This story features Jack and Maddox from Deep Under. Although it can be read as a standalone, it will be more enjoyable if you’ve read Deep Under. Please use the Jack&Maddox tag to see all Jack & Maddox epilogues.
The package was waiting for Jack when he got home—a box addressed to Maddox, graced by a Post-It note on which Maddox had written the words Happy Anniversary.
No wrapping paper, no card. Typical Maddox.
Jack ran his thumb over the Post-It note, knowing Maddox had touched it. This assignment had been a rough one—long and relentless, with little downtime and no way to communicate. He’d managed to get an occasional message sent home, but there hadn’t been any way for Maddox to send one back.
It’d been three weeks since he’d been touched by his lover, almost that much since they’d had a chance to speak, and Jack was hungry to see him again. But in the meantime, there was a box.
Should he open it? It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Assuming Maddox was on patrol today, and not just out running errands, he wouldn’t be home until after five. How much after depended on when and what his last collar was, but he’d left the box knowing Jack might make it home before he did.
The box itself bore no clues as to what it contained. A two-line street address in the upper, left corner. No company name or logo, no hint as to its contents. That—the discretion with which it had been shipped—told Jack he was probably going to enjoy what was inside.
He’d been so busy on this assignment he hadn’t even realized that it was their anniversary, a year since he and Maddox had gone down to the City Clerk’s office to get a marriage license. Once they’d agreed to marry, they hadn’t wanted to wait to arrange a more elaborate event. Hearts and flowers weren’t their thing anyway. Whips and ball gags—that was their thing.
They’d stood facing each other in front of a bored clerk—no condemnation over their sexuality, just complete disinterest. When the clerk had asked Jack if he would take Maddox to be his wedded husband, to love, honor and keep him as long as they both should live, Jack had answered, “Green,” and Maddox had leaned in to whisper, “I love you.”
So it turned out there’d been some hearts and flowers, after all.
Thinking about their wedding had Jack heading to his dresser to find the ring Maddox had given him—the one that belonged on his finger but which he hadn’t been wearing for the last few weeks because it didn’t go with the cover for this assignment. There was another ring, one he could usually get away with wearing regardless of the assignment, through his nipple. The rings for their fingers had been exchanged at the ceremony. The one through Jack’s nipple, had been done on their honeymoon.
Where the ceremony had been perfunctory, their honeymoon had been anything but. They’d gone to a gay-only, BDSM-friendly resort where Maddox had thoroughly owned him for a week. Words were words and a ring was a ring, but that week—that week was a brand, a permanent mark on Jack’s soul.
With his wedding ring back in place and the nipple ring bouncing perkily on his bare chest, Jack slipped into the shower to wash away three weeks’ worth of grime. Not that he hadn’t had a shower in three weeks—the assignment hadn’t been that bad, thank God—but the people he’d been associating with, the places he’d been, left traces no matter how many showers a man took.
Home. That was what he needed to feel clean again.
Out of the shower, he popped the cap off a bottle of beer with a contented sigh and returned to the box, fingering it, turning it, considering it. Should he open it?
He thought about what might be in the box, what Maddox might give him for their anniversary. Then he thought about what Maddox would want for their anniversary and made his decision.
Maddox didn’t bother to stop in the locker room to change out of his uniform. He’d gotten Jack’s one-word text, home, at three and hadn’t been able to concentrate since then. Thank God nothing dramatic had happened. He’d have been useless in a shootout, unless the shootout involved shooting come out of his dick because that needed to happen, and soon.
He was tempted to use the siren on the way home but managed to keep the patrol car to a speed he wouldn’t feel compelled to ticket himself for. The lights were on in their apartment, confirming the text, and he took the stairs three at a time, too impatient to wait for the rickety elevator to transport him the two floors in between him and the man he loved, the man he couldn’t wait to hurt.
Maddox burst through the front door, Jack’s name on his lips, but there was no need to call him because the first thing he saw was Jack himself. Naked, on his knees, head down, hands behind his back, wearing nothing but his wedding ring and a pair of bows—a shocking pink one around his neck, an electric blue one wrapped around the base of his cock and balls to form a decorative cock ring. Jack’s cock pointed straight out from the blue wraps, maybe as hard as Maddox’s.
