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"Jack. Jack. Oh, god. Like that. Slow. Like that."

The words were hot, and Jack loved hearing them, and Jack obeyed them. But they meant that this wasn't working.

Daniel's hands had slipped down the headboard again. He'd rest them lightly at the top, just for somewhere to put them, but every now and then they'd slip, when the hot sliding pleasure inside him made him forget about everything else, and he'd startle a bit out of his trance. Then he'd talk again. Jack loved the talking, but it meant that Daniel had surfaced from that mindless oblivion of pleasure Jack wanted to help him stay in.

Jack had a frustrated impulse to loop a silk tie around his wrists and knot it to the headboard just to hold his hands up out of the way, so that Daniel could forget about them, let the binding hold them, but he didn't know how Daniel would take the suggestion and it wasn't something he'd just do. He reached up now and slid his hands down along Daniel's arms, bending them at the elbow, gently pulling them off the middle slats of headboard they'd caught on. Then he put his left arm back around Daniel's pelvis, providing some resistance for himself to push into and something for Daniel to hold, and moved his right hand back to Daniel's chest, fingertips brushing light circles over pecs, around nipples, not quite touching them.

"Yeah," Daniel said, his head lolling back, his eyes sliding closed again. But the slight tension didn't leave him.

Something about the position felt awkward, overbalanced. Jack couldn't figure out how to ease it. Lean them forward, the way Daniel liked, and Daniel would be balancing on the headboard again and slipping off every time enough pleasure washed through him to make his limbs go loose. Lean him back and they'd hit that bad angle where the hardness inside him caused discomfort.

"Jack?" Daniel said softly, head rolling slightly toward him.

"Right here," Jack said, swallowing one of the dozen endearments that kept trying to squeeze out of him. He loved having Daniel in his arms like this; loved it too much. Loved Daniel too much, in ways he still wasn't sure wouldn't offend him. "Just tryin' to angle things right."

"How much would it disturb you if I asked you to truss my hands to the headboard?" Daniel said.

Jack went still, blanking to hear Daniel verbalize his exact thoughts. "Hafta pull out to get a ... truss," he said, after a moment.

"You couldn't, I don't know, rip a pillowcase into strips or something?"

Well, sure, if he worked a seamed edge for a few minutes with teeth or fingernails to get it started, or tore a slat out of the headboard to poke a hole in it. Was that what Daniel wanted? Was this some spec-ops kink surfacing, rig an orgasm out of chewing gum and a shoelace? "Not ... easily," he said, hedging.

Daniel laughed, low in his belly, and Jack felt it, through Daniel's insides, and couldn't stifle a sound or keep his arms from tightening, his hips rocking forward. Daniel moaned, and then they were doing it again, moving on each other, pleasure surging. Jack said, "Next time, OK?" And of course Daniel said OK, because they gave each other whatever they asked for, when they were doing this; Daniel was his, followed direction without question, let Jack move him and position him, and Jack gave him anything, responded to the least word or sound, delivered on any request.

It was good, for a while. It was really, really good. Then Daniel's hands, which had crept up the headboard again, loosened and slid off.

"C'mere," Jack said, shifting his hips back and Daniel's hips with them, arms strong around belly and pelvis. "C'mere, come back. Yeah. Now forward. Down." Together they eased Daniel into the bed, hiking back enough, without Jack pulling out, so that they cleared the headboard. To lower himself with Daniel, Jack spread his knees inside Daniel's legs, and it spread Daniel very wide. That left Daniel facedown in the mattress, collapsed arms a limp fold to either side of him, relaxed into his chest and his face, but his hips propped up, his ass raised by Jack's thighs inside and under his. Instinctively Daniel hooked his ankles around, and then Jack felt the rest of him relax, glutes and quads and hamstrings.

"God, Daniel," he breathed, easing his chest onto Daniel's back, his head slotting in against Daniel's neck.

