| Chace Crawford and Mark Callaway - Taken for a ride |
[Dec. 11th, 2009|09:43 pm] |
Please be aware that this log does not follow SSC or RACK principles. As well, although both pups are members of Citadel, the actions contained herein do not take place on Citadel property and are neither condoned nor endorsed by said organization.
[Backdated to November 3, 2009]
[Comments welcomed and loved
Warnings: Not much actually - mild medical stuffs (not sexual)
*****************
"Boy! Get in here!" Mark shoves his wallet in his pocket as he looks for his phone. Adam and Jeff were going to be gone for quite a while so now was a good time to run this errand. He wanted the boy to be his thing, not a Creature so he didn't like leaving him alone too much with them.
Chace isn't sure where the tone in his Master's voice came from or what caused it, but he isn't about to make the man wait. Nearly falling over himself as he comes from the kitchen, Chace comes to a skidding halt. "Yes Master? Something wrong?"
"I'm taking a quick ride. Have to go check-what were you doing in the kitchen?" Mark stares at him, his eyes narrowing. "Lunch was an hour ago, dishes in the washer and you had your drink already."
People get a look on their faces when a cop pulls in behind them on the highway, they don't have to be doing anything wrong, it's just that possibility. Chace has the look of a man on his last walk to death row. "Uhm...I wa...wa..." Chace drops his eyes, knowing he's messed up. "It was just a little drink, Master. The chicken made me thirsty."
Mark takes a step toward the boy, then stops. His hands clench and unclench as he forces a deep breath. Said I was going to give him a little time. Said I was going to be more patient. Then he smiles. "Oh, not going to be doing anything right now to you, boy. You get to wait til I get back from this little trip to find out what's going to come down on you." He looks down at his keys. "The one for the belt, the one for your cage." He holds them up so the boy can see them. "Think about these while I'm gone. Think good and hard about them. And think about how you've just disappointed me." He tosses the keys up and catches them out of the air before heading out the door.
Chace stays quiet as Mark scolds him, eyes downcast. He knows he's done wrong but it's so hard to not just reach for a drink when you're thirsty and the seasoning on the chicken had done a number on him. "Think about them, Master? Yes Master, understood." Chace's eyes follow the keys to what is, basically, his whole world as Mark tosses them up and snags them out of the air. "I'm sorry, Master," he murmurs as he watches Mark leave the house, knowing when the man returns, his punishment will be bad, already envisioning hours in the tiny cage with the belt on.
"Fucking boy. I don't know..FUCK!" The change in tactic is a good one, but that doesn't make him any less pissed. A stupid thing like taking a drink without asking. Was that really so fucking hard to manage? The motorcycle roars to life and Mark straps on the half helmet before revving the engine and flying down the drive to the road. He's still cussing the boy in his mind, working out a punishment as he comes to the stop. Best to hurry this up and get back to that boy. The light barely has time to change to green before he guns the bike and hits the gas. In the end that's what saves him as the coming truck clips his rear tire instead of t-boning him. The bike spins as Mark tries to regain control, then there's just black.
Chace knows what's to come when his Master returns, but right now all he knows to do is tend to the chores that he normally would. He walks out to make certain the dogs have plenty of water, eyes on them as he keeps his front to them. He swears the one watches him, gauging and waiting for his back to be turned. Once done, he returns to the house, glances at the clock then puts away the laundry. His Master should be back any time and he knows it'll do him to be waiting on his knees.
The ambulance takes fifteen minutes to reach the accident. The other driver had called on his cell, then left once he recognized Mark. The paramedics put a neck brace on him as they check him over and a police officer takes his wallet and cell to try and look for a contact number as they strap him to the board and put him in the ambulance.
Mark can hear someone calling his name over and over. He tries to sit up, his eyes fighting to open when he realizes he can't. A blinding light is in his eyes, then it's taken away as someone moves into his line of sight. "Can you hear me, Mr. Callaway? Can you try moving your arms and legs for me?"
"What?" Mark moves his body more to try and get up than in response to the request. "Where am I? What the hell?"
