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Lying had always been a second nature for as long as he could remember. Once you picked up the habit of telling the tiniest white lies, it was hard to kick. For Jackal, lying had been his way of life, the only way he could survive in the cruel and heartless criminal underworld. For years and years he had built hundreds of identities out of lies, so many that it became hard to keep track at some points- which personas were lies and which were the truth.
But it felt safe. Those lies and fake identities were a protective blanket that he’d kept wrapped tightly around himself. It was much harder to get hurt when no one really knew the real you- when no one knew your weaknesses or how to rip your heart out with a handful of words.
He had been on his own before though- no one to rely on but himself. Now he had this whole gang of criminals around him, supporting him, trying to know him. Lying had always been his second nature- so the prospect of shedding that veil of deceit and letting others see what lay underneath… It terrified him. Especially when he wasn't sure exactly who he was when the lies were stripped away.
Jackal stared at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, seeing someone else stare back at him. Who was it he was staring at? The Lyrebird? The vulture of vegas? The informant? The insider asset? Or was he just Jackal?
When all those identities were stripped away- when he wasn’t Jackal the Opportunist- he just saw all of his flaws. Flaws he could hide so easily with lies and false confidence and bravado. He could see all the marks and blemishes that stood out starkly on his skin. Silvery white stretch marks wrapped around his thighs and reflected the dim bathroom light. The scars too red, his eye bags too purple, his eyes too lifelessly dark against the porcelain pale of his skin- a bad night's sleep highlighting every flaw and imperfection.
He heard the knock at the door frame before he saw the man who made it, Dallas standing in the doorway in his loose pajamas and hair mussed up from sleep.
Dallas had always been his truest weakness- his Achilles heel that led to his downfall. Whenever he was involved, Jackal simply couldn't hide behind his lies. He’d seen Jackal at some of his lowest points. When he slipped and fell into the criminal world, Dallas had been the one to catch him and make him feel safe. Whole. Even after everything they’ve been through, despite everything, he had never been able to truly lie to the man’s face.
Their eye contact in the mirror was brief, but enough for Dallas to get a clear read on what was going on. His eyes are soft even as Jackal breaks their eye contact, even as Dallas steps behind him and wraps his arms around Jackal with a comforting weight. He couldn't suppress the way he leaned into the hold, back pressing against the taller man’s chest.
“What's going through that head of yours?” He can feel the way Dallas’s chest rumbles against him, that raspy chain-smoker voice raw in his ears.
Despite the comfort of the hold, despite how safe it makes him feel- that feeling of being exposed is too much to bear. That deep burrowing thread of anxiety and unease has rooted itself so deep in his chest he often worries that it would be impossible to remove without gutting him completely.
So, instinctively, he lies. “It's nothing really.” It's short and sweet, he hopes he sells it enough to dodge the subject, to grab his shirt he’d dismissively tossed across the bathroom and hide himself underneath it.
He doesn't get far before Dallas’s fingers are wrapped around his outstretched wrist, pulling him back in and cradling Jackal’s hands in his own. He feels so so small in his hold, he feels like everything is fuzzy and warm but also so weak and vulnerable. He really doesn't want to deal with this, screwing his eyes shut as if it will make him feel any less exposed.
A soft sigh escapes Dallas’s lips before he presses them into Jackal’s forehead. The kiss is long, a tender thing that makes his bones feel weak. “My handsome Jackal,” he hums against Jackal’s scalp, not moving his lips from where they had been pressed.
Handsome. It’s something he’s been called before, but it was always a hollow word. Pleasant men and polite ladies in bars, eager for a good night with a man who they didn't know was only after their secrets. People would say anything to get what they wanted, a decent looking face was all he needed. They likely wouldn't repeat the phrase when they saw his bone deep exhaustion, uneven rolls of chub, and flaws that marred his body outside the dim nightclub lighting.
“I can hear you thinking. You’re being too hard on yourself.” Dallas says it like its a fact, a true statement that couldn't be refuted.
