As Boone straddles him, Jack shifts his hips, reaching out to touch Boone’s thighs. He runs his hands up them, but Boone doesn’t react, reaching behind himself and grasping Jack’s cock. Jack can’t help but whine as Boone squeezes tightly, and then he’s sinking down on him. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly.

He stops when he’s halfway, hovers there, Jack’s dick halfway inside him as his thighs strain to keep him up. It’s obvious that he’s not taking his time because it’s uncomfortable, not because he needs time to adjust. He’s teasing. The smirk on his face and the look in his eyes tell Jack everything he needs to know.

His hands clench on Boone’s taught thighs, frustrated, and it takes every ounce of concentration he has not to just lift his hips and slide himself home. That would be rude. And some tiny voice in the back of his brain tells him that it would spoil all the fun.

So he waits, eyes locked with Boone, breath barely making it to his lungs. He’s throbbing, not just in his cock, but what feels like everywhere, heat radiating from him in time with his heart, and still Boone remains unmoved in every sense of the word.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” Boone finally says. “If you don’t ask, I might think you don’t want it.”

“Please,” Jack grits out without a second thought, no pretence or pride getting in his way.

Boone smiles, sliding the rest of the way down, fast, slamming Jack’s cock inside him. Jack cries out, his neck arching as he throws his head back and everything goes a bit dizzy for a second. The feeling, such heat, such intense grip, overwhelms him for a moment.

When he regains himself slightly, meeting Boone’s eyes once more, he’s looking very pleased with him. And why shouldn’t he?