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Jack feels his phone vibrate as walks out of the bodega. He switches his burrito to the other hand as he fishes it out of his pocket and sees Robby's name on the screen.
"Hey man!" Jack says around a bite of carne asada. "I was just thinking about you. I got a burrito from that place around the corner from your apartment. Sal says to tell you hi--"
"Jack." Robby cuts him off. "Jack, listen to me. I need you to call an ambulance to my place. I've got a male, late twenties, having a grand mal seizure going on about two minutes now."
Jack had frozen at the sounds of Robby's serious business voice, his trauma room voice, but now he finds his feet taking off automatically at a jog.
"Robby, are you ok? Don't fuckin' lie to me." He discards the mostly uneaten burrito in the first trash can he passes. Three blocks to Robby's place.
"Yes, Jack I'm fine I promise. Just please call them. And if you could get here before they do that would really be ideal. Otherwise they'll have to break the door, I can't unlock it."
Robby's voice is a little faint, like he's far away from the phone. He definitely sounds off, but more stressed than injured. Jack breaks into a light run, dodging around midday pedestrians.
Why can't he get up to open the door? And who is this guy? Twenties is young to date, even by Robby's loose standards. Maybe a workman, he's mentioned a drippy faucet-
"Jack?!"
"I'm calling now, be there soon."
Jack beats EMS to the building and jogs up the stairs, Robby's spare key already in his hand. "Robby?!" He shouts, slamming the front door open.
"Back here!" Robby calls from the bedroom.
The door is shut but not locked and Jack pushes in without slowing. He scans the room, combat senses fully engaged. It's a moment that feels like minutes but takes less than a second.
Robby is on the bed reclined against the headboard, naked, and restrained by leather cuffs at his ankles and wrists to the four corners of the bed. Jack has a split-second impression of needles in his pecs, arranged artfully like the spokes of a wheel around his nipples, as he scans down the bed to see a young man, dressed in black except for bright blue nitrile gloves, slumped with his lower body on the bed and his torso hanging off, his head nearly touching the carpet. He appears unconscious but he's definitely not having a seizure.
"What the fuck?" Jack wheezes.
"Help him!" Robby rattles his cuffs, leaning toward the young man.
Jack lets his momentum carry him across the room, shifting the man fully up onto the foot of the bed. Now he can see the wet stain on the crotch of his cargo pants. Loss of bladder control, a hallmark of a grand mal seizure.
"He stopped seizing about a minute after we hung up. I couldn't really time it but I reckon it was less than four minutes."
"What's his name?" One hand goes automatically to feel his carotid pulse and with the other Jack pats his cheeks, and when that doesn't work presses a knuckle into his sternum. "Hey, can you hear me?"
"Axel--"
"Axel! Can you hear me?"
"--but I don't know if that's his real name."
Axle grimaces and weakly tries to reach toward Jack's hand.
"Good pulse. Any worry about spinal injury?"
"No, but he hit his head pretty hard on the footboard when he was seizing."
Jack runs a hand over the man's buzz cut and finds no blood. "Ok, I'm going to move him into the living room before they get here."
"Take his backpack!" Robby points with the fingers of both cuffed hands toward an open bag sitting on a chair in the corner. "Maybe he has a medical alert card or something."
Jack slings the back pack on and pulls the man's arms across his shoulders, rolling to his feet and hoisting him in a fireman's carry. He staggers for a step and finds his balance. The guy is tall, maybe taller than Robby, but he's stick thin and easy to carry once he's up.
"There's a pulse ox and a BP cuff in the junk drawer!" Robby yells as Jack kicks the bedroom door closed.
thirty minutes later….
"He going to be ok?" Robby asks as soon as Jack opens the door again, big, brown, worried eyes turned toward him.
"Yeah, I think so," Jack moves in slowly this time, arms loose at his sides, deliberately -artificially- casual. "His sats were good and he was just waking up as they rolled out. It's Alex, by the way. He must have epilepsy. He had Nayzilam in his bag."
"Damn. I wish I could have gotten to that bag when he started seizing," Robby frowns.
“You did good, Robby. You got help for him.” Jack sticks his hands in his pockets. Robby is still naked, bound spread eagle on the bed, And while they talk Jack looks him over, taking in all the details he didn't have time to see before. “I'm guessing you didn't know he had seizures?”
Robby shakes his head, “Not really that kind of a relationship.”
There are narrow hypodermic needles, 23 gauge by the hub color, inserted shallowly and parallel to the skin. Maybe a dozen on each pec arranged in a radial pattern with the sharp points ringing his nipples. A fatter needle pierces directly through each nipple.
