JACK
“I…er…I…“
Smooth, O’Neill, smooth. I’ve never been so wretchedly
embarrassed in my ENTIRE life.
Poor
Daniel looks wide-eyed and dazed. I don’t blame him. He’s
sprawled beneath me, pinned flat by my weight. There’s nothing I
can do to disguise the fact I’ve got a five-alarm hard on, given he’s
been under me since the first alarm, which kinda turned out to be
mutual from the look on his face. Unfortunately for Daniel we’re
going nowhere until we’re certain no more of this tomb is coming down
on top of us. And then only after Carter digs us out, of course.
I could
KILL Carter.
I told her
not to touch that honkin’ great spiky thing and what did she do?
It was like a fucking sonic boom down here; the air in this chamber
Daniel was happily poking around in shifted and the roof dropped on our
heads. Not that Daniel is concerned about falling masonry when he
has the more immediate problem of my wayward dick to contend
with. I know he’s dying for Carter and the rescue team to dig
through just to get out from under me, but he doesn't dare move in the
meantime. The beam that has me neatly wedged on top of him has
given us a measure of protection, but the only way out of here is slow
and cautious.
I only
have myself to blame. I had to be the majorly macho mother-hen
and tackle him to the ground when the roof fell in. We went down
so hard he’s lucky I didn’t shoot one of us in the ass.
“Um…“
Daniel has difficulty meeting my eyes.
I’m a lot
of things I couldn’t tell my maiden aunt about, but I’d like to think
I’m neither a coward nor a liar. I pull it together long enough
to spit out a sentence. “Don’t worry about it,” I order him gruffly.
Seriously.
He doesn’t need to worry. He’s never noticed, let alone asked,
and I’ve never needed to tell. Not about to make a start
now. I have some pride, even if my dick will take anything it can
get. We’re fine. I’m fine. Just so long as he doesn’t
do that writhing thing, which is what kicked me off in the first
place. If I come in my pants just from the writhing and the
irresistibly cute and undeniably nervous way Daniel is biting his lip,
I will kill myself right here if we don’t die first. He SO
doesn’t need this.
I don’t
need this.
I was
FINE. One happy-ish, maladjusted Air Force colonel with a crush
the size of the planet on my best friend who really, truly never needed
to know I was basically limping along doing the Niles to his
Daphne. Hey, I was doing WAY better than Niles. That sap
was drooling in denial for like, seven years. Which is about six
years longer than I…
I
sigh. Okay, about two years longer than I…Yeah. I
know. Pathetic.
“I am
worried,” Daniel admits softly. “I mean…um…are you?” he asks
nervously.
Am I
what? Pop quiz, Boonie Boy. Is Jack: a) horny? b) a
desperate loser? c) in love with you? d) a horny desperate loser who’s
in love with you? I’m going with ‘d’ myself.
“It’s
nothing,” I insist in my best 'forget about it, leave it alone, it's
not open for discussion' voice.
Daniel
doesn’t seem to fully grasp his quelled status, or the fact this is not
in fact open for discussion. He gives a little experimental
shimmy that has me hissing and him sputtering and blushing furiously.
“THAT is
not nothing!” he accuses indignantly.
I shoot
him a smutty look before I can stop myself and the residual blush hits
MY hairline. It constantly amazes me how such an obvious hottie
can wander vaguely through life not even seeing sex or gender as an
issue. Carter and Fraiser worship the ground he walks on because
he can’t see the woman for the person. It’s not helping him right
now, of course, because he can’t see the colonel for the dick.
“Can we
NOT talk about this?” I drawl sarcastically. I want to tell him
to stop breathing on my neck, but he’s already doing ‘virgin sacrifice
at dawn’ with great artistry and conviction, and it’s not like he can
get up and walk around in lieu of dying from TMI. It isn’t
Daniel’s fault he’s a hottie, and if only he could be brought to
realise it and not go around being sweet and nice to the susceptible,
which I KNOW should not include majorly macho mother-hen Special Ops
colonels, well, we’d all sleep a lot happier in my bed.
“You have
an erection,” Daniel observes clinically. “The occurrence of said
tumescence of which correlates precisely with MY adjacency
and…um…activity.”