“Happy anniversary to me,” he said as he surveyed his husband.
Jack was flying the pink-and-blue of the bisexual flag, perhaps to remind Maddox that though Maddox’s history might be bisexual, his future was all Jack. During the long nights following a shootout that had left Jack with a hole through his shoulder, when they’d had to go easy on him so he could heal, they’d spent a lot of time talking about their sexual history.
“So you identify as bi?” Jack had asked. “Pan?”
“I identify as dominant. Guess I never cared much which gender I dominated.”
“What about romantically?”
Maddox hadn’t answered that question, had steered Jack’s inquisitive mouth down to his cock where it could do more good. But he’d wondered: could a person be Jack-romantic? Maddox’s cock might be equal opportunity, but Jack was the only one who’d ever claimed his heart.
He’d long since stopped wondering about that, knowing that yes, this was it for him.
Belatedly, he shut the door. His eyes darted to the coffee table where the box sat, unopened.
“Good boy.” He didn’t give Jack praise often despite, or maybe because of, knowing how much Jack loved it, but his heart was so full of emotion: relief that Jack had survived whatever he’d been up to, love, pride that this incredible, perfect specimen of hard alpha maleness knelt to him. Lust. Lots of lust.
He took the few steps necessary to bring him in front of Jack and pulled his head against his thigh, feeling Jack’s short hair bristle under his fingertips. A crew cut this time. He never knew what man he’d be getting back, but there’d been worse surprises than this one, though the shorter hair did eliminate one of his favorite handles for exerting control.
For now, he stroked. Jack’s head rested fully against his leg in complete trust of Maddox’s support with half-mast eyes and an expression of adoring satisfaction splayed across his face.
“It’s so good to see you, babe.”
“Mm.” Jack unclenched his hands from behind his back and wrapped his arms around Maddox’s legs, snuggling deeper into him.
“You ready to find out what’s in the box?” It occurred to him that they could have dinner first, or catch up, or do any number of things that normal lovers might do upon being reunited, but this was them and that box had been sitting there waiting for Jack to come home for almost a week now.
Jack’s head nodded against his thigh. “Green.”
“You don’t even know what’s in there.”
“Don’t care, as long as you’re doing it to me.”
“Go get it then.”
Maddox made himself comfortable on the sofa and waited for Jack to come back and kneel between his spread legs. He still had his uniform on, but Jack loved his uniform. He could have the stains dry cleaned out of it later.
Jack looked up with a puzzled expression when he pulled out the leather case containing a half dozen slim metal rods. They were much, much too thin to be dildos, considering the size of the dildo Maddox usually stuffed Jack’s ass with.
“Um.” Jack’s expression shifted from confused to nervous. “Where exactly do these go?”
Maddox gave him an evil grin. He leaned forward so his mouth was right up against Jack’s ear. “Where do you think?” He looked down pointedly.
Jack swallowed. “Is that going to hurt?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
So, sounding was a thing. It was a thing where a rod was inserted through the slit at the top of a man’s dick, all the way down through it, ending up who knew where. Jack’s knowledge of anatomy wasn’t that solid.
He’d heard of sounding, of course, had maybe even watched a video at some point. He’d never tried it, or even imagined trying it, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t try for Maddox. Maybe there was nothing he wouldn’t try for Maddox. And red was an option if it came to it.
For now, he was bound to a kitchen chair and naked, hard and green. Being bound and naked had a lot to do with being hard and green, as did Maddox in his uniform or Maddox in anything really. The uniform reminded Jack of Robert Patrick in Terminator 2, but more so it reminded him of the night he and Maddox had met, of being bent over the hood of a patrol car getting frisked and wishing he was getting fucked.
Maddox raised the silver wand he’d been coating with clear fluid up so Jack could see it.
“Why are we starting with the biggest one?”
