Fruits of Passion

Jack held the peach in his hand, feeling its curve fit his palm. The pale gold skin was furred, fuzzed over. His thumb found the way it wanted to be stroked, the short down prickling a coaxing promise to his fingers; deeper, dig deeper, delve down… sweetness and juice, dripping and wet, waiting…

"What are you doing?" Daniel, blue eyes blinking, lips closing on a frowning smile, asking a question Jack was sure Daniel knew the answer to…

"Thinking of something."

He wouldn't say 'someone'. Not here, on base.

Daniel got it anyway, and his smile turned secret, dark. He took the fruit, turning it and replacing it in Jack's hand, his eyes flickering down and up, in a nudging, knowing nod.

Gold, apricot, yellow… all hidden now, flush against his palm. Jack stared at a deep rose red, ripe and rich, rubbed silky-smooth, indented darkly where a stem had once protruded.

"I like it better like that," Daniel said, his tone calm, considering, cool.

Jack nodded. Too many breadcrumbs dropped on the trail before this for him to be at all surprised.

He dropped the peach into his pocket.

Ate it later, licking juice, hot and sticky, off bruised-ripe skin, feeding Daniel's parted, panting, smiling lips tiny, bitten-off chunks and stealing them back with a kiss.

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