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The one good thing that came out of being captured by Nikola Orsinov turned out to be something... rather unusual. Jon realized, thanks to that creepy ex-clown, that he enjoyed being tied up. Not that it had been enjoyable at the time, in fact, it had been bloody awful . But being tied to a chair for long periods of time, where the ropes were the only thing holding him tight, keeping him upright, became a comfort during his captivity. He knew when he was tied up, at least nothing worse was likely going to happen to him.
He remembered how exposed he felt when Michael had cut him free with those sharp hands of his. How he sagged in the chair, unused to having to hold himself up. How hard it was to stand up and move again (which wasn’t just due to trepidation of whatever lay in Michael’s hallways).
So, no, being tied to a chair for weeks on end thanks to Nikola Fucking Orsinov was not the most pleasant ordeal Jon had ever had the pleasure of experiencing, but he found he had been able to take at least something from it that wasn’t just another scar.
The first time he mentioned it to Martin, well into their relationship, they had been cuddling on the couch watching some movie or another, Martin was mostly curled on top of Jon, pressing him into the sofa cushions.
“This is nice.”
Martin shifted slightly to look at his face, Jon knew his words were a little slurred; actually feeling relaxed and at ease with the bulk Martin’s weight on top of him.
“You okay? Am I squishing you?” Martin started to shift further but Jon caught his arm before he could get too far.
“Yeah. Yes. I-I’m good. I haven’t felt like this since I was alone at the wax museum.”
“I’m sorry, what ?” Martin did move so he could get a better look at him.
Jon felt his face heating, realizing how bad that sounded “I-I can’t really explain it. I just. It was nice when I couldn’t move. When I could just… stay still without having eighteen things calling for my attention all at once.” Martin was still staring goggle-eyed at him, “Y-you know, when I wasn’t busy worrying about being skinned alive to be used in the Dance.”
Martin blinked at him a few times, “Ooookay. Okay. I-I think that can be translated into something coherent.” Martin paused a moment, “So you enjoy being restricted? Your... movements taken from you, so you can’t really... move?”
Jon tilted his head minutely, thinking about it, “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”
Martin sighed, “Okay. That - that kind of makes sense? But good lord , how do you manage to find the most unusual ways of figuring out what you like? I mean… literally being tied up for weeks on end and you find out you enjoy it?”
Jon huffed indignantly, well as much as he could manage while still pinned under Martin, “I didn’t enjoy it. It - it had just been the first time I had ever been tied up.” Jon finished lamely.
Martin brought his hand up to his cheek, causing Jon to close his eyes as his thumb swept gently against his skin, “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.” Before Jon could say anything Martin kept going, “But… what would you say to trying being tied up in a safe space?”
Jon’s eyes flew open, “You would do that?”
Martin’s smile was soft and gentle, “If you would like me to, then yeah. Yeah I would.”
Unfortunately nothing came of Martin’s offer until a few weeks later due to a few reasons.
One: Martin insisted on research. A lot of research. Which, frankly, made sense. Research on materials and tools, different knots and patterns, and kink negotiation (that was an… interesting conversation in which Martin scolded Jon soundly for his lack of boundaries. Just because he could heal quickly from any injury Martin could give him didn’t mean getting hurt was okay ).
Two: they had actually caught wind of a lead on Annabelle and needed to follow up before the trail went cold. She ended up evading them again anyway. They hadn’t even been sure if the entire chase had just been part of some elaborate plan of hers in the first place.
Three: Martin wanted time to practice his knots. Which he did. Often. During any free time in, or out of the office, when he wasn’t using his hands for anything else. The others just assumed it was related to all the time he had spent with Peter Lukas, like spending time with the sea captain would have gotten him into knot tying. Neither Jon or Martin deigned to correct their assumptions.
But eventually Martin had Jon stripped to his pants and an undershirt sitting comfortably in one of their cushioned dining chairs. They had discussed everything at length beforehand. It had actually been Jon’s idea to be as undressed as he was. He thought it would be interesting to feel the silky ropes against his skin.
“Okay, do you remember your safeword?”
“Yes, Martin.” Jon replied dryly.
“ Jon .”
“Okay - okay. Worms.”
“Thank you. Color?”
Jon thought Martin was being a little over cautious, but he supposed he couldn’t fault him, considering he was doing this all for him, and Martin just wanted him to be safe.
