Chapter Text
“You want to trade doms?” Jason asks. The party simmers around them. It is late in the night and the energy has finally begun to fade.
“Just for a night,” Violet says, the crop in her hand idle. “Like for fun. Like how swingers do but it’s doms instead.”
Jason ponders it for a moment. “You mean I’d be someone else’s sub for the night.”
“ Yeah ,” she says. “But focusing on the doms makes it a little less like we’re passing you around, right?”
Jason just stares. He liked Violet, she was a good domme. The best one so far, and the longest. They were even becoming good friends. Which, some would say, marked the beginning of the end of their agreements. But he knows her to well to think this is an attempt to bring it about.
“This is about Bambi,” he states and Violet crumbles.
“Maybe,” she says with force and he stifles a laugh.
“You’re obsessed with her.”
“I have a crush on her.”
“You’re in love with her.”
Violet sighs, scuffing her leather boot into the floor. “Yeah, maybe... and maybe her doms know it. And maybe they found my idea fun and maybe I want to make her ass burn enough to get heart eyes out of her.”
“You’ve got it bad,” he says and takes a glance around the room only to immediately make eye contact with a man, just a bit more muscular than he is. “Oh, fucking hell.”
They wait in silence as the man makes his way.
“Alright,” he says finally. Violet stands straighter, eyes bright.
“Really?”
“Yes, but I want more details,” he says. “And you owe me.”
“Whatever you want,” she says, bending the crop in her palms. “Promise.” The man arrives, greeting them both but then looking to Violet. She grins like a cat.
“Oh, go ahead,” she purrs. “He’s open tonight. And he loves strong men.” When the man presses him against the wall, hot and smelling of sex, Violet’s plans melt from his mind like snow.
/
So I can’t tell you who they are, Violet had told him. Bambi doesn’t know it’s me either. It’s anonymous.
Oh my god.
Don’t worry. I know them, I vet them. I know the girl from like my first or second semester.
/
Violet texts him the place the day of, right as he’s heading off to work. He gives it a passing glance and then buries it for later.
If he thinks about tonight, he won’t get any work done. The promise of pain was always enough to send him off daydreaming.
/
Jason stands in front of the building, butterflies in his stomach. He sends a quick text. I hope you’re having fun.
You will soon, Violet texts back with a devil emoji. He laughs and heads up the stairs, catching the door as someone exits, no need to hit the buzzer.
He starts to feel real curiosity now. A little bit of adrenaline surges through him and he feels light, airy. A new dom was always exciting.
The possibilities play through his mind as he knocks, double-checking his phone just to make sure he has the numbers right. The address stares up at him from the little blue screen.
Somewhere in the abyss of his subconscious, realization hits of whose door he is standing in front of.
Whose apartment building this is.
Jason gapes at the wood as his hand lowers. He can’t move. This cannot be happening. He checks the number again. Yes, 434.
All the pleasure from before disperses in a sudden rush.
He is rooted to the spot, despite his mind crying out to flee. That is the smart thing to do, but he can’t. It’s almost as if he has to confirm that he got himself into this unbelievably ridiculous situation.
The door opens and Annabeth Chase fills the space. Her blonde curls cascade past her shoulders, her dress is a deep rogue silk, her heels—stiletto and sharp.
She’s ready for a date.
Gods.
Her eyes widen at the sight of him, then she looks quickly down the hall. He can’t move. He can’t even speak.
“Jason,” she says with a smile. “What a surprise. You know, I always like seeing you, um, we’re actually really busy—wait,” her face falls. “Is everything okay?”
The fear in her eyes stirs action. He breaks from his stupor.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Okay,” she says. The knot in her brow relaxes. He’s always loved that. “That’s good. I have to ask, why has the famous Jason Grace graced us with his presence?”
A small smile plays at his lips, but it falls quickly.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he says, then shakes his head. That sounds stupid. “I was, um, well. . .” Any word he could have said disappeared. She cocks her head, waiting, but as the seconds pass, her smile dies and her eyes grow knowing.
“Oh my god,” she murmurs.
A shiver runs straight up his spine.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Let me go.”
Annabeth stands there in silence, then turns on her heel and disappears into the depths of the apartment. The door yawns wide open.
Jason stares for a minute, two, then he steps in and closes it behind him.
The main room is tidy and low-lit. Wine sits on a side table. Annabeth picks up a glass as Percy walks in, oven mitt in hand.
“Babe, is that—oh hey, Jason,” Percy says, hands crossing over his chest. His shirt draws terribly tight over his bicep. “What are you doing here?”
“Jason is here to be our dinner date,” Annabeth says and takes one long sip. Blush creeps up his ears. Percy quirks a brow.
“Beth, we have a prior engagement.”
“He is the prior engagement.”
Another incredibly thick silence fills the room. Jason notes the rearranged furniture, the tidiness. They’re place is usually a wreck. His blush burns hotter.
Percy glances between the two of them, again and again. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Jason?” she asks.
“No,” he stresses. “This is just a misunderstanding. I mean, Violet said this was anonymous.”
