Pressure Release Valve, J/D, NC-17

[sid]

This story is the companion piece to The Bitter with the Sweet, which was Daniel's POV, and an angsty R.

Jack's POV is a dark NC-17 and about 2000 words long.

PRESSURE RELEASE VALVE

Jack pulled up next to his house and turned off the engine. He flexed his hands as he stared first at Daniel's car, parked in front of him, and then at his front door. He hunched up his shoulders and twisted his neck from side to side, trying to ease the tension that had built up inside him. A few deep breaths, and, realizing that he was as relaxed as he was going to get, he climbed out of his truck and headed into the house.

Daniel had been cooking. Jack smelled something in the oven. He tossed his keys at the kitchen counter and watched with irritation as they bounced off the edge and fell to the floor. Instead of picking them up, he stood and stared at them, feeling his anger rising. He felt like shouting, screaming. If he were alone, he could just do it. If Daniel weren't here...

No. That was no way to be thinking. With jerky motions, he bent, picked up his keys, and put them on the counter. He crossed over to the refrigerator to get out a beer, but closed the door without taking one. Beer was not going to cut it. He got down a glass and took the bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard. As he poured, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. "Daniel," he said without turning, as he raised the glass to his lips and took a healthy swallow.

"Hey," Daniel replied. Jack heard the oven door open and shut. "Chicken Parmigiana in about twenty minutes?”

“Not hungry.” Jack glanced at his lover. “Sorry.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “No problem.” He looked at the glass in Jack’s hand, and was obviously choosing his next words. Jack moved impatiently. “You okay?”

Well, now, how to put this, Daniel? Hell, no? “Some asshole cut me off in traffic,” Jack said. Which was true enough. Daniel frowned and blinked. “Twice.” Which was also true. Jack drained his glass and turned to pour another. Behind him, he heard a beep. The oven had been turned off. Oh, here it comes.

“What’s really going on, Jack?”

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Jack snapped. He briefly shut his eyes, letting his head sag forward. “Sorry.” He turned and grimaced at his partner apologetically. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

Daniel smiled, but his eyes showed his worry. “That’s good to know.”

“Stuff at work,” Jack said brusquely. “I really shouldn’t talk about it anyway, and I don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Daniel said.

Why are you always so fucking understanding? “Look, I’m not going to be much in the way of company,” Jack said, irritated with himself for letting Daniel’s concern get under his skin. “I’m just going to throw myself down in front of the TV and not even move...”

“You want to be alone,” Daniel said, nodding slowly. “I could go home? I mean, it’s not a problem.”

I thought this was your home. This is your home. “Don’t leave,” Jack said, feeling momentary panic.

“It’s really not a problem, Jack, honestly.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Jack insisted sharply. “Do we really need to argue about this?”

“No,” Daniel said softly, carefully. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, I’m just...”

“Trying to help. I know.” Jack sighed deeply. “You can’t.”

“Not by leaving,” Daniel agreed. “And not by listening, since you’re not talking. No, don’t look at me like that! That wasn’t a hint.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood to listen to you talk, so forget about any sparkling words of wisdom that you’re just itching to share.” I don’t have a good side tonight, Daniel, and it wouldn’t take much at all to get you on my bad side. So, please, shut up.

“What are you feeling, Jack?” He’s kidding right? So help me, Daniel. “Physically, I mean.”

Physically. Physically? Jack put down his glass and moved closer. “Ready to pop, Daniel,” he said succinctly. “I want to scream; I want to throw things; I want to hit something.  Hard!”

“Or someone?” Daniel asked. “Me?”

“No!” Jack shouted. The sound echoed off the hard surfaces of the kitchen. He took a step back, throat working. “No,” he said hoarsely. “Not you.”

“You’re frustrated and you’re ready to explode. You need to work off some of that angry energy, Jack. Getting drunk in front of the television isn’t the answer.”

Fuck you, Daniel. “But you have the answer, right? As usual?”

“I think so.” Daniel looked so uncertain that Jack was taken aback. “I think we should have sex.”

“Sex?” Jack was staggered to find that the idea held absolutely no appeal whatsoever. “Sex is the last thing on my mind,” he said bitterly.

“Strenuous physical activity. Release of tension through orgasm. Release of endorphins into the bloodstream.” Daniel ticked off the benefits that he perceived.

“I am in no mood to make love,” Jack snarled. “I don’t want to be held; I don’t want sweet nothings whispered in my ear. I want to put my fist through a fucking wall!”

“So who said anything about making love?” Daniel asked, his voice betraying a hint of reciprocal anger. “I said sex, and that’s all I’m talking about. You don’t want to be held? I won’t touch you, how’s that?”

“Daniel...” Jack stopped, at a loss for words.

“Jack,” Daniel said firmly. “I don’t like seeing you like this, and you’re certainly not enjoying it. You need to let it out. Work it out. You need to let it go.”

Jack shook his head, feeling like a boxer who had taken one too many punches. “It’s not a good idea,” he said, but he wasn’t sure why any more.

“If it works, who cares?” Daniel turned and walked away, saying over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the bedroom. Waiting.”

Jack looked at the empty kitchen doorway, but he was seeing Daniel, naked on his bed, waiting for him. He visualized himself, sweating, gasping, pounding into Daniel. His cock stirred to life. His body screamed at him to do something. Move! He walked to the counter and picked up his abandoned glass of whiskey. He drained it slowly, feeling the warmth of the liquor settle in his belly. He rinsed the empty glass and left it in the sink. He walked into the hallway.