“How did you manage to call me, anyway?”
Robby glances toward his phone, out of reach on the nightstand. “Voice commands, fuckin AI. I'm glad I never figured out how to turn it off.”
“You and me both, brother.”
Robby's dick is flaccid, flopping sideways into dark hair at an angle where Jack can just see the hubs of more hypodermics on its underside. It's only years of training that lets him stifle a shudder.
"Thank you," Robby says, eyes downcast.
"It was Bosco and Otero on the rig. I think you owe me a bit more than a thank you that they didn't have to break the door down and see this." Jack says with forced levity. This is a test of even his prodigious skills of nonchalance.
Robby blows out a long, slow breath. "Fuck. Yeah. I owe you, I don't know, my first born or something."
"I don't suppose you were being held captive and tortured by that guy, huh?"
Robby can't look at him. He shakes his head, "No, that's not..."
"Ok. That's ok. Where's the key?"
Robby looks forlornly toward a small key on the night stand. "If you just get my right hand undone I can handle it from there," he says.
Jack takes the key and circles the bed to reach the cuff locked onto Robby's right wrist. It's leather, lined with something soft and wide enough not to cut into his skin, a safe two-finger gap of slack to ensure it wouldn't cut off his circulation. He undoes the small padlock and the cuff falls open. Robby shakes his arm out, reaching for the key.
"I got it," Jack's already walking around to get the other hand. Instead Robby grabs the chux pad next to his thigh and flips it over to cover his groin, tipping a few packs of alcohol swabs and perforated strips of hypodermics in sterile packaging onto the bed.
Everything is pointing to Robby doing this not just on purpose, but with some frequency, and with the expertise to do it safely.
Robby hisses as his left arm comes free, flexing his shoulder and reaching again for the key.
"Let me do it, ok?" Jack says. Robby watches warily, flexing his fingers and rolling his stiff shoulders, as Jack unlocks both ankle cuffs.
"Good?" Robby asks, bringing his legs in closer
"Are you?" Jack asks. Robby still won't look at him directly, disguising it by leaning over to open the drawer of the nightstand.
"Yeah, I'm just going to take these out,” he waves toward his chest and pulls out a box of gloves and a small sharps container, setting it between his thighs to keep it upright.
Jack sits on the end of the bed and releases the valve on his leg, and that does make Robby look up, jerking his eyes up to meet Jack's. "You really don't need to stay for this. Thank you so much for coming, but–."
"I want to." Several complicated emotions pass over Robby’s face in quick succession before being smoothed away. "Can I stay? Can I help?"
A couple seconds of strong eye contact pass silently. Robby holds the box of gloves out to him.
“Thank you,” Jack sighs, pulling on a pair of gloves. Robby produces a half-full sleeve of 2x2s and leans them against his leg next to the sharps.
Jack shuffles up the bed until he's sitting next to Robby’s hip where he can reach everything. “Ready?” Robby nods. He's twitchy, fidgeting with the sheets as Jack presses a square of gauze over one of the needles and draws it out. It comes free easily, no resistance, and there’s the tiniest dot of blood on the gauze when Jack lifts it. Robby barely seems to notice at all. Jack drops the needle into the sharps.
“You're being awfully cool about all this?” Robby says as Jack moves to the next needle. A statement, but with a question mark at the end.
“I don't want to yuck your yum, brother,” he says and Robby chokes on a laugh just as Jack is pulling, jerking the needle.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “This isn't how– well, let's be honest, I never intended for you to find out. But this isn't how I imagined it going.”
Jack shrugs. “I mean, it's not my thing. I get enough of needles at the hospital, and I've had enough of pain to last me a lifetime-” Robby grimaces at the reminder of Jack's leg. “-but I get it on an academic level. It's adrenaline and endorphins, the nerves for pleasure and pain can get crossed over pretty easily.”
He's halfway through pulling the needles from Robby’s left pec and Robby is definitely uncomfortable, he's restless and flexing his hands on his thighs, but seemingly not from any pain.
“You're not going to tell me to quit? That it's too dangerous? A poor coping mechanism?” he asks accusingly.
Jack shrugs again. “I mean, aside from failing to plan for your Dom becoming suddenly unresponsive you seem to have a pretty good setup here. You certainly have the knowledge to be able to do it safely.”
Robby chews his lip, watching Jack's hands as he methodically pulls out a needle and drops it in the sharps.
“Yeah,” he says finally, fidgeting with the edge of the chux. “I guess, after covid it just seemed like it got a lot harder to feel good things anymore.”