"Mr. Callaway, you were in an accident. I need you to lie still now til we can check you out more. We're taking you for X-rays now."
"Don't need them. Can tell everything is all right. Know how it feels to-ah!" A sudden pain shoots thru his shoulder. "I'm fine." Mark tries to sit up again, hands grabbing at anything in reach.
"Mr. Callaway! Mr. Callaway! I need you... Nurse."
"What the- " The noises get quieter and the light dims as the shot takes effect.
**************
Chace isn't sure how long he's knelt in front of the doorway, but it's apparently been long enough that he's fell asleep while there and his feet have both gone completely numb. "Ahh fuck! Fuck!" Crawling toward the center of the room, he glances up and his eyes go wide; Mark has been gone entirely too long. "Was he so mad he'd have left me here?"
Feet finally gaining their feeling, he goes to peek outside then walks to the barn, still limping slightly. "Master? Are you...no, you're not are you." The bike is still gone and Chace glances around again. "Calm. Stay calm. He's just got sidetracked. That's all. No big deal, you've been alone before. Get a fucking grip." Arms wrapped around his chest, he makes his way back to the house. "I could call and..." It occurs to him that not only does he have no clue who to call, he doesn't know Mark's cell number either. "Well fuck."
The phone rings and the machine picks up. "Hello? Is anyone there? This is Officer McLaren. I'm calling about Mark Callaway. Please call me at 713-555-6485. Thank you."
Chace nearly kills himself as he runs from the bedroom, hearing the voice in the other room. "Master!" When he enters and sees the empty room, he glances around and it hits him. "Answering machine? There's an answering machine? Fuck, I didn't even know there was a phone!" Never having used the thing and with Mark always on his cell, Chace never thought twice - until now. The hunt is on for the phone.
By the time Chace finds the phone, he's worked himself up into near hysteria at the fact that it's not his Master's voice on the machine but that of an officer. As he dials the phone it slams into his reality that even if the cop does come to pick him up, the way he looks isn't exactly how one wants to ride in the front of a police car, much less answer the door to one. "H'lo? Uhm, this 's...I got a call about Mark Callaway. They said to call this number. What's wrong?"
"This is Officer McLaren, can I ask who this is? I was told this was Mr. Callway's home phone?"
Every ounce of color drains from Chace's face. I'm the boy he bought and who now resides at his house as his slave. Oh yeah, that would work, he thinks with a nervous laugh. "My name's Chace, and this is his home. Please," his voice takes on a definite edge, "please. What's happened?"
"I'm sorry, I need to know your-please hold a moment." The phone is covered and muffled voices are heard. "I'm sorry. I am told Mr. Callaway has some friends on the force and that anyone at his house can be trusted. Mr. Callaway was in a motorcycle accident. He's at East Houston Regional Medical Center. Do you need a ride to the hospital?"
What little blood remained in Chace's face and chest leaves as he hears the word 'accident' and it takes every ounce of strength in him to simply hang onto the phone. Fingers begin to go white from the tight grip and Chace sinks to the floor, knees completely giving way. "I don't...is he okay? He's not...not..." Chace takes a deep breath and he tries again. "Is it bad?" Looking around frantically, Chace knows the closet with his clothes is locked and Mark has his other clothing. "I don't know," he whispers.
"I don't know Mr. Callaway's current status, but he was unconscious at the scene. I can give you the number to the hospital, but I'm not sure they will give details to a non-family member. Are you sure about the ride?"
I'm naked in a belt. Chace knows he's damned if he does and damned if he don't. If he leaves the house and locks up, he won't be able to get back in, but staying there isn't something he wants to do if Mark's hurt. "Will they let me in if I go? I...I don't wanna just be told to leave." Chace knows how hospitals work; if you aren't family, you don't get shit.
"No, I don't suppose they will. I can try to find out how he is and call you back if you wish. I don't know how long it will be til I have anything to tell you."
Feeling the tears begin, Chace sniffles as he tries to sound strong. "Would you please? Maybe you could convince 'em to let me in? I'd be quiet, honest." Chace pushes to stand his knees trembling and eyes wide. "Can I call you back in a bit if you don't call me?"
