francis didn't press, “Were you thinking of any ties in particular?”

 

“The chicken wing one.” Francis frowned in confusion and Joseph demonstrated, folding his leg up and indicating where the ladder-like rungs would be, “Well… It makes me think of a chicken wing, anyway…”

 

“It's a futomomo,” Francis explained, undoing his jeans and sliding them off, “The fancy tying, as you call it, is a Japanese art known as shibari, or kinbaku.”

 

“Of course it's some high BDSM art,” Joseph teased, sliding off his own pants.

 

They sat facing each other on the bed and Francis went over the basics, demonstrating on his own leg. Joseph needed several attempts to get anywhere close to his example, mostly because it was difficult to actually hear what he was saying. The combination of his intellect and charisma, along with patience, made him an excellent instructor. Joseph could picture him slowly pacing the front of a classroom, gesticulating as he went on about history, his students hanging on his every word.

 

He’d have to talk to Hannah about that mental image. He suspected she’d like the idea of Professor Ives giving a very…intimate lecture to his best students.

 

“I'm assuming that's just one of many?” Joseph asked as he redressed and wound up his rope. 

 

“Aye,” Francis agreed, stashing the murder rope again, “There's loads of other ties, that's just the most complex one Hannah will stay still long enough for.”

 

“Did you teach yourself how to do this?”

 

“Yes, eventually. Came across some photos post-World War that sparked the imagination but had difficulty finding resources.” He rolled his eyes, “Nowadays all you need to do is put the term in a search engine and find a hundred different tutorials for free.”

 

“Poor old man, you’ve suffered so,” Joseph teased.

 

He shook his head, “You kids these days have no idea how lucky you have it. I had to work to find porn, and if it didn't cater to my fetishes then too bad.”

 

“There are fetishes you don't have?”

 

“Not many, but there are some. Shall I list them?”

 

“No, no I’d rather you not.” 

 

Francis crawled back onto the bed, scrolling through his phone until he found something, “Here.”

 

Joseph took it and saw a woman on the ground, half curled, arms bound behind her back. Her entire body had wraps going up it in that ladder-like style of the futomomo. He looked up at Francis, horrified.

 

“These are just pictures I’ve found on the internet,” he assured him.

 

He felt slightly better and flicked through them, amazed at the complexity of some of the ties and positions. There were even photos of the models suspended in the air, and Joseph could only imagine the pain of rope digging in like that. Most of them looked…peaceful. Calm. He tried to wrap his head around it as being tied up or bound in any way personally stressed him out. And while Hannah was fine with it, he could not imagine her tolerating the time it would take for such complexity, even if it was sexual.

 

He glanced up and caught Francis watching his face, a flicker of hopefulness in his eye. But he quickly put on a mask of impartiality.

 

“Kind of neat,” he said, brushing off the fact he had an entire folder of pictures ready to go on his phone.

 

Joseph had found Francis’ unscratched itch. But he wasn’t sure if he could handle being tied up like that, even with all of the progress they had made. It was worth a shot, though.

 

More bundles, or hanks , of rope came in the mail. Joseph didn’t like the scratchy fibrous jute Francis insisted on, but apparently the silky ropes didn’t hold knots as well. Any discomfort at learning how to tie was forgotten as he witnessed how happy Francis was that he’d taken an interest in shibari. The dork wouldn’t vocalize such things, but Joseph knew him well enough by now to see the signs.

 

Things took a dramatic turn with Joseph’s first chest tie.

 

“I’m not sure you should practice this one on yourself,” Francis advised, “The possibility of nerve damage is a bit higher.”

 

“So you’re going to tie me?” Joseph asked.

 

Francis shrugged, “Or you could tie me. It won’t matter much if you damage my nerves.”

 

He hesitated. The suggestion felt extremely unnatural, almost trap-like. But Francis simply pulled up a tutorial on the laptop and took his shirt off. 

 

“You’ve been practicing the basics for weeks,” he reminded Joseph, “It’s not more complicated than what we’ve been doing.”

 

Except he had been tying himself up…not Francis.

 

It was different, manipulating someone else’s limbs. Francis rolled his shoulders and held his arms behind his back, clasping them by the elbows. Joseph took a deep breath and started, taking it slow and careful, reminding himself to keep the rope taunt but not too tight. He looped the rope around Francis’ forearms and then went to wrap it around his chest to hold them steady… But something in the way the rope stretched across his front, the hold Joseph physically had on him…

 

It felt, in some strange way, like he was binding Francis to him. It wasn’t claustrophobic… It was empowering. He tied off the first rope and went for a second. 

 

He was just as slow with the second as he added more wraps around Francis’ chest and arms, just as careful and reliant on the website’s pictures and instructions. But he was moving more confidently, each knot a reminder. He belonged to Francis…but that meant the inverse was true as well. Francis belonged to him and that felt so much more real in this moment, at how pliant and quiet the wendigo was as he allowed himself to be tied up. 

 

Joseph decided on one more rope for decoration, a diamond tie in the front to bring the two other wraps together. He was forming a knot on Francis' collarbone when he saw the tears.

 

“Shit! What is it, what did I do?!” Joseph hurriedly looked over the ties but couldn't see any obvious pain points. He scrambled back towards the nightstand, fumbling for the bedside knife.

 

“Don't,” Francis whispered, “Just…” He shook his head, unable to vocalize what he wanted.