“Green.”
“Good. Thank you, Jon.” He couldn’t suppress the little shiver of pleasure that wound it’s way up his spine at the pleased note in Martin’s voice. He wanted to hear that again.
Martin crouched down, unraveled a length of dark blue rope, and started with Jon’s legs. Tying his ankles to the chair legs, and then twining the rope up his calves with a simple pattern. Martin tested the rope after every knot he tied to make sure Jon couldn’t move, but circulation wasn’t being cut off.
After he finished he rested his hands on Jon’s knees, “How are you doing?”
Jon smiled down at Martin, love swelling in his chest. They had barely gotten started, but Jon couldn’t even describe how much this meant to him. Martin doing all of this for him . “Good... Very good.”
Martin smiled back and gave Jon a gentle kiss on the forehead as he stood up, “Let’s keep going then.”
The pattern Martin used started at one wrist, coiling up his arm, across his chest and down the other arm in a complex design. Jon felt himself relaxing at every loop and knot around his chest. He felt his breathing slow dramatically, the ropes restricting his chest from expanding further, and it was perfect .
“Color?”
“Green.” Jon could even hear how soft and relaxed his voice was.
“You’re doing so well for me, Jon.” Martin ran his hand across his shoulders, and Jon tried to lean into his touch but couldn’t move far enough. He felt more than heard the whine that escaped his throat. “Just a little longer, and we’ll be done.”
When Martin finished he, again, checked all the knots to make sure everything held tight, but wasn’t too restrictive. This time, he let his hands linger on Jon’s skin as he went over each knot. Martin’s touch always felt electric, but now it was like all of Jon’s senses were heightened by a hundredfold. Martin obviously noticed how extra sensitive Jon had become, and specifically made sure to not break contact once he started; to make sure Jon knew he was there at all times. That this wasn’t the museum, he wasn’t in danger, that Martin wasn’t going to leave him. Jon was safe in the sturdy, and capable hands of Martin K Blackwood.
Martin hooked his foot around another one of the chairs to bring it closer and sat down facing Jon. He ran his hand through Jon’s thick greying hair, “You still with me, love?”
Jon made a soft noise that could really only be described as a purr, “Yes. That feels wonderful .”
Martin chuckled softly as he continued to slowly run his hand through his hair, “If I had known that all it would have taken for you to relax was to tie you up, I would have done this a lot sooner.”
Jon hummed and leaned into Martin’s touch as far as the ropes would allow. He felt like he was drifting, but not in a loose untethered way. More like he was finally able to let go of everything he was holding onto. Like Martin’s knots and touch were holding him together, so he didn’t have to.
Martin brushed his thumb along Jon’s cheekbone, coaxing his eyes open. He didn’t even remember closing them, “You want to stay like this for awhile?”
“Please.” Jon twisted just enough to give a soft kiss to Martin’s palm. “Will you stay with me?”
Martin smiled reassuringly, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you for as long as you need me.”
Jon replied instinctively, all of his outer layers and walls stripped away, “Always. I’ll always need you.”
-------
Jon could have stayed tied up all day, but Martin was having none of that. Jon had convinced him to go longer than he would have preferred, but in exchange, Martin took time to massage the places where blood had a higher chance of pooling, just to be on the safe side.
The only real hiccup they encountered was when Martin finally untied him, Jon unexpectedly started to panic, and Martin had to keep his hand pressed firmly against his chest, murmuring soft reassuring words to him until he came back to himself. They made a note to take the untying much slower in the future, being cut loose too quickly went south in a way that neither of them expected.
When Jon was ready, Martin lifted him gently into his arms to carry him to bed. And it really said something about where his mind was at, because he didn’t protest once. He just tucked his face against Martin’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck.
Martin deposited him onto the bed, but kept hold of his hand as he reached over to the nightstand for the large glass of water he had stashed there, and made Jon drink half, and drank the other half himself, before climbing into the bed with him. He just managed to get Jon’s glasses off before he latched onto him, and he placed them, and his own, next to the empty glass.
He settled around Jon and listened to his breathing start to even out just before it stopped, like it did every time he fell asleep (something Martin was still not entirely used to). But just before it did, Martin heard a soft, heartfelt, “Thank you, Martin.”
Martin kissed his forehead gently, “Anytime, love.”