“So you
think it’s a good idea to talk dirty to me?” I interrupt hastily.
Don’t they teach ANYTHING in grad school? Such as, random example
here, NOT using words like ‘tumescence’ to a guy you’ve GOTTEN
tumescent?
“Oh.”
Daniel’s brow wrinkles thoughtfully. “Turgid. Tumid.”
“What did
I just TELL you?” I demand.
“Emphysematous.
Oedematous,” Daniel insists defiantly.
I glare at
him.
“Big
honkin’ boner,” he translates demurely, gazing up at me like butter
wouldn’t melt.
I shrug
deprecatingly. “It’s my sidearm, I swear.” I’m not going to
admit that my tumescence and his adjacency have any correlation at
all. He can think I’m a sad fuck who needs to get out more and he
gives me any more attitude, I’ll forget I’m a gentleman and show him
what a little friction between two like-minded guys can accomplish.
Which is
kind of the crux of the matter. We’re not like-minded, and I am a
gentleman and Daniel’s friend, so I’ve said and done nothing that will
make him uncomfortable or even aware that I’m quietly eaten up inside,
because as much as I love and need Daniel, and I accepted a long time
ago I wanted Daniel in a way I’ve only ever wanted Sara, I don’t get to
have him.
Daniel is
straight. He’s also celibate, but Daniel never takes the easy
route and in his case celibate does not equate with susceptible.
I’m so aroused I can’t see straight right now.
Daniel…isn’t. He’s anxious and confused and he’s talking because
for the moment it stops him thinking. Probably for the
best. Thinking will only bump his anxiety up to full-blown panic
and we’ve got a roof to get out from under before he can get out from
under me.
So I’m not
admitting this is anything more than a minor inconvenience, friction,
if you will, the kind of inconvenience a guy who realises he’s supposed
to be more in touch with his dick than his feelings wouldn’t mention.
“Jack, I…”
“Friction,”
I say flatly.
“Interresting,”
Daniel rolls the word slowly over his tongue. “Given you’re not
actually moving, what with being pinned by the beam and all,” he
supplies helpfully.
Ah, if
only Daniel was the no-brain, all-dick type. I wouldn’t be in
love with him, but I also wouldn’t be trapped here with a resilient
erection and an insatiably curious archaeologist with all the finely
honed survival instincts of a suicidal lemming given he keeps saying
shit like ‘tumid’ to me and can’t keep fucking STILL. “DANIEL,” I
hiss a warning.
Daniel
eyes me reproachfully and sighs. “The Greeks…” he begins in
coaxing accents.
“STOP with
the Greeks,” I snap with unflattering promptness.
“Prick,”
he grumbles. Then he blushes again.
My turn to
sigh. It’s hard to avoid his eyes. It’s hard to avoid the
fact I could just drop my head and kiss him about as thoroughly as
anyone has ever kissed him in the whole of his life.
It’s…hard. Other than that, I’m okay, we’re pinned but I’m not
actually hurt, except for my pride, and my libido, which both wish I
was dead. Just pinned. Tumid and pinned. Homo
erectus, here.
Still,
what was the roof and is now pretty much the floor is looming over us,
looking like it could go at any moment, so best to be still. Much
as I’d like a little distance for the sake of my last shreds of
dignity, I’m not hitching up to spare Daniel’s blushes so he’d better
keep STILL if he doesn’t want me going off like a rocket.
“KNOCK IT
OFF.”
Daniel
shoots me a resentful look up from under his lashes. “My butt is
numb.”
I wish my
dick was numb.
“Why
didn’t you tell me you were attracted to me?” Daniel asks innocently.
“I’m not,”
I insist stubbornly.
Daniel’s
gaze shifts pointedly down.
“Huh,” I
snort dismissively. “Don’t diss a man just because he needs a
little quality time with his spin dryer,” I drawl. One of
Daniel’s trademark not-quite-there grins gets away from him.
There’s something very comforting about laundry when getting some is a
bi-annual occurrence at best, and being stoned or hammered is the
deciding factor for both events. I’ve always kept my private life
absolutely private, given my reputation is, broadly speaking, studly,
and the tragic truth is I may talk the talk but I sure don’t fuck the
fuck.