“No, not really,” he lies again, keeping his eyes screwed shut and hoping it’ll make his lie sound less like what it is. “I’m fine. Really.”
And then Dallas is sighing again, that soft noise making his chest twist with anxiety. He could lie to Dallas all he wanted, but he couldn't make it last. The better part of himself knew Dallas wasn’t mad at him, but he couldn't help that flare in his gut that told him he’d really fucked up. He almost flinched back when he felt Dallas shift, only to feel his hand gently cup his cheek. It's an instant relief, a gentle touch that he all but melts into with a sigh.
“You know I know you better than that, Jackal.”
And really that's all it took. He could lie and lie to Dallas but he could never hold out. All it took was the smallest of presses and he was putty in his hands. He lets his eyes flutter open and is met with Dallas’s hazel green gaze looking directly into him. “I feel… Wrong.”
It was an admission that he’d never quite verbalized before, and Jackal wasn't entirely too sure if he could find the right words to describe it. That disconnect between himself and his masks, how small the man underneath the facade really felt. Dallas doesn’t urge him to continue, doesn't ask him to go on. He just gently rubs his thumb along Jackal’s cheek and waits for him.
“Whenever I look into the mirror, I don't know who’s looking back at me. I don't know him. I’ve worn a thousand masks, been a thousand different people, I don't really know who I am anymore. Not Jackal the informant, Jackal the inside man, Jackal the asset, just Jackal. Just me.”
“There you go,” Dallas hums, so soft he almost doesn't hear it.
“I feel like… If i'm not all those- What am I? Who am i?”
Then, he sees a dopey smile stretch across Dallas’s face. It's full of love and fondness, so sweet it could probably make someone sick. It just makes Jackal feel warm. His other hand comes up to cup Jackal’s other cheek, tenderly holding his face.
“You’re the most devoted guy I’ve ever met.”
The words sent a shiver down his spine but a rush of heat through his chest.
“You’re my partner.”
The words are punctuated with a small kiss between his eyebrows and those calloused thumbs rubbing circles into Jackal’s reddening cheeks.
“My Jackal.”
And Goddamn if he couldn't stop himself from whining at the words, a desperate needy noise from the throat. He wasn't used to being doted on like this, wasn’t used to such raw sincerity. It made his whole chest feel like fuzzy cotton and his cheeks like toasted coals. He presses his cheek further into his partner’s hold, melting into it and just leaning against his hands and pressing chest to chest,
“My handsome Jackal, my pretty little birdie.” Dallas’s hands moved slowly from his cheeks to his neck, down his shoulders, and ended around Jackal’s waist. “I’ll show you just how beautiful you are.”
Jackal can't help his peep of surprise when he’s suddenly scooped up into the air. It's dizzying being picked up, carried, and just manhandled around like this. “You’re too much…” He huffed into Dallas’s neck, wrapping his arms tightly as he’s carried back into the bedroom.
After Dallas toes the door shut behind them, he makes his way to the foot of the bed. There, he simply leans forward until he has Jackal pinned to the sheets and can hover right above him. The room is dimly lit, just a single bedside lamp casting shadows across the room and illuminating the two men.
Dallas just stays there for several long moments, taking in the sight of his partner below him. Jackal’s face was flushed a deep rosy red, running up his ears and down his neck. His bare chest was on full display, shirt left behind in the bathroom, unneeded. The pale blue-grey of his eyes was only a sliver, blown out by his pupils wide as saucers.
Jackal barely moved from where he lay on the sheets. His lips parted as his chest rose and fell with every breath. He wasn’t sure if he could move, pinned like prey beneath a predator- but that description didn't seem too accurate. He knew Dallas wouldn’t hurt him, he knew it wasn't hunger in his eyes but just a gentle fondness.
Though perhaps there was some hunger in that gaze when he pressed his lips to Jackal’s own. Dallas doesn't even have to ask and he’s already parting his lips, letting him in, offering himself up wholly to the man he loves. Dallas’s short stubble scratches against his upper lip, but he barely notices- too distracted by his lips and hands.
