"Aaarrrggghhhh! What the fuck?"
Daniel blinked, momentarily disorientated by the sudden transition from passionate to profane. Bemused, he watched Jack hopping from foot to foot by the side of the bed. He was getting used to Jack's... enthusiasm, getting more than fond of it actually, but really... he couldn't help feeling this was above and beyond the call.
"Ah, Jack? Something I did? Said? What?"
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jesus H. Christ on a bike!"
O-kaaay, that wasn't tremendously enlightening as statements went. He peered short-sightedly at Jack's antics, propping himself up on one elbow. Nope, he wasn't mistaken. Jack really was hopping around, cradling his basket: usually a sight to get Daniel's heart beating that little bit faster - although strictly speaking, not the hopping part: cradling and basket, on the other hand, both good. But on this occasion --
"Jack! What's the matter with you? I mean, I know I'm good, but --"
"Don't fucking push it, Daniel, " Jack snarled. "What have you done to me? Fine, okay, I know what you've done to me here, you've lit a fire in my groin that doesn't seem likely to go out any time soon --"
"And this is a bad thing how?" Daniel was genuinely interested and intrigued. Generally, this was exactly the effect he was after. Usually achieved it too, but not usually with quite such spectacularly athletic results.
"Trust me," Jack said through thinned lips, "This is probably the worst ever thing in the whole sorry history of bad things. Jesus! I just want to know how you've done it. Fuck a duck! I'm burning up here!"
Daniel's brow furrowed. Daniel was getting the distinct impression that this was quite possibly, all things considered, reviewing all the evidence, less than a good thing. The cussing was the main clue.
"What? You mean you're in pain?"
"Damn straight I'm in pain! Fucking hell! I'm probably never going to be the same again!" Jack howled.
"All I did was touch you," Daniel protested. He felt a faint sense of grievance. "You've never complained before. Usually rather the reverse, actually. On a couple of occasions, you've even --"
"Christ almighty Daniel, that is so not the issue here," Jack said through gritted teeth. "I'm not bothered about what we've done or not done on previous occasions, just about what you've done on this one."
Daniel was non-plussed. "I did nothing different from usual. A long, slow pull, with a slight twist at the end and a quick rub with my thumb over your head. Just the way you like it. Tell me how that varies one iota from what you normally like?" he demanded.
"No, it doesn't vary. But normally it doesn't come with a built-in burn - and before you ask, not in a good way. So not in a good way." Jack was hunched over, nursing his balls and dick protectively. "Slow burn I can live with, but this? This is fucking excruciating! This burn went from zero to ten in under sixty seconds!"
Daniel noted interestedly that Jack's eyes were watering. It lent credibility to his otherwise probably over-exaggerated claims, which latter, to be frank, Daniel had become largely inured to over the years. Short form: maybe there was something wrong here.
"Try some cold water on it." It was the best suggestion Daniel could come up with after a rapid mental review of available remedies. Jack's response was a withering look.
"Oh yeah, that works. First I'm burning up, then I'm gonna further abuse my equipment with a cold water treatment. Yeah, right. Roughly when hell freezes over. You suddenly got something against my dick or something? Because you could just come right out and say it if you have. Gimme a serious suggestion, for crying out loud!"
Daniel couldn't help but feel a tad miffed. "Hey! I'm not a medical doctor! I'm only field trained. First Aid only. It seemed like a reasonable suggestion to me!" He paused and thought some, brow wrinkled. Inspiration struck. "There's yoghurt in the fridge, why don't you try some of that?" Jack scowled at him and Daniel added defensively, "Lateral thinking. It has its uses. Dairy products work with curry; they work with sunburn; who's to say they won't work with this -- whatever it is? Or would you rather I phoned Janet?"
Jack merely glared at him, red in the face, apparently beyond speech. Daniel backtracked hastily, the hand that had been reaching for his cell frozen in place for a moment before it dropped back to the bed. "Okay, phoning Janet, not a good idea."
Daniel nodded vigorously. "I think. Actually, I'm pretty certain. Go for the yoghurt. It can't do any harm. It's organic. It'll be soothing."