“I’m just
saying that if you are attracted to me, you should say something,”
Daniel persists.
“Say
what?” I ask incredulously, before I can stop myself. “Excellent
job on the translation, Daniel,” I sing song witheringly, “and by the
way, you look so hot in your bandana I want to drag you out back of the
tomb and fuck you senseless over that ceremonial doodad.” I use
my best scornful 'like that would EVER happen! Pfffft!' voice. I
mean, if I have to TELL him I was trying for ‘ludicrously exaggerated’
I’m going to lose all credibility. Especially as it’s the literal
truth and all.
Daniel’s
mouth drops open. “You do?” he asks feebly.
Of course
I do! I'm a GUY. It's never pretty. The merest
glimpse of his ass makes the roof of my mouth go dry. Throw in
the bandana and the shades and we're talking stress fractures on my
P-90. Why does he think I wear the fingerless gloves?
“Don’t be stupid, Daniel. Can you SPELL hypothetical?”
Okay, maybe that WAS a bad example. Kinda forgot my audience,
here.
“Oh,”
Daniel’s face is an odd mixture of relief and puzzlement. “I
see. I…as a matter of fact I’m…I’m a little disappointed,” he
admits with quiet dignity. “I mean, if you’d…” he takes a shaky
breath, “…wanted to ask me out or…or something…”
You’d have
gone ‘EEP!’ and yelped ‘NO!’.
“I
wouldn’t have said no.”
“What?” I
ask with exquisite caution, feeling like I’m teetering on a knife’s
edge. I’m admitting NOTHING if we can both escape with a modicum
of dignity attached, but if there’s a frickin’ HINT he
would…fuuuuck. I am so screwed here. I never wanted him to
know and now…I sigh. We’re both screwed. Can’t get the
genie back in my pants.
“I’m not
averse to seeing you,” Daniel says quietly. “I’ve never
considered a sexual relationship with you, in fact, I’m usually
thinking the translation looks hot, not you…but…but I’m not…not
averse,” he stammers out determinedly.
“For
pity’s sake?” I snarl, my heart sinking.
Daniel
flinches. “If you say so,” he agrees stiffly. “I don’t know
what people want, but whatever it is, I don’t have it. You’re the
only one who’s asked. Not that you did ask, but if you had, I
would have said yes.” He drops his eyes, flashing that quick
nervous grin. “Yes…please,” he adds ruefully. “I guess
that’s pitiable, but not as pitiable as being alone, Jack.”
Aw,
hell. HELL. What am I supposed to say to that? It
bites, BIG TIME, loving this guy. “I meant me. You pity
ME,” I mumble grudgingly.
Daniel’s
head jerks up and his eyes widen in a ‘don’t be stupid, Jack’ way that
does my ego proud.
“Everybody
likes you.”
“Everybody
thinks I’m a loudmouth jerk with an attitude problem,” I correct
crisply. “Including you,” I admit wryly.
“Only some
of the time,” Daniel assures me earnestly. “The rest of the time
I think you’re…”
“Hot?” I
leer, deliberately ludicrously exaggerated. That coaxes another
nervous smile from Daniel.
“Kind.”
Ouch.
I wince. Not the most glowing character reference a guy could
look for. Daniel looks apologetic, but oddly determined.
“We could
spend time together. If you wanted,” he offers, desperately
casual.
“We spend
time together now.” And what I want is sex; constant, hot, guilt-free
sex. Which of course you don't get if you happen to be IN LOVE
with the guy, especially this guy.
“Ju-just
as friends.”
“Are you
offering to spend time together as lovers?” I ask carefully.
Daniel
winces again but nods jerkily.
I feel a
little sick. I hadn’t, I truly hadn’t realised how alone he felt,
if he’s willing to consider sex with me just to…
“No,”
Daniel gasps, glaring at me. “I’m not THAT needy.”
Oops.
Gotta work on that poker face.
“I mean
I’m tired of being ALONE,” Daniel says meaningfully.