 

Fuck. This was just supposed to be fun… What happened?! What had he done or not done?! Did he accidentally bring back a painful memory?! Joseph didn't know. He could only respect that Francis didn't want him to cut off the ropes. He moved back towards him and Francis leaned forward, resting his forehead against Joseph’s chest. 

 

Francis sobbed openly and all Joseph could do was hold him. He stroked his hair, the bare skin of his back and arms where there wasn't rope, and waited. Eventually the tears dried up.

 

“I think I’m done,” Francis announced hoarsely.

 

Joseph quickly undid the ropes, clawing at the knots as though they were in a burning building and needed to escape. Half untied, tangled in a heap, he shoved the offending material aside. 

 

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

 

Francis refused to meet his eye as he put his shirt back on, “I need some air.”

 

Joseph had fucked up massively, and he had no idea how.

 

He shoved the rope into the back of the closet as Francis slipped away, wiping at his own tears. He and Hannah cried at the drop of a hat but Francis? Joseph might be able to count the amount of times he’d seen him cry on two hands. 

 

Of course the moment he stepped out of the bedroom Hannah was on him.

 

“What the fuck happened?!” She hissed.

 

He shook his head, “I don't know.”

 

“Well something fucking set him off!” Beyond the protectiveness, there was a trace of panic in her growl.

 

“I'm being honest, I don't know . One minute everything was fine and the next…” Maybe he should come clean to her, admit what the pair of them were up to and see if she could figure it out…

 

…but it was their secret. Maybe Francis didn't want her to know what had upset him. He sure as hell had never been willingly bound in their play time as a trio.

 

Hannah gave a frustrated huff, glancing out towards the grove in their backyard, “Well whatever you did, don't do it again, shit.”

 

“Swear jar.”

 

“Fuck you, and fuck the stupid ass jar.”

 

Hannah remained keyed up, though sanitized her language as they played with Grace. To their relief, Francis slipped back in a few hours later to start dinner, quiet but clear-eyed. 

 

“Do you want to walk the dogs with me?” He asked after they had eaten. 

 

Grace perked up at the “w” word just like Vlad, “Me, Dad, me!”

 

“Not tonight, Gracie,” Hannah gently interceded, “Maybe tomorrow. The daddies are going to do it tonight.”

 

Her face scrunched up and she looked around the living room. She found the soft surface of a pillow to dramatically throw herself onto and scream her anguish into. Hannah rolled her eyes and went to sit out the tantrum.

 

The four of them stepped out into the near dark, Freddi mostly keeping to Joseph's side while Vlad ran ahead and doubled back periodically. He searched the ground in his unending quest to obtain the largest stick he could get his jaws on. Joseph was silent, occasionally glancing at Francis but letting the other man take his time.

 

“If I explain myself, I need you not to laugh,” he finally said.

 

“Alright,” Joseph agreed.

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“I know you are.”

 

“It's…embarrassing.”

 

Vlad had found a sizeable stick and showed it off to Freddi, who couldn't care less. Vlad's spirits remained high as he trotted around with the stick, looking like he was smiling.

 

“...it just came over me suddenly,” he mumbled, “The feeling…it overwhelmed me. Not something I’m used to.”

 

“What was it?” Joseph gently prompted.

 

Francis stopped, digging in his pockets for a cigar and lighter that hadn't been there for years, “The thought occurred to me that I knew I was…taken care of. That you wouldn't hurt me. That I was…safe.”

 

Of course Francis had been safe. It was such a ridiculous notion that he could see why he’d been warned not to laugh. Just because Joseph wasn't in charge often it didn't mean he wouldn't take care of him. 

 

Francis fisted his hands inside his pockets, “...I don't know if I’ve ever trusted someone like that.”

 

“Hannah,” Joseph pointed out immediately, “You trust her completely.”

 

Francis shrugged, “In the important ways. I trust her with my life, my heart, my child… But I can't say I have that same level of trust, for example, of her not taking advantage of me should I be hogtied and passed out.”

 

It was a valid point; as competitive and sadistic as they could be, such vulnerability would be tempting to abuse. Even with no ill intentions, he could imagine how difficult it would be for Francis to completely let his guard down around another nymphomaniac sadist.

 

“It's not even that you couldn't hurt me to any severe degree,” he continued softly, “It's that…you wouldn't . It wouldn't even cross your mind. And to know that without a shadow of a doubt, after all the bastards who would've loved the opportunity for me to be vulnerable to them… I got a little emotional, to finally trust someone on such a deep level.”

 

And now Joseph was getting emotional. It wasn't easy to forget how old Francis was, but it was easy to forget how much baggage his long history burdened him with. That he went nearly a century and a half before Hannah trying desperately to love and be loved, despite his appetites. As much as he seemed to enjoy his role in their family, Joseph could understand if sometimes he needed to rest, to let himself be the one protected and cared for.

 

The thought he could give Francis the same security the man had given him, even just emotionally… It was an incredible honor.

 

“...if we keep doing this are you going to cry every time?” He teased softly.

 

Francis guffawed, “God I hope not, but… I would like to do it… Again.”

 

Joseph stepped closer, his hand cupping the back of Francis' head as he kissed him. Of course he’d be more than happy to be his husband's safe place, to let him take off his armor and just be vulnerable for an hour or two. Hannah would never have to know, just like Francis would never have to know about his and Hannah's arrangement. 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of Arkverse Stories