Tied Between

by Kira Barker

  “You really don’t need to be scared, but a healthy dose of respect might do you good. She is the kind of woman who will bite you in the ass if you cross her,” he remarked.

  “Good to know.” Silence fell, and after a few moments I changed the subject. “Is Jack home already?”

  “Phone, in his room. He said something about cooking dinner later, unless you want to head right to bed?”

  It rankled a little that he said the last in a dismissive, “for sleeping” kind of way, but at least he was realistic about my physical exhaustion. As much as I welcomed any occasion to do the horizontal tango with Simon, sometimes all I really wanted was to sleep.

  “I’m tired, but not that tired. Five consecutive cafeteria meals are enough to make me stay up for some real food.”

  “Do you mind if I write a little more? I was just about to start the new chapter—“

  “Of course not,” I quickly interrupted him, then leaned down for a proper kiss. His lips were warm against mine, his scent tickling my nose, but I pulled away before things could get more serious. “Write your scene. Jack and I will take care of dinner.”

  Simon smiled up at me with gratitude, then put his headphones on and turned back to his screen, resuming typing as if my ass wasn’t still firmly planted right next to him.

  Sighing inwardly, I pushed away from the desk, and after a quick detour to the fridge I parked said ass on the couch, waiting for Jack’s return. Another night I might have gone after him and maybe given him a blow job while he was on the phone, but I still hadn’t forgotten—or forgiven—him for how he’d sent me off yesterday morning. That deserved no reward.

  I was half asleep by the time I heard steps approaching, then felt the couch cushions dip close to where my knees rested as Jack—presumably—hunkered down beside me. I tried to open my eyes, but the pillow made out of my shoulder and arm was too cozy. It had been a long day…

  “Do you want me to tickle you awake, or just carry you into the bedroom? But you should eat something first, or else you’ll wake up even more cranky tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m not cranky,” I groaned, then opened one eye to stare at him balefully. “And you are not going to tickle me, now or ever.”

  His smile quickly turned into a shit-eating grin.

  “Can’t promise you that. You always squeal so nicely when I—“

  I saw the intent in his eyes even before he made a move and barely had time to pull myself back and raise my hands between us.

  “Jack, I’m warning you, if you even try to—“

  That’s about as far as I got, then he was on me, the sheer weight of his body coming down on mine pinning me to the sofa. And then his hands slid under my shirt, strong and warm, feeling so good that my brain shorted out for a second, leaving me completely and utterly defenseless. And because he was Jack, of course he started tickling me as soon as he reached my ribs, making me howl—and squeal—while I tried to kick and punch him away from me. Let me tell you—other guys may pretend to tickle a girl, but usually, they just grope. While Jack seldom passed up a chance to cop a feel, he was merciless when he got like this.

  But at least I was awake again by the time I finally managed to get away, landing with my ass on the floor as I slid off the couch. He made a move as if to come after me, but by then I’d already crawled around the couch table and was halfway to the kitchen, seeking sanctuary on the other side of the counter. His eyes were still twinkling mischievously, but at least now he had his hands—open—by his sides, no longer wriggling his fingers at me.

  “I swear, one of these days I’ll kick you for real if you do that,” I threatened, half of a mind to pull one of the knives from the block next to me. It would have been a nice gesture.

  Jack grimaced and rubbed his side, then pulled up his T-shirt and inspected the lower left side of his torso as if he expected huge bruises to bloom there already. That he was more likely just showing off his toned abs wasn’t out of the question, but while I never not looked, I managed to keep the drooling in check.

  “Guess you can set my ribs if you crack them,” he offered with a grin, then let the shirt drop back into place and turned to the fridge, completely ignoring me when I stuck out my tongue at him. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Compensation?” I suggested, then ducked underneath his arm that held open the fridge door. Unlike other households with two guys rooming together, their fridge had always been well stocked, thanks to both Jack’s penchant for following the next new healthy eating fad, and the microwave dishes Simon’s mother kept sending over. I spied some mac-n-cheese leftovers from what I figured had been Simon’s lunch, but knew that it was a lost cause if I reached for them.