“It was,” she says, rubbing her temple.
“For like, mystery factor or whatever.”
“Don’t say like Jason, it’s pointless,” she says. His mouth snaps shut. Is she serious? he thinks.
“Wait, so you’re in kink?” Percy asks, aghast.
“Yes,” he says.
“You’re a submissive.” It’s not a question.
“Yes,” Jason says, even quieter. Annabeth chastises Percy in a practiced, familiar manner. It’s not that he’s ashamed. He hasn’t been for years. But to have them know him like this is something else. Overwhelming and, to be frank, a nightmare.
When he looks up, they’re both staring. At him. He swallows, caught up in their gaze, gray and green. A whirlwind together. They look the perfect pair tonight, dressed sharp enough to cut through stone. At least he did not screw up on that front.
“I like your outfit,” Annabeth says on cue.
“Thanks,” he says. “I… wanted to be presentable.” The couple shares another glance. Annabeth takes another sip.
“Come on,” Percy says, gesturing deeper into their space. “Let’s have dinner.” Jason blanches.
“I’m sorry?” Jason asks with a nervous lilt.
“Just dinner, Jace,” she says. “It’s a waste if we don’t eat it.”
“Yeah,” Percy says. “We can learn a bit more about each other.” Jason exhales, calm washing over him. And gratefulness, and a little bit of love. They were perfect.
“Sure,” he says.
Dinner is divine. Robust wine and steak and roasted potatoes, cooked with exceptional care. They put time into this. Guilt springs back up. Percy pours wine for them both, but does not touch his own.
“You don’t like wine?” he asks. Percy smiles and pulls an amber bottle from the cart beside the table.
“Whiskey for me.”
“Can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he says in thought. Annabeth waves her fork.
“Well usually when you two are drinking together it’s just beer.” They all laugh.
“Not a lie.” He forks another bite as Percy sits.
“So,” she says and he can already tell by her tone the conversation is coming.
“So,” he says, holding her gaze. Annabeth takes a deep breath.
“We started in college,” she says, gesturing to Percy. “What about you?”
“Same,” he says. “Sophomore year.”
“Really,” Percy says. “Junior.”
“I got a head start.” Laughter.
“Why’d you start?” she asks. Jason abandons his utensils, sitting back to get a better look at them.
“I just had to,” he says. “It was something I couldn’t shake and when I found my chance I took it.”
“I get that,” Percy says.
“We started with each other,” she says. “I guess it was an outlet. But it didn’t work that well. Dom-ing each other was a disaster.” He can’t help it, he laughs. A few imaginings pop up, all of them ludicrous.
“Please,” she says and rolls her eyes.
“It was so bad, man,” Percy says.
“That’s hysterical,” he says, holding his chest. “How’d you figure out,” he gestures around, “this situation?”
“We went to a party, found someone by chance,” she says. “They were actually interested in both of us.”
“It went on from there,” Percy says. “We flow well together when we both dom, kind of like being in battle.”
“I guess everyone needs a substitute,” she says and Jason nods, taking a long sip of his glass.
“Yeah,” he says. “I understand.” A brief pause lulls them back to quiet. “You know I started as a dom.”
“Really?” Percy asks. He sounds almost surprised. Jason quirks a brow.
“Don’t think I can dom?” he asks. It’s a joke, he says it as such. Percy though, holds him in a deep and steady gaze.
“No,” Percy says. One word, measured and gentle. Jason is stuck there for a moment, then he shakes his head.
“Um,” he says, playing with the stem of his glass. “Yeah, I tried to be a dom. That failed almost immediately. Kept giving people what they wanted, felt bored. Also, I wanted the pain for myself. I want pain a lot.” He stops when his words come back. “Sorry, that sounds weird.”
“Not at all,” she says. “You’re perfectly normal.”
“Thanks.”
Annabeth’s fork clatters to the floor and he picks it up for her. “Sorry,” she says.
“No worry.” He glances between them. “What do you two like about it?” They shuffle in their seats.
“We’re gonna sound like freaks,” she says.
“Not at all,” Jason says. There’s a soft blush blooming on her face. She shrugs.
“Is it bad to say I like the way people cry?”
Their conversation drifts like a boat on a steady stream.
/
Annabeth’s fork clatters to the ground again. She hides in her palm as he picks it up.
“I’m such a clutz,” she says.
“It’s fine.”
“How’s work?” Percy asks nonchalantly. It hadn’t been their topic of conversation. Jason shrugs.
“Same shit, different day.”
“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees. “Architects can be so cocky.” Jason inclines his head towards her.
“Well,” he says. Percy chokes on his drink. Annabeth purses her lips.
“Okay, I’ll remember that,” she says. Jason smiles.
“You two are great,” he says.
“So are you,” Percy says. “We need to go to a party sometime.”
“Like kink?” he asks. Percy nods.
“Totally,” he says, downing the rest of his glass. “We need to see you in action.” The words hang in silence, but neither of them flinch. Jason reigns in his smile.
