"I want you."
My tone is deliberately conversational, light, social almost. I'm striving to keep it that way. Jack does an exaggerated double take playing for time, I suppose.
"What did you just say?"
"I want you." I start to harden with the words. Adrenaline, I expect, as much as testosterone. I don't know whether I want him to notice or not. I think he does, but as usual, he briefly plays dumb. Buying more time.
"'Want', as in...?"
"Yes. Want, 'as in'."
He almost starts to laugh, but checks himself in time and sobers up abruptly when he darts a sharp glance at my face.
I look him square in the eye. Let him see that I mean it.
"I'm serious. I want you."
"Jesus, Daniel, you need to get out more if you've suddenly started wanting my saggy old ass."
Displacement activity: classic Jack. The mouth's wisecracking while the brain goes into hyperdrive. I just stand and wait patiently, watching him process, letting him get used to the idea. For a moment he chews on his bottom lip (my job, damn it!), eyes unfocussed, running through the permutations. Then he draws in a breath as his attention sharpens again.
I shrug, hoping I come off as nonchalant: inside I'm strung tight as a piano wire.
"Why do you think?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking."
"Why does anybody want anybody? I'm attracted to you. I could even be in love with you. I'm not sure." (Liar!) "I just know that I want you."
He's moved a couple of paces closer to me: I don't think he actually realises that he has. He's within touching distance now. So close that I can feel the heat radiating from him, and it seems to me that it's coming off him in waves, now hot, now cooler, now hot again. He's frowning a little, brows slightly knotted, like a deaf man straining to hear.
I watch him steadily: not pushing, not pleading, just waiting.
He says nothing but when he reaches his decision, I know. How could I not? I read it in the way his shoulders stiffen and then relax, the way his body indefinably opens to me. Permission granted.
This is so strange that I almost freak out, which is odd: I suspected he might, not me. But I can do this; I've done it a hundred times in my imagination. I've wanted to do this for longer than I can recall right now, wanted to reach out and cup the back of his neck, pull his head towards mine, fit my lips to his.
So I do.
And it's good, if a little tentative. Encouragingly good. He tastes just fine. I suck and nibble on his bottom lip and suddenly his mouth opens so that I can slide my tongue in. And now we're kissing in earnest, fucking each other's mouths with our tongues, and it's not just good, it's way better than good.
The world is shrinking now: just me and Jack, Jack and me, his hands on my skin, my hands on his. He's filling my senses and he's getting turned on, I can smell him and feel him getting so turned on
I want him so bad my skin is crawling, little shivers running up and down, and the small of my back goes tight, like I need a good stretch. I break off and he looks at me quizzically.
I manage a small smile as I come back to myself.
"No. It's just I never thought I would get this. I just want it to last, you know?"
He smiles at that, a genuine, warm, easy smile, and runs his knuckles up the side of my face. He's really okay with this and the realisation spikes into increased desire, low and heavy in the pit of my stomach.
"Yeah. We can manage that. Slow is good. But let's get more comfortable, huh?" He jerks his head towards the bedroom and I feel the heat flare again.
Now that we're here, I take my time about unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders as he sinks back onto the bed, memorising the planes of his body with my hands and my mouth, the textures of him and the taste of him, finding out what turns him on even further while he runs his hands over my back and through my hair. Now it's his turn to break off, just as I reach his belt, long before I've felt or tasted my fill, as he gently pulls me up by my shoulders with a shaky laugh.
"Whoa, time out! Too much of that and I'm going to cream my pants, and that would be a criminal waste. My turn now."
He's as good as his word, slow and careful, long fingers splayed over my flesh as he licks and suckles each new bit of skin revealed, smiling against my chest as he feels me respond.
I run my hands over his back and down to his ass, kneading and stroking through his jeans, making him break off for a moment. One look at my face and he's up on his knees, fumbling with his buckle, his jeans button and zipper. I get the message and start to dispose of mine as well, but I can't take my eyes off his hands and it slows me up. I'm only as far as the zipper when he jerks his jeans and boxers down over his hips and his erection springs free, heavy and thick, stabbing the air between us.
