There are nights when Jack gives himself up, gives in to a deep-seated need that would surprise those who know only the Colonel. But Daniel knows Jack and his need is Daniel’s command.
“Lie down,” Daniel breathes into Jack’s ear, running sharp, nipping kisses down the hot skin of Jack’s neck and squeezing Jack’s thickening erection through the rough denim of new jeans.
Jack doesn’t move. He shivers under the surety of Daniel’s touch and thrusts into Daniel’s cupping hand.
“I said lie down,” Daniel lowers his voice and pushes the heel of his palm down hard onto the now evident bulge in Jack’s jeans. Daniel pulls back, just far enough to feel the rush of Jack’s quickening breath on his face and see the glint of darkening desire in his eyes. Jack doesn’t say, “Make me,” because tonight isn’t about that; it’s about measured control tempered by understanding that what Jack needs falls far short of dominance. Jack’s eyes say, “Take me.”
Insofar as Daniel is able to consider things right now, it’s about trust, about Daniel recognizing that closing the iris on Alar is one hard decision too many today, and about Jack saying sorry in the most basic, elemental way Jack knows how. And it’s about knowing how those two things are intertwined to the point of confusion in Jack’s head.
Their individual and combined responses are complicated, and neither pretends to understand their MO completely. After all, when has anything between them been simple? But when it’s like this, it’s like this, and love will get them where they need to be.
So, when Daniel takes Jack by the shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed, Daniel feels the relief instantly in Jack’s body; a tangible manifestation of letting go.
Daniel stands over him, stripping off his own sweatshirt, pants and underwear in a blur of activity. He’s hard and shows Jack that he is, pulling on his rigid cock in a couple of quick, tight strokes. Jack loves to watch Daniel touch himself. Daniel smiles as Jack’s breath hitches and he lowers himself down over Jack’s body, watching Jack watching him, seeing Jack’s gaze drift down Daniel’s body to his dick, then up again to Daniel’s lips.
Daniel moves into position, leans down and kisses Jack hard, delighting in the muffled cry it brings, then, still kissing, pushing his tongue into Jack’s mouth and reveling in Jack’s urgent response, he pushes Jack’s arms over his head and works his T-shirt off.
Jack’s wrists are pinned, eliciting a soft, “ohhh” on a ragged exhale, and Daniel kisses down his body, neck, chest, nipping at the chest hair and licking each nipple in turn before gently biting them into peaks. Daniel licks each armpit and Jack bucks hard, seeking friction.
Daniel doesn’t want to hear Jack beg; he absolutely doesn’t want to hear him say, “please,” although there are nights when that alone is enough to make Daniel come, so he places gentle kisses on each wrist and releases Jack’s hands, sure that Jack won’t move them, and moves down to unbuckle Jack’s jeans.
With little finesse, he frees Jack’s cock and starts pumping, strong and hard, loving the feel of hot, taut skin over heavy muscle.
“God.” The word escapes Jack’s lips; not plea, more a warning.
“Not yet,” Daniel says, and pushes the rest of Jack’s clothes off and away. He takes a moment to drink in the sight before him; his Jack, needy and flushed and aching for him. For a moment, his breath catches in his throat, and then he focuses. He runs his hands up Jack’s legs, the coarse hair of his shins turning to soft, downy curls where trunk meets groin. Again and again he strokes, setting up a steady, caressing rhythm that says, “I love you” more clearly than any words ever could.
Then, he stops and turns Jack onto his stomach, handling him until he’s on his knees, face buried in the pillow, and Daniel licks and sucks Jack’s opening until Jack is moaning his pleasure.
Fingers replace tongue, for deliciously long, noisy minutes, then Daniel is pulling on a condom with shaking hands and he finally enters Jack.
It can’t last; it never does like this, and Daniel’s not sure that it should. Hands on Jack’s hips, he pulls Jack back onto his cock as he thrusts forward. He’s driving and it feels so good. Still fucking Jack with long, deep strokes, he runs hands over his sweat-sheened back and pulls Jack up until they’re chest to back, full length, Daniel’s arms locked around Jack’s waist, bodies plastered together, straining, searching, sharing.
Jack comes with Daniel’s name on his lips. Over and over he says it. One word to say everything.
Half a dozen more thrusts and Daniel climaxes hard, riding the wave for every precious, heat-filled second.
Still joined, Daniel mouths Jack’s hair, holding onto Jack as they return to themselves.
“Than--” Jack whispers, his voice cracked and dry.
“Don’t,” Daniel says, pressing the word hard into Jack’s skull.
They’ve said enough.