"Yeah," Daniel breathed. "All your weight. Yeah ... "

Before he let his full weight come to rest on Daniel, Jack worked his left arm through the fold of Daniel's to hold him around the chest, because holding Daniel was the point of the position they'd been in and he didn't want gravity and geometry to rob him of that. He slid his right hand up Daniel's thigh, over his hipbone, then in and down to the crease of his groin. It let him grip if he wanted to grip, to control; it would let him stroke. In his experience so far Daniel hadn't wanted to be jerked when they did this; just cupped, squeezed at the most, and mostly caressed, lightly brushed. That was fine by him. Mostly all he wanted to do was make love to Daniel. Bring him gently and tenderly to intense, implosive orgasm, then cradle the astonishing soft weight he became. His own orgasms, when he did that, were blinding and too fast, but he didn't mind when they ended, because he could go back to holding and stroking.

"It's good like this," Daniel said, a dreamy muffle in the bedding. Jack pressed a little and he said, "Oh, oh ... yeah ... "

So a new position discovered. Necessity the mother of invention. So much better than when he lay on top with their legs down nearly straight and Daniel's dick pressed tight against the mattress. This way Daniel was open, receptive, accessible. Covered by Jack, in Jack's control, his pleasure in Jack's hands. Propped up but completely relaxed.

Jack pressed, and eased, and pressed, and eased, until Daniel was continuously moaning, the breathy no-mind moans that said he was lost in pleasure, nothing stirring in his head, his heated overtasked brain a soothing slush of pure sensation. Sometimes Jack thought that this was when he loved Daniel the most -- when he let Jack take him away from everything the only way Jack could. The pleasure was nearly too much, the slick aching slide, the hot tender tightness, the way Daniel's body yielded to his hardness, let him penetrate, but Jack moved subtly, lovingly -- rocking, now and then an exquisitely slow, minute thrust -- and the real ecstasy came from his lips on Daniel's skin, Daniel's moans resonating through his body. He'd been patient with other partners who liked this, but as a duty to satisfaction that sometimes left him roaming, bored, within the confines of his own skull. With Daniel, his attention never strayed.

"Jack," Daniel breathed. Jack stroked nose and lips up and down; sometimes Daniel just said his name, another kind of moan, an expression of pleasure, and a soft kiss or a nuzzle sent him back into that mindless, wordless place where he could just rest and breathe and feel. But Daniel groaned, and said, "Jack. Tuh ... "

"Touch?" Jack said. This was the only time when translating became his job. When he felt Daniel nod, he shifted his fingertips to stroke lightly down behind Daniel's balls, lightly up over them. "Like this?" he murmured, soft against Daniel's skin.

"Yeah," Daniel said, and then, "Oh ... guh ... higher ... "

Jack kissed along the crease of wince to Daniel's temple, and stroked tenderly up the heavy shaft, fingers and thumb.

"Oh," Daniel breathed, when Jack's fingertips stroked his glans. His back bowed, his ass pushing up. Jack stroked back down the shaft and cupped Daniel's tightening balls, and Daniel's voice kicked in: "Oh ... " Jack pressed with his hips, and cupped and very gently squeezed with his palm and fingers.

One syllable for each gentle push of Jack's hips, Daniel said, "Oh ... god ... deep ... er ... "

Jack slid his grip back up into the natural handhold where thigh met trunk. He pulled, and very slowly, steadily pushed. There was a spot, way up inside, that did as much for Daniel as pressure on his prostate, a spot that if he could ... just ... reach ...

"Oh god," Daniel burst out, face twisting down, "Jack, Jack, Jack -- "

He was there, he was right there, and Jack pushed in and held, deep deep deep -- but the heavy package cupped in his hand didn't pulse, the hot muscle around his dick didn't clamp on him and spasm. He was deep enough, he knew he was. More hand, he thought, and curled his middle finger around to tease the sweet spot up behind Daniel's balls, easy to reach with them pulled up so tight. He feathered a fingertip down the perineum, once and again and again, and eased the pressure of his hips a little. Rocked, a little, so Daniel would feel the stimulation, feel the slick cockhead rubbing back and forth just shy of that spot that sent him into orbit.

"Jack ... I ... "

Jack waited. No more words came out. Jack scraped the lightest of fingernails over Daniel's balls, the lightest fingertips up the shaft of Daniel's penis; laid the lightest of dabs around his wet glans. Daniel moaned; he was out of words, he could only make sounds now, and he shouldn't be trying to make words. "'Sokay," Jack murmured to him. "You're there, you're right there."

He kept the patter going, gentle encouragement. Daniel said he loved the voice right up against his ear. Jack stopped thinking about it and just let his mouth run. His focus was in his fingertips, his thighs, his back, the shift of his own weight ... and then farther out, his awareness going into Daniel's skin and muscle and breath, feeling what worked, feeling where he needed to try a different thing.

