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“You, Mr. President, have brought this on yourself.” Puchkov held up two fingers, almost in the Nigerian president’s face. His voice was soft, almost like he was talking to a young child. “This is twice now you have paid great disrespect to my friend, my ally.” He gestured to Jack. “You think you can disrespect Russia’s friends and suffer no consequences? No, Russia is a better ally than that.”
“Take us to the underground entrance, Agent Collard. If you please.” A long, silent moment. Jack watched Ethan as Ethan counted down the seconds until they were back at the White House. “Respectfully, Mr. President,” Scott buzzed back. “No shit.”
“I want to be with you,” Jack whispered. “Really with you, Ethan. Like this isn’t a scandal. I want you by my side in those photos I just had to take. I don’t want you hanging out in the corners. I don’t want you to be my dirty little secret.”
Jack’s eyes darted to his before he plucked the watch from its satin pillow. Ethan watched him read the words Ethan had agonized over for days: J, All of my hours and all of my minutes now belong to you. ~ E
Jack was sleek where Ethan was not, tanned skin soft and smooth unlike Ethan’s coarser skin, his scars, and his hair. “I’m not―” He grunted, his body still welcoming Jack within. “I’m not too…” How did he finish that thought? His words were fleeing him, his thoughts reduced to base desires and needs and fears. “Male?” Confusion tangled in Jack’s gaze for a moment. He blinked, and then it vanished, replaced by a hint of shock and then warm love. He leaned down, one hand stroking through Ethan’s hair as he bent Ethan in half, keeping them joined. “You’re wonderfully male,” he said, his voice
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“Hard choices require hard love. The kind of love that sometimes hurts it runs so deep. You have that kind of love for the world, Jack. And for everybody.” Ethan’s voice had dropped, rougher and deeper. “You are a good man.”