  “You’re getting something worth eating into you tonight,” Jack drawled into my ear, as if he’d read my thoughts. It was too good a chance to ignore, so I reached across his body and grabbed his junk through his jeans, squeezing hard—while continuing to study the contents of the fridge.

  “Why, any suggestions?” I replied, squeezing just a little more.

  He laughed softly, and I half expected him to make a grab for me next, but instead he went for the steaks on the bottom shelf. “How about a huge hunk of meat?” he suggested, and snorted when I just gave him a look.

  “I’ll make salad,” I offered, letting go of him in favor of getting the tomatoes. And because he just couldn’t help himself, Jack grabbed my hips and pushed his crotch against my ass, as if anyone could have mistaken his sentence. “Stop it!” I protested, but it was halfhearted enough that I was surprised—and a little disappointed—when he actually did and turned to start the stove.

  While I was busy washing and draining the lettuce, Jack seasoned the steaks and threw them into the huge cast-iron pan. The sizzling of the meat made my mouth water.

  “By the way, I met Beth tonight,” I told him as I started dicing onions—slowly—blinking to stave off the worst of the tears.

  “Beth?” he asked, turning away from the stove for a moment. “As in The Beth?”

  “I’m sure she’d love the emphasis,” I replied, grinning. “How many other Beths do you know that I could be referring to?”

  “Maybe one or two others,” he mused. “But they’d likely be beneath your notice.”

  That got the snort it deserved.

  “I still can’t believe that you just walked up to her and asked her to take on Simon, what, ten years ago? That woman is scary.”

  Jack chuckled under his breath and raised the edge of one of the steaks to check its underside.

  “That she is. Although she was a lot nicer to me back then than she likely was to you now.”

  That sounded too close to what Kara had guessed to let it slide.

  “I’m not that abrasive. Besides, I don’t see her reacting well to that usual charm oozing that you do.”

  He shrugged, unperturbed by my little barb. “Probably because I didn’t ooze anything. I just asked her if she was the woman whose contact details were on that website, then asked her if she’d be willing to talk to my friend Simon.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the mental picture.

  “And how well did that go over, anyway? She must be getting at least as many ‘I’m asking for my friend’ inquiries as we do in the hospital. And let me tell you, not once was that not the patient themselves being the one who required the requested information.”

  Jack flashed me a bright grin.

  “She did look rather surprised when next time I showed up with Simon in tow. Must have been a first.”

  “I bet,” I replied, stepping away to let him do the vinaigrette. Lowly cleaning and cutting work I was allowed to do—probably because I made a living doing exactly that—but seasoning was always his thing. It was really too much of a bother to fight him over the fact that I felt qualified to mix oil and vinegar myself, too.

  Cooking—and cleaning—were mostly Jack’s jobs because whenever Simon and I dared to interfere, he just got into ou
r faces. And as annoying as that sometimes was, even after years, it still hadn’t gotten too old to rag on him about it from time to time. At least we had a clean toilet and fresh sheets more often than not.

  While Jack finished up, I turned to the cupboard to get the plates, only to find Simon was already busy setting the table. Usually, he took until the last possible moment to tear himself away from writing to avoid anything that might have resembled housework, but either my scathing remarks were slowly prompting improvement, or that chapter wasn’t coming as smoothly as he’d hoped. Likely the latter, but good deeds still deserved reinforcement, so I kissed his cheek as I put the salad down on the table. He smiled and turned his head, making my lips skim over to his mouth, but before I could do anything further, Jack pushed between us, shooing us apart with the sizzling steak pan.