"Sure. I'm on duty til night. I should hope to have some news for you by then. Good bye Chace. And I wouldn't worry, from what I've been told, Mr. Callaway is a rather tough man."
"Yeah, tough and big," he says quietly. "Thank you, Officer McLaren. For everything." Chace hangs up the phone, standing there numb for the longest time before finally moving to sit in the floor in front of the couch. "He's tough, yeah."
************
He's counted every minute, every second since the officer's call, and though it's been well over an hour, there's been nothing. Chace tries to call back and the number the officer gave him is busy, so, he moves back to the middle of the floor, the televisions on but he couldn't tell anyone what's playing. He's gone to the bathroom more than once and simply just stood there, staring down at the stool then at the belt. Mark had given him a drink before he'd left, then there'd been the drink he'd tried to sneak in, but there hadn't been bathroom time and now Chace is feeling the results of that.
The phone rings some time later, Officer McLaren trying to keep a straight face as he waits.
Standing in the bathroom once more, Chace stares down at the toilet. The cramps have moved to more than just a little painful and he's tried everything he can to figure out how to piss around the tube that holds his cock captive. As the phone rings, there is no mad dash to reach it, the cramps keeping any quick movement at bay. "H...hello? Ma...this 's...h'lo?"
"Chace? Officer McLaren. Good news. It appears Mr. Callaway is all right. From what I hear, so all right that he should be home in a little while."
"He's okay? Really?" Blue eyes widen in an almost comic way as the words sink in. "A...li...a little while? How long's a little while?" He's trying with everything in him to keep the whimpers at bay as he speaks, but Chace has no doubt there's no way he's going to be able to hold off. "We're talking like...thirty minutes?"
"No, should be sooner than that."
"Boy!" Mark's voice rings out from in front of the house. "Open that door!" He winces as he leans down to pay the cab driver. "Thanks man." Taking a breath, he makes his way to the house.
"Master!" Forgetting the man on the other end of the line, Chace hangs up then turns and calls back to an already cradled phone, "Thank you!" He doesn't make it to the door as quickly as he should, but simply walking is painful at this point. Unlocking the door, Chace opens it then steps back, eyes wide and damp. "Master?"
"Jackass! He better be glad I don't know who he is." Mark bites his lip as he leans against the door, careful with his arm in its sling. He hisses as he tries to push off, his back speaking up now. "Boy, you okay?"
Chace stares for a moment, unable to speak as he takes quick inventory of his Master's injuries, but as Mark speaks, Chace loses it. He doesn't care what punishment comes later or what Mark does, he simply needs to touch. Moving forward, Chace wraps his arms around Mark in a tight hold. "I was so scared. He said you'd been hurt and I didn't have a way to get to you and if I did they wouldn't let me in and...and..." Backing up just enough to meet Mark's eyes, he waits then for what he's sure will come, eyes darting to the belt.
Mark bites back a yell as the boy hugs him. His breath comes in quick gasps, spots appearing in front of his eyes. He nods as he tries to regain his composure. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his keys. A second of feeling them, then he holds out the one to open the boy's belt. "Permission."
Grabbing the keys, Chace steps in, presses a quick kiss to as close to Mark's cheek as he can get then half waddles off toward the bathroom. "Thank you, Master!" Nearly sobbing with relief, Chace stands there, tears streaming down his face as emotions he can't even give name to fill him to the brim.
When he's finally done, he washes his hands, fixes the belt back, then makes his way toward the living room, eyes wary as he looks around for his Master. "Master? Where...do you need anything?"
Mark forces a deep breath, then makes his way to the couch. He tries not to just fall down and is half successful. He leans back as best he can, eyes closing as he works to push the pain away. "Get me a beer. Shit, no make it a coke. Paid for the medicine, might as well take it."
Chace nods then makes his way to the kitchen, hands shaking as he grabs a can from the fridge. This isn't like something at a show, this was something that just happened and Chace is just a bit on the nervous wreck side of things. A deep breath then he makes his way back to Mark, kneeling down in front of the man as he opens the can and hands it over. "How bad are you hurt?"
