Chapter Text
Twenty Seconds of Courage
Misaki studied the scene with an objective eye. It was a chair. New and sitting in the middle of their living room, but to the casual eye, just a chair. The items in his back pocket were the real issue. He considered hiding them under a couch cushion, but couldn’t risk Usagi stopping him from getting to them before he could use them. He pulled the hem of his shirt down as far as it would go to hide the bulge.
Usagi would be coming down for lunch soon. That was a key part of it.
A prolonged shudder wracked him. I can’t do this. I just can’t!
But he wanted to. He really, seriously wanted to. Just once in his life. Then he could look back on today and say, I did that. All he needed was twenty seconds of courage.
Movement above. The door to Usagi’s study opened. Footsteps on the stairs.
“Something smells good! What’s for lunch?”
Usagi’s voice was about halfway down. He had to grip his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking, but that made him appear guilty. He shoved one fist into his armpit, and put the other hand on his chin, as if he was studying the chair. The chair was facing the side of the room with the stairs. He moved behind it now to hide his back pocket.
Akihiko paused on his way to the kitchen. His eyes skipped from the chair, to Misaki’s face, and back. “What’s this?”
“Chair.”
“I can see that. Where’d it come from?”
“Hardware store.”
Taking the time to note how Misaki didn’t lift his head or look at him before answering, he came into the room. Stood in front of the chair. “Did you order this? It doesn’t go with the décor.”
“No, I went there. To the hardware store.”
“You. At a hardware store.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Where was I?”
“Writing.”
Another beat, as he studied the chair as well, now. “What’s it for? I’m genuinely curious.”
“An experiment.”
“An -!” He needed a deep breath. This was getting surreal fast. “Misaki, what’s going on?”
In fascination, he watched as Misaki swallowed and closed his eyes, as if bracing for something. The muscle in his lover’s jaw jumped as his teeth were clenched, and that…that has his cock stirring. Conversely, a prickle of something he associated with danger snaked down the back of his neck, giving him goosebumps. But then Misaki finally met his eyes.
That’s not my man.
A thought as foreign as the look on Misaki’s face. He, a writer, couldn’t even immediately describe the look. Everything went out of his head as concern, deep and urgent, flooded him. “Misaki –“ He reached over the chair towards him.
Misaki took a small step back, leaving the hand hanging. “I need your help. With something.”
Neither the phrase, nor the shaky, serious, stiff-lipped delivery existed in his memory. Not from Misaki. He ran his eyes over his lover as he put his hand down. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then what is this about?”
“This chair. I need it for something. Something…important. To me. And I need your help. Please.”
The knuckles Misaki had pressed to his chin were white. And he could recognize the shoulders hovering beneath the man’s ears as rank fear. The body language was eloquent of defense. What there was about the chair to fear, he didn’t know, but he made his voice as soothing as possible. The sooner this situation was done, the sooner he could get some real answers. “All right. Okay. How can I help?”
“S… sit in the chair.”
Moving slowly, and belatedly noticing how clipped Misaki’s speech was, he complied.
“How is it?” Misaki stayed behind him.
He bounced experimentally. “Not bad. The leather padding helps. Especially on the back.” The back consisted of a single cross-piece, about six inches wide. It supported him just beneath his shoulder blades. “I like that it’s curved.”
“That’s good. It’s a barrel back chair. Mid-century. Is it sturdy?”
He peered at all aspects of the chair without getting up. Rocked it side to side a couple of times. “Mm. yeah. I think so. It’s wide and squat, so that helps. Mid-century, you said? Yeah, they made stronger furniture back then. Not very attractive, though. Why’d you get it?”
“I actually needed it to be wide. Would you say there’s at least three inches of seat space to either side of your hips?”
He took a second look at the seat, assessing. “Yes.”
“Excellent. Now, I…I want to check how sturdy the chair actually is. Can you hook your ankles behind each leg?”
Misaki was still behind him. He turned his head to see him and caught an expression of…something…on his face. “Why?”
“So I can make sure it’s st- “
“Why do you need this chair to be sturdy?”
“Because. I need to make sure I got my money’s worth. And I need it to be strong enough to…accomplish my goal.”
“A goal besides sitting on it?”
“Yes.” Misaki moistened his lips. “Your ankles?”
He felt with his slippers until he had each foot hooked behind a chair leg. “Okay? I hope we can eat lunch soon.”
“Let me see.” Misaki bent down beside first his right leg, then his left. Each time, he felt Misaki’s hand squeeze around his ankle and chair leg both.
“Now your hands,” Misaki said, behind him once more. “This will sound weird, but I’d like you to drop your hands over the back of the chair, then grab the back posts.”
“The what?”
“Just drop your hands over the back.”
