"Thank god," Jack
announces with heartfelt sincerity as I straighten myself up and peer
around muzzily. "I thought I was going to have to carry you
across the threshold, there. Frankly, my back is not up to
it. You're not exactly a featherweight."
"Home?" I say
blankly.
"As requested."
"Not my home."
"You had no
objections."
"Correct me if I'm
wrong, but I think I was unconscious at the time."
"Napping," Jack
agrees sagely.
I get out of the
truck before he can offer to help me with my seatbelt or
anything. I have on a neat wrist support and even if Fraiser said
I couldn't drive, I'm far from helpless. Jack is not willing to
concede this point. He may have faked me out over minor details,
like being in love with me for years and years, but I know this
mood. He wants to take care of me.
"Should've got an
airman to drive you home," Jack suggests blandly to me as he locks and
generally fusses over his gleaming, precious baby.
He's waiting
expectantly for some kind of comeback but I can't be
bothered. In fact, I give up at this point. My heart
isn’t in the ritual bickering and Jack knows it. He's watching me
closely as we walk up to his front door. The flower beds are rich
with sun and colour, their scents hanging sweet in the warm air.
There's a drowsy, evening feel to the place.
"Food?"
I shrug, not
caring. I'm bone tired.
"I'm not planning to
jump you the minute we get inside," Jack assures me quietly as he lets
us in.
"No?"
"No. Although,
to be fair, if Carter hadn't come looking for you, I would've jumped
you right there in the shower. Thank God she's trained to knock."
"A pity you didn't
show your appreciation at the time."
"I had you naked,
slippery and interested," Jack retorts crisply, apparently all the
justification he feels is required for being unforgivably rude.
"I'm not," I
hesitate, suddenly chilled and shivering, hugging myself for
warmth, "uninterested now."
Jack cups my cheek
and looks at me intently. "I'll start a fire."
"Sounds good."
"Take a load off,"
he orders, brusque in his consideration.
I almost wish I had
the nerve to walk right around to his bedroom. I don't exactly
want to get it over with. It's not quite like that. I mean,
I do want him. Very much. He knows it too. It's why
he's standing too close. He likes my reaction to him.
I'm deeply attracted but there's too much I don't know about the sex
for me to be able to take it easy, just quietly sitting here waiting
for it to happen. I don't know how far I can let Jack go.
Or should I say I don't know how far I can let go? I want to
linger. I want to kiss and touch. The rest, I don't know.
"Stop your
worrying," Jack sighs, surprising me with a swift, hard kiss before he
efficiently strips me out of my jacket and scoots me along with a
stinging swat to my butt. I take a couple of stumbling steps
before he changes his mind and his arms come around me, snatching me
back to rest against him. "Do you want me to promise nothing will
happen? Not tonight, not if you don't want it."
"I don't know,
Jack. I honestly don't know what I want," I reply gruffly,
surprised and touched. I rest my head back against his shoulder
and he kisses my cheek, my throat.
"There are other
ways I can warm you up," he whispers suggestively, slipping his hand
between my legs, his touch burning through the thin linen of my pants.
I'm embarrassed how
hard I get, how fast, my breath hitching as Jack softly strokes and
squeezes me.
"God," he groans,
"You are so gorgeous."
I can't speak.
Shuddering helplessly, I'm arching into him, rubbing myself blatantly,
insistently against his hand, my legs like water, feeling so good it's
like pain.
"Want more?"
He kisses my cheek and then he's holding me up, touching only my
face. "You could do anything you like with me, Daniel.
Don't doubt that."
I'm moved by his
generosity in saying this when he can see what he's doing to me.
Hard for me to believe him, though, when the mere touch of his hand is
killing.
"Come to bed with
me, Daniel. Please?"
"Why are you
asking? You know the answer." I push away from him and walk
down the hallway, a fine, brave gesture which could lead me
anywhere. I'm cold through and utterly disbelieving as I push
open a door I know and go into a room I've never been before. I
look around at dark wood and rich autumnal colours as Jack closes his
bedroom door behind us. He eases past me, turns, and starts to
take off his shirt.
Okay. I walked
in here. I meant to do this. I can do this. Jack's
busily unbuttoning but his fingers are on automatic pilot. He's
watching me as I undress. I know he saw me naked just a little
while back but this is, I don't know why, but it's different.
