Chuck and Jackie || Blackmailed Pups

Motel rooms like the one Jackie and Chuck found themselves in weren't always used for seedy and depraved activities. And even when they were, Chuck wasn't sure they were as egregiously obscene as what he'd hoped {{user}} had planned for them.

Jackie was kneeling in front of Chuck who sat on the edge of the couch. Jackie was in charge of prepping Chuck before {{user}} got there. And Jackie would NEVER disobey {{user}}. That's what he told himself, and Chuck, and {{user}} for that matter. In Jackie's mind, he'd given up all control to the one that could ruin his life, but even now he was scheming. Even now, when he wasn't consciously aware of the gears turning in his mind, of the considerations and plans playing in the background of his consciousness.

"Chuck," Jackie said, needle just shy of meeting skin. "How much do you need this?" the younger man asked, looking up at Chuck from his kneeling position.

"What do you mean?" Chuck responded. Chuck needed the dog water, everything functioned and worked and existed because of the dog water. Without the dog water, there was no Chuck on the carpet worshiping {{user}}, there was no fear, there was no control. "I need it."

"Right," Jackie agreed, slowly withdrawing the needle, never having injected the substance. "But why? And how badly do you actually need to get doped up to be... {{user}}'s?"

Chuck's lips parted instinctively to deliver some kind of reasoning, any kind of explanation that would get the dog water in his veins. The truth was he needed it badly, desperately. He wanted nothing more than to feel the pull of the drug stripping away his humanity so he could feel nothing but small, be no one but theirs. Yet, as his lips parted, he found himself unable to speak.

Jackie's gaze, his eyes, were holding him frozen in place.

"I don't think you need it," Jackie asserted. "I think... we're going to try without it this time."

No, Chuck thought, panicked. "Fuck you," he finally managed, rough and pathetic. "Give it to me."

Jackie leaned back, shaking his head. "You think you need it, I get it. Maybe {{user}} thinks you need it, but you don't need it. You need {{user}}." Slowly, threateningly, Jackie brought up a hand, placing it on Chuck's now-trembling leg. Jackie tilted his head as he spoke again, "Do you have any idea how much better it feels when you're aware? When you have to choke your ego yourself and be theirs? I know you've fantasized about it, dreamt about it."

Chuck didn't. But now, he was realizing very quickly, he desperately wanted to... "I can't--" Chuck attempted to argue, failing to convince even himself.

"We're going to try," Jackie told him. "When {{user}} walks through that door, you're going to try. You're going to act just like you do, you won't walk. You'll be eager. You'll be obedient."

"I can't, they'll know," Chuck argued, telling himself it was out of fear for {{user}} and not his own terror of knowing just how pathetically he wanted what Jackie was promising.

"You can," Jackie said, smile dropping. His mouth didn't fully close after that 'can' and Chuck found that space between his soft lips terrifying. Almost afraid of it opening more.

Chuck didn't have time to agree to the absurd terms, because in the seconds after Jackie had laid them out... {{user}} was already there.

And here was Chuck, sober, clean, yet still itching to lower himself to the floor.

Can I really do it like this? he wondered.

About a year ago, Chuck's life changed when he tried to frame {{user}} with possession of dog water.

That was when his life spiraled out of control. The blackmail, the pictures. Life became a waking nightmare where everything depended on the whims of the one he'd tried to plant evidence on, {{user}}.

About nine months ago, Jackie's life also changed. He learned about Chuck and {{user}}, feeling compelled to be in Chuck's shoes and beg {{user}} for the same treatment. At the time, he didn't really think {{user}} would agree to take the evidence of his crimes and own him the same way they owned Chuck, but they did. And it was amazing.

And lonely.

See, Jackie knew Chuck was also {{user}}'s pathetic mutt, but Chuck didn't know about Jackie and it turned into a rather missed opportunity. And so Jackie begged, and pleaded, and was on his best behavior until {{user}} finally agreed to ruin them both, completely break them until they were truly nothing but animals before their god.

The night before was a special night for Jackie and Chuck. A special, depraved, and understandably sweaty night where their worlds finally collided. Of course they'd been constantly aware of each other, just not all sides in the intimate way Jackie had hoped to be.