"Separated shoulder, fucked up my back and of course the road rash. And funny enough, this is the first time I've had all three at once. And shit, my bike." Mark sets the can between his legs as he pulls the medicine bottle out of his sling and tries to open it.
Without even thinking, Chace reaches out and, taking the bottle, twists off the lid before reading the directions and sliding two of the pills out into his palm. "Here Master," he says softly, tipping his hand up to dump the pills into Mark's palm. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?" Suddenly, the tears that had been just at the rims tumble over to spill down his cheeks and a huge sob leaves him. "I didn't cause this, did I? You were so mad when you left and..." Chace shakes his head, this can't be his fault. "I'm so sorry."
Mark swallows the pills as soon as they're in his hand and washes them down with the coke. He starts to finish the coke when he hears his boy's words. "Hey, hey. Look at me. You didn't do this. Actually, me being mad at you was good. I hit the intersection early, back tire got hit instead of me."
Instead of me. No, Chace can't think about that or Mark will end up with a boy that sounds even more like a blubbering fool than he does at the moment. Scooting forward, Chace glances up to see if he'll be scolded for coming up before asking, but then decides he'll take it if Mark punishes him. Laying his cheek against Mark's thigh, he stares up. "I know 'm not perfect Master, but 'm yours," he says shaking his head, "and I don't wanna lose you."
"I know boy." Mark's hand starts running the boy's hair. "I don't want to lose you either. Just..." he sighs, "try a little harder for me, okay?" He manages to move his hand away before the pain shoots through his back again. '"Fuck."
Sniffling, Chace looks up and nods slightly, unmoving otherwise as Mark's hand finds his hair. "I will, Master. Promise I'll tr..." Chace lets out his own yelp of shock as his Master cries out and, unsure where the pain actually comes from, Chace holds up a finger, pushes up then nearly runs to the kitchen, returning a short moment later with an ice pack in one hand and a hot pack in the other. With a sheepish grin he shrugs, "I didn't know which you'd need, but I was worried and couldn't...we have about twenty of each."
Mark instantly regrets the laughter that spills out of him, but he can't help it. Deciding to blame it on the pills, he just shakes his head. "Boy, sometimes I'm not sure about you." Sighing as the laughter fades, he forces himself off the couch, putting the coke on the side table. "If we do this here no way I'm going to be able to get up. Bring whatever you need, boy."
The walk to his bedroom is not nearly as bad as other times he's walked hurt, usually going back up the ramp after a match. But the annoyance of losing his bike does add to it. His good hand punches at the wall as he goes down the hall. Managing just as well to sit down without pain as he did sitting on the couch, he's careful on taking off the sling to get his shirt off. He starts to take off his boots, then glances at the boy. There's a little bit of pride that wants to try and finish the undressing himself, but hell, he is there. "Boy." He points to his boots.
Chace waits until Mark is standing then makes his way to the kitchen. It takes a moment of doing but he has a stew pan full of hot towels, a plastic sack full of ice packs hangs from his arm, Mark's keys dangle from a finger and the massage oil is placed on the lid of the pan, warming as he walks. He nearly drops everything, however, at the sound of something being hit, thankful at the moment that it wasn't him, he moves in behind Mark. Chace knows from experience, the last thing some men want when they're injured is to be babied, but as he sets everything down, he turns. "Oh, of course Master!"
Kneeling down in front of his Master, Chace carefully begins to tug at the boots, sliding them from his Master's feet then setting them aside. "I think I can help if you let me. Did you break anything?"
"My bike. But on me, no. Hit the grass just right. It was the bike catching me a second later that messed up my shoulder and I twisted at some point and that's what did my back in. Just aggravated old strains to muscles really. Should be healed up by the next show." A half smile appears. "I never had a service boy before. Never even thought about getting one really. Aw, hell. Good enough excuse as any. Especially if a massage will get me moving more like normal."