Dallas’s hands were large and warm, caressing Jackal’s body like a masterpiece. Jackal was far from an athletic ideal, pudgy and curvy wherever you looked. He felt those calloused palms rove over his chest, sliding down to cup his sides and squeeze at his chub. “So soft” he whispers against his lips.
Jackal huffs out a laugh, but the noise comes out more breathy than intended. It feels as if a fuzzy cloud is filling up his lungs and head, making it hard to breathe and hard to think. Impossible to focus on anything except Dallas.
He presses a soft kiss to the scar along his cheek, breath tickling his rosy ears. From there, Dallas’s lips trace down his whole body. He stops to kiss every little scar, every little mole or freckle, every stretch of skin that makes Jackal’s heart lurch and breath hitch.
It’s when he feels those nimble hands squeeze his sides one last time and then slide down to his thighs, that Jackal finally manages to reopen his eyes. He can't imagine how he must look, eyes shiny, face flushed, and his lips reddened where his teeth had dug in to hold back embarrassing noises.
He thought he was fucked before, a complete mess, but that was before he saw why and where Dallas had paused. At this point, Dallas wasn’t even on the bed anymore, kneeling on the floor with his cheek pressed into the fabric covering Jackal’s thighs.
His stunning hazel green eyes looked up at him with this dopey look, something that Jackal had only dreamed of receiving for years and years. His whole body felt like static, jittery tingles running under his skin.
“May I?” He asks, tracing his fingers along the waistline of Jackal’s pants. His voice was soft and careful, making sure not to push. Their relationship was a long and complicated one, and this level of intimacy was something they’d yet to share. Dallas had known that Jackal was smitten for him, that he was almost incapable of saying no to him. He’d never wanted to initiate contact with him before, worried about pushing too far or taking things too fast.
He needed permission before continuing. He needed that explicit consent to make sure that this wasn't too much. The desperate, breathless, punched out sounding “ Please-” that Jackal managed to whine was just that.
Dallas wants so badly to just take care of his lover, make him feel every bit as special as he knows he is. Every tiny, muted noise that comes from Jackal’s lips urges him onwards. He craves every little gasp and soft muted hnn that comes from his throat as his fingers trace the edges of Jackal’s folds.
When he slipped a finger between them, he was met with nothing but slick. All he’d done was run his hands along Jackal’s skin, press his lips against his body, and he was already this far gone. “Such a good boy for me,” Dallas praised, massaging his slick and pressing against his entrance with a single finger.
Jackal felt as if he could honestly die right here and now. Up until this moment he’d been able to swallow down his embarrassing noises, only letting out the tiniest pleasured sounds. But now it felt impossible to be quiet. It was so so much, the praise and the press- “ F--fuckfuckinnnhg-”
“You’re so sensitive, birdie,” Dallas purred, loving the way Jackal was simply coming apart before him. The smallest of touches and he was gone, lost in a sea of emotion and stimulation. “So pretty when you’re falling apart.”
A second finger spreading him open wrings a throaty noise from Jackal’s throat. That word echoed in his head. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty. He was so far from being anything close to pretty, but he had to believe it when Dallas whispered it like gospel. “Dallas- Da -allas-- Please-” He begged, not even sure what he was asking for.
Just like before though, Dallas took that desperate noise as an invitation. He slid his fingers out of Jackal- earning a disappointed whine- and grasped at his thighs. One tug and Jackal’s whine morphed into a desperate keen, tongue pressing into his folds.
Dallas’s fingers squeeze at the meat of his thighs as he goes down on him. His fingers glide along the silvery stretch marks that span across them, delicately tracing their outline. He only lifts his head for a moment, murmuring “ Beautiful” before pressing back in.
“Dallas- I’m I- hh hhhn - fuuck-”
Jackal barely gets out the words, his climax fast approaching. Everything everything all at once was just too much, fingers digging into the sheets in a feeble attempt to ground himself. Dallas’s tongue left his folds to wrap around the length of his clit, sucking on his tiny dick and wrenching a sob from Jackal as he came. He couldn’t stop from clenching his thighs together as Dallas sucked him through it, squeezing his head between them and keeping him in place.
