Author's notes: Might make a series, we'll see. Thanks to Catspaw for the beta and alice ttlg for sorting out the techie stuff I'm so crap at :)
Fatboy Slim and the Softail Custom
Fatboy Slim and the Softail Custom
Date Archived: 03/04/03
Category: Romance, Slash, PWP, Alternate Universe
Characters/Pairings: Col. Jack O'Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson Jack/Daniel
Permission to archive: Area 52
Notes: Might make a series, we'll see. Thanks to Catspaw for the beta and alice ttlg for sorting out the techie stuff I'm so crap at :)
Warnings: None unless you hate facial hair.
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were. Not making any money, wish I was.
Summary: Jack, Daniel and two Harley Davidson motorcycles.
Here he comes again, strolling down the street as if he owns it and yet again, he's looking gorgeous; khaki slacks, tan Timberland loafers and a light, brushed denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It's pleasantly warm and he's got the shirt unbuttoned just enough for me to see a sprinkling of chest hair. He's got his hands in his pockets, showing his deep tan and the dark hair on his forearms against the pale cotton of his pants. Bastard. Dressed to kill and fucking knows it.
I force myself to look up and catch my breath as I see his face. His eyes (which I know are the darkest brown I've ever seen) are covered by aviator shades and his grey beard is close cropped against his chin. His hair is also grey and close cropped. If he didn't have the beard, I'd think military; better yet Air Force, which makes things worse, not better: I've always had a thing for flyboys. The point is, he's stunning: Absolutely stunning.
I first saw him about a week ago. I was outside polishing my bike - like I am now - taking advantage of the sun to do a little maintenance before heading off into the hills for a burn. One of the major advantages of being a freelance translator is that you get to work your own hours, as long as the deadlines are met. I'll never be a rich man, but I earn enough for my modest needs. My lifestyle suits me, I have a nice home, a car for the winter, and my 1996 Harley Davidson Softail Custom: my pride and joy.
I spend a good amount of my time just playing with her, tuning up the engine until it sings like a bird, shining up the chrome until I could shave in it, cleaning the seat leather and carefully polishing the custom paint job I treated myself to last year after a particularly difficult (but thankfully very well paid) translation assignment for the Egyptian Government. I specialise in ancient languages you see, hieroglyphs, and cuneiform, that kind of stuff. Most of the work I do is for museums and archaeological institutions all over the world; not the average English to Japanese and vice versa business translations, although I can and sometimes do take on the occasional regular contract. I just have this... obsession with the ancient world; which brings me back to my custom paint job.
I'm a specialist; I'm damned good at what I do, and whenever I need something done I seek out others like me. It has to be the best and I'm a very demanding customer, but Brian came up with the goods. His reputation preceded him and it's well earned. The detail is... well, it's my name in hieroglyphs: Daniel Jackson. He did damned fine work, and it's unique; which was the intention.
'Handsome' is smiling as he walks towards me and I wonder if he's actually going to stop this time. Every day for the past week, he's wandered nonchalantly past my house, checking out my bike... and me. Mostly he just looks, and smiles then moves on. I keep trying to convince myself to ask him in for a beer, because he's got my gaydar twitching and I want him. He walks on by and I just stare after him, watching his ass-cheeks moving sensuously inside his pants, which stretch beautifully over them no matter what he's wearing. The guy looks good, no doubt about it. I wonder sometimes if he knows I'm watching and puts it on a little for my benefit, but he walks at an easy-going pace, his long, long legs comfortably eating up the sidewalk with every stride; then he's gone, turned around the corner and I don't see him again until the next day.
After the first couple of days I found myself just looking forward to his next visit, except you couldn't really call it a visit. Now, every time he comes by, my gut clenches and my dick twitches and for the last two days I've had to go inside and jerk off, thinking about taking him for a ride - in every way you can think of.
This time I'm gonna speak to him. This time. I've been walking past his house for a week, checking out the bike and him. He keeps giving me these little smiles as I walk by, more so the last few days; enough for me to think he might be interested. I feel like a fucking school-kid! Every time I get near him I get butterflies in my stomach. He's... well; he's beautiful.