“Internet said that was the safest place to start. Less chance of me puncturing your urethra.”
“OK, that’s not sexy.”
“Exactly. So we’re starting with the biggest one. Besides, you know we’re going to end up with the biggest one anyway. Might as well start there.”
The wand in question was a few millimeters wide, definitely wider than Jack imagined his urethra being.
“What’s it going to feel like?”
“You’re about to find out.” Maddox paused just long enough to let him object, but he didn’t object. He braced himself as the rounded tip of the wand penetrated him. Maddox went just an inch deep before pulling it back out, a sensation fleeting enough that Jack almost didn’t catch it but definitely not pain.
The second stroke went deeper, lingered longer. The tip tickled in an almost-painful way, as if the wand was made of something more prickly than milled metal. The shaft of the wand stroked the shaft of his dick like a handjob from the inside.
Every stroke went deeper, awakening sensation in a part of his body that wasn’t accustomed to sensation. The wand grew wetter as pre-come oozed from his slit. Four or five inches of rod was buried inside him, but another five or six inches extended out of his dick, wavering with the jerks of his cock.
Maddox removed his hand from the rod and they watched together as it sank deeper and deeper of its own accord, gravity doing its work until only an inch remained visible.
“My, um, my dick’s not that long.”
“I know.” Maddox put his finger on the protruding end and pushed until the last inch disappeared inside.
“Fuck.” Fuck. The thing was embedded in him. All the way in. Somewhere. Somewhere deep inside where nothing had ever been.
Maddox ran a hand over Jack’s dick, jerking him, tugging his flesh back and forth over the sound.
“Oh fuck. That’s …”
“Good. Shit, Maddox. That’s so fucking good.” He was aware of the mechanical nature of the foreign object buried inside him, this cold, hard extension of his cold, hard lover, it’s unbendable nature matching Maddox’s. Jack had never been touched so deeply, filled so completely.
The rod was visible as a bulging line down the length of his urethra, and Maddox traced a finger over it, pressing hard against it. The skin between rod and finger sparked with sensation as it slid with Maddox’s movements, shifting the rod, settling it even deeper.
Jack’s dick wasn’t that long. The sound was there, all the way in there, all the way through him.
Maddox pulled down until the end of the sound became visible again and went back to stroking it in and out, ramping up the speed and getting way down deep.
“Oh God, that’s— I think that’s my prostate.”
At the bottom of each downstroke it felt as if Maddox had his fingers inside him, stroking over his prostate, not that Maddox often took the time to do that, but now, somehow, he was, only from the other side. The pre-come was crazy. The initial bit of antiseptic lube Maddox had coated the rod with had multiplied into a river of oozing fluid.
“Yeah, that’s …”
Maddox had figured out that the bottom of the stroke was the sweet spot and he was shifting in minor increments now, tagging Jack’s prostate over and over. Each stroke rippled through him like an unending orgasm. The liquid pouring out of him was still too clear for come, but if Maddox kept this up …
“Jesus. Yellow, if you don’t want me to come like this.”
“I don’t want you to come like this,” Maddox agreed. He let go of the sound and it sank again, disappearing out of view but not out of Jack’s consciousness. You couldn’t ignore a metal rod digging into your prostate and holding your up dick long and straight.
Maddox untied Jack from the chair. Those restraints sure hadn’t been needed. He would lie still all week if Maddox kept doing that to him. Even now, with the sounding rod unmoving inside him, it triggered orgasmic spasms as he moved, settling down onto his hands and knees on the living room rug in response to Maddox’s guidance.
Jack looked down between his arms to see the tip of the foreign object peeping out from his slit like he’d gotten a piercing, a little flash of metal hinting at the full length inside him. Behind him, Maddox brought slick fingers to his sphincter.
Jack shuddered when Maddox tagged his prostate from the inside.
“Too good,” he mumbled when Maddox’s other hand began moving the rod up and down again. Double stimulation. Too much. Too new, too amazing.
“You always bitch the loudest when I make you feel good,” Maddox observed with a laugh. “You can take any amount of pain but you’re an absolute lightweight when it comes to pleasure.