“Have you
considered dating?” I ask gently. It's been over a year since
Sha’uri died, and apart from a brief rebound something or other with
the Destroyer of Worlds, Daniel hasn’t exactly been setting the
Colorado Springs social scene alight. The only woman he takes out
and stays in with is Carter and even my pathological jealousy is
perfectly aware Carter’s maternal instincts are channelled right into
Cassie and Daniel.
“I’m
trying!” Daniel scowls at me.
“I’m not
dating you!” I scowl back.
“Why not?”
Daniel asks stubbornly.
When did I
lose control of this situation? “Because, whereas I, in my youth,
was a bit of a Kinseyish two on the quiet, you’ve got classic zero
written all over you.”
Daniel,
the celibate heterosexual, manages to look insulted at being labelled a
heterosexual. Not that I’m not. I was just a tad more open
to extreme possibility in my youth than Meet ’n’ Greet Boy. He’s
so buttoned down and ‘hands off!’ I’ve always thought he’d explode if I
grabbed his ass or stuck my tongue down his throat or something.
It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, but I’m not sure he’d survive the
experience.
Daniel
tries to speak but has to pause to spit out some of the dirt that’s
trickling down over our faces – Carter, thank fuck, at LAST, digging
through – which kind of hones the cutting edge of whatever it is that’s
making him go rigid beneath me. Not rigid in a GOOD way,
unfortunately. The alarming kind of rigid.
“So you’re
saying that whatever it is YOU want, I STILL don’t have it!”
He’s
appallingly cute when he’s indignant. The trickle becomes a
steady stream of dirt and debris, so I hunch forward protectively,
covering Daniel’s upturned face with my own, arms braced behind my head
to protect my own noggin. Such as it is.
“I HATE
labels.” Daniel is argumentative, if muffled, as he bitches into my
shoulder.
I don’t
give a shit. That last little nudge dislodged his bandana and
I’ve got a nose full of herbal scented silky hair, more than enough to
take the edge of a rock that ricochets agonisingly off my shoulder hard
enough to bounce. In fact, the small rocks are tumbling down
continually, glancing off my back and shoulders and skittering away,
but it’s worth it. Sunlight is beginning to filter through and
Daniel’s hair is lighting to gold.
Carter’s
doing pretty good up there. We’ll be out in no time. And
then I can have a few carefully chosen words with her about just how it
was we wound up down here in the first place. Her head has been
in her ass since Starman booked. Maybe this time she'll listen
and go with the knitting.
“If I’m
attractive enough to quote ‘drag out back of the temple’ and…” Daniel
hesitates, going suspiciously still for a moment, “…and SNIFF,” he
accuses, “…why am I not attractive enough to buy take-out?” he demands
furiously.
The issue
isn’t who I find attractive, the issue is who HE doesn’t. As in
he does it for me, and I SO don’t do it for him. As
blessedly fresh air pours in and Daniel gets ready for another verbal
salvo, I give in to an irresistible impulse I’ve been suppressing for
five years and clamp my hand over his mouth.
“Forget
it, Daniel. I’m NOT dating you,” I tell him smugly as his
outraged eyes lay into me.
“Sir?”
Carter’s startled voice echoes.
God, is
she or is she not the most aggravating woman who ever lived?
“Then
Major Carter completed the extraction…” Yadda yadda.
Major
Carter is sitting protectively at Doctor Jackson’s side looking like
she wants to extract another part of me entirely. My balls,
possibly. I got two pairs of big blue eyes doing that subliminal
‘Jack is a world-class bastard’ thing at me. Carter is mad
because she screwed up and I yelled at her for it, and her darling –
and for that matter technically my darling – is seething because he
thinks I simply can’t lower my standards enough to want to date
HIM. He’s been in a slow burn ever since Carter, Teal’c and
whatsisname from SG-14 winched us to safety.
The two of
them stalked back to the Stargate commiserating supportively and
comparing notes about how much of a bastard I’d been to them
individually, collectively and cumulatively from the sound of it.
Every step of the way back we heard aggrieved little mutters as they
covered such fruitful topics as ‘just like he did on P2Y-759!’, ‘my
point exactly!’ and a resounding ‘protector my ass!” from the civilian
portion of the geek bitch-fest.