His hair is down to the base of his neck, it's kinda long on top, dark and unruly and I want to run my fingers through it, or grab a handful while he's sucking my dick. He has a trimmed goatee, which is almost ginger and the bluest eyes on God's green earth. Every day, he sits on his driveway cross-legged, polishing up the chrome on the Harley or tweaking with the engine. He always wears a white vest, which shows off his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and these faded cut-off jeans that have oil stains on them. They're cut off pretty short, too. A couple of times I've even caught of glimpse of his auburn pubes, - so nice to know he goes commando - and one time he was bending over the seat, stretching the denim against his round, tight little ass: I swear I almost creamed my pants right there.
So, for the best part of a week I've been parking around the corner, walking past his house, around the block back to my truck and going home, where I've stripped off, jerked off and come hard all over myself just fantasising about having my dick up his ass, bent over that bike.
The first time I saw him was a complete accident, I was visiting my brother who lives in the same street. There was obviously something going on in one of the houses, because I couldn't park my truck anywhere. I had to park in the next street and I was cursing a blue streak walking up to Tom's house and wishing I'd brought the bike instead of the damned truck; then I saw him and cursed myself again. At least if I'd had the bike I would have had a reason to talk to him.
By the time I got home that day I was hooked. I had to see him again... and again... and again, and now we're here, nearly a week later and I still haven't spoken to him. Today. I'll ask him out today.
I'll take a look in my closet and see what I have that'll knock his eyes out. I spent so long in BDUs I hardly have any decent clothes at all. Have to remedy that soon. I haven't had much of a chance to go shopping. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Haven't seen the point. I don't have anyone to shop for. Wonder if he likes shopping? I've only ever seen him in shorts and a vest. He could wear that all the time and I'd be happy...that and his birthday suit.
Stop it! Think O'Neill. Get inspired, goddamn it. Khaki linen pants. Yeah, I like those. They're just a shade too tight. Should show off my saggy butt to its best advantage. Tan loafers, yep, faded denim shirt. Comfortable, casual and I can leave the top few buttons open, let him have a look at my chest, which isn't bad if I do say so myself. If there's one thing about being in the Air Force, it teaches you to keep in shape. Okay, I grant you, my knees and back are fucked, especially when it gets cold and damp, and yes, my ass is gradually losing the battle with gravity, but my stomach is still pretty flat and the rest of me is reasonably toned for my age. I'm grey too; all over... at least I'm assuming it's all over. I don't look at my pubic hair that closely, tell you the truth, but the grey doesn't seem to bother him and I'm damned if I'm going to start using 'Just for Men' now. I'm way too far gone and nowhere near vain enough for that.
Crap, what am I saying? I'm asking him out on a date, there's no guarantee he'll even say yes, let alone agree to a wild night of passion. That would just be... down boy. Wishful thinking. So, what's it going to be today, Jack? Another fly-by? Or is one of us going to have the stones to say something?
Jack took a deep breath as he approached the young man, who was engrossed in the workings of his machine as usual and whose back view looked even more attractive than ever with a light sheen of sweat on his back and shoulders.
"Jack O'Neill," he extended his hand.
Daniel smiled, got up from his sitting position, wiping the oil from his hands onto his shorts and shook Jack's hand.
"Thanks, you've looked at them enough these past few days," Daniel grinned.
"Ah... yeah," Jack coughed, his face colouring.
Daniel immediately felt guilty for embarrassing him. "So, you a biker?"
"I am now," Jack replied.
Daniel looked puzzled.
"I've just retired from the Air Force. I never had that sort of freedom before, or the time. I've always wanted one though, so now I've got the money, the time and the freedom, I figured I'd go for it," he smiled.
"Cool, what did you get?"
Daniel smiled approvingly. "Nice. You'll have to bring her over some time."
Speaking of going for it..."Well, actually... do you know McKinley's bar?"
Daniel laughed, "Absolutely! I seem to spend a lot of my time in there. How come I haven't seen you before? I'm sure I'd remember."
"I haven't been back for long, only three weeks or so. My brother Tom has a bike too. He told me about it."
"Tom O'Neill is your brother?" Daniel asked with a shocked expression.
Jack nodded. "That's how come you see me so often. He lives down here."
Daniel's ego deflated very slightly and just for a second he wondered if he'd read the older man wrong. "I... I know, he's...yeah," he spluttered
Jack noticed his discomfiture and it gave him the confidence to make his move.
"That wasn't the only reason I kept coming down here. I don't need to see my brother every day," he smiled.
"Then... you were...I mean, you are...are you?"