I suppose it's
fairly typical of both of us that Jack is poised and proudly naked
while I'm still in my underwear and fixating on my best friend's bed.
Golden light is
slanting over the deep coppery quilt as the sun begins to set. I
glance inquisitively at the window, but Jack makes no move to close the
Venetian blind. I'm slow on the uptake. It takes a while
for it to sink in he's watching the light slanting over me.
I decide I'm as
comfortable as I'm going to be, tug my tight, tight T-shirt down a tad
and smooth it neatly over my even tighter trunks, then walk around to
get in bed, my head held high and my teeth gritted.
"Black is a good
look for you," Jack admits graciously, admiring the little I'm dressed
in although I shouldn't be dressed at all. "Especially the way
it," he makes a cupping gesture in the air, "hugs," he finishes,
satisfied. As I slide into cool cotton, he tilts the blinds and
climbs calmly into the near side of the bed, rolling over at once to
face me. "Hi," he says gravely.
"Hi."
"Allow me." He
carefully takes off my glasses and reaches around to put them down
safely on the night table behind him. Then he settles down,
comfortably propped on his elbow. All the better to watch
me. "Whatcha thinkin'?" he asks, curious, when I don't rush to
fill the silence.
"How beautiful you
are naked." I realise belatedly I'm lying in the classic
mummification pose and pull the quilt cosily up to my neck.
"Comfy?"
There's a tremor of laughter in his voice.
"I'm in bed with my
best friend."
"Stupid question,
huh?"
Jack decides to rub
my stomach, his confident hand heavy and moving quite low. Cotton
jersey is a warm, easy fabric. I've never considered it
specifically erotic, but then I never imagined I would have Jack
stroking it slowly over my skin.
I close my eyes when
he teases the T-shirt up and slides his long, callused fingers under it.
"Beautiful," he
muses, "is not a word I'd apply to myself."
"You don't see what
I do." I half-expect him to say the same is true of me but he
lets it pass. He has other things on his mind.
"Speaking of
seeing," Jack hints delicately, his voice careful. "I hate to
rain on your parade, here, but I already saw everything you've got back
there in the shower."
"Everything?"
"You've got a lot."
"That was an ambush
and you know it, and I'm okay this way."
"You're in bed with
me," Jack acknowledges easily. "That's very okay."
"This," I touch my
good hand to his rhythmically circling one, "is making me ache."
"I'm going to kiss
you now."
"Okay." I turn
into his embrace, opening my eyes wide as our bodies meet and the heat
of his cock pulses, extraordinary, against my hip.
"I can't tell you
how sexy this is, Doctor Jackson," Jack growls, smoothing the fabric
over my ribs. "Knowing I get to unwrap you later."
"Why Doctor Jackson?"
"Your highly
educated ass is a blistering turn-on."
I don't entirely get
this but then he doesn't care. All this talk of sex is just so
much bravado, my heart thudding painfully at Jack's unguarded look of
pure, incredulous joy. I don't think I'm worth that, not even
close, and I can't even tell him how much I've longed for this
moment. Words - fail me. He's smiling, though. He
doesn't make a move to kiss me and I realise he doesn't want to
rush.
"You've been
waiting," I acknowledge quietly.
"A while."
Now I'm the one to
smile and Jack likes this, he likes it very much. I reach across
and rest my hand over his forearm, feeling his muscles flex and slide
beneath my palm as he rubs perfect circles on my skin. My wrist
aches, but no more than the rest of me now. I take his hand and
move it down. Pleasure between my legs.
My good hand is in
his hair and we're lying quiet, touching, arousal beginning to
bite. We stare. Jack's smile is blinding when I'm the one
to move. I kiss him. We kiss. I can hardly believe
this is happening. An arm snakes beneath me to tightly hold my
waist, Jack is nuzzling my lips, rhythmically squeezing my cock.
Jack is gentle. Ecstatic.
"I love you."
I can't think of anything else to say and Jack, well, he doesn't want
or need more than this. There's a look in his eyes, triumphant,
predatory, proud. Mostly what I see, though, is tenderness and
for the first time I have no doubt.
"Going to make love
to you," Jack promises thickly as he takes my mouth. "Going to
turn you inside out."
I'm there.
