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It was early on in that first year they knew each other. Well, not so early that they weren’t “acquainted” with each other and their respective talents, but not far enough down the road to know everything about each other. They had been working non stop, and finally--fucking finally!--they got a day (or seven) of rest. On one hand it was nice because they weren’t killing themselves over preparing for their act, but on the other hand they weren’t really doing anything else. Henley had a show of her own booked, and Merritt was out working hard conning people out of their hard earned money. Danny was, well, doing what Danny normally did when there wasn’t some small detail of the set up he felt he had to micromanage--practicing. Jack, who was nearly to the verge of tears with how bored he was, decided this wasn’t good for Danny’s health.
“Danny, take a break man, we’ve got a week off for a reason, then you can go back to killing yourself over your part of the act.” Jack said into the kitchen where Danny was standing over the kitchen sink gesticulating wildly.
“When you become the main attraction to a show, you can decide when to kill yourself over an act or not. Lest we all forget that we can’t get one single aspect of this wrong, we have to follow exactly to the letter, or else no dice.” Danny hadn’t turned around to face Jack, so he didn’t see how the sleight’s expressions changed from murderous to annoyed to really kind of concerned. The problem Jack saw with Danny was that he was strung too tight, and the problem with people like that--in terms of actually trying to accomplish something--is that they try to control everything but then they’re the ones making the mistakes in the long run. and then don’t even realize it.
“Dude, when’s the last time you got laid?” The way the question smarted the silence, coupled by the way Danny froze before angrily hissing “None of your fucking business”, told Jack that it had been way too long for a man of J. Daniel Atlas’s endowment.
It made Jack wonder...and it made Jack think. And before Danny had fallen too deeply back into his practice, Jack had a plan. There were still a few tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t told any of the others about.
“Fine. Then, uh, why don’t you help me practice. It’s obvious I need it, right?” Jack stammered slightly, his pulse was quickening, and he could feel sweat starting at the back of his neck. That got Danny’s attention. Of course it did, he may not be a mentalist like Merritt, but he could spot a textbook narcissist when saw one.
“What can I do you for?” Danny sounded slightly annoyed, but when didn’t Danny sound at least slightly annoyed? God just get it over yourself, Jack thought, biting the inside of his lip to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“There’s a...” Well, Jack didn’t exactly know what it was called, he just did it, it was hard to explain it someone who couldn’t do it, “Trick I picked up a while back, would you mind helping me work out a few kinks with it?”
Danny’s expression didn’t change, but he wasn’t completely blowing Jack off like he had just weeks before. He crossed his arms, furrowed his eyebrows, and slanted his body slightly towards Jack, just enough to tell Jack he was gonna play nicely, “Lay it on me.”
“Well, actually, it only works over the phone. I’ll call you, and it should be pretty obvious what the trick is.” Jack pulled out his phone and gave Danny a half grin. He walked over to Danny and put his hand around one side of his neck, fingers brushing oh, so slightly over a pressure point he’d seen Merritt access to make people more pliable to his suggestions before walking out of the room and into the hallway. The thing about being the quiet one in a group of people who primarily only cared about themselves was that you picked up a lot just from watching other people, at least, Jack did anyways, and it helped he was a fast learner. The entire floor would be empty, Jack knew, so he dialed and Danny immediately picked up.
“Hello.” Danny answered dully. Not a great start, but this was only the beginning, the precursor.
“Hello.” Jack pitched his voice to match Danny’s. He needed more inflection to get his vocal pattern better, but that wouldn’t take too much.
“Jack, what are you doing?” Jack could just see Danny in his minds eye standing there in the doorway to the kitchen with one hand holding the phone and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Jack, what are you doing?” He had him now, his voice anyways. It was in his head and he could use it, use his vocal pattern, his syntax...hell, he had been around the guy long enough to know the cadence with which he most typically spoke, this wouldn’t be hard...Well...
“That’s actually kind of cool, though I’m not seeing the point of this.” Danny gripped over the phone.
“Trust me, Danny. You’ll see. Or rather, you’ll hear. Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?” Jack lowered his voice, in Danny’s pitch it was more difficult than it would have been in his own voice, but if the stunned silence was anything to go on, Daniel wasn’t having any issues with it.
“What!?” Finally answers his question, but it came out as more of a squeak than a squawk from the other end, though it had been audible through the door.
“I’ve been thinking about your hands, your lips; I’ve been thinking about how intense you get when you’re performing, how you look like you’re going to devour the audience...How long has it been Danny? How long has it been since you took someone home, laid them out beneath you, took them apart piece by piece and then put them back together again? How long has it been since you came so hard you couldn’t see straight?”
“Haven’t...not since we got the--the cards.” Danny stammered. Jack made a tsking sound into the receiver.
“Danny boy, coiling a spring too tight makes for a bad spring. It’s just a hard, lump of metal of no use to anyone. We can’t have that can we, Danny?” On the other end, Danny gave a small whimper causing Jack to smirk, he had him in his capable hands and oh, this was fun.
“N-no?”
“No. So let me tell you about what I was thinking when I got in this morning. I was thinking about that time when I saw you walking out of the shower. Water still clinging to you, but do you know what I was thinking of the most? The way your towel dipped just low enough to see your happy trail getting thicker.” A whimper was all his response.
“Would you like me to tell you what I was thinking about not even, oh, five minutes ago? How I would help you?”