Jack nodded. "So... if you're not doing anything later... you wanna meet up for a beer? Then we could maybe take the bikes for a run."
Jack had taken off his shades and Daniel was on the verge of diving into his eyes and never coming out. They were smouldering and this gorgeous guy was definitely asking Daniel out on a date. There was now no question in his mind.
"I'd love to," Daniel smiled. "What time?"
"How about eighteen hundred? Then we'll be able to ride up into the hills and catch the sunset."
"Eighteen hundred?" Daniel asked.
"Crap! Sorry. Old habits die hard. Six o'clock."
"I knew that, Jack. I was just teasing."
"Oh! Oh, okay, so... I'll see you there then?"
"Looking forward to it," Daniel beamed.
"Good! That's... that's good. Later," he waved and began to walk back up the street as nonchalantly as possible while desperately wanting to throw his arms in the air and yell, "YES!"
Daniel grinned broadly and wandered inside, closing the screen door behind him, and then sliding across the wooden floor like Tom Cruise in 'Risky Business' laughing and whooping like a teenager.
Jack looked at his watch and let out a slow breath. Despite himself, he was as nervous as a virgin on a Prom date. He'd always been attracted to men as well as women, but the Air Force wasn't exactly tolerant when it came to homosexuality, even in the twenty first century. He'd kept his desires locked down tightly, apart from the occasional hand-job, or blow-job in stressful situations, for relief, rather than pleasure.
In the three months since his retirement from the military he'd been cruising a few times, out of curiosity, but these had been ultimately empty experiences, even if the orgasms had been pretty good. Jack was hopeful that one day he could find someone to have a real relationship with. At this point he didn't much care whether that person was male or female. He'd gotten along well enough with his ex-wife, Sara, at least until their son had died. After the boy's death, he hadn't dared allow himself the luxury of feeling anything at all: until now.
Daniel made him shiver in a way he hadn't felt since he'd met Sara. It was lust, Jack recognised that, but still he felt a surprisingly deep yearning to get to know the young man with the sparkling eyes and beautiful smile.
He pulled on his heavy boots, and then zipped up his leather jacket. His brand new Harley Davidson Fatboy sat gleaming in the garage, and Jack smiled as he ran his fingers along the cobalt blue gas tank. This complicated piece of chrome, steel and leather represented his own little personal act of rebellion; a taste of the freedom he'd been dreaming about for a long time.
His last few years in the Air Force had become a kind of purgatory, the rules and regulations a yoke around his neck. His job had changed beyond recognition and he'd become painfully lonely. More and more often he'd see young airmen around the base and wonder what they'd be like in bed. His curiosity was more than piqued by a couple of them and the inability to act on his feelings had become almost too much to bear.
He wasn't even able to fly any more. As second in command of a fighter base, his job entailed paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. Every day he'd look out of his office window and see the jets taking off, longing to be up there with them. It had been so long since he'd flown, he was afraid he'd forgotten how.
Coming out - in more ways than one - had been a relief. He hadn't been sorry to let the uniform go and when he'd told his brother about his bisexuality, Tom hadn't been that surprised. He said he'd suspected for years, even back when they were in their teens. He was cool, which had pleased Jack, although he'd thought that Tom might have made a little more of a deal about it. It wasn't every day that your 47-year-old elder brother admitted to being attracted to men.
Tom had suggested McKinley's bar not only because it was where bikers hung out, but also because it was a gay bar. Tom wasn't gay himself, but enough of his friends were for him to know where they hung out. The fact that Daniel also knew about it confirmed in Jack's mind that Daniel was probably like him, if the flirtatious smiles hadn't given him enough of a clue. The truth was that Jack was a rank amateur when it came to relationships with men. Did you court a guy the same way as you'd court a lady? Jack really had no idea. The only experiences he'd had with men had been of the cruising kind; short, fairly brutal interludes in parks and public bathrooms based completely on one sex act or another: 'Wham, bang, thank you, man.'
It wasn't what he was after, although he'd blown pretty hard on a couple of occasions. He'd figured it was the newness and danger of it all and the fact that both guys had been particularly good with their tongues, but Jack was really looking for friendship and companionship as well as intimacy. In his heart he had always been a romantic, and he was hoping that Daniel might appreciate a little sap in his life.