  “You still have the entire evening for that. Now, eat,” he huffed as he distributed the meat, then put the pan away before he joined us. As usual, we each occupied one side of the table—me opposite Simon on the long sides, Jack smack in the middle on the short—mostly to keep the inevitable elbow fights to a minimum. Actually eating at the table still felt weirdly domestic to me; in the past, I’d usually eaten snacks right on the breakfast bar, or pizza while we were in the living room on the sofa, but neither worked for three people at the same time and with actual food involved. It reminded me of home in the last two years before I’d moved out to go to college, and for the first time in my life, that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “So, about Friday,” Jack said, breaking the silence that had settled over the table as the three of us dug in.

  “What about it?” Simon asked, and if I wasn’t completely mistaken, there was a thread of trepidation in his voice.

  Jack seemed to pick up on it, too, as he hesitated, but then went on as if nothing had happened, which, technically, was the case, anyway.

  “Do you mind if I tag along? I know I’ve said that I’m not really interested in joining you when you, you know—“

  “Get our freak on?” I helpfully supplied.

  “Might do something you disagree with?” Simon interjected, much less neutrally so, although he didn’t raise his voice. He and I traded glances briefly, and I wondered what I had missed now.

  “Never said that,” Jack grumbled in Simon’s direction, but there was that guilty look on his face that I’d come to hate.

  “But you about sounded like you did when I asked you last week,” Simon went on, keeping the ball rolling.

  Jack looked at me as if I was going to help him douse that fire, but I just stared back levelly. Going to a play party put on by the local kink community with Simon—who likely knew at least half the people there already—was one thing, but bringing Jack was quite another.

  Seeing that he was on his own there, Jack grimaced but went on.

  “Look, I know you’re both still angry with me because of what happened—“

  “Understatement of the century,” Simon murmured under his breath, making both me and Jack look at him sharply. Rolling his eyes, he raised his hands placatingly, then nodded for Jack to continue.

  “Anyway,” Jack tried again, now vexed on top of slightly agitated. “You keep telling me that I simply don’t get what it’s all about.” That was for Simon, not me. I was hearing half of this for the first time right now. “And I think I’ve said so often enough that I respect what you both do with each other, and I’m happy when you sometimes include me—“

  “As long as it doesn’t squick you out,” Simon interrupted him again, earning another exasperated look from Jack. He definitely rocked that passive-aggressive side of his right there, but I couldn’t help feeling like he was also teasing the other guy a little. At least I hoped that he wasn’t completely serious, or we had another problem coming up that would easily dwarf our fallout from weeks ago.

  Jack sighed. “Well, I kind of expect to see a couple things there that will scare the living shit out of me, but that’s okay. As long as it’s not you doing that to her—“

  This time I couldn’t keep my trap shut.

  “And what if I want him to do that to me? I’m not going to ask your approval for every single new thing I might want to try,” I pointed out.

  Screwing his eyes shut, Jack hid his face in his hands for a moment, whispering into his non-existent beard. “This is like herding cats, I swear.” Then he looked up, first at Simon, then at me, before he went on, addressing the salad bowl. “What I’m trying to say—when you’re both not putting words in my mouth that I might or might not have uttered in anger while I was trying to play you against each other in my attempt to gain world domination through your shared misery—is that I’m really trying to be more open, and it will likely do me some good to see what other people do inside and out of their bedrooms to better put what you like to do in perspective.”

  I was a little too tired to follow that run-on sentence completely, but Simon’s grimace made me crack a smile.

  “I thought you were at a few of those parties in the past?”

  Jack shrugged, keeping his face carefully neutral.

  “True, but back then I didn’t quite have the same appreciation for the, ah, people involved that I do now.”

  “He just tagged along to pick up chicks who were into some kinky shit,” Simon explained, hiding a grin behind a tomato slice. “Not actual BDSM because then he would have quickly felt out of his comfort zone and might have had to admit that the women he so obviously didn’t appreciate as much as he should have had bigger cojones than he does, but there are always some people hanging around who get their kick out of just being there, or whatnot. Or who took pity on him because he’s such a lost little boy.”

  There must have been a story behind the latter part because Jack gave Simon a warning glance that was answered by a bright smile.