Lifting his arms free of the sides, he swung them around the back of the chair. Misaki guided him until he had a firm grip on what he visualized as the upper part of the back legs, near his hips. “Now what? I’m hungry.”
“Are you holding on hard?”
“Yes.”
“As hard as you can?”
He squeezed the wood until his palms hurt. “Yes.”
“Ankles locked?”
“Yes."
“Good. Okay. Now. Without losing contact with the wood, try to tear the chair apart.”
“What?”
“Without unhooking your ankles or releasing the back posts, try to break the chair. Dismantle it.”
“…Can I stand?”
“No.”
“Okay…” He tried. The legs cut into his ankles painfully, and the back posts didn’t budge. “It’s sturdy. Can I get –“
“Did you try hard? Use all your strength, Usagi. Please.”
“I am.” He strained. “It’s well-made. Can I get up now?”
“Wait. I want to check you’re holding tightly.”
He sensed Misaki kneeling behind him. There was a very small rustling sound, then Misaki’s cool hands tightly wrapped around his, pressing them to the back post. He gripped harder to show him he was following instructions. There was a light touch of something higher up on his wrist, something that didn’t feel like skin, and a tiny zzzt sound he couldn’t identify. “What –“
“Don’t let go. Try again, last time, to break this chair.” Misaki moved to his other hand, repeating the squeeze.
“Misaki, I swear I am, it’s not giving an inch. I’ve done all I can. Your chair is sturdy, okay?”
The same light touch visited each ankle. He stared down at Misaki’s head, then at what he was doing. “What is that?”
Misaki at last stood up in front of him, but Akihiko didn’t look at him. There was a black thing around his ankle. Both ankles. When he reached for it, he discovered his hands fastened to the chair. He twisted to study this. Found the same black plastic thing attaching his wrist to the back post. Finally turned to Misaki.
Misaki was grinning.
Dropping his eyes, he saw a few of the black things in Misaki’s fist.
Misaki saw him looking, looked down at his hand, then lifted the things to his face and brushed his cheek with them. “Heavy duty cable ties. Two-hundred-pound tensile strength. I’d like to take this time to answer your question and issue a correction. No, you cannot get up. Not until I release you. And that isn’t my chair. Henceforth, that will be known as your chair.”
He'd been trying to get up from the moment he realized the things in Misaki’s hand were zip ties. Cable ties, whatever. He couldn’t. This had to be a joke. A prank. “Misaki? Release me. Now.”
“No.”
He stopped struggling. Being bound had not communicated anywhere near as big a threat to him as that one word. The way it was said was so unbothered, so…unlike Misaki, that he took a mental step back and tried to calm his rising panic. “What are you doing? What is this?”
“Nothing. Just me.”
“This isn’t you. I know you.”
“I admit, I’m definitely not myself today. Or, not my usual self. I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it. Take control of something larger and stronger than myself.”
Worse and worse. “And?”
“And what?”
“Now that you have the control? What happens?”
He tried to recall if he’d ever seen Usagi’s eyes that wide, or his mouth this grim. “First of all, relax. I’m not you. I just really enjoy this feeling of power. It’s so…I feel so calm. I’ve never felt like this.”
Usagi sat back and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a nervous swallow. He watched all this, part fascinated, part sympathetic. After all, he knew just how much this had to sting.
“How…” Usagi moistened his lips. “How long do you intend to keep me like this?”
“Until I’m tired of it.”
Those eyes went to half mast, and Usagi’s lips barely moved. “What?”
“Yes. See, I thought I’d play a little game. I didn’t plan on keeping you restrained for more than a couple of hours, but I didn’t know I’d feel so comfortable.” He twisted one of the cable ties in his hand. “You really can’t break free?”
“What. Game.”
“What? Oh! Yes.“ He couldn’t help laughing; a thrill of excitement whipped through him. “If you can keep from coming for an hour, I’ll let you out. If not, another hour gets added.”
Usagi blinked at him. Some of the confusion and ire on his face was now replaced with interest. One eyebrow lifted. “Explain.”
“I’d rather not.” He shoved the cable ties in a pocket and lifted his t-shirt off. He turned to fold it onto the armchair. As he was unzipping his pants, he remembered what was in his other pocket. “Oops, almost forgot.”
Usagi’s eyes went very round at seeing it. “Absolutely no-arghfgh!” He continued to yell around the ball gag as the strap was buckled behind his head.
“There. Don’t worry.” He dropped his pants and underwear, and set these atop his shirt as he went into the kitchen. Usagi, seeing him naked, lessened his volume dramatically. “I have just the thing to make you more comfortable.” He came back with the kitchen scissors and held them up. “Once you’re naked too you’ll feel a lot better.”