Affections

The gun barrel is within reach. Jack decides that is the greatest cruelty. Crueler than the ectoplasmic bonds securing his wrists, crueler than the cold air snapping at the exposed skin of his backside, crueler than the slap of skin on skin as the ghost slams into him from behind. He can see the faint glow of the energy gauge, over half full. And so close. So very close. All he'd have to do is just reach out, just reach out and--

"Pay attention!" the ghost demands. Such cruel hands claw at his hips and jerk at his cock in rough time to impaling assaults.

Jack opens his mouth to scream and it dissolves into a hoarse groan. "No..." He doesn't know if his protest is meant to the ghost or to himself. But then his seed spatters against a gloved hand and it's a moot point anyway. There's a grunt of pride at that which burns almost as much as the blast burn scorched across his shoulder. Then there's a thrust that makes his teeth clack together and a satisfied hiss and the ghost's hips continue to twitch forward even as it empties itself into Jack.

He collapses forward, not even able to keep upright on his hands and knees. His breath is harsh and scours his throat and lungs even as he wishes it would scour his mind clean. Gentle hands brush the sweaty hair out of his eyes and wipe him clean.

"Honestly, Jack, must we go through this every time?" The ghost sighed. "You attack, I attack, we exchange witty banter, then I bend you over and fuck you."

"Monster."

"Yes," the ghost agreed. "So why do you this?"

"To protect my boy."

"Oh really, Jack?" the ghost said with a feral grin. "Protect him from who? Me? Or yourself?"

Jack doesn't answer as he struggles to rise to his feet and yank his jumpsuit up. He flinches when the ghost reaches out to help him, fingers nimble and quick against his skin. He doesn't resist when the ghost hoists him to his feet and tugs the jumpsuit zipper up.

"Go back home to your family, Jack," Phantom demands, green eyes solemn.

And so he flees.

It's such a very long ride home. And it's so very late when he gets there. But Jack goes upstairs to tuck his children in to sleep, guilt remaining with him even though the blaster's left behind. Jasmine is still awake and protests, but only for show, allowing her father to pretend that she's still his little princess one more time. He's trembling by the time he reaches Danny's room.

Danny's curled up in a tight ball, blankets tangled around his knees. Jack walks over to his sons bed and tugs the blankets loose and over Danny's shoulders. His hands linger too long, however, tracing the curve of Danny's back as he tucks him in and Danny rolls over and blinks up at him. "Dad?"

Jack freezes. But nods. "Yeah, just go back to sleep."

Danny sits up and Jack can't help but notice the way the overlarge shirt hangs off one shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asks and points to Jack's shoulder.

"Just a ghost attack. Your old man'll be fine."

"Okay," Danny says behind a yawn.

"You know I'll always look out for you, right kiddo?" Jack says, desperation clutching at his chest.

"Yeah, Dad," Danny replies softly and reaches out and pulls his father close enough to press a kiss against his forehead. "I know."