Another withering look. "It fucking better be. And I want it on record that I'm only trying this because I'm desperate here, not because I've got any great faith in your diagnostic abilities."
With one last, excoriating glance, Jack limped off to the kitchen, making remarkable speed despite the fact that he was still bent nearly double. Daniel worked hard to keep his face straight: he was only guessing here, but he figured laughter was probably not the best medicine in the circumstances.
The sound effects that shortly came floating along the hall from the kitchen were arresting, to say the least. A series of orgasmic groans, blissed out sighs and a heartfelt "Oh, yeah!" seemed to signify that Daniel had at least gotten the yoghurt angle right. If he was any judge, it seemed to be having a beneficial effect.
In due course, he heard the fridge door open and shut again and the sound of Jack padding back along the hall to the bathroom.
"Jack? You okay now? Did it work?" he called.
Jack's muffled voice sounded from the bathroom as he turned on the faucet. "Yeah, it worked, thank god."
"Good. Score one for lateral thinking," Daniel called back as he listened to the faucet being turned off and the bathroom cabinet opening and shutting. Silence fell and seemed to persist for a remarkably long time, although Daniel wasn't really paying much attention: he lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head, cradling his balls and then moving his hand up to take a couple of long, slow pulls at his dick. Oh yeah, that felt good, that warm tingle of feeling in his groin, felt even better as it upgraded to pleasant heat. Oh yeah, that felt really, really --
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! His dick wasn't just tingling, it was on fire and getting hotter, and it fucking hurt! With a presence of mind that surprised the hell out of him in the circumstances, Daniel kicked at the bed sheets, cursing them soundly when they got wrapped round his legs and delayed his progress.
Finally untangled, and without deviating to right or left, Daniel made his run for the fridge and wrenched the door open. Hell's teeth, what had that bastard done with the leftover yoghurt? He'd better not have used it all... He rummaged desperately in the depths - and came up empty. It wasn't damn well there.
"Shit!" He slammed the fridge door and pounded his fist against it in frustration.
"Looking for something, Hot Rod?"
Daniel spun round. Jack was lounging against the wall behind the kitchen door, an evil grin on his face and the tub of yoghurt in his hand.
"Gimme!" Daniel lunged forward, grabbed the tub without ceremony and immediately found out just how difficult it was to wrench the lid off a tub of yoghurt with only one available hand. In his distressed state, it took him a moment or two to work out that he was going to have to release his instinctively protective hold on the family jewels to manage it. Meanwhile, the complete shit that he'd chosen to share his life and his bed with was no help at all - he was currently sliding down the wall, laughing hysterically.
Daniel shot Jack a venomous look through brimming eyes as he struggled with the yoghurt tub. "Don't overwhelm me with sympathy here. You know how I hate people making a fuss."
Jack stopped laughing for a moment to consider this, head cocked to one side. "Okay," he said simply. And started to laugh again as Daniel tipped the finally lidless tub to one side and plunged his dick into the cooling depths, giving vent to loud moans of appreciation as the fluid worked its sympathetic magic.
As the pain started to subside, one burning question remained in Daniel's mind. "What the hell's going on here? Any ideas?"
"Why you've suddenly become such hot stuff? I worked it out. Score one for linear thinking," Jack said with a smirk. "Sometimes it has its uses. I found this in the bathroom cabinet."
'This' was a small tube, neatly rolled half way up from the bottom, dangling from his finger and thumb as he waved it through the air. Bengay. Unscented.
"It's not mine, so it has to be yours. I'm thinking you probably put some on that stiff shoulder of yours earlier on, am I right? There must have been some on your hands still when you came to bed."
"No shit, Sherlock," Daniel snarled, as he swiped at the itching tear tracks on his face with the back of his hand. "And you didn't think to warn me? Once you'd figured it all out?"
"I'd only just worked it out when you started your Cannonball Run down the hall," Jack said reasonably. Which would have had more force if he hadn't then smirked and added, "Besides, some experiences are just made to be shared. But Daniel? A word of advice? Get the formulation with that familiar locker room fragrance next time - they make it smell for a reason, y'know."
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