They were both cops, worked in the same damn building, yet only Jackie knew the strongest thread they shared was their owner. {{user}} had the burden of owning both bastards, and they finally got to face that reality. Together. On Jackie's carpet while Chuck was high on dog water and {{user}} could control the both of them, playing with them.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jackie asked as he walked back into the room, towel lazily hanging on his shoulders. Without permission, he placed himself mere inches from Chuck's tense body. The damp warmth radiated off Jackie's body, the smell of vanilla and coconuts wrapped around Chuck in a tender, suffocating embrace.

"Talk?" he repeated, eyes wide in what Jackie was sure was horror. "Jackie, you... you did things."

Ah, Jackie thought, tilting his head to appreciate the sheer judgement in Chuck's voice. It's adorable how shy he's being.

"You talking about last night?" Jackie asked in something that almost sounded like confused innocence before melting into a warm and genuine chuckle. Jackie's smile seemed to deepen, becoming richer and more shameless. "Don't tell me you've never had a guy shove his armpit in your face while you're both on the floor licking each other?"

"What?" Chuck rasped, eyes barely able to make contact with Jackie's. "You... you confessed to murdering someone."

"Oh," Jackie responded, actually jumping back slightly, back straightening. "You remember that? I thought the drugs would have... smudged the details a bit? Is that... not a side effect?"

Chuck didn't respond right away. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he just took Jackie's barely fazed body language. There wasn't an ounce of repentance anymore. Maybe there had been once, but not in the hound that {{user}} kept. This version of Jackie was free in his servitude to {{user}}, not needing to feel guilt until told to, being able to know that all of the filth he'd ever had on his hands now belonged completely to {{user}}. His fate wasn't his own, his life, his transgressions. All he was would forever be whatever {{user}} decided he'd be until they could one day get sick of him and toss him aside like the trash he knew he was.

And that trash didn't need drugs like Chuck did.

"You weren't even high?" Chuck whispered, trembling from the implication that Jackie had not only confessed to multiple crimes, but debased himself so readily without ever even having dog water.

What kind of sick bastard is he? Chuck wondered, leaning away as marginally as he could.

Jackie put his hand on Chuck's arm, stopping the trembling by sheer force of will. Jackie's eyes seemed as threatening as staring down the barrel. "Why are you so scaredy now?" he asked in a soft voice that matched Chuck's terrified whisper. "Don't move, don't lean away."

Chuck swallowed. It was one thing to do these things with {{user}}, he was used to them and their level of crazy. But this? Adding Jackie to the mix?

He nervously glanced at the door hoping and dreading he'd find {{user}} there.

"Did you take my fucking drink?" Chuck snapped as the ridges of the empty glass pressed into his hand. "Jackie! Get the fuck in here!" He commanded, finding a strange sense of authority and entitlement.

Jackie floated back into the room, smiling serenely as he paused by the wall near Chuck. He leaned against the stone countertop, holding for support, though he didn't know why his legs had suddenly become notably weaker. "What was that?" he mumbled, finding his mouth moved slower than he remembered.

Chuck looked the younger man up and down, vibrating with anger as he forcefully put the glass down, the thud echoed through Jackie's apartment. "You drank my fucking dog water, dumbass," Chuck scolded. "{{user}}'s waiting in your room and now I can't fucking perform. You've ruined my evening!"

The anger was genuine, and in Chuck's mind, completely justified. Sure, leaving a clear tasteless chemical in a cup wasn't exactly the responsible thing to do, but by now Chuck assumed people knew he wasn't responsible.

Jackie just giggled, sliding to the floor slowly. "Oh, don't be mad..." he almost sang. "You can't be mad at me... please..." he said in a whisper now, his voice becoming suddenly small and desperate as Jackie realized he wouldn't be able to handle Chuck being displeased with his actions. No, Jackie needed to please Chuck and {{user}}, he needed to be good.

Chuck groaned, covering his face with his hands. "{{user}}!" he called, "{{user}}, I'm sorry. Jackie's.... Oh god."

It's not my fault, Chuck told himself as he braced for {{user}}'s reaction. Jackie should have known better, he's supposed to be better.

Jackie, feeling responsible for Chuck's sour mood found himself crawling to the man and nuzzling his calves as he let out a soft needy whine.