“And that sounds like a perfect thing to talk about in therapy,” Jack cocks an eyebrow at him. Robby huffs. “Look man, do I think it's ideal? No. But it's far from the worst coping mechanism you've ever had. If this is what it takes for you to feel good, then I just want you to be safe with it.”
Robby chews on his lip, glancing at Jack and then away again.
“Last one, it's the big one. Ready?” Jack says and then pulls the 18 gauge out of his nipple. Robby groans through his bitten lip, out of the corner of his eye Jack sees the chux move as his dick twitches. Jack presses gauze over the pinpoint bleeding, holding the needle up to examine it. “Sorry.”
Robby grunts in acknowledgement, swallows hard.
Jack leans further to start removing the needles on the other side of his chest. “You know, Liz, she used to like for me to spank her sometimes.” He can feel Robby's gaze boring into the side of his head. He never talks about Liz, but this feels important.
“I did it because she asked me to, but I didn't… I never could get into it. Like I said, not my thing,” he flicks his eyes up to Robby’s and then down to the next needle, drawing it smoothly from under the gauze. “I hated causing her pain, even if she was asking me to. I hated seeing the shape of my hand on her skin. Eventually we stopped.” He moves a needle to the sharps and feels Robby's fingers graze against his elbow.
“You don't–”
Jack continues, talking over him. “But I liked this part, the after. I mean, I liked how revved up it made her,” he grins. “But my favorite part was when she would let me take care of her afterward, get her a cold compress and rub lotion on her skin. He glances toward Robby’s face and meets his eyes.
“Why are you telling me this?” Robby asks, his pupils blown wide.
Jack pulls another needle, stalling while he thinks. “Because I wanted you to know. And I do get how it's supposed to go: a build up and then a release and then a come down. You didn't get– you just had the build up then you basically had cold water dumped over you. Your emotions have been jerked around all over the place today. And I like to take care of you.” He pulls the last, biggest needle. Robby gasps and the chux twitches again.
Jack sits up and rests his hand on the edge of the chux, distinctly tented now. Arousal and anxiety overlap on Robby’s face. “Jack,” he grimaces, grabbing onto Jack's wrist and glancing down at the crinkled blue plastic between them. “It's– you can ignore it. I don't need anything.”
“I know. Can I?” For once Robby is meeting his eyes, searching Jack's face for something.
“Ok,” he nods, loosening his grip on Jack's wrist. Jack pulls it away.
Robby’s dick is learned up against his stomach and most of the way to hard. A series of even thinner needles are pierced through the dorsal side perpendicular to the shaft like rungs on a ladder. He can feel Robby holding his breath and forces himself not to react. With one finger he brushes lightly over the hubs of the needles, like running a finger down the teeth of a zipper. Robby gasps and his head tips back.
“So, how does this work?” Jack asks, still gently touching the needles. “I can't exactly give you a hand job.”
He glances up and watches Robby’s throat bob as he swallows. “That's– that's good. It’s not going to take much.”
With a shaking hand Robby takes the head of his dick between his thumb and two fingers, gathering precum from the tip and milking over it with short strokes that stay above the needles.
Jack taps each hub, counting them. Now that he's erect the needles are spaced about half an inch apart, starting at the base right above his sac, and ending just below the frenulum. Fourteen.
Damn. Jack's not insecure about his size, but he can admit that Robby’s impressive.
Robby’s leaking heavily now, panting as he twists his fingers over the purpled head. Jack lets his fingers trace around to the top side of his shaft and stroke down, through the crease of his groin and over to brush his balls, tickling the wiry hair. Robby shifts his legs wider.
His thighs are lean and pale, dusted with dark hair. Jack can think of at least one painful thing he wouldn't mind doing to Robby. He leans down and sets his teeth against the soft, thin flesh of Robby’s thigh, sucking hard until he tastes the tang of blood welling to the surface. Robby moans, deep and drawn out, and his free hand lands in Jack's hair, pressing him closer.
Jack can feel Robby’s legs trembling and hear the increasingly frantic, slick movements of his fingers, signaling he's close. He licks over the swollen, blooming, red mark and rests his head on Robby’s thigh until he can look up the column of his pierced dick, across his flushed chest, to his face, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging slack.
Jack reaches out and runs his finger nail across the hubs again, from bottom to top, but this time pressing harder, so that each needle deflects and pops back as he passes.
Robby makes a cut off, choking sound in his throat and stiffens, his hips twitching upward and jostling Jack as he starts to cum. He makes soft, breathy “uh uh” sounds with each spasm and Jack can't look away. He looks so fuckin beautiful.