As Mark goes through the story, Chace feels himself grow angry at the same time a wave of nausea hits him. If his Master had been one second different, then... No! Stop that! "I'm sorry about your bike, Master," he says before his brows draw up tight and blue eyes flash with anger, "but I'd like to take the handlebars and shove up the person's ass that hit ya." Placing everything within reach, Chace lets his fingers graze over Mark's shoulder. "Can you lay on your stomach? I can do it with ya sittin' up, but better if you relax."
Mark cups his boy's chin, making him look up. "You and me both. But I don't remember anything beyond it being a truck and he was long gone by the time anyone else showed up. It might have been him who called the ambulance, so maybe they'll get him that way. You hate him all you want, cause I sure as hell will. But you stop thinking about how you might have lost me. You don't ever go before it's your time to. I'm here, boy. Not going anywhere."
Looking into his Master's eyes, Chace swallows against the knot in his throat, nodding at the words. "I'll stop thinkin about it, or, least I'll try to." There's no way Chace can promise, but he'll do his best, and at the moment, that's as good as it gets. Turning his face just enough, he presses a kiss to Mark's inner wrist then looks up once more. "Neither 'm I, Master. But, you gotta lay down before I can try to fix you. It's not goin t' feel too good at first, but I'll be gentle as I can."
"Okay." Mark lays down, taking a minute to work how to put his arm so it hurts less and won't add to the injury. After a bit he gets settled in, then nods to his boy. "Okay."
"This is gonna be hot, but the heat'll help, then afterward, we'll do ice and that'll help the swelling and you have to drink water, lots of it, after I do the massage, since it'll pull lactic acid out from your muscles and if you don't drink water, you'll get even more sore." Chace blinks, chuckling softly at the sudden jump from boy to massage therapist as he instructs Mark on aftercare. Opening the pan, Chace takes out the first towel and drapes it over Mark's shoulder blade, immediately covering it with a second one to hold in the heat before reaching for the oil.
Mark hisses as the towels are laid on him, but keeps still. The heat starts working into his shoulder and he sighs. "I knew this was going to come in handy, just thought it was going to be from work."
Smiling at Mark's words, Chace rubs the oil between his palms then leans to begin the massage, working at Mark's calves and thighs first. "See Master, you got two for one. Massage therapist and boy, sorta got screwed on the cook part though, but I've not burned anything yet, so..." His voice is soft but light, concentrating more on the movements of his hands along muscles as he works against knots. "Let me know if the towels get too cool and I'll change 'em out."
Mark groans as the muscles in his legs loosen up, trying to keep from kicking out at the boy. "That reminds me, need to put a new battery in the smoke detector." His good hand starts to grab at the blanket as he gives a quiet curse. "Yeah, you know your stuff. Hurts just like when the trainers do it."
Chace's smile widens at the compliment before his brows tighten as the gig sinks in. "Master, I haven't burned that much, well, least not where it wasn't edible," he says with a chuckle. "And I did study this for quite a while. I'm glad now I did since it lets me help you." Fingers work at Mark's thighs then move slowly upward, mindful of any scrapes. "Master, you've got scrapes back here. You want medicine on them?"
"If you want. Usually just wash the rocks out when I take my shower." He props his head up with the good arm and looks back. "How bad is it? Didn't get a chance to see. Don't worry about being careful with those. Just scrub them out if you need to."
"Scrub them out?" Those words draw a look of complete shock from Chace as he stares down, inspecting the scrapes and places along Mark's flesh. "Some are kind of deep, but not too bad I s'pose." He goes back to working his fingers into muscle, moving up to Mark's lower back. "Guess scrapes aren't so bad as some of the things you've done in the ring, huh."
Mark chuckles. "Not by a long shot. Been hit with chairs, ladders, tables, fencing, the ring steps. I don't know how much blood I've lost over the years. There are matches I don't remember all the way through. Needed surgery on my hip, knees aren't the best. Some days I'm held together by luck and stubbornness."