“Can’t help it. Just being where you are always has me close.”
Maddox’s lips pressed briefly to the back of his neck and then Maddox’s cock pressed harshly against his sphincter. It’d been too long since Jack had taken his lover so the entry was freshly painful, stretching him just right. His cock, harder than ever thanks to the steel rod inside it, jerked and bobbed with the thrill of being taken.
Such a strange sensation—Maddox in his ass, Maddox’s tool in his cock, Maddox’s fingers in his mouth, hooking him, pulling him back like a bit on a horse. Impaled through every orifice, thoroughly owned.
“Touch yourself,” Maddox ordered.
Really? Oh, God. Too much. The movement of his own hand forced the sound against his prostate as Maddox’s cock drove against it from the other side.
“Oh fuck, Maddox. Oh fuck, oh fuck.”
“All you, babe.” Maddox’s words gave him permission to come, not that Jack could’ve stopped it. Too many days without an orgasm, too many nights without Maddox, too many buttons being pressed.
He came, not considering until he did what the effect would be. His orgasm backed up into him for a moment, like a mounting pressure, and then the sound surfed forward on a tidal wave of come, shaking with his movements as he jerked against Maddox’s increasingly-hard thrusts. Come filled his ass even as it ran out of his cock.
Maddox pulled Jack down on top of him into a floor cuddle. He still had his uniform on. It might’ve been hot while they were fucking but he wished they were flesh to flesh now. He was too loopy from an orgasmic high and too needful of having Jack in his arms to stand up and remove it though. They would have a few days for that, he hoped, a few nights of sleeping skin-on-skin together before Jack got called away again.
“What’d you think?” he asked the man lazing on his chest.
“It didn’t hurt.”
“Sorry.” Maddox snorted. His husband was such a masochist.
“I’m not complaining,” Jack protested with a laugh. “I really enjoyed it. You can do that anytime. I’m just being honest about the fact that it felt good. In case that changes your mind.”
“You think I can only hurt you? The point is that I own you.” Granted his version of ownership delivered pain more often than pleasure.
“Are you telling me it wouldn’t have been more fun for you if I’d been screaming?”
“You made plenty of noise.” Beautiful, needy noises. Not noises of pain, perhaps, but noises a man wasn’t meant to make. “Let me worry about your responses. They’re not a thing you need to control.”
“Yes, Sir.” Jack sank into him more deeply, a sleepy sigh escaping his mouth.
Maddox had removed the bow around the base of Jack’s cock with the sound, but Jack was still wearing the one around his neck. He used it to tug Jack up for a kiss. “Welcome home. I think I forgot to say that.” Had forgotten to kiss him too. He spent a few minutes rectifying that.
Jack threaded their hands together so their rings clinked. They were almost the same color as the metal he’d just rammed down Jack’s dick.
“Good to be home.”
“I always wonder if you’ll make it back.”
“You know I’d never leave you.”
“Not on purpose.” Maddox felt reasonably confident he had something Jack couldn’t find elsewhere. “But you could get hurt or killed and be so deep under the Fed would never find you.”
A name on an emergency contact form wouldn’t mean much if Jack’s body wasn’t identified. Right now, Jack’s head was a heavy, certain weight on his chest, but it was too often missing.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jack said slowly, “about retiring. I’m mean, not taking up gardening. I’m not that old yet. But taking a desk job, something that would keep me settled.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you to retire.”
“Not for you, for me. I hate being away from you. I belong to you, inside and out. I want to be where I belong.”
“You know I’d never ask you to do that, right?”
Jack nodded. His chin, though freshly-shaven, still rasped against the fabric of Maddox’s shirt.
“And you know I’ll support whatever you decide to do, right?”
Jack nodded again.
“Then you know everything you need to know.”
Jack picked up his head. “I love you.”
“Love you too, babe. Now enough with the sweet stuff.” He rolled Jack off him and got to his feet. “Let’s refuel and we’ll go again.”
Since the sounding hadn’t hurt, they still had some work to do tonight.
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