  “Anyway, back to the topic at hand,” Jack said. “Do you mind if I come with you? I swear, I won’t antagonize anyone, I won’t say a single stupid, dismissive thing, and likely I’ll end up lurking around the buffet the entire night while you two do whatever. But I kind of don’t want to stay back home and spend the entire evening feeling left behind. Unless you have any issues with that“ —he looked at me there— “in which case I will happily drown my sorrow in greasy food, watching football or something.”

  I carefully looked at Simon, but his face was as blank as it got, giving me no clues whatsoever. I had to admit, having Jack along both terrified and calmed me. Terrified because, well, even though I believed him when he insisted that he was trying to be more tolerant about what Simon and I might get up to, his misguided protectiveness had almost killed our friendship and left me feeling awfully self-conscious about my own needs. On the other hand, I still felt like a terrible newbie, so support from someone who wasn’t even into half of what I’d explored so far, thus putting him a step below me, sounded encouraging. And while I was sure that this was one of the occasions where Simon would pay special attention that I was as comfortable as possible, he had a certain way of getting sidetracked in conversations, making me feel left out, and Jack was always there to remedy that.

  Question was, what was I more afraid of—that I’d feel terribly out of place, or that I’d end up miserable because Jack didn’t approve of that side of me that was firmly Simon’s?

  Silence stretched to the point where it became uncomfortable, noticeably making Jack squirm. Simon’s eyes never strayed from me, like a mute beacon I could hold on to if I just wanted to.

  “Okay, you can come with us,” I finally said, not quite sure that this wasn’t a mistake. “But, I swear, if you do anything to—“

  “I won’t,” Jack promised, his eyes pleading with me. “If things get too much for me, I’ll leave. And I won’t say or do anything that will in any way negatively impact your experience.”

  That sounded so cryptic that I could just stare at him, cross-eyed.

  “You know, there’s that balance between trying to be diplomatic an
d turning into a total asswipe—“

  I had to stop there because Simon gave me such a relieved look that it made me laugh—and wonder again what I’d missed over the past couple of weeks while I’d been working or out cold.

  Yes, we had issues, but as long as we could still laugh about them, they couldn’t be that big, right?

  “You’ll do just fine,” Simon offered and clapped Jack on the shoulder, kind of in contradiction to his previous arguments but sounding sincere. “And, if not, at least I’ll have something to laugh at while Erin kicks you in the nuts.”

  Jack made a face but relaxed and returned to industriously decimating his food.

  “You two don’t deserve me, you know that? Now… eat up before the steak gets cold.”

  “Yes, Pop,” I said, then immediately scooted my chair away to avoid the well-aimed kick toward my shin. Simon just shook his head, sighed, and went back to ignoring us.

  Chapter 4

  Of course, Friday had to be the only day that week that I didn’t get out of the hospital on time. And not only that, but hours later than I’d planned. I’d already been eyeing the corridor leading back to the doctor’s lounge and our locker room when the call had come in that there’d been a major accident just a few blocks away, with three ambulances en route. What kind of physician would I be if I’d just turned around and clocked out?

  One that wasn’t three hours late, incredibly stressed out, and trying to get dressed while frantically typing on her cell, that’s what.

  Simon understood, that went without saying, but I still felt guilty as I read his quick reply telling me not to hurry. I knew that he’d been looking forward to this party, and having Jack along was already a strain on his nerves; now me being late didn’t positively contribute, I was sure. My plan had been to be home on time, if not early, take a shower, wash my hair, put on makeup, and maybe obsess over whether I should wear a push-up bra or not for a couple of minutes. Now, I’d barely had time to take a shower at the hospital—mandatory after sweating in the OR for fifteen hours with minimal breaks—my hair was in something that hopefully resembled a messy bun, I had no time nor patience for anything but lipstick—if one of the guys had even grabbed some—and my outfit would depend on what Simon had packed for me. Knowing that something like my workday was always a possibility, I’d laid out everything in the morning, but that didn’t mean it had ended up in the gym bag designated for emergencies.