I nearly come on the spot. Only a desperate grab and a sharp squeeze down the front of my jeans saves me. I look up into his face and my embryonic apology dies in my throat. He looks stunned. Gasping like a fish, red-faced and glittery-eyed. Typically, he tries for the joke.
"Guess you weren't kidding, huh? I really do turn you on."
Oddly enough, this steadies me up like nothing else could, and I manage to shuck my clothes with something approaching efficiency. I may be close to the edge, but I'm not peering over it any more. He swallows audibly as I say, "Oh yeah. You do. You really, really do."
He growls low in his chest as I lean in towards him, shudders as I run one exploratory finger all the way from his balls to the head of his dick, and I swear to God he whimpers as I lean in further and swipe at his dick with my tongue. Some sound like that, anyway not a sound I've ever heard him make before. And that's encouraging too. So I let myself be encouraged and take his length into my mouth while my hands stray round his balls and his asshole, feeling his hips jerk and his thighs tremble, loving the weighty feel of his balls as I palm them and squeeze them gently, loving the small sounds he makes as I finger him thoroughly. Loving the fact that I can finally do this for Jack.
"Daniel Jesus Daniel!"
He's holding me still, fingers digging into my shoulders, forcing me to stop. For a moment I'm afraid that he's backing out, even at this late stage, until I look up at his face again.
"What would you like?" His voice is rough in his throat. He doesn't sound like Jack at all. "I want it to be good for you as well as me, so tell me. What do you want?"
I want it all.
"Fuck me, Jack. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to come inside me."
He hisses his satisfaction at that, and spoons up behind me as I cant my leg up. It hurts a little, taking him completely inside me with nothing more than my spit to help things along it's a long time since I've done this but he's patient and gentle as he purposefully inches his way inside me. And when he's finally all the way in, when I feel his balls heavy and soft against my ass, it feels marvellous. And the wonder of it is, he feels it too, he's crooning in my ear as he stirs his dick round inside me, "Holy shit. Aah, Danny, you feel so good. So hot, so slick, so tight."
He reaches round to pump my cock, alternating whispered encouragement with warm, wet licks and bites at my neck and shoulders as I start to move against him: "Yeah, Danny, enjoy Aah, Christ, you are fucking amazing come for me, Dannyboy, I want you to come for me come on, give it up before I shoot my load and can't do it for you "
I can feel the pressure building, building and it feels so good, so right, that I never want it to stop. But at the same time I want it harder, faster, deeper and I reach round behind me to pull him even closer, closer still, panting encouragement right back to him, kneading his buttocks with fingers desperate to feel even more of him.
I'm coming now, coming hard, long luxurious pulses that feel like they're never going to end, coming over Jack's rough, gentle hand, and coming has never felt so good I swear, never ever before. Jack bites into my shoulder as he clamps his sticky hand on my belly, smearing my come over me as he struggles to hold me tighter, closer so he can thrust with increasing force, jerking me up the bed as he grunts with effort.
He makes a strange sound as he comes, part whisper, part sigh, part groan. I believe I groan too as I feel the welcome heat surging up inside me and the weight and the warmth of him as he collapses over my back and our sweat glues us together. Impossible to tell for sure though, with sleep hovering so close. And this is more than good too, this sleepy, tender afterglow, as we gasp together and spoon up together and help each other down from the rush.
When I wake up, it takes me a moment or two to orientate myself, but I'm aware enough to grope across the bed, reaching for Jack, whispering his name
Nothing. His side of the bed's cold and the realisation is a shock: it's what finally jerks me fully awake.
I'm alone. Alone with sweat cooling on my forehead and a sticky puddle of semen congealing on my belly, alone in my bed that reeks of sex. Alone and burning with embarrassment, all mixed up with guilt and shame and yes, a touch of fear. Suppose it doesn't matter though, there's nobody here to see it.
It's two o'clock in the morning, I'm alone in my bed and I've just had another wet dream about my best friend.
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