I love my
kids. I love ‘em to death. Only Daniel could be mad because
I don't want to date him. It should be a good thing. He
doesn't want to date me. He's straight. We're friends, he's
straight and he's still pissed I won't buy him take-out.
Teal’c and
I strolled along behind them with identical indulgent ‘aren’t they
sweet?’ and ‘they’re OURS’ looks, which naturally kept the haughty
sniffs going until we gated back and the general took up the slack.
“I’m truly
sorry the site has been lost to us, Dr Jackson,” Hammond sympathises
with Daniel.
Even
Daniel isn’t man enough to refrain from a slightly reproachful glance
at Carter, who flushes miserably.
“I managed
to get detailed video footage of all the text panels in the outer
chamber but…” Daniel trails off unhappily, bravely avoiding Carter’s
eye.
I am still
ticked off with Carter. Daniel was having a blast poking around
down there, getting all flushed and excited, reading gibberish out to
me and speculating wildly about stuff I don’t understand and don’t care
about except for the fact he cares and it makes him happy.
MADE him
happy. I had managed to grasp we were still at the finger food
stage, the ‘all you could eat buffet’ was a few levels down when Carter
triggered the whatever it was, it overloaded and went ‘Pfft-boom’, that
sound wave taking out the temple and nearly us along with it. I
know she didn’t actually mean to, but I’m having no difficulty in
blaming her.
I glare at
her across the table. Knit, woman, KNIT.
However,
with the mission a complete wash-out, odds are the General can be
finessed into giving us some downtime instead of another mission.
"Do you
KNOW what that thing was in its pre-kaboom state?" I ask Carter.
"No, Sir,"
Carter admits. "There wasn't time to determine the function of
the device before it…"
"Kaboomed."
"It is
possible the device is a weapon," Teal'c observes. "The sound
wave it emanated seemed to increase with distance."
"Sonic
kaboom," I say bitterly. Carter opens her mouth. I point my
finger. "Ah! Put it in the report, Carter. My ass
can't take it." Carter closes her mouth and hunches down,
avoiding my eye. We got off light. One bruised butt and one
bruised ego.
"I will
assist Major Carter," Teal'c offers, smiling gently at Carter.
"I'd like
some time to work on the translation, too," Daniel requests briskly, in
between shooting sorrowful, sympathetic looks at Carter and the
occasional frostbite-in-a-pout in my direction.
"Colonel?"
Hammond prompts.
I nod
reluctantly, grimacing a little for effect, knowing Hammond will give
Daniel the time to make up for not having the site.
Perfect! Could not in fact be better. Daniel will hit the
books, burn the midnight oil and forget all his relative dating woes
while my ass and I hit the liniment.
I evade
Daniel's suspicious look as Hammond dismisses us. Teal'c stays
behind to soothe the kids but I book. What a man fantasises in
the privacy of his own bubble bath is his business.
DANIEL
I stalk up
the path and knock imperatively on Jack's door. I give him
exactly thirty seconds and then I start banging on it.
This is
Jack's fault. Entirely his fault.
After the
briefing, I tried to talk to him sensibly about what happened between
us on P9R-795. Jack insisted nothing happened between us. I
discussed that. Then he argued that anyone but a frickin’
archaeologist – unspecified - would have ignored what happened between
us, punctuating the diatribe with a crack about me confusing bones and
boners, and some bizarre grumbling about knitting. I discussed
that too. Subsequently he made some reprehensibly knee-jerk
observations about palaeontologists, ordered me to stop being so
fucking difficult and stormed off home.
So
naturally I went to that den of iniquitous conspicuous consumption
known as the Chapel Hill Mall, stalked into Dillard’s to buy something
sexy, and here I am at Jack's place with every intention of being even
more fucking difficult here.