"Oh yeah," he breathed as he felt it start to build again in Daniel, working up through longer smoother strokes, working back to where they were. He had it this time, slowing as he got deeper, letting Daniel's cock hang free as he shifted his grip back to the crease of thigh to crush that sweet ass to him, push to that deepest spot. "Yeah," he said, Daniel's short breaths making his own come short, the hot flush in Daniel's back, "so close, so good, so sweet. I'm right there with ya, gonna come with ya, let it go, baby, let it g--"

Daniel burst. It was so sudden that he didn't even clench; he gasped out a long, stunned haaaaa and froze, his ass pumping Jack in fast contractions. Then his body seemed to catch up with the fact that he was coming and it was all Jack could do to ride his hips as they jerked reflexively, push into the motion so his hard cock didn't come half out and jam back in wrong. He was too surprised to come; Daniel's climax was explosive, completely off the rhythm Jack had learned to work. He just hung on until Daniel was groaning, sagging, and then helped him slide his knees down, straighten his legs enough to drop his pelvis into the bed. He reached under to smooth Daniel's dick to a comfortable angle and found it soft and drew his hand back out. Daniel was usually half hard for a while after he came from this kind of sex; it took a rougher, harder orgasm to deflate him like that, and they didn't do that very often.

"Oh my god," Daniel moaned into the sheets. "Jack."

"Shh," Jack breathed, stroking lips over his ear, the nape of his neck, feeling the aftershocks shiver down Daniel's back. "Shhhh."

"Is that ... " Daniel's voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and ignored Jack's soothing nuzzles and said, "Is that what you call me? In your head?"

"Is that ... " Jack echoed, baffled; and then he remembered, and whispered, "Oh, crap." Baby. The most belittling, patronizing thing he could have let slip, worse than "Danny," worse than -- "Crap -- Daniel -- I'm -- I don't -- "

Daniel's ass contracted on him, shutting him up by making him grit his teeth around a groan of intense pleasure, and Daniel said, "Tell me."

"I'm sorry, I apologize, I swear I'll never -- "

"Tell me what else you call me in your head."

"Daniel ... "

"Jack. God, when you -- I went off like a ... oh god."

That was what made him come like that? "Daniel ... "

Daniel tried to push up into him. Jack eased more weight into him, instinctively, and Daniel moaned and said, "Can I be embarrassed about this later?"

Jack was the one who was embarrassed; "mortified" was more like it. So much that he should have lost his erection, except that Daniel was all sensitized flesh after he came, a weight of sweetness underneath him, and his ass was hot and soft and pliant --

"Oh, god, Jack, don't stop," Daniel moaned. "It's so good after I ... you feel so ... yeah, like that, yeah ... so hard ... " Jack had moved a little, just a curl of his lower back, and it was so good, he was a throbbing ache of hardness inside the slick swollen yielding density of Daniel and it was like nothing else in the universe, moving in him, Daniel's pleasure doubling his. "Forget ... abou ... juuuuh ... " His language dissolved back into low moans.

Sweet almost-numbness was creeping up between Jack's legs, the sustained silvery twinge of being very close to orgasm. He slowed down even more, and got his arms in tighter around Daniel, got his face in closer. "You liked what I said?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Yeah," Daniel said, a breathless grunt that either meant that he was pushing language out from an inarticulate blur of pleasure, or meant that the admission squeezed past defenses he couldn't keep up in bed. "Don't stop ... "

"I'm not stopping," Jack said, soft and low, pressing with the subtlest contraction of abs. "I'm keeping it slow because I'm about to come but it still feels good for you and I want to draw it out."

Daniel moaned again, with an "OK" in it somewhere. His loose fingers curled down into the sheets, tightened as Jack eased his hips a little and then slowly pressed him full again.

Tell me what else you call me in your head ...

"Sweetheart," Jack murmured, lips on Daniel's cheekbone. "Honey." His balls tightened, his ass tightened. He groaned, and breathed, "Danny."

Daniel made a pleading sound. It might have been a protest, but the prickle down his arms and his back said maybe not; Jack couldn't tell. He couldn't stop this now, he was going to come and he couldn't tell if that was OK now and -- "Should I stop?"