As Robby finishes and melts back against the bed Jack pushes himself up. Robby's directed all the cum onto the chux on his stomach, keeping it from running down his shaft with a cupped hand. Jack folds the chux and drops the mess off the side of the bed. He grabs a couple of 2x2s and quickly withdraws the remaining needles from Robby’s softening dick. The man doesn't seem to notice, still enjoying the echoes of what looked like a truly spectacular orgasm.
He opens his eyes when Jack uses a piece of gauze to wipe off his dirty hand, blinking heavily. Jack chuckles, “Did that feel as good as it looked like it did?”
“Mmmm,” Robby nods. Jack balls up the gauze in the palm of his hand and pulls his gloves off, inverting and encasing the trash into a tight ball. He drops them on top of the chux and sets the 2x2s and sharps onto the nightstand. There are two bottles of water already prepped there and Jack cracks one open, offering it to Robby.
Robby looks at the water bottle like he's forgotten he has hands. Jack chuckles and shuffles up the bed to sit beside him. He wraps Robby’s left hand around the bottle and steadies it for him to take a drink, draping his right arm across Robby’s shoulders and pulling him in close.
A shiver runs through Robby, “Fuck, that was something else.” He tips his head onto Jack's shoulder, sipping at the water. Something’s nagging at Jack and it takes him a minute to realize what. Robby is still. No leg constantly bouncing, no fingers flexing, no chewing on his lip. Jack can't remember the last time he saw him this relaxed, but it must have been before covid. Jack rakes his fingers across Robby’s hair and he hums.
Abruptly, Robby stiffens in his arms. Jack tightens his hold, looking around, ready to destroy whatever interrupted his peace. Robby is looking at the conspicuous shape of Jack's arousal trapped inside his pants. “Shit, I can–” He tries to pass Jack the water bottle. “Let me just–”
“Shhh,” Jack hushes him, presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Not today, ok? I'm good. This was just for you.”
“Jack–” he protests.
“Hush, I'm basking in the afterglow.” Jack snuggles him and Robby harumphs, relaxing against his chest. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Robby says. “I'm sorry you felt like you had to do that.”
“Stop it,” Jack jostles him. “I told you, I don't like to cause pain. But I like to take care of you.”
Jack's left hand finds Robby's right and interlaces their fingers together, resting on Robby’s stomach. “You used to let me take care of you when you were upset.”
“I know….” Robby says softly. “I can't remember the last time I was held like this,”
“Well, if I was the last person then it was the night Adamson died.” Robby had knocked on Jack's door after his shift practically catatonic and Jack hadn't needed to ask what happened. Robby had let himself be undressed, passively sat while Jack washed his hair and scrubbed the day off him, and then let Jack big-spoon him to sleep. He awoke in the middle of the night to finally sob on Jack's chest. By the funeral a couple of days later he'd built his walls back even higher.
Robby draws in a shuddering breath, “Fuck, Jack, when he started seizing I felt so helpless. Like, here's this guy having a seizure not four feet from me and I just had to watch him thrashing around and hitting his head. I couldn't do a damn thing. I couldn't reach him, couldn't pull out of the cuffs.” It reminded me of back then, Jack hears what he doesn't say.
“I know, I know,” Jack nuzzles into the sweaty hair at his temple, presses a kiss behind his ear. Because he does know. Understands on a visceral level exactly how painful it would be for Robby to have to sit by, powerless, and watch someone suffer.
“You did get him help, though,” Jack tightens his arms around Robby, trying to press comfort into him bodily. “You were willing to let Bosco and Otero see you naked and kinky in order to get him help. Alex may not know how much that means, but I do.”
Robby snorts and wipes his eyes against Jack's shirt. “I don't know why I'm so emotional today.”
“Yes you do. Your emotions have been through a tumble dryer this afternoon. It's cathartic. Don't fight it.” Jack uses his toes to hook the sheet from the foot of the bed and pull it up over them.
Robby snuffles. “Fuckin Axel. Alex. Poor kid. He should have told me he had epilepsy.”
“Yeah, cause I bet you were real open and honest with him, too.” Jack quips.
“Ouch.”
“C’mon,” Jack shifts to lay down and tugs Robby with him, pulling him in until Robby rests his head on Jack's shoulder and throws an arm across his chest.
“Still, I should go check on him later.” Robby sighs.
“After a nap. I'll go with you.” Jack strokes his hand soothingly down Robby’s back.
Robby burrows in closer, throwing a leg over Jack's shortened one and breathing in his soap and clean sweat smell. “Thank you,” he whispers into Jack's chest.
“Of course,” Jack kisses the top of his head. “Love you, brother.”
“Love you, too.”