He grinned as he fastened the chin strap on his crash helmet and fired up the big bike's engine, revving it a little just for the sheer pleasure of hearing its throaty roar. He eased the bike slowly out of the garage, pausing on the driveway to close the garage door with its remote control, then accelerated out onto the street. He enjoyed the sensation of the warm breeze against his face and the closeness of the asphalt, making it feel as if he was travelling much faster than he actually was and he was especially looking forward to going up to the bluff, sharing the view of the city with Daniel: alone.
When he arrived at the bar there were only a few bikes parked outside, it was only six in the evening after all. Jack smiled when he spotted that Daniel's Softail custom was one of them and he parked his own machine next to it and switched off the engine. The bar was quiet, save for a couple of guys having a quick beer on their way home from work...and Daniel.
Jack's breath caught in his throat when he spotted the young man leaning against the bar with one foot on the railing, sipping a light beer. He had on a pair of sturdy leather bike pants, which looked as if they'd been sprayed onto his legs and ass, a tight white tee shirt, which showed the definition of his pecs to sweet perfection and bike boots. On the bar next to him was the final piece of the ensemble, a black leather bike jacket and black helmet. Plain, simple, stunning.
"Holy shit!" Jack gasped quietly, belatedly hoping he hadn't been heard, and walked over to him. Daniel turned around and met him with a beaming smile.
"Hi Jack! You want a beer?"
Jack sat down on the bar stool next to him. "I think I need one."
Daniel looked a little confused and Jack wondered if he had any idea how cute that expression was on him.
"You look fantastic," Jack explained. "I was a little stunned."
Daniel smiled coyly and Jack could have sworn his eyelashes fluttered.
"Thanks. You're looking pretty damned good yourself," Daniel replied, sliding his hand up Jack's denim-clad thigh. Jack coughed and shifted slightly in his seat, which made Daniel chuckle softly.
"Tell you what, let's forget the beer and get out of here. We can get to know each other a little better when we get up to the bluff," Daniel suggested.
"Okay," Jack replied and picked up his helmet.
They walked out of the bar and Jack's breath caught again as he watched Daniel put on his jacket, the soft leather stretching across his broad shoulders.
Daniel straddled his big machine and the leather of his pants pulled tightly across his round buttocks; Jack wasn't even sure he'd be able to get on his own bike now without causing himself irreparable damage and was seriously considering grabbing Daniel and hauling him down the alleyway between McKinley's and the gym next door.
He shook his head, mentally berating himself for thinking with his little head. If he was ever going to have the chance to get really close to this man, grabbing and fucking the ass off him - as delightful as that prospect undoubtedly was - was not the way to do it. Jack was beginning to get a feeling about Daniel, as well as and apart from the obvious ones. He figured that at this juncture it was just in his mind, but Jack imagined him to be passionate and sensuous in bed; in touch with his emotions and able to reach heights with a lover that a simple fuck just couldn't begin to emulate. Jack was hoping that he could be that lover.
Jack managed to bring himself back under control just as Daniel turned to look at him, revving the powerful Softail and beckoning Jack to join him. The look in his eyes was positively seductive and it was perfectly obvious already who had the upper hand between them. Jack decided to go for broke. Leaving his own Harley parked outside the bar, Jack slid his long leg over the back of Daniel's pillion seat and settled himself behind the young man, leaning into the leather backrest and wondering whether to rest his hands on the shoulder pads of Daniel's jacket. He decided against it and rested his palms on his thighs instead, relaxing as Daniel effortlessly and smoothly eased the bike out into the rush-hour traffic.
The question of whether Daniel was a good rider didn't even enter his head; Jack trusted him instinctively, enjoying the scenery as they passed the city boundary and headed out into the countryside and up into the hills. He worried a little that he was making too much of this; it felt as if he was falling for Daniel without even knowing him. He smiled to himself: he really was becoming a sap in his old age. He'd have to be careful not to push Daniel too far, too fast and scare him off. Just because Jack was looking for a partner didn't mean that Daniel was.
By the time they reached the bluff, Jack's ass was numb - despite the comfortable ride - and his knees were a little sore, but the company and the glorious sight of the purple-pink hues of the western sky as the sun began to sink below the horizon were more than ample compensations. He slid sideways off the back seat of the bike, limping a little as he tried to walk off the stiffness.
"You okay, Jack?" Daniel asked, as he removed his helmet and hung it on one of the bike's handlebars.