"Say it," Daniel said. "Come. Say it when you -- "

"Coming," Jack gasped, unable to control both things at once and losing charge of both, "fuck, coming, Danny, hang on, hang on to me, Danny, baby, yeah, yeah -- "

He didn't know what he said then; everything was ass and skin and slick sucking tightness and the unbearable molten surge, his squeezing balls and pulsing dick and Daniel taking it, Daniel taking his come, the savage unrepressible pleasure of shooting deep -- sweet Daniel, precious Daniel, unbreachable Daniel who let him push inside and fuck, oh fuck, love you so much --

Part of him was cringing at losing it like this and already dreading the moment of facing him afterward, but it was a little part of him curled down into a tiny fetal ball in the blinding explosion of orgasm, and then the flash of self-awareness was gone and there was only flesh, Daniel's sweet flesh all up under and against him and Daniel deliberately clenching on his dick to force more out of him, make him give it all up.

His breaths sounded like sobs against the side of Daniel's head. He tried to gather himself. Fucking cork had popped in one too many ways and this was gonna be a bitch to explain, smooth over. He couldn't lose it like this again. He tried to kick the craven cringing fetal ball deep into his head and grit out an apology, I won't lose it like that again.

He planted his arms before he went boneless, lifted his head and chest. "Daniel." He swallowed, breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Daniel said. His open eyes were startling, his clear cool voice even more so. The cringing craven ball rolled back and Jack kicked it away again, but before he could say something reasonable Daniel said, "Pull out. Not too fast. Roll on your side."

Blinking, Jack did that, rolling first onto the side that left him facing Daniel, not sure if he should keep rolling and present his back, watching Daniel's unreadable face.

Daniel took hold of Jack's right hand and scooched close and up, one arm going under Jack's neck, one leg cocking up bent at the knee. "Two fingers," he said, moving Jack's hand between his legs and letting go. "Fuck me. In and out."

Jack was still in an orgasmic daze, but he followed the instructions. They both scooched some more, finding the right position for Jack to reach, and then Jack found the wet hole with his fingers and pressed in.

"A little harder," Daniel said, from above him now; he was facing Daniel's chest. He pushed his fingers deeper, harder, and Daniel said, more tightly, "Yeah. Like that. A little faster."

Jack gave him some more, amazed at the way it felt to his fingers, the unbelievable slippery thickness of lube and semen; Daniel's ass felt completely different after he'd been fucked, he'd never thought about that, never thought about touching it with his fingers to find out. It was still tight but it felt hot and soft and almost swollen; he moaned, pushing deep, pistoning.

"Yeah," Daniel said, "yeah, just more, a little more. I was so close, when you came, what you said, but I couldn't quite -- yeah. Yeah. Faster. Fuck me. Jack. Fuck me."

Jack pushed his face into Daniel's chest and plundered him with his hand, leveraging on fingers curled in the hot crease between thigh and perineum. He'd stroked Daniel inside while he sucked him, but always slowly, gently, with fingers added only to stretch and prep. He groaned at the intense sexuality of penetrating him this way, working him.

"Oh, god," Daniel growled, his hand groping down inside the crook of Jack's arm to touch himself, "I've gotta -- Jack, prostate -- more -- fuck me, fuck me, fuck me -- "

Jack curled his fingers and rocked his hand hard and fast. His thumb slid up to brace behind Daniel's balls. Daniel's arm gave a shivery-fast little series of jerks, and his ass clenched Jack's fingers straight and he came with a low, hoarse groan and sharp, fast jerks of his hips. Jack's hand went limp and liquid, surrendering to the motion. He tried to wrench his head down and catch Daniel's come in his open mouth, but it was the second time in twenty minutes and there was hardly a dribble, and Daniel's hold around his neck was too tight.

Daniel unclenched slowly, moaning into softness, his arm stilling. Jack caressed him inside, and Daniel shuddered through an aftershock and moaned appreciation and then dragged his arm up to brush a hand over Jack's elbow, a request for him to withdraw. Jack disengaged with care. He'd have liked to stay right where he was, his face pressed into Daniel's slowing heartbeat, but Daniel's hand urged him up, and Daniel scooched down, with grunting effort, to come level with him, and kiss him.

