Timeout
A little drabble for @kingrumlow and @lowontherum based on their recent lovely Brock/Brock/Jack RP. Hope you like it!
“This is ridiculous.” Jack is caught somewhere between indignation and disbelief, and his voice cracks on the last word.
Brock grins to himself as he knots the rope around Jack’s left wrist and the chair arm, and makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.
“Brock, please.” Jack tries, in that low honeyed voice that he knows presses all of Brock’s buttons at once. If he were to look at Jack right now, he knows he would be giving him the eyes, too. It’s a tactic that can get him almost anything, has gotten him almost anything in the past.
But it won’t get him out of this.
“Oh come on! This is fucking stupid!” Jack yells, when Brock moves onto his other wrist. “I didn’t even do anything to him.”
“Never said you did, did I?” Brock replies evenly, testing the knots with a couple of hard tugs. Yeah, they’ll hold nicely. “But you did say something you shouldn’t have.”
He watches as Jack tries to recall what he’s done wrong, his forehead furrowed as he sifts through the last couple of days in his memory. “Whatever he told you,” he says slowly, obviously having drawn a blank, “he’s lying.”
Rumlow pushes away from where he has been leaning against the wall and stomps forward until he’s standing next to Brock. “You called me, and I quote, ‘a greedy little cockslut’.”
Jack gapes at him for a moment before he scoffs. “That’s it? Jesus Christ you can be such a pussy sometimes. Look, you are a greedy little slut. Okay?’ He turns back to Brock. “That’s what he fucking is.”
Rumlow opens his mouth to argue, but Brock shushes him with a gesture. “Of course he is, Jackie, in here.” He gestures at the bedroom around them. “You can call him pretty much what you like in here and he’ll thank you for every word. But out there-” he points at the bedroom door and the rest of the cabin that lies beyond it “-he’s got a name, and this relationship isn’t going to work until you realise that.”
There’s a long moment of silence before Jack speaks up again. This time his voice is soft and a little hesitant. “You’re calling this a- a relationship now? C’mon, Brock. It’s nothing like that, it’s just- y’know…”
“What is it then? What would you call it?” Brock asks, when Jack trails off. When there’s no answer, he adds, “I call it that because that’s what it is.”
No matter what Jack might think, or Rumlow for that matter, the reality is that the three of them are more enmeshed together than any of them would have thought possible. Brock needs them as much as they need him, as much as they need each other. He pads over to the dresser and pulls out a gag from the top drawer. “Do you know what the key to a good relationship is?“
“You mean apart from doing everything you say?” Jack’s retort is instantaneous, but there’s little heat in it. He’s eyeing the gag swinging from Brock’s hand with a mixture of resignation and distaste.
It’s his favourite double-o ring, which is exactly why Brock chose it.
Brock buzzes his lips in an imitation of a gameshow buzzer. "Good guess but incorrect. No, the right answer is give and take, Jackie.” He fastens the gag around Jack’s head, brushing his hair out of the way of the buckle. “You’re very, very good at giving it to him, but now you need to learn how to take it.” He steps back and turns to Rumlow. “There. He’s all yours.”
The effort it takes Rumlow to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him - the gift Brock has handed to him - is clearly immense. “You’re not going to stay and watch?”
Brock takes one last look at Jack in the chair. He’d love to watch, of course he would. But this time he needs to take a backseat and let these two work things through on their own. Besides, he’ll have a real-time camera feed anyway. “Nah. Don’t want to cramp your style.” He turns to pick up his bag from beside the door. “Have fun. Just make sure you don’t break him.”
