Father Figure

by Jane Davitt

Daniel freezes at the worst moment possible, going rigid, unmoving, and Jack panics. Too much? Too hard? Daniel's begged for this for weeks (which in Daniel's case means he's argued his position with a flood of words and at least three citations of articles Jack's never going to read, not ever, because what kind of freak writes about someone wanting to get their ass spanked without ever sounding even a little bit turned on?) but maybe Jack should have kept saying 'no fucking way'?

His hand hovers, irresolute, over the blotched red pattern he's made on Daniel's pale skin and he hates himself for being hard, for the plans he's got -- had -- for fucking Daniel afterward, sinking slowly, so fucking slowly inside Daniel's mouth, that's been babbling out oh and yes and Jack! and then his ass, splitting those red cheeks wide and oh, he can make Daniel whimper with more than his hand, yes, he can...

"Why did you stop?" Daniel says through clenched teeth, his body rigid. "Why did you -- oh, God, I'm coming -- shit, one more, please, one --"

Jack blinks, applies a single hard, smart slap and feels Daniel shudder, crying out, coming for him, just as Jack had wanted him to.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, stroking the hot, rough skin tenderly as Daniel pants and shivers, feverish, exultant, forgiving. "That's it."

Baby? Did he just -- Fuck, Daniel's gonna rip him a new one for that --

Daniel turns abruptly and curls close, his arms tight around Jack's body, holding on, his face smoothed out, all tension gone, content.

He strokes the sweat-damp hair and murmurs it again. Daniel's lips part on a sigh and Jack pushes his fingers inside that wet heat and feels his cock jerk, jealous, impatient, as Daniel licks and sucks, fervent and eager.

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