At least I
hope this something is sexy. I'm not actually sure what
constitutes sexy, but this outfit is certainly different. I've
never worn cargo pants in my life and the T-shirt appears to be two
sizes too small at least. The pants aren't exactly on the baggy
side either. The sales clerk assured me I was all ass, which I
took to be a good thing on a 'hot' date, but I have to admit I'm not so
much flaunting it as trying to press it flat against the wall where
people can't look at it. I marched out of Men's head held high,
made it to Maternity, noticed I was being - um - noticed, slunk back to
Men's and re-emerged with a sweater. A huge, chunky ribbed
turtleneck. Grey. Wearing these pants - also grey - on a
'hot' date is one thing. Wearing them, AND the T-shirt -
different shade of grey - in PUBLIC is quite another.
And
‘bringing out my eyes’ was not the reason for choosing grey. It's
just an added anxiety.
Bonus.
I mean
bonus.
I bang
again. Where the hell are you, Jack? Open the damn DOOR!
"Alright
already!" Jack's voice hollers. "Keep your pantyhose…" he
wrenches open the door. "...fuck!" he finishes, jaw clenching.
I shift
nervously from foot to foot. Is that good? He's looking at
me. Is THAT good? Actually - um. Maybe not.
He's - he's REALLY looking at me. Back on the planet he was okay
- I mean, apart from the erection, obviously - he was nice.
Safe. He was safe.
He's
looking at me now like…like he wants me. Jack WANTS me.
He's not safe. Not safe at all. This isn't friction, this
isn't an 'ignore it and it'll go away' guy thing. He's staring at
me and I'm turning him on, right now. I know THIS. This is
need. This is wanting and not having, and being eaten up inside.
"Not on
the first date," I say nervously, taking his stupefaction to mean I can
go right on in. I'll feel a lot better when this ass is buried in
a cushion, but my headlong rush for the safety of the couch falters
when I glance back and find Jack's gaze riveted to the ass in
question. I wriggle it - just a little bit - and his breath
hitches. Then he shivers convulsively, once, and the Jack I know
is back and in control.
"It's up
to you, Daniel, but I'm on my way out," Jack says easily. "I like
to eat, and despite my best efforts that also means occasionally I have
to shop. It could take some time," he intones solemnly, turning
to head out of the house towards his truck.
Oh.
I trail out behind him, feeling quite deflated, which is exactly what
he intended. Not deflated enough to quit, obviously. I
could wait here alone or I could go home. I could, but I'm not
going to. Jack is being infuriatingly stubborn. I meant
what I said to him. I don't want to be alone. I want
someone in my life, NEED someone to just be there and…and care. I
know he does, I know he's my friend but it's not the same, it's not
enough. If I have to have him in my bed to have him in my life,
well, I'm a big boy. I can take it. I'll admit I've never
been with a man, but the thought of having sex with a man doesn't
disgust me. I've spent half my life reading the classics and now,
thinking about being with Jack, I'm…intrigued about how it is between
men, how it would be between US. As much as I care about Jack, as
much as I like him, I'm willing. He wants me and I'm
willing. And curious.
Jack is
very attractive, aesthetically AND emotionally. Very…big and very
attractive. I glance at the trim jean-clad form, all long legs
and lean muscle. Jack is very…very everything.
I'm very
curious.
"I'll see
you tomorrow," I call as I edge past him towards my own car.
"Uh huh,"
Jack drawls, eyeing me with fathomless scepticism.
"Since you
won't offer any empirical evidence as to why I'm allegedly attractive
enough to fuck but not to date, I'm going to have to look elsewhere," I
tell him chattily as I unlock the car.
Jack
freezes. He turns slowly to stare at me. "Elsewhere?" he asks
edgily.
"I thought
I'd try the 'Hide & Seek'." I smile sweetly.
"Dressed
like THAT?" Jack howls.
So it's
not subtle. Bite me. Colorado Springs isn't noted for its
thriving gay scene so it's no surprise to me Jack recognises the
bar. I had to look it up on the internet, but that's
different. Jack couldn't name two museums in the city, but he is
to bars what I am to bookstores.
"I'm
dressed just fine for the purpose of ascertaining whether I'm fuckable
or dateable," I say crisply, pulling my door open. I’m hoping for
both.
"Get in
the truck," Jack snarls.
"I'm…"
"Get.
In. The. Truck."
"Sorry, I…"
"NOW!"