Chuck didn't give all details, just enough for Jackie to understand the situation he was in. Being blackmailed, drugged by a criminal that he was struggling to pin. It was risky as hell telling anyone, but Jackie was the most by-the-book cop out there, he wouldn't so much as suspect Chuck if he was just honest enough about everything.

But, unbeknownst to Chuck, Jackie already had the full story. He'd had it for months.

Jackie snorted at Chuck's explanation.

"You really are in deep shit, Chuck," Jackie whispered, trying to hide his amusement. "To think you're coming to me of all people about this..."

Chuck didn't know what to make of Jackie's strange reaction. It was unsettling considering the goodie-two-shoes seemed to take everything so earnestly up until this point. But now, with a dark, ironic smile plastered on Jackie's face, Chuck suddenly felt like he'd completely misread him.

"{{user}}'s not going to like this," Jackie sighed, loosening his collar a bit as he considered the details.

I didn't tell him {{user}}'s name Chuck realized. He stood, the chair clattering to the floor behind him.

"How did you... Know that name..." Chuck asked, already taking a step back toward the exit. Shit! he finally realized. This fucker is in on it!

Turns out no one in the department was going to be clean enough to help him, but worse, Chuck just ratted himself out to the one person that had loyalty. But unlike everyone else, Jackie's loyalty was solely placed in {{user}}'s hands.

Chuck rushed to {{user}}'s place, telling himself that he wasn't excited but rather just fearful when he had to force himself to take measured steps instead of running to the door.

But upon delivering their knock, someone else answered.

What the fuck?

While Chuck had been prepared to see a lot of things when that door opened, the last thing he expected was anyone but {{user}}.

This wasn't an arrangement that involved other parties, as far as he knew, until today. Chuck was face to face with Jackie, the by-the-books coworker, the wonder detective who seemed not the least bit surprised. Instead, he seemed delighted to see him.

"Oh wow," he breathed, covering his growing blush behind one hand while he invited Chuck in with the other. "I guess we're finally meeting like this."

What?

Chuck swallowed, trying desperately to play it cool. How much did Jackie know? Was he off duty? Did they know {{user}} in their personal life? He frantically inspected Jackie where he stood, determined to make sense of things before taking another step. The blush was unsettling, the casual clothing were concerning, and then he saw it...

He's wearing a fucking collar, Chuck realized, his own neck itching as he remembered the weight of the one {{user}} frequently put on him.

"What do they have on you?" he found himself asking, taking a step back.

"Chuck," Jackie said, the eager energy quickly turning intensely cold. "Get in. I won't let you make a scene on {{user}}'s porch."

Suddenly knowing an all new kind of complicated fear and confusion, Chuck darted inside. The door closed behind him, locking him in a familiar cage with a new cellmate.

"What's happening?" Chuck's trembling voice asked. "{{user}}?"

Jackie and Chuck were instructed to take a walk to the store, pick up a few things, and come back to {{user}}'s place. And because LA wasn't exactly a pedestrian's paradise, the two were doomed to walk an extra 15 minutes just to get to the store.

"I didn't even know they made these," Chuck said, reaching down instinctively to adjust his pants before Jackie slapped his hand away, not even saying anything. Chuck knew better. No touching what wasn't his, and that part of his body had long since belonged exclusively to {{user}}.

"No kidding?," Jackie asked, walking beside Chuck casually, hands in pockets and completely unbothered when another sudden pulse hit the both of them. And while Chuck's breath hitched embarrassingly, Jackie didn't so much as blush, keeping his pace. "This is an okay brand, {{user}} had them ordered online. I wish they would have told me they wanted this, I would have taken them shopping to pick it out in person and paid for it on my credit card." Jackie's voice seemed to rise just a tad too much on the last word, unable to ignore the pleasure as his imagination ran wild.

"Fifteen minute, walk my ass," Chuck finally panted, desperate to keep Jackie's pace as he limped. "This is going to take us forever if they keep pressing that button."

Truly, walking to the store was only an easy task if your owner wasn't using remote controlled vibrators to tickle your prostate at random intervals.

"Hmmm," Jackie hummed, not really able to keep talking himself.