Chace's hands stop their movement and he looks up, blue eyes wide in shock. "The...ring steps? You mean they...someone...picked them up and smacked you with 'em?" Chace decides maybe, if Mark agrees, it'll just be better if he doesn't watch any of his Master's matches. The last thing he needs is to get knocked out by running into the ring and jumping on some mountain's back for smacking Mark. "Maybe I should continue to stay backstage at matches? Not sure I'd handle that real well, Master." Taking the towels away and replacing them with fresh, hot ones, Chace adds more oil to his palms then, moving his hands under the heated towels, begins working at the shoulder muscles.
"Picked them up, thrown me into them, on them. Course I've done the same back." He chuckles again. "How bout you watch some tapes first, then decide? Like when you met ole Taker. Get the shock over with in private." Another groan as the shoulder gets worked on and he lays his head back down. He goes back to grabbing at the blanket and cursing.
"Picked. Up?" Chace's eyes move from Mark's feet to his head and he swallows. "Master, 've never really watched wrestling but...there're people that can...pick you up?" Oh yeah, jumping on the back of someone that could pick Mark up would most likely be the worst decision Chace could ever make. "Oh, sorry!" he says, wincing right along with his Master. "You're all knotted. 's it too much?"
"Not many. A few. Meant they more sling than throw me." Mark shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. Keep going. It's not going to get easier if you wait. Just-FUCK! Shit."
There's something very surreal in the fact that Mark owns him yet he's there and bringing his Master pain. "Breathe and it'll help," he says quietly, waiting for the growl from his Master that he's sure will come. "I'm thinkin watching tapes might be good before watching the real thing though." Chace's hands move upward, working at his Master's neck as he leans in, thoughts focused on working at muscle.
Mark nods, taking deeper breaths. He moves his head so he's face down, his forehead against the covers. The pain is lessening, but not really fast enough. He tries with less success to relax, his grip still tight on the covers.
Chace finally removes the towels, adds more oil to his hands and begins to work across Mark's other shoulder. "Master, if those pills were pain meds, you might take another before you go to sleep later, else you're gonna wake up and be stiff like crazy." He works against each of Mark's arms, realizing, in that moment, exactly how big those arms are compared to his own. "Okay, gonna let the skin cool off a bit, then I'll put the ice packs on."
"I really hate the ice packs." Mark stretches a little, feeling how his body is better now. He looks around, then rolls his eyes. "Left them on the couch. I didn't even really read the bottle, just knew I had to take them. I'll get them in a bit. Going to need to...we need to get another key made up. And someone to hold it in case something like this happens again."
"I'll get 'em after I get the ice packs on you. And yeah, they're not the best but they help swelling. Doing them this way though, they're not hard, so they form easy to the areas of the body." Chace sits there for a moment as the day's events play over in his head. "Master, I don't wanna think of it happening again. I didn't know what to do or who to call even." His voice drops as his eyes lower. "I couldn't 've even gotten into see you at the hospital since they'd ask if I was family. I'd have to lie to them, and what would I say?"
"I'm sorry, boy. I never thought about something like this happening. Work, there would be someone to help. Someone to get you to the hospital. Fuck, I'm really sorry boy." Ignoring the pain, Mark pushes himself up and looks at the boy. "The belt was never meant to be used like that. And if I had had to stay the night...fuck."
Taking a deep breath, Chace fights the drop in the adrenaline that has coursed through his body the entire day, suddenly feeling like he hasn't slept for years as Mark looks at him. "I kept tryin to figure out how to go without makin a mess, but nothing seemed to work. That wasn't what I was worried about though," he says softly. "The officer offered me a ride, but..." he shrugs then, throat closing up. "You didn't mean to get hurt, so it's not your fault. I just didn't know what to do."
"It is my fault. I should have thought it out better." Mark forces himself into a sitting position, his arm going around the boy. "You shouldn't have gone through the worrying about the belt. I'll think of something. You won't have that worry again, no matter what happens to me."
Biting down on his lip as Mark's arm goes around him, Chace leans in, gently resting against Mark's body. "Wish you'd really stop sayin stuff about things happening to you," he murmurs, though his thoughts are on nothing but those ideas. "Can you give me a list of numbers? Someone to call in an emergency? I...I don't even know yours." Pressing a kiss to his Master's chest, Chace looks up. "I just kept waiting for you to come in at first. Stayed kneeling in front of the door." His voice cracks, "I thought you weren't coming back."