When Dallas finally pulled back, Jackal felt entirely boneless. Eyes foggy and breath coming out in fevered pants. He felt one last little squeeze at his thighs before Dallas slid back up the bed. Jackal was grateful when Dallas pulled him up the bed, further away from the foot and towards the plush of the pillows.
“Are you alright?” Dallas asked, settling down beside Jackal and running a thumb underneath his eye, wiping away the tear that welled in the corner.
Jackal merely hummed in response, wrapping his arms around Dallas’s neck and dragging him in close. “Am now,” he said, grinning and pushing his nose against his lover’s.
They lay there quietly for a few moments, nose to nose. In those moments, Jackal couldn't help but wonder how he’d gotten so lucky. He’d yearned for Dallas for nearly two decades. He’d quashed it down for most of that time. For those fifteen years apart that he made himself hate the man he’d once devoted his whole heart to.
Right now though, Dallas was his. He was right here and he loved him to the point he could barely contain it all. “You’re my everything,” Jackal whispers against his lips only a second before he presses them together. Dallas smiles against him and presses back, melting into the kiss as Jackal moves to deepen it.
Dallas’s fingers card through Jackal’s hair, loose from the bun he normally kept it neat in. It's a fluffy and disheveled mess that he flattens and sorts through before sliding down through the downy fuzz of his undercut.
Jackal wants nothing more than to be pressed against his lover, holding him as close as he could for as long as he could. His arms are wrapped tightly around Dallas’s shoulders like a scarf. He was nearly laying on top of Jackal, chest to chest and only supported by his elbows and the bend of a knee. It's tempting to knock it out from under him, force Dallas to press fully against him. Though when Dallas shifts the slightest amount, lowering himself a bit closer, Jackal can feel the strain of his dick against his thigh.
The hitch in his breath is swallowed down in the kiss, but not even Dallas’s lips on his can fully distract him from the pressure on his leg. Dallas was completely content to just take care of Jackal, run fingers down his body, press kisses into every part of him, and devour his mouth and pussy. He’d not given the smallest hint of needing relief, not even something so simple as grinding down against Jackal’s thigh.
He’s not even sure if Dallas noticed his dick brushing against Jackal, and he doubts the man noticed how his breathing changed with its lingering presence. Jackal was used to giving and receiving nothing during intimacy, he knew the feeling well but wasn't used to being on the other end of it. He appreciated the gesture, the desire not to push him too fast- but it was completely unnecessary.
He wanted Dallas in every way imaginable, any way he could have him. If Dallas wouldn't grind down against his thighs, the ones he’d kissed and groaned as he was suffocated between, well then Jackal would have to do it for him.
It didn't take much movement to lift his knee and press his thigh firmly against Dallas’s hardon. The groan he made into Jackal’s mouth was absolutely divine , lips parting and putting their kiss on pause. “Were you intending to ignore this?” he hummed, feeling his typical brash confidence return by the smallest amount. It was easy to grin as he ground up against Dallas.
“It wasn't about me,” Dallas breathed out, voice raspy, thick, and raw with emotion. “I wanted you to feel special. Fucking hell , I certainly owe you that.”
It makes Jackal hesitate for a moment, pausing to let that truly sink in. As much as he wanted to respond with something stupid and coy like having your dick in me would feel pretty damn special, he couldn't muster the courage to play like that. His heart welling in his chest, encroaching up into his throat wouldn't let him.
In a mirror from before, Jackal raised his hands to cup at Dallas’s cheeks, running his thumbs through his prickly stubble. They were both so much older now, greyer and with more deep wrinkles scored across their skin. “You don't need to do anything to make me feel special, Nate. Just being here, just loving me, that's all I need. It's all I’ve ever needed.”
Dallas’s chuckle is a wet little thing, full of relief that makes the crows feet at his eyes pinch and deepen. “I still can't believe you waited. That you kept thinking about me.”