Jack nodded. "Yeah, I'm just old. My knees and my back are pretty much fucked. I played too much hockey as a kid, and jumped out of too many airplanes as a grown up. But then, if you asked half the people I know, they'd tell you I haven't grown up yet and I'm never likely to," he grinned.
Daniel smiled. "Yeah, I know that one. My Mom keeps asking me when I'm going to get a real job, find a nice girl and settle down."
"Doesn't she know you're...?"
"Oh yeah, but you know how Moms can be, even foster moms. Sometimes she just kind of ignores things she doesn't really want to hear. I love her to death, but it's damned frustrating."
Jack smiled, a little sadly. "I don't have that problem any more. My Mom passed away a few years ago. She never knew about me being... I was married then, with a kid. I was happy; at least what passes for 'happy' when you're in the Service and not at home half the time."
"I'm sorry," Daniel replied, sincerely. "I lost both my parents in an accident when I was eight. I had a few foster parents, but the last set I had were fantastic. I was with them from when I was twelve. They wanted to adopt me, but the Social Services wouldn't let them. Said they were too old at 41 and 45. It was a crock. Still, as far as we're all concerned, they're my parents and I'm their son. I have a job, weird as it is, I'm gay and I ride a motorcycle, but I don't drink excessively, I don't do drugs and they know I'm careful about who I sleep with, so I don't think they worry too much."
Jack chortled. The idea of discussing his sex life with his Dad was way too weird a concept. He didn't think he'd ever admit to being gay to John O'Neill Senior; he wasn't sure the old guy could take it. He'd thought about talking to his Mom about how he felt once or twice, but had never been able to bring himself to do it while she was alive. They'd had a few interesting conversations at her graveside though, usually on the anniversary of her death when he'd travel back to Chicago if he possibly could, to lay a rose and have a chat. They'd always been close and Jack hoped that she'd understand if she'd been around: that she still understood where she was now. One thing he did know for sure, if she had been alive, she would carry on loving him, no matter what.
They both settled down on a convenient large boulder and looked out over the city as the lights began to come on, and further out to the ocean. Jack sighed.
"I've missed this."
Daniel moved closer to him and rested his hand on Jack's thigh. "So, what's your story?"
"Okay, I was born in Chicago, I'm forty-seven and I have one brother, but you know him already."
Daniel smiled, "Yeah, Tom's good people."
"I joined the Air Force as soon as I could. Crazy bastards thought I'd make a pilot, so I started flying fast jets, then later on I was in Special Forces."
"I knew you were a flyboy," Daniel chuckled. "I have a sixth sense."
Jack grinned, "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. I have this... thing for pilots."
Daniel moved closer, stroking Jack's cheek. "Oh, I definitely do."
The young man leaned forward and kissed him. Jack was surprised at how soft his lips were; he'd deliberately avoided kissing any of his other encounters because he felt that would be too intimate, as ridiculous as that sounded, but with Daniel it seemed absolutely the right thing to do. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and slid his tongue slowly into Daniel's mouth, making the other man moan quietly in his throat.
As they kissed, Jack slipped his hands underneath Daniel's open jacket to explore the cotton-covered muscle of his torso. Daniel's arm came around his shoulders and drew him closer while his other hand gently stroked up Jack's thigh. Jack's hand moved around Daniel's body, rubbing his thumb over Daniel's erect nipple, which made the younger man jerk into his touch, then he slowly slid his hand downward towards Daniel's groin, squeezing the hard flesh he found there through the leather. Daniel broke the kiss and groaned as Jack unfastened his zipper, allowing his cock to spring out through the opening.
He continued to kiss Daniel's neck as he stroked Daniel's erection, rubbing his finger over the head and spreading the bead of pre-come around the throbbing organ. He set up a steady rhythm, squeezing and stroking as Daniel rolled his head back and urged him on.
"Oh God, Jack, that's good. Don't stop. Oh yeah, oh yeah..." he murmured. His voice was low and husky, and Jack sank to his knees on the hard ground, still holding Daniel's cock. He licked around the head, and then took the young man deep. Daniel gasped and grabbed Jack's head as it moved up and down. He stroked Jack's hair, whispering, "Yeah, Jack, suck me. Oh fuck, that's good. You're so good..."