"Shit." Mark can imagine his boy waiting by the door, waiting for the punishment he'd been promised. "Yeah, I'll give you some numbers. I have a couple of people I can ask to be keyholders, ones I trust. As for the things that could.." His voice fades, memories of Owen and Droz shoving their way into his mind. "I'm going to do my best to make sure nothing happens to me. But one day, we're going to have to have a talk. I need to tell you about some friends of mine from work."
Nodding at the idea of someone having keys, someone that would be able to help if Chace needed someone and Mark wasn't around, Chace still really does not want to think on anything more than what's happened that day, but he's not so thickheaded to believe that things can't happen. "Thank you, Master," he says then looks up, eyes narrowing slightly at the change in Mark's tone. "Master, I know your job puts you at risk and we need to talk, but right now, can I just not think on anything other than the fact you're here?"
"I insist on it." Mark leans down and kisses his boy as he pulls him onto his lap. He forces the pain to the side as he presses as much of their bodies together as he can, reaffiming to his boy that he is there.
Chace knows he needs to put on the ice packs; he knows he needs to get things together; but as Mark pulls him in, all he can do is nod and sink in against his Master's chest. "Thank you, Master," he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around Mark's waist.
Mark swallows the cry as his bad arm moves to hold his boy even more. He knows he should lie back down, but he senses his boy needs this right now. When the arm speaks up louder, he lets go, giving the boy a last kiss as he pulls back. "You're welcome."
Feeling Mark tense up as his Master tries to hold him tighter, Chace pushes up as his Master releases him then points to the bed. "Lemme do my job and doctor you? Ice packs next and I'll get your meds while they're on." He stares at Mark for a moment then breathes out. Maybe when the man has the next pain pill in him, Chace will broach the question of if he's going to still be getting that punishment.
"How much water do I have to drink? Might not take the pills if they're going to keep me crashed too long." Mark lays back down, finding the way he was before. He growls a little at the thought of the ice packs. "Hate the ice packs."
"I'll bring you a bottle with a straw or I think we have the pop-top ones too. You just don't want to get thirsty, that means your body's gone too long without." Draping a towel over Mark's back, Chace reaches into the plastic sack, pulls out the first ice pack, works at the contents, then places it across Mark's upper back. Taking a deep breath, he decides there's no point in actually waiting since he'd prepared for it anyway. "Master, 'm I still getting punished for earlier? I haven't eaten or drank anything while you were gone. Honest I didn't."
Mark hisses as the ice pack is laid on his back, even though the cold takes a moment to reach through the towel. Then he curses. "Today is a wash. You're free and clear this time. You can raid the fridge after we're done."
Raid the fridge. As if understanding those words, Chace's stomach rumbles out its thanks. "Thank you, Master," he says, leaning forward to brush a kiss across the man's cheek. He knows later the 'no touching without permission' rule will take effect once more, but for right now, he's enjoying it while he can. "I'll make you something too. You need to eat or the medicine could make your stomach upset." Continuing with the ice until Chace finally has from Mark's shoulders to his ass covered in cold bags, he lays down for a moment, eyes on his Master. "I won't be long."
Closing his eyes, Mark just nods. His back is already starting to numb up and the cold is distracting him a little. So many rules have been broken today, he knows he's going to have to pay more attention come tomorrow to get his boy back to being good. But it's too late for anything now and Mark can't work up the effort in any case.
Sliding from the bed as gently as he can as Mark's eyes close, Chace makes his way from the room, pausing in the doorway to look back at Mark, an array of thoughts scrambling in his head. Without a word, he turns and is gone. Returning as quickly as is possible, Chace holds a tray that has his Master's medicine, cut fruit and cheese as well as chunks of ham and two bottles of water. "Master?" he says quietly as he places the tray on the foot of the bed then settles in beside Mark. "Brought your pills and some food."