I'm sorely
tempted to get in my car just to see what he does, but I settle for
strolling insultingly slowly around to the passenger side of the
truck. Jack jumps in and glares at me ferociously as I buckle
up. He's rigid and white knuckled as we pull away. I sit
demurely silent and let him stew as he drives steadily along the
darkening road, casting me dark, brooding looks from time to time.
"You're
not setting FOOT in that place," he warns abruptly.
Um, way to
talk me out of it, Jack.
“Unless
I’m with you,” he recovers smoothly.
I concede
the point reluctantly. He knows perfectly well I’d give up a
month’s pay to see him gracing a gay bar and I’d never ask him to do it
because I’d never damage his reputation. Jack knows he’s called
my bluff. He relaxes and his knuckles ease off from their death
grip on the steering wheel. I turn my head subtly to look at him,
really look for the first time. I can’t make sense of my own
face, so I’m not sure how I’m going to make sense of Jack’s. I’ve
always thought of him as solid and dependable, in a sarcastic, making a
point of it way. He’s my friend. He’s just…he’s Jack.
My closest friend. My very attractive closest friend. Um,
very.
“What are
you thinking?” Jack demands suspiciously.
“I’m
thinking about us in bed together,” I reply unthinkingly, my eyes
lingering on Jack’s big, capable hands.
He
wrestles for control of the steering wheel for a instant and shoots me
glare that could carve stone. “Well DON’T!” he hollers, the veins
standing out on his neck.
I’m okay
with it. I truly am. In fact, the idea of making love with
Jack fills me with a kind of mellow acceptance; a trifle vague on the
details, but big on stuff like trust and waking up with someone
close. I’m seriously curious about what it will be like, what he
will be like. Seriously enough the acceptance is edged with
anticipation.
Seriously.
“We’re
dating,” Jack orders grimly.
We
are? That’s…
“I don’t
trust you an INCH. I don’t know where ‘Jailbait Jackson’ boiled
up from, but I’m TELLING you, the only action you’ll be seeing is with
ME.”
I brighten
up. That’s…
“So we’re
dating. Agreed?” Jack prompts, not softening noticeably.
“Agreed,”
I hasten to assure him. And that means we move swiftly on to
satisfying my curiosity. And lots of other little urges I have
jostling pleasurably for Jack’s urgent attention.
“You can’t
go back on it, you know,” Jack says gravely. “This is not suck it
and see. We have to WORK together, so you have to know going in
if we’re dating, it’s not casual. It’s fucking deadly serious.”
“I don’t
DO casual,” I say stiffly.
“Shocker.”
“Prick.”
Jack looks
at me seriously then nods. He lightens up for the first time
since I arrived on his doorstep as he turns the truck smoothly and
pulls into the parking lot. “My usual rules apply,” he says
cheerfully as we coast through the almost empty lot towards the store
entrance.
“Rules?” I
ask suspiciously. “Such as?”
Jack beams
at me. “At the risk of TMI, I dated Sara for three months before
we made love.”
Three
months?
Three?
MONTHS?
Whaa?
“I’d hate
you to think I thought any less of YOU,” Jack assures me earnestly as
he jumps energetically out of the truck.
I slink
out of my side and slam the door, glowering at him.
Bastard. That’s admirable, I agree, that’s what I…I’ve never
RUSHED, but it’s not like we’re just leaping into bed. I’ve known
him for five years. “We don’t need time to build trust. We
HAVE trust,” I complain. He’s been annoying me forever and
frankly, never more so than now.
“You’re a
virgin AND my best friend. I’m not jumping you on the first
date. Get over it,” Jack says briskly as he turns and strides
away. “Welcome to my world,” he calls, gesturing expansively at
the romantic vista before us, “and our first date.”
Woo.
Safeway.
I can’t
help but notice the customer services lady books the instant she claps
eyes on Jack as he wheels the cart purposefully towards her
counter. I’m slightly taken aback to see him pick up a complaints
form. We just got here. Literally. And we got free
snacks when we walked in, chunks of warm cinnamon doughnut. Jack
ate three complimentary servings. It’s a tad on the harsh side to
complain after eating THREE servings.