“Well,” Jackal chuckled with a grin, “You made it pretty hard to forget.”
“Yeah…” He doesn't miss the way that Dallas’s smile falters, eyes darting to the faded scar etched into his cheek, the notch missing from Jackal’s ear. “I’m sorry.”
“None of that. No more apologies.” He was tired of apologies, he didn't need them anymore, he didn’t need those old wounds to be opened up, poked, and prodded.
“Sor- Right, right.”
“That's more like it,” Jackal chided, sliding his hands from Dallas’s cheeks to his neck. “So do you want to stare into eachothers eyes all night, or get your dick wet?”
The bright smile that stretches across Dallas’s lips is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the laugh it came with the prettiest sound. His forehead drops to press against Jackal’s. “You do have very nice eyes.”
“Oh fuck off. ”
“Really now? I thought we had a good thing going.”
“Nate I swear if you don't get those pants off in the next twelve seconds I will kick you off this bed. Twelve-”
“But I thought we were going to stare-”
“ Eleven, Ten…”
They were both smiling, holding back stupid laughs that dimple their cheeks and deepen their creases. Fortunately for Dallas, he shucked off his loose pajama bottoms before Jackal even reached ‘Four’. He kicked them far across the room and settled back above Jackal, hovering over him like before.
“How do you want to do this?” He asked, voice light and airy, but tinged with what could be a bit of unease or anticipation.
Jackal paused for a moment, not having actually thought it out this far. Nothing much past getting that man’s dick inside him as fast as humanly possible. “I.. Uh…”
“Do you want to ride me?” He suggested, reaching down towards Jackal’s cunt to slowly finger him open, prepping him as delicately as possible.
“I think I would die.” Jackal swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, trying not to let his mind fog from the distracting fingers scissoring inside him. If he was in control of the pace, he’s sure it would kill him. He was already this much of a needy mess from a little foreplay, they wouldn't go much of anywhere with him on top. “L-Like this is good yeah- yeah.”
Dallas gives him an affirmative humm, crooking his fingers and earning a sharp gasp in return. After three fingers are fucking him with ease, Dallas slides them out. “You’re completely soaked, little bird. ” He comments, spreading his fingers in front of them and watching the strings of slick web between.
Jackal can't tear his eyes off him as Dallas brings his soaked digits to his mouth, sucking them clean with an appreciative noise. “Please… please hurry.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. He loved that Dallas was being so gentle, so caring, but he felt like he was going to explode if this dragged on any longer.
Fortunately, Dallas didn't make him wait any longer. He popped his fingers from his lips with a sinful little noise and lined himself up. “Alright,” Dallas whispered, giving Jackal a moment to prepare himself before the tip of his cock slipped inside. That first initial stretch was electric- no- it was like a campfire. That burning heat makes him feel so warm, surrounded by Dallas’s smokey scent.
Dallas leaned down to swallow Jackal’s shuddering exhale with a chaste kiss, though it did little to keep him quiet. He stilled once he was fully inside, taking in Jackal’s blissed out expression. His eyes were barely open, fluttering shut with every shaky breath he inhaled. His lips were parted ever so slightly, kissed to a shade of cherry red.
“Are you alright?” Dallas asked, running a soothing thumb along Jackal’s hip, pressing little circles into his skin.
“Nhgh-hmm.” Jackal groaned through his lips, nodding twice.
“Want me to move?”
“ Ye-eah”
Dallas began to move at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every rock pulling a thread loose, making the man below him unravel like a worn rope. His pace gradually increases until Jackal’s tiny gasps are open mouthed whines.
“You're so tight,” He sighed, sliding a hand down to Jackal’s thigh and guiding his leg up to his waist. “So sensitive for me.” Jackal didn't need any more encouragement to wrap himself wholly against Dalas. Ankles hooking around him and hands leaving the sheets to claw at Dallas’s spine. “F-fuck, Jackal, you're so good. Such a good boy for me.”