Cocooned in cool
sheets and firm pillows, in the warmth of early evening, we hold each
other and kiss. Jack slips into my mouth and swallows me
whole. His passion is aching. I have no defence against
this and I think he knows, I think it's understood that he can do what
he likes with me. I'm his but in his touch and soft, murmuring
words, he tells me he's mine.
He strokes into me
and I hurt all over, my legs are like water, pleasure and pain in
exquisite sensation, sweat pours and I shake all over. Jack
doesn't tell me to go easy, Jack is lost. He wants this, he wants
everything he can do to me. He exults in what he can do, in what
he means, just his hand and his mouth.
I can do nothing
when he strips me, my body arched and eloquent. Begging.
Tongues pulse deep, hot, rough fingers slide through my sweat, the
barest touch of his hand and my cock thumps, my heart slams against my
ribs, I clench, I'm blind, I shout out. Pleasure tightens at the
base of my spine, I'm molten, I arch again and erupt. My semen
shoots hot ribbons over my belly and Jack's hand. Jack is all I
see. He's all there is for me.
Panting harshly, I
quake as he touches me, my semen cooling on my slick, shivering skin,
smeared by Jack's probing fingers. He touches every part of me,
fascinated by the ridges of muscle on my belly. Sculpted, he says
thickly. My fingers tremble on his broad shoulders as he strokes
and whispers, the kindest of words. I'm perfect.
Beautiful. Beautiful to him.
This man is my
lover. It's hard to take in. Nothing I am is wrong for
him. Jack loves me. He's talking again but I'm languid,
sated, melting under his knowing hands. I watch his mouth.
Jack kneels and
arranges my legs either side of him, still talking.
Lecturing. I don't care. His fingers are oiled, glistening
as he strokes my cock, my balls, my ass. Sure, knowing slides of
skin, pressure where I need it, where it works. My cock throbs
painfully and I harden again. Jack is smiling and rubbing
circles, perfect, tiny circles that make me quiver, then with predatory
eyes and soothing voice, he's pushing in. Jack is inside of me.
"Okay?" he asks, his
face beaded with sweat and anxiety.
"I-" I don't
know. The pressure of his one oiled finger is all I can take, at
the edges of pain, moreso as he sinks deeper. He doesn't say to
me we don't have to do this. I think he must. I can say no,
but I don't. He's touching me, inside and out. He touches
me like he knows me, and he does. Inside and out. The
pressure deepens, broadens, but I don't know what it means.
Sprawled among the pillows, sweat-soaked and shivering as darkness
falls and the air cools, I watch Jack's strained, red face and I love
him.
He takes my legs
over his shoulders, bewildering me with his shaken intensity.
"Jack?" I ask
uncertainly.
"I love you, Doctor
Jackson. I love you more than you can possibly know."
His careful hands
clamp at my hips, he lifts me a little and then he pushes into
me. A shout crowds my throat and I choke it back with difficulty
as Jack's knees and hips and bruising grip power a stunning, relentless
glide into my body. There's a point I can't take it, where I need
to say no, wait, and then he cries out exultantly and drives deep, his
head thrown back and his lined face thrilled.
My ass rests on his
thighs, my legs sprawl over his shoulders. My skin is pale
compared to his and I can only gape, incredulous, where his golden body
strains into mine. I see where we join, where he fills me, the
slow rock of his hips a deep, fulfilling pain. Jack's back is
arched in triumph, his eyes glitter and burn. He loves me and he
wants me. Ferocious with need, he's tender as he's fucking
me. Talking; tumbling, caressing words, as soft as his hands on
my belly, my hips and thighs.
I'm transfixed at
the slide of heat and skin inside me, my body clenched tight and driven
by his cock, thrust after thrust shocking through me. I feel
everything. I never knew.
"Oh, god," I whisper
brokenly, biting my lip. I can't stand this. I can't feel
this much. I'm drunk with feeling, moaning out loud again and
again and again and again as Jack fucks me deeply. His whole body
is taut like a bow, like he wants to toss back his head and howl
because I'm his, only he has the power to move me, and he knows.
Jack closes his eyes
and says my name, says it like he means it. I mean everything to
him. It's blazing out at me in his eyes, his touch, in the drive
and rhythm of sex, and at the last, with all his barriers down, my Jack
is falling, falling, he's falling for me, and I'm there in his heated,
stumbling words.FINIS
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