There’s a muffled “Mm-hm” and Jack can hear Danny moving his phone from one ear to the other, and the faint sound of a zipper coming undone.
“I would have walked out of the kitchen to find you standing there, and the sight of you takes my breath away. I walk up behind you and place my hands on your hips. Nosing through your hair, I find my way under your shirt to rub circles into your hip bones.”
A gasp escapes from Daniel, which incites Jack to slow down. “Don’t take this too fast, Danny, I’m nowhere near done with my story yet. In fact, if you’re touching your cock, I want you to stop. Put your phone on speaker, we’re alone up here. I want you to put your hands where I put them in the story. Will you do that for me, Danny?”
Danny replies with a choked, “Okay, yes, yes I’ll do that,” before Jack will continue speaking.
“I run my hands up beneath your shirt, over that plane of smooth skin, and back down to follow your happy trail down below your waistband. I repeat the motion until you’re leaning your head back onto my shoulder and moaning. I press kisses into your throat as I graze my fingertips over your half hard cock.”
There was an audible moan from Danny’s end. “Slowly now, Danny, slowly,” Jack teased.
“I lift your shirt over your head to press kisses into your shoulder, scraping my teeth along the muscles I find there. My hands are wandering back over your stomach, one hand wandering over your chest to find a nipple, the other dipping back low. Would you like me to touch you?”
“Yes.” It was a low, breathy reply. Jack wanted to see how Danny looked so badly, wanted to see just how unravelled this was making him. “Please, please touch me.”
“Where would you like me to touch you, Danny?” Jack asked him, his voice still a near perfect match for Danny’s own. Danny, the real Danny, on the other end, was breathing heavy, each breath seemed punctuated with a sharp gasp.
“Ung...Touch me...my..cock.” Danny sounded unsure, like he didn’t know how to do this. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it had been too long since anyone asked Danny what he wanted instead of just letting him take.
“But we’ve just started, Daniel. Why rush?”
A strangled noise came from Danny’s end. “Please.” He whined.
Jack, in Danny’s voice, answered him softly, “Alright. With one hand on your chest, tweaking a nipple, my other hand goes to your jeans and unzips them. Though the angle is strange, I manage to get your cock free for me to grasp you gently. You’re already wet at the tip, and since I’ve not other lubrication I use your precome to ease my way up and down your length. Kissing into your neck and shoulder, I continue stroking you until we find the right pace and angle. And then you’re thrusting into my hand, your hips beginning to stutter. I suck on your earlobe lightly before whispering, ‘Do you want to come, Danny’? Well, do you?”
“Yes!” It came out high and whiny--desperate and hungry. It wasn’t until then that Jack even realized how hard he himself was.
“Come, then, Danny. Come.” A sharp intake of breath, a small guttural noise, and then heavy breathing was all that answered Jack.
“You okay?” Jack asked, in his own voice after a few moments had passed of complete silence.
“I can’t believe you managed to get me off to something so vanilla as a handjob.” Danny replied in a shaky voice.
Grinning, Jack just told him, “I’m a man of many talents.”
“So, Danny, this voicemail on my phone...it’s quite revealing actually. I can’t say I’m surprised, even from day one I could sense you were a bit of a bitch.” Merritt said around a mouthful of
pizza. It had been a whole 24 hours since Jack and Danny’s ‘practice’, and for some reason Danny’s face kept getting hot even thinking about walking into the kitchen, or being within 2 feet of Jack.
“Uh, what voicemail? And I thought you said I was a control freak?” Danny leaned back into the couch, he could feel Jack’s eyes on him even though he was on the other side of Henley who was sitting between them.
Merritt waved his pizza around a little bit, meaning it didn’t matter to him. “Same difference, doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“Aw, Merritt, that almost resembled an actual confession of emotion.” Danny quipped mostly to his pizza before taking a bite.
“You know what is an actual confession of emotion? You bleedin’ your little heart out to my voicemail.” Merritt laughed, and tossed his phone to Henley whose reflexes were a lot faster than Daniel remembered them being.
“What. what voicemail I didn’t call anyone last night.” He felt warm, primarily because it was warm, but under the collar he knew he was embarrassed because he had had a call, only it happened to be from Jack.
Henley smirked at him, “Oh, really? Because this sounds an awful lot like you, Danny boy.” Henley pressed the phone up to his ear and on the recording he could hear himself--no, wait, no that was Jack--rambling on about...oh.
He couldn’t stop the flush that crept over him, he felt his ears and cheeks getting hot and he knew he was blushing terribly. Jack had left Merritt a voicemail in Danny’s voice about how wonderful Jack was, about how talented he was...and how good his cock tasted. The little bastard had him caught: he couldn’t explain how that had never happened, how Jack was the one who left the voicemail, without explaining the events of yesterday. Even if he told them that Jack could mimic voices, there was no way he could prove it without Jack backing him up. And there was no way Jack would do that without revealing the phone sex.
He sunk lower into the couch and shoved the pizza in his face. Jack leaned in front of Henley and with the most innocent expression on his face--god fucking dammit how the fuck did he--asked, “What’s the matter guys, is he okay?”
J. Daniel Atlas was either going to kill himself one Jack Wilder, or fuck him into a mattress until he physically cannot walk right for a week.
The latter seemed at least within the realm of possibilities.