"You know what hurt the most?"
Daniel stirred lazily against the tangle of sheets above and below him, relishing the clinging dampness and the unmistakable scent left behind after an hour of sex, even though he knew once the post-fuck lethargy wore off he'd be wrinkling his nose in a fastidiousness that was mostly for the sake of appearances and heading for the shower.
He didn't mind smelling of Jack after all. Even if it was getting to the point where getting a whiff of shower gel was enough to have him hard, remembering, because his brain -- and more importantly his dick -- was starting to connect the two. Sex. Shower. More sex. An endless loop of having fun getting dirty and washing off the evidence.
He could think of worse ways to celebrate being alive again.
"If it was the bit where you bent my leg back at an angle it really wasn't meant to go, then I'd have to say the pain was all mine."
Jack snorted. "Right. You yowled something like 'Yes, Jack, fuck, harder,' right in my goddamn ear --"
"Screamed in pain. First clue."
"You came, Daniel. All over me."
"Escape mechanism. Meant you let go of my ankle. Very cunning tactic."
Jack's hand ran slowly down Daniel's back, skidding and sticking on sweat-sticky skin. "If you can get your mind off the details of how I made you a happy, happy man --"
"Yeah, and don't even think about suggesting we shower together. I'm a used-up wreck. You broke me."
Snickering was too much like hard work so Daniel settled for reaching out blindly, his face buried in the pillow, and patting whatever part of Jack came to hand. It felt like his thigh. "And if I thought that was true, I'd be in deep mourning."
"Fuck. Stop it, will you?"
"Huh?" The bitterness souring Jack's voice had Daniel's head jerking around. "Stop what?" He blinked at his hand, still resting on Jack's leg, his fingers spread and curved possessively, cupping muscle and scars with equal fondness. "Touching you?" he asked doubtfully, peeling his hand away slowly, carefully. "Jack?"
"Do you have any idea what it was like?" Jack rolled off the bed and reached for his robe, washed to softness and threadbare in places. Daniel wore it sometimes, always sliding his arms into it with a corresponding shiver of the forbidden because it was Jack's, worn next to his bare skin, soaking up body heat and spiced with a scent no amount of detergent could erase. Daniel would lie stretched out on the couch drawing the thick cotton belt through his hands, over and over before tying it in a knot when he heard the shower cut off and Jack start to curse when he found it missing.
He'd been fucked in it by way of reprisal more times than he could remember, arms pinned to his sides because Jack, foiled by the knot, had resorted to brute force to tug it down off his shoulders, the soft fabric bunched up in the small of his back and cushioning the sharp, boney press of Jack's fist against his spine as a water-slick cock, fervent skin hot because Jack liked his showers scalding, nudged and slid along the crease of his ass while Daniel's shaking, eager fingers fumbled and clawed at the knot he'd created because Jack wouldn't fuck him until he he'd untied it.
Although Jack had been a little less adamant about that when he'd stormed out of the bathroom dripping and steaming the week before and found Daniel jerking off, one leg dangling off the edge of the couch, languidly, decadently spread out for Jack to stare at, advance on, and reduce to a quivering whimper of his former self with a mouth that hissed furious, increasingly incoherent threats inbetween licking and sucking and swallowing hard.
And now Jack was wrapping himself in it with swift, jerky tugs until he was huddled inside it, hiding and hidden.
Leaving Daniel naked, inside and out.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You were dead."
It was an accusation, vehement and raw, and Daniel flinched. "Ascended. Not quite the same --"
"You were gone."
No mercy in voice or face, but Jack's hands were rammed deep into the pockets of the robe and that meant that they were shaking.
"I had no choice. Remember?" Daniel did his best to keep the fatal patience shoved far, far back. They'd had this discussion so many, too many times.
"Yeah. Except you did. You just wanted to go exploring. Like you always do. Wanted it more than staying here."
With me echoed dully in the silence.
Daniel cleared his throat. "I came back," he offered.
"I'm not planning on doing it again."
"Dying? Daniel, it's your fucking hobby."
Daniel opened his mouth and closed it. "I really don't like doing it that much," he said finally.
He crawled across the bed, wet patch, cookie crumbs, beer spill, a jumbled record of the past hour, and knelt on the edge. Jack had tied the knot with angry strength but he stood in silence as Daniel's nails bit into it and worked it loose, ouching as his fingernail bent back, smiling as it yielded.
And when Daniel pushed his way inside the folds of the robe and slid his arms around Jack, palms flat on his back, face buried against his shoulder, it felt big enough for both of them.
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