"That was quick." Mark opens his eyes as he reaches for the water. It takes him a second to remember how to drink lying down, then he reaches for the bottle and takes the loosened top off. A couple of swallows, then he's reaching for the cheese. "How long do the packs have to stay on?"
"I didn't wanna be gone too long," he says, sliding his hand under the packs to feel Mark's skin. "I think they've done all they can for now. We can put them on again later, alternate between the heat and cold, that way takes care of the pain and swelling too." Carefully removing the packs, Chace places them back in the plastic sack then sets everything off to the side of the bed. Taking up a piece of meat, he pops it in his mouth, making a happy little hum as his stomach thanks him.
Mark chuckles as he watches his boy, finishing the water before reaching for some fruit and ham. "It does feel better. You sure we have to go again? Feels good enough now. How long do the pills say til I can take more?"
Chace's eyes narrow the slightest but he gives Mark a grin. "It feels good enough now Master because you're already on medicine and you haven't fallen asleep and stayed in the same position for hours yet. Every pain 's always worse the next day." Chace learned that very early on, and most of the time actually waited for the 'next day' to arrive. Glancing up to the clock then picking up the bottle, Chace reads then looks at his Master. "Another hour for these, but you can take Tylenol or something in between."
"That's why when you get up, you take a hot shower then start moving around. Heat the muscles up that way. Stretch out, get things going again. Next day pain, you push through til it's gone."
Well, if Chace ever had a question of how he'll be handled after a day or night of being worked over by Mark, he has his answer now. Hiding his grin behind a drink of water, he nods to Mark's words. "It doesn't usually do good to just sit, no. But, you won't push too hard? You were smacked with a bike and the road. Seems a sleep in might be the thing, especially if the pain pills are still working." And I can stay next to you.
"I'll go easy some tomorrow. Didn't have much planned anyway. I guess I'll call the guy I was going to see today. Wait til later to head over." Mark eats more of the ham then finishes the water.
For a moment, Chace thinks to ask about exactly where Mark was heading when he left the house, but he decides he's pressed enough limits today and thinks trying to cross one more might very well push things farther than he wants to go. "Is there anything I can do to help, Master?"
"Yeah. Put the rest of that food away, then come back here." Mark works the covers down as he lays in bed.
"Can I have a few more bites on the way to the kitchen?" He's gathering things up but his eyes are on Mark as he moves. "Do you need more water when I come back?"
"So long as the food doesn't go to waste, I don't care. And yeah, bring back a couple of bottles just in case.
Chace pops another piece of cheese in his mouth then smiles as he drapes the sack of ice packs over his arm and picks up the tray, balancing everything as he moves. "I'll be right back, Master." Another glance at Mark and he leaves.
Mark lays there for a second, then with a groan pushes himself up and makes his way to the bathroom. When he returns to the bed he climbs back under the covers with a sigh. Tomorrow is going to be a bitch, but he'll deal with the pain when it comes.
Chace spends a moment putting everything away, nibbling on the food before he puts the ice packs back in the freezer, washes his hands and makes his way back into where his Master is. "Master?" he asks quietly as he enters the room, not wanting to disturb Mark if the man's dozing off.
"Yeah?" The covers are pulled up to the middle of Mark's back, his arm carefully placed so to be moved as little as possible during the night. "Everything done?"
Moving toward the bed, Chace nods then, realizing Mark can't hear him nod, smiles and speaks. "Yes, it's all put away and ready for tomorrow. Wasn't much to do really." He watches as he stands near the bed. "Would you rather I let you sleep, Master?"
Mark's good arm hits the bed next to him. "You don't move a lot in your sleep, do you?"
Sliding in ever so gently next to Mark, Chace shakes his head as he settles down. "No Master, usually stay pretty much in one spot the whole night." Turning his head to watch Mark, Chace smiles. "I'm glad you're home, Master."
"It's always good to be home, boy." Mark rests his arm on top of the boy, pulling him just a little closer. "It's the only place where you can really be you." His eyes close as he takes a deep breath. "Or be who you were meant to be." |
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