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Well, okay, then.
From 'Leaving Time' Jack/Daniel. The up against the wall bit.
"Morning, Jack."
He looks up to see Daniel huddled into a dark blue robe, bare legs sticking out, leaning against the wall as if it's a mattress.
"Daniel."
He's smiling. Can't help it. Daniel's hair's ruffled, his chin's shaded with stubble, and his eyes are heavy, but he's got a knowing, mischievous smile on his face, and he's doing nothing to hide the fact that he's hard under a layer of towelling.
Jack could stand up, walk over, and have Daniel's cock warm in his hand a moment later. He flexes his fingers, almost feeling the quiver and jerk of solid flesh between them.
God, he could. Could do anything he's dreamed of doing, and he's thought up plenty, and get nothing from Daniel that sounds remotely like a protest.
"What would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you against that wall?" Jack asks, taking advantage of the surreal quality of the moment, with the room lit by the pale light of early morning and the pool of lamplight beside him, day meeting night.
Daniel turns his head slowly, as languidly as he'd rolled it against the pillow as Jack mouthed and bit gently down his body. He shrugs, the movement enough to work the loosely tied belt looser, so that his robe falls open across his chest and below his waist.
Oh, yeah. Hard. His cock's at the point where it needs a touch or two to coax it thicker, longer, but it's there on display and Jack's admiring it just like Daniel wants him to.
Daniel pats the wall with his hand as if testing it for suitability, long fingers spreading wide. He brings up his other hand and turns to fully face the wall, sliding his hands up and out until they're level with his head. His robe's dropped down enough to bare his shoulders and the upper curves of his back and it's cutting into his arms now. Jack can see the furrow the robe's carving across muscled skin. The belt's hanging down, swaying as Daniel moves his feet wider and then takes a deliberate step back, arching his spine so the flat, hidden curve of his ass becomes a well-defined shape beneath the robe.
Daniel leans forward and rests his forehead against the wall, waiting.
"This," he murmurs, just in case Jack hasn't got the message.
From 'Leaving Time' Jack/Daniel. The up against the wall bit.
"Morning, Jack."
He looks up to see Daniel huddled into a dark blue robe, bare legs sticking out, leaning against the wall as if it's a mattress.
"Daniel."
He's smiling. Can't help it. Daniel's hair's ruffled, his chin's shaded with stubble, and his eyes are heavy, but he's got a knowing, mischievous smile on his face, and he's doing nothing to hide the fact that he's hard under a layer of towelling.
Jack could stand up, walk over, and have Daniel's cock warm in his hand a moment later. He flexes his fingers, almost feeling the quiver and jerk of solid flesh between them.
God, he could. Could do anything he's dreamed of doing, and he's thought up plenty, and get nothing from Daniel that sounds remotely like a protest.
"What would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you against that wall?" Jack asks, taking advantage of the surreal quality of the moment, with the room lit by the pale light of early morning and the pool of lamplight beside him, day meeting night.
Daniel turns his head slowly, as languidly as he'd rolled it against the pillow as Jack mouthed and bit gently down his body. He shrugs, the movement enough to work the loosely tied belt looser, so that his robe falls open across his chest and below his waist.
Oh, yeah. Hard. His cock's at the point where it needs a touch or two to coax it thicker, longer, but it's there on display and Jack's admiring it just like Daniel wants him to.
Daniel pats the wall with his hand as if testing it for suitability, long fingers spreading wide. He brings up his other hand and turns to fully face the wall, sliding his hands up and out until they're level with his head. His robe's dropped down enough to bare his shoulders and the upper curves of his back and it's cutting into his arms now. Jack can see the furrow the robe's carving across muscled skin. The belt's hanging down, swaying as Daniel moves his feet wider and then takes a deliberate step back, arching his spine so the flat, hidden curve of his ass becomes a well-defined shape beneath the robe.
Daniel leans forward and rests his forehead against the wall, waiting.
"This," he murmurs, just in case Jack hasn't got the message.