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This is a double part; 800 words and it's over, complete, finito.
On to fic 401...
Previous parts are here
If you want to read the whole thing in one go, it's here and it's a neat and tidy 4,000 words exactly, not counting title.
Meant to be, clearly.
Can't Take the Heat
That doesn't do much for me usually, and I let him know it by holding still and staying quiet. He sighs, shoves his thumb and finger into my mouth for me to give them a startled swipe, and does it again.
It shouldn't make any difference at all, but it does. The one he isn't hurting throbs as if he is, and my cock gets a jolt that has me seeing stars as I squeeze my eyes closed. I make a sound that hurts my throat and Daniel's hands sweep down my body and clamp onto my hips.
"Finally," he snaps out and I lose it, grinding my ass against him, feeling the prickle of hair and the soft tightness of his balls.
"Fuck me." I've never said that as an order before.
"Oh, I plan to, Jack."
He grabs at my hand and guides it down to my cock. His stays there long enough to make me hope it won't go away, his thumb swirling rough circles across the sticky-slick mess at the tip, but when I roll my head and moan, his hand smacks against my hip and he settles into fast and furious and hard.
He's not that good at it, but it's Daniel and he's a fast learner. I'm not giving up on him yet.
I feel him start to come and take my hand off myself. I'm not jerking off with him here. He can finish me with his hand, at least, and if he won't do that, he can damn well watch when I come and pay me some attention. I fuck air, caught up in his climax, feeling his fist hammer against me as he loses it. The muscles in his thighs are rigid, unyielding, and he says my name as he collapses against my back, sweaty and shaking.
I get him out of me a moment later and turn, grabbing a piece of kitchen roll and getting that fucking condom off him while he's still glazed-eyed and swaying.
Then I say, "Daniel," and look down and he blinks. I get as far as, "Oh, for --" and he falls to his knees and I come about ten seconds later, my hands in his hair, staring at his mouth and trying to remember the shape it makes with my cock in it.
He chokes, swallows, and I help him up and don't let go of his hand.
He's a mess, my shirt half off his shoulders, his hair sticking up, his face hot and his mouth swollen where he's bitten it, don't know when or why.
"You kept your glasses on."
He shrugs. "I wanted to see you."
I nod, feeling tired enough that it makes sense. I let go of him and go to the fridge and get out a nice, safe bottle of water and toss it to him. He catches it neatly and smiles, unscrewing the top and taking a small sip and then a gulp.
I point towards my bedroom.
"I'm going to lie down."
"Room for two?"
"They make them that way," I tell him. "Sure; why not. You can tell me I'm a liar some more."
I walk away without looking back and fall down on my unmade bed, smothering a scream with the pillow as abused muscles protest. Half an hour and he's fucking worn me out. I roll to my back and stare at him as he walks over, tipping the bottle up to drink, his throat working as he swallows.
There's an inch of cool water left in the bottle when he turns it upside down and it splashes over my chest and gets lost in the grey hairs.
I give him a yelp and a shiver and then raise an eyebrow. "You did that on purpose."
"Obviously." He lies down beside me, after finally taking off his glasses and losing my shirt. He drags his finger over my wet skin and stares at it thoughtfully. "Did I hurt you?"
"Physically? Yes. Don't ever do that again. I mean it."
"I'm sorry."
He sounds a little startled, as if he was expecting a gold star. Fuck that. My asshole was -- it was there, I could feel it, and it was throbbing and swollen and --
"I'll live." I can't stop myself. "Who the hell have you been fucking to have picked up bad habits like that?"
He chews on his lip and looks stubborn.
"Fine. You asked; I told you. End of fucking story."
"And you really didn't do it deliberately?"
"Really didn't."
"I'm --"
"You said that already." I yawn. "You know I said I wanted to talk after we fucked?"
"You've changed your mind."
"Kinda."
He's there when I wake up.
We still don't talk.
Maybe later.
No rush.