Good boy. He was a good boy. He was Dallas’s good boy- fuck fuck- he was all his. The stretch was so much and they’d barely done anything and it was already sososo much. He felt so wholly full, in every way imaginable. Not just his cunt, but his head and chest- fogged over with a blissful cloud and full of a fuzzy cotton feeling.
“Fuck- Dallas,” he whined, nails digging into Dallas’s shoulders and drawing out a long groan from the man. “Please-please- I- I-”
Dallas’s pace slowed to gentle thrusts as he soothed Jackal with a gentle shush and a hand cupped behind his head. The tears that had been welling in Jackal’s eyes before now flowed freely down his cheeks, wet eyes blinking open and looking hazily up at Dallas. His voice was a low rumble, deep and intoxicating. “What do you need, birdie?”
Jackal took a sharp inhale of breath and dragged Dallas down by the shoulders to bury his face in his lover’s neck. Jackal was right next to his ear, voice ragged and croaky from holding back tears. “You- Nate, Nathan,” he nearly sobbed, those gentle rocking thrusts edging him closer and closer. “All of you- please, I need you.”
And who would Dallas be to deny that? With Jackal buried into the crook of his neck and his own arms snaking around the smaller man, Dallas began to thrust in earnest. Those gentle movements became sharper, harder- making Jackal sob out messy babbles against his skin. All the while, Dallas held him close, whispering encouragements in his ear.
“I’ve got you. So good for me, so sweet, let me hear you. My good boy- fuck, you’re so warm- I love you, I love you, Jackal--”
“N- nate--” Jackals nails dug sharply into his back, pulling him as close as he possibly could. The noise he made against Dallas’s shoulder was a warbly, broken sob, wrenched out of him as he came.
Dallas fucked him through it for a few short moments before slowing down to tiny thrusts, coming deep inside Jackal. He let out a long groan, burying his own face against Jackal’s neck where he placed small kisses against his skin as stubble scratched his cheek. Jackal hummed softly as he did, letting his head loll back to expose his neck further.
“How are you feeling?” Dallas whispered, lips pressed to skin.
“Warm.” It was a simple response, but true in every sense. Sweat clung to Jackal’s skin, making him feel sticky and tired. A gentle warmth bloomed in his chest, unfiltered fluffy and fluttery love putting him up on cloud nine. Not to mention how warm he was because of Dallas, full of both cock and cum. Jackal was beyond exhausted, but gave a lazy little jerk of his hips and flashed a halfway smug smile. “ Really warm.”
“Oh- shit-” Dallas swore, pushing himself up so he could pull out of Jackal without any trouble. He stared for a second as his load dribbled out of him, white peeking out through his dark brown bush. “I should've asked first- You- are you?”
Jackal gave him a lazy laugh that shut up his panicked ramblings. “You’re good Nate, don't worry. I did say I wanted all of you.” He gently dragged Dallas back down, beside him rather than on top of him now. “And I can't get- It's not an issue so don't worry about that.”
Dallas let out a heavy, relieved sigh and pulled Jackal in close. He was so much smaller than him, slotting so easily against his chest and under his chin. “I love you,” he hummed again, softer now. “And I’ll keep saying it.”
“You’ll make my heart explode,” Jackal laughed, letting himself sink into that warm fuzzy feeling.
Dallas’s arms tightened around Jackal, squeezing him like a stuffed toy. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“So cruel.”
“But you love me.”
And he did. By god he did. Dallas didn't need to do anything at all for Jackal to love him. His love was unconditional but Dallas always made sure that Jackal knew it was reciprocated. He didn’t need to say those three words, but Dallas did anyways- any chance he got.
Dallas never did see The Lyrebird, The Vulture of Vegas, The Insider Asset. He only saw his Jackal. He only saw his birdie.
“I do,” Jackal hummed, pressing himself into Dallas’s chest and feeling the weight of his arms weigh heavy around his back as post orgasmic bliss lingered between them. He nuzzled into his chest, letting Dallas’s warmth surround him, his scent surround him, his everything surround him like a protective blanket. He held that blanket close, wrapping it around himself tightly and he knew he would never let it go. “I always will”