“Ha-ha,” he says.
“Everybody else gets the famous Jason Grace, but we don’t?” Annabeth says. “No fair.”
“I’m right here,” he offers. A gentle atmosphere has grown between them, something different than what he’s used to. It’s open, more real. He likes it.
Her utensil clatters to the ground for the third time that night and before Jason can even bend down, the words fly through the air, sharp and stern.
“Pick it up,” Annabeth says. Jason freezes with his hand extended and finds her gaze. It is intense, not at all humorous. She is serious.
His hand hovers there, the only sound to be heard the tiny breaths slipping through his lips, mouth slack in shock.
There are a thousand things he can do. He can tell her to do it or go to the bathroom or say the night is over.
He doesn’t have to do this.
Yet, still holding her gaze, he reaches down to pick up the fork and places it back on the table between them.
Annabeth tilts her head, glass in hand. “Thank you, Jason.”
“Of course,” he says. He glances over to Percy to continue their conversation and the man smiles, as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later, in the middle of a story, Jason reaches for the wine, ready to fill his glass again. Percy stops mid-sentence.
“No, Jace,” he says, causing him to freeze like before. “You’ve had enough.”
Jason drops his hand to the tabletop to steady himself, pressing each fingertip to the glass. Heat grows in his groin, but he can barely pay attention to it. Their games are taking too much of his attention.
“Okay,” he says, voice smaller than he wants it to be.
“Good boy,” Percy says and Jason’s mind sparks like a live wire. He can’t find it in him to look up.
“What were you saying earlier?” Annabeth asks. “About your kinks. You like to take a break from thinking, you said.”
“So like a mindless fucktoy,” Percy offers.
“Thank you, babe,” she says. “Exactly that.” Jason can barely move. Their words twirl around him like a dusting of snow. A prelude to a blizzard. They had just spent the past hour discussing the intricacies of their sex lives. Was it planned? When did they decide to do this? In the front room?
The story they told of a hogtied victim drifts back up to the top of his mind and he shudders.
“Violet told us you were a painslut,” she says. Violet. She would never hear the end of it.
“Did she tell you anything else?” Jason gets out.
“Said you were a rope bunny,” Percy says.
“A boytoy.”
“With a bratty mouth.”
Jason takes a deep breath, trying desperately to disperse the haze washing over him. I think you’re gonna like them, Violet had said. I’ve seen them in action. They’re a vicious pair.
“Guys,” he says, pushing back from the table. He can’t let this happen. He knows from their words alone he’s a few seconds away from dropping to his knees. What would happen in the aftermath?
“Jason,” Annabeth says in that same smooth tone. “Take off your shirt.” She folds her hands on the tabletop. “Right now.”
He hates himself. He hates his will and desire and how his discipline can apply itself to everything but them.
His shirt falls to the floor with a small thump. The cool air brushes against his skin, dragging gooseflesh up his arms.
They both hum.
“Always impressive,” Percy says.
“Just perfect.”
“Guys,” Jason squeaks. “We should really talk.”
“Oh, Jace, we didn’t tell you to talk,” she says, waving dismissively. It feels like a punch in the gut. His cock twitches. God. “Don’t do that again, sweetie. But you are right.”
“Our agreement had been a punishment-based evening, correct?” Percy asks and Jason nods. He still has the text on his phone. “Would you like to amend that?”
Jason’s mouth drops, “Excuse me?”
“Amend is to make a minor change in order to update text,” she says. “I know you’re a dumb little bitch, but try harder, sweetie.” Another punch in the gut. A moan tickles at the back of his throat.
“You want—you want to have sex?”
“Not necessarily,” Percy says. “We may not get to sex, but we’d like to torture you sexually, tonight, if you’d like that.”
Butterflies simmer recklessly in his stomach. Adrenaline pushes through his veins causing the smallest shake. Everyone did need their substitute—and this is his.
The rest of his self-preservation crumbles in an instant.
“Yes, please,” he says, closing his eyes, hands balling to fists in his lap.
“We haven’t even touched him yet and he’s a disaster,” she says.
“It’s surprising,” Percy says. “You’d think the Roman soldier would be better behaved.”
“I am very well behaved,” Jason says quickly, then tenses just as fast. Annabeth’s hand comes down hard on the table.
“No talking,” she says and he nods.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’d hope so,” she says. “As punishment, you can take off your pants.” Another ten blissful seconds pass where he does nothing and simply simmers in the command, than he stands, pushing in his chair for added measure.
He abandons both his shoes and pants to their floor and stands in the middle of their dining room, almost nude.
“Calvin Klein?” Percy asks.
“I just like them,” he says.
“They look good on you.”
He blushes. “Thank you.”
“Jason,” Annabeth says, catching his gaze. The intensity there takes his breath away. “Go find a spot on the living room carpet and kneel. Do not move until we come to get you.”
That is it, the final straw. He knows it. If he does as she says, there is no going back. They wait, patiently. He counts twenty-two breaths in that silence.
“Yes, miss,” he says and finds his way out of the room.