~~

Daniel was just removing his slacks when Jack walked into the bedroom. “Get undressed,” he told Jack, as he picked up the lube from the nightstand and moved into the bathroom in his underwear. Jack pulled his shirt over his head, and let it fall to the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He heard a faint sound from the bathroom, and flushed with heat at the thought of Daniel preparing himself. He pushed down the thought that it seemed wrong for Daniel to be doing that in another room. Away from Jack.

As he stripped off the rest of his clothing, he heard water running, and knew Daniel was washing his hands. He was standing next to the bed, waiting, when Daniel switched off the bathroom light and came back into the bedroom, naked now. Daniel tossed the lube onto the pillow, eyed Jack’s erection, and asked coolly, “How do you want me?” But his eyes betrayed him, and Jack saw his unease.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jack said.

“I want to,” Daniel said, and there was no denying the honesty in his voice.

Jack swallowed. “On your back.”

Daniel crawled onto the bed, and settled in the middle. Jack picked up the lube and began to coat his cock. Daniel’s eyes flicked towards him, and then turned to the ceiling. “I want to do it rough,” Jack warned, his pulse racing.

“I figured. We’ve had rough sex before,” Daniel replied.

“This isn’t the same,” Jack pointed out, climbing onto the bed. He knelt between Daniel’s legs, pushing his thighs further apart.

Daniel shifted, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress. “No, hardly. But the point is that we both survived, and we never minded a bruise or two that got picked up along the way.”

“There’s nothing in this for you,” Jack said as he placed the head of his cock against Daniel’s opening.

“It isn’t about me.” Jack pushed in, and Daniel gasped. “Do what you need to do.”

So Jack did. He listened to the frustrated demands of his body, and he thrust hard into the body beneath him. The rage that had been building in him all afternoon finally had a focus, an outlet. Hands that wanted to smash into flesh and bone grabbed instead at a wrist, at a thigh, leaving angry imprints in their wake. His hips moved without conscious thought, pounding furiously.

Fucking politics. Fucking politicians. Fucking Kinsey. Fucking budgets. Dollars more important than men and women; men and women who would die. Good people would die. Jack growled, shifted his weight, got a fresh grip. He pictured his fist impacting with Kinsey’s face, wiping off that fucking sneer. He could hear the crunch, see and smell the blood.

Stupid, rotten, fucking Kinsey. Idiotic, dangerous decisions. Alliances with people that couldn’t be trusted. Shouldn’t be trusted. Alliances for the sole purpose of obtaining technology. Alliances with scum. Greedy, motherfucking bastard. Jack pictured his hands around Kinsey’s throat, and he moaned.

He moved faster, harder; racing to meet his orgasm. Squeeze the life out of the miserable son of a bitch. His hands tightened. Bastard’s face turning purple, eyes rolling back. Jack was panting, reaching, almost there. His hips jerked once, twice. He groaned loudly as he came, flooding the tight passage that gripped his cock snugly. A second spurt, and he was done. Finished. Exhausted.

He collapsed, sweating and gasping for oxygen. His heart was pounding in his chest, his blood pounding in his eardrums. He laid there, still and quiet, until the noise went away. He rolled to the side, saying “Take that, asshole,” with lips and tongue that didn’t quite work the way they should.

Disentangled from Daniel, he laid half on his side, twisting his neck so he was staring up at the ceiling. He carefully blanked out the images that lingered in his mind. After a moment, he put out his hand to touch Daniel, but he had no words ready.

"Got that out of your system?"

Jack turned his head and stared at Daniel’s rigid profile. “Just about.” There was no answer, and he patted Daniel’s stomach tentatively, feeling a rush of guilt. “Sorry.”

“I offered.”

"I should have said no. I shouldn't use you like that." It worked, though. You were right, Danny.

"'s okay." Daniel sounded a little less tense that time. Looked a little less tense. Jack stroked soothingly with his fingertips.

"I didn't hurt you?" As the silence stretched, Jack was filled with alarm. He rose onto one elbow and slid his hand up Daniel’s body until it hovered anxiously over his heart. “Daniel?” What have I done?

Daniel laid his hand over Jack’s, and it felt warm and comforting. "Not anywhere that matters," he said with a small smile. Jack saw that he was being truthful, but the moment of dread was still with him. He had let himself lose control and he had put Daniel at risk. That was unacceptable.

"Let's not do this again," Jack said. "I wouldn't come home and kick the dog because I had a bad day at the office. I don't want to be that guy. Don't...just don't, okay?" Don’t offer; don’t let me. Don’t be so generous next time.

Don’t trust me.

"Okay," Daniel said, and Jack could hear the relief in his voice. He swallowed and would have said something more, but Daniel’s hand was pulling him down and Daniel’s lips silenced him. Hungry now for the affection that his anger had rejected, Jack opened his mouth invitingly, welcoming his lover. He felt Daniel’s arms come around him and he knew just how very lucky he was to be loved so much.

Now his task was to show Daniel that he was loved just as much in return. Jack was smiling as he began.

THE END

Comments

[sid]

I think between the two of them they're going to manage to remember to Never Do That Again. It was a lot worse than Daniel expected (and if he could see inside Jack's mind it would have been even more frightening), and Jack Will Not Be That Guy.

So, I think we're all safe now. :-)