"I love you, Jack," Daniel said against his mouth. "There's nothing demeaning in any endearment you could ever come up with for me. There's nothing so mushy that if you blurt it out it'll burst my illusion of the sexy hardass military guy who's fucking me. I need you to fuck me a lot harder a lot more often and I don't ask you for that because I'm afraid it punches abuse buttons in you, and there's a lot of stuff like that we don't talk about and we probably should and we can if you're willing and it's OK if you're not. It's hard for me too. It's embarrassing to admit what ... affection from you does to me. I'm afraid to ask too much of you. I'm afraid for you to know any of this. But I need it. I'm hungry for it. If you've been holding it in, if you -- if you -- god, Jack -- "

Jack drew his mouth back from the flood of words, the insistence and shyness and desperation of Daniel's lips, Daniel pressing the words into him because he couldn't get them out if Jack was looking at him. He took Daniel's head in his hands, moved the dry one to stroke his thumb over an eyebrow, kissed Daniel's forehead when the eyes went misty and agonized, then drew back again to face him, make eye contact. "Lotta misconceptions," he said softly.

"Yeah," Daniel said, in a soft tone that sounded almost like despair, as if he were accepting the end of something instead of the beginning.

"Mine," Jack said. "Not yours." He hauled Daniel close, buried himself in the smell of him, the solidness, the sex-softened skin. "When in doubt I keep my mouth shut." He let out a long breath he hadn't known he was holding in. "So do you. Bad combination."

"When have I ever been able to keep my mouth shut?" Daniel said, from around the other side of his head.

"You talk all the time. Doesn't mean you spill beans. Most effective smokescreen I've ever seen."

"Mix metaphors much?"

"Alliterate much? You talk about everything but yourself."

"Look who's -- "

" -- talking. Exactly." Jack squeezed closer, his eyes squeezing shut. "Pot and the kettle. That's you and me."

The side of Daniel's face contracted in a tentative smile against the side of Jack's. "Do you call me 'black' in your head?"

Jack grinned, turning his face down and in. "I'll call you anything the hell you want if it makes you blow like that." He kissed down into Daniel's neck, and then realized that he was hiding, and took a breath. Swallowed. Pulled his head back so he could look Daniel straight in the eyes. "I call you pet names in my head but not out loud because I'm afraid they'll insult you. I get very ... vulnerable when we do this and I work hard to keep you from seeing that. I love you too much. It makes me weak. I'm afraid for you to know that about me."

"Too late," Daniel said, very softly. His gaze holding, not dropping; searching Jack's a little. "Plus I kind of already knew."

"Guess I kind of already knew you had this whole, you know, affection kink," Jack said; trying to keep the smile out of his voice, seeing that Daniel could see it in his eyes.

"So, later," Daniel said, his eyes crinkling around the edges, his mouth battling not to smile back. Then, his mouth losing the battle, "Later, we'll talk about some of this stuff."

"Later," Jack said, his breath on Daniel's lips, and then kissed into the curve of smile, pushing his body closer, pushing all of him as close to Daniel as he could get. "Talk," he said, his tongue pushing off Daniel's to make the "t," then pushing in under it, over it. Pulled back a little to breathe "Promise" against his lips, and then kissed him again -- kissed him until he was kissing back, hard and sweet, and their mouths were saying it was OK without needing any kind of words at all.

After a breath, he felt that vibration of laughter bubble up through Daniel's body again, and Daniel said, "I just wanted my hands to stop slipping off the stupid headboard."

"You say the word," Jack said, into the soft, delicious corner of Daniel's mouth. "Got a closet full of silk ties, right there." He worked down over Daniel's cheek, kissing and smiling, to his ear. "Darling."

"Oh, god."

Jack's grin widened. "Sugarplum."

"No," Daniel groaned, somewhere between aroused and appalled. "No, no, no."

"Sweetpea?"

"Stop," Daniel pleaded, trying to be pitiful and failing because he was starting to laugh. "Word guy here! Offended! Stopping now!"

Jack pushed on without mercy. "Cumquat? Bonbon?"

"Shut up. Shut up."

"Boysenberry? Rhubarb!"

"Shut up!" Daniel's body was shaking with laughter, and Jack rolled on top of it so he could feel it, feel all the wonderful shaking up and down the length of him.

"Yes, dear," he said, and silenced himself in Daniel's mouth.