Without warning, Daniel came, hot spurts flooding into Jack's mouth and down his throat. It seemed as if Daniel was never going to stop, but Jack took it all, stroking Daniel's legs as the young man came down. Finally, when Daniel's cock lay soft across his tongue, Jack pulled away and Daniel leaned down to kiss him.
"Jesus, Jack. That was amazing, I never expected...c'mon, sit up here and I'll return the favour."
Jack looked into his eyes, "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Daniel smiled. "You prepared?"
Jack nodded and reached inside his jacket. He brought out a condom and a small tube of lubricant.
Daniel laughed, "So you figured I'd be that easy a lay, hmm?"
Jack coughed, his face flushing with embarrassment. He was grateful that the light had deteriorated so that Daniel wouldn't be able to tell. "Well, I didn't...if you don't want to that's..."
"I'm teasing," Daniel grinned.
Jack smiled, "You do that a lot?"
"I'm very good at it, but you'll find out."
He stood, allowing his leather pants to pool around his ankles and turned around, taking his weight on his hands and leaning on the boulder. He presented his ass to Jack with a lascivious grin.
"Come on and fuck me, Flyboy. Let's see if you're as good with your cock as you are with your tongue."
Jack moaned at the sight of Daniel's bare ass, which was level with his face. He palmed the flesh and nuzzled in between Daniel's buttocks, breathing in the musky aroma.
"I haven't finished with my tongue yet, babe," Jack growled and took a long swipe up from Daniel's balls to his asshole, swirling his tongue around the tight pucker and making Daniel gasp and shove his ass further into Jack's face.
"Jeeeesus H! Warn a guy before you're going to do that!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Jack said mischievously. "Should I stop?"
"Don't you fucking dare!"
Jack chuckled and then continued licking and sucking at Daniel's anus as the young man writhed above him. Slowly but surely, the ring of muscle began to relax and soften until Jack could ease his tongue inside. He fucked Daniel slow and steady with his tongue, obviously driving his partner insane.
"Fuck me, Jack!" Daniel pleaded.
Jack quickly rose and unfastened his pants, which were by now painfully tight. He put a little lube inside the condom and slid it on, grasping himself tightly to stave off his orgasm. As he lubed up Daniel's ass and put some on his covered cock, Jack hoped to God he could last long enough to give this gorgeous guy the fucking he so richly deserved.
He positioned himself at Daniel's entrance and slid home in one smooth stroke, holding onto Daniel's hips to steady himself.
"Oh yeah," Daniel growled, and rolled his hips against Jack's groin. "That's it, Flyboy."
Jack began to fuck, long, steady strokes, changing the angle of his attack until Daniel cried out and Jack knew he'd hit the spot.
Daniel leaned forward onto his elbows as Jack ploughed his ass. It felt fantastic to have Jack's cock embedded deep inside him, especially since he'd been thinking of little else this past few days. It was easily as good as he'd imagined, feeling Jack fucking him and hearing his low moans of pleasure. Daniel knew he wasn't going to come again so soon, but he didn't care. Jack was hitting his sweet spot on almost every stroke, getting faster and harder now as Jack careered towards his orgasm.
Jack held onto Daniel's shoulders, digging his fingers into the firm flesh and grunting, "Yes, yes,yes,yes...ah GOD!"
Jack shot his load into the rubber, throwing back his head as he came. He sank down onto Daniel's back, kissing his neck gently, and then withdrew, holding the condom around his softened dick. While Daniel pulled up his pants, Jack took care of business, putting the used condom into a baggie he had brought with him and straightened out his own clothing.
Daniel put his arms around Jack's neck and kissed him.
"I guess you are as good with your cock as you are with your tongue. That was fantastic."
Jack kissed him back, unable to stop a flush of pride. "Back atcha."
"Listen... Jack... I... I don't do casual. Actually, that's not strictly true, I do do casual, but... I don't want to do casual with you. Would... would you be okay with that? I mean, normally if I wanted to have a relationship with someone I wouldn't fuck on a first date, but you're just so..." he laughed. "Irresistible."
Jack smiled and stroked his hair. "You know what? I don't want to do casual with you either. What say we give it a try, huh?"
"I'd like that," Daniel replied, smiling. "So, you hungry?"
"You kidding? I could eat a horse!" Jack laughed.
"We'll go get your bike, then take her back to my place. I do a mean Carbonara."
Jack grinned, "And he cooks too. Will you marry me?"
Daniel pondered the question.
"Maybe next week," he grinned.
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