On to fic 401...
Previous parts are here
If you want to read the whole thing in one go, it's here and it's a neat and tidy 4,000 words exactly, not counting title.
Meant to be, clearly.
Can't Take the Heat
That doesn't do much for me usually, and I let him know it by holding still and staying quiet. He sighs, shoves his thumb and finger into my mouth for me to give them a startled swipe, and does it again.
It shouldn't make any difference at all, but it does. The one he isn't hurting throbs as if he is, and my cock gets a jolt that has me seeing stars as I squeeze my eyes closed. I make a sound that hurts my throat and Daniel's hands sweep down my body and clamp onto my hips.
"Finally," he snaps out and I lose it, grinding my ass against him, feeling the prickle of hair and the soft tightness of his balls.
"Fuck me." I've never said that as an order before.
"Oh, I plan to, Jack."
He grabs at my hand and guides it down to my cock. His stays there long enough to make me hope it won't go away, his thumb swirling rough circles across the sticky-slick mess at the tip, but when I roll my head and moan, his hand smacks against my hip and he settles into fast and furious and hard.
He's not that good at it, but it's Daniel and he's a fast learner. I'm not giving up on him yet.
I feel him start to come and take my hand off myself. I'm not jerking off with him here. He can finish me with his hand, at least, and if he won't do that, he can damn well watch when I come and pay me some attention. I fuck air, caught up in his climax, feeling his fist hammer against me as he loses it. The muscles in his thighs are rigid, unyielding, and he says my name as he collapses against my back, sweaty and shaking.
I get him out of me a moment later and turn, grabbing a piece of kitchen roll and getting that fucking condom off him while he's still glazed-eyed and swaying.
Then I say, "Daniel," and look down and he blinks. I get as far as, "Oh, for --" and he falls to his knees and I come about ten seconds later, my hands in his hair, staring at his mouth and trying to remember the shape it makes with my cock in it.
He chokes, swallows, and I help him up and don't let go of his hand.
He's a mess, my shirt half off his shoulders, his hair sticking up, his face hot and his mouth swollen where he's bitten it, don't know when or why.
"You kept your glasses on."
He shrugs. "I wanted to see you."
I nod, feeling tired enough that it makes sense. I let go of him and go to the fridge and get out a nice, safe bottle of water and toss it to him. He catches it neatly and smiles, unscrewing the top and taking a small sip and then a gulp.
I point towards my bedroom.
"I'm going to lie down."
"Room for two?"
"They make them that way," I tell him. "Sure; why not. You can tell me I'm a liar some more."
I walk away without looking back and fall down on my unmade bed, smothering a scream with the pillow as abused muscles protest. Half an hour and he's fucking worn me out. I roll to my back and stare at him as he walks over, tipping the bottle up to drink, his throat working as he swallows.
There's an inch of cool water left in the bottle when he turns it upside down and it splashes over my chest and gets lost in the grey hairs.
I give him a yelp and a shiver and then raise an eyebrow. "You did that on purpose."
"Obviously." He lies down beside me, after finally taking off his glasses and losing my shirt. He drags his finger over my wet skin and stares at it thoughtfully. "Did I hurt you?"
"Physically? Yes. Don't ever do that again. I mean it."
"I'm sorry."
He sounds a little startled, as if he was expecting a gold star. Fuck that. My asshole was -- it was there, I could feel it, and it was throbbing and swollen and --
"I'll live." I can't stop myself. "Who the hell have you been fucking to have picked up bad habits like that?"
He chews on his lip and looks stubborn.
"Fine. You asked; I told you. End of fucking story."
"And you really didn't do it deliberately?"
"Really didn't."
"I'm --"
"You said that already." I yawn. "You know I said I wanted to talk after we fucked?"
"You've changed your mind."
"Kinda."
He's there when I wake up.
We still don't talk.
Maybe later.
No rush.
Tags:
- fic,
- jack/daniel,
- sg-1,
- slash