Daniel wakes early and watches a ray of sunlight inch across the exposed wing of Jack's shoulder blade, painting gold on tan. When he's bored of just looking, his body yearning to break through the shell of sleep Jack's encased in, he wakes Jack with his own name, spoken carefully, pitched just so.
Jack gives a discontented grumble and pushes his face back into his pillow.
"Roll over," Daniel commands, in a throaty whisper. "Jack -- roll over."
Jack mutters something that combines 'why' with 'fuck' and sounds dangerously close to a threat, and clutches his pillow closer.
Daniel makes an indignant sound Jack ignores, and then puts his mouth close to Jack's ear. "I want to blow you. Roll over, dammit."
Jack sighs but he's already turning to his back in an indolent sprawl of arms and, more importantly, legs. His eyes are still closed but there's the suggestion of a smile on his face.
Daniel kneels between Jack's legs and inhales the heady, concentrated smell of sleep-warmed skin. He nuzzles his nose into the soft roll and jiggle of Jack's balls, just to make sure Jack doesn't go back to sleep. Jack squirms and his cock fills and rises, waiting for a touch to bring it to full hardness.
He gets it. Daniel doesn't want to tease him. Not today. He knows this body, knows what Jack likes. He wraps his hand around the base of Jack's cock and slides his tongue up, down, around, lavish licks, moaning at the taste as if it's a caress. He makes the rounded, slicked wet head kiss him, pushes it against his closed, damp lips, his cheeks, his throat, rubs his face over it until it's dry and then licks it wet again.
Jack's awake now, his eyes bright, intent. Daniel smiles up at him and then fills his mouth with Jack's cock, crams it in, chokes himself with it, greedy, demanding, grateful.
"Ah, God, Danny, God --" Jack's hips rise and fall in a rhythm Daniel's learned over the years, and he matches it until Jack comes in warm and heavy spurts, a heartbeat after the final, warning hardening of his cock.
Daniel swallows, licks Jack gently in a thank you, and pulls off him. He rests his head in the hollow of Jack's hip and keeps swallowing, tasting spunk and spit.
"Nice," Jack says after a while, his voice a rasp, sleep-clogged still. His fingers comb through Daniel's hair with a clumsy affection. "Mind telling me what I did to deserve it? It's not my birthday, is it?"
"No," Daniel tells him. "It's mine. And before you ask, it was just what I've always wanted and it fits perfectly."
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