Jack
writes steadily for a couple of minutes and signs his name with a
flourish. “They move stuff,” he supplies with dignity. “In
an appallingly obvious attempt to make you have to tear the store apart
to find the stuff again and therefore make you buy a whole range of
other stuff you didn’t want and didn’t need and wouldn’t have even seen
if…” he waits expectantly.
“They
hadn’t deliberately moved the stuff you actually wanted in the first
place?” I supply carefully. Jack’s world may be…scary.
“I never
shopped until Sara left me,” Jack confides as he slips the complaint
form into his pocket.
His jeans
pocket. Nice jeans. Tight. Nice…nice ass.
Tight. “What?”
Jack looks
at me curiously. “What ‘what’?” he asks, puzzled.
“Nothing,”
I mutter, blushing. Nothing that won’t be cured in three
months. The bastard isn’t dating me at all. He got me all
hot and bothered and now he’s got my wayward libido on a leash.
Ha. If he thinks he’s shoving me out his door tonight without so
much as a kiss goodnight he’s got another thing coming. I’m
sleeping over. We’ll see how HIS libido copes with me plastered
to him at four am. If he couldn’t cope with me in cammos, he
won’t stand a chance against me in jammies.
“I notice
stuff that other people have been indoctrinated into. I can tell
them every single week exactly what’s been moved and where it was moved
from. Carrots,” Jack mutters vaguely.
He’s
looking right at the carrots and they’re right here with the rest of
the vegetables so I’m not sure what his objection is. “Carrots?”
I prompt.
“I need
carrots.”
“They’re
right here. We’re standing in front of them.”
“And how
long do we defrost these babies before we eat them?”
Defrost?
FROZEN carrots? I shudder and delve efficiently into the display,
carefully selecting the smallest and sweetest for julienne.
“I need
peas. You gonna run them under a microscope too?”
I nod
meaningfully at the next display stand.
“I’m not
SHELLING anything!” Jack says indignantly. “Not in the context of
food preparation, anyway,” he amends self-consciously.
I weigh
out a couple of pounds of pea pods regardless and gaze around, trying
to orient myself.
“Forget
it,” Jack says gloomily. “Next time you come this will be the
fish counter.”
“Fish?” I
ask hopefully, sidling gently over to a tempting array of goodies.
“No, and
get away from that salad!”
Jack
argues vehemently in favour of frozen veg right up until I say the
magic word.
“Steak.”
“Steak?”
“Steak.”
I lure him
back to the salad bar after promising to take the edge off with
sautéed potatoes, roughly chopped field mushrooms and
shallots. Corn has Jack thinking melted butter and that gets us
safely through most of the fruit too. Jack grumbles at any fruit
he can’t instantly identify, which is everything from the kiwis on, but
he accepts my lie about whipped cream layering the tropical fruit salad
without a murmur. I’ll sneak in some virtually fat free
crème fraîche when he isn’t looking. He’ll never
know the difference.
“You
cook?” Jack drawls hopefully, obviously trying not to get too excited.
“I cook.”
“REALLY
cook or cook like I cook?” Jack asks wistfully.
“I have
all the pans,” I offer, squeezing a kumquat suggestively.
“I have
pans.”
That’s a
good point. “I’ve got herbs and I’m not afraid to use them,” I
assure him solemnly as we hang a left and weave our way through the
household stuff towards the booze.
Jack’s
eyes light. “Hot damn!” he gloats.
I’m not
proud. I’m…I’m horny. If the way to Jack’s dick is through
his stomach, I’ll feed him like he’s never been fed before.
“Beer,”
Jack heads straight on.
“Wine,” I
turn right.
“Beer!”
“I don’t
like beer.”
“I don’t
like wine,” Jack insists stubbornly.
I glance
back and shudder. He doesn’t like beer either, if he’s drinking
that god-awful domestic brew. I prowl through the wine selection,
find a decent CJ Pask Reserve Merlot, then pounce on the Corban’s
Cottage Chardonnay, Cru Les Chevrets, Margaret River Shiraz, and
finally the Lump Riesling just as Jack wheels the cart handily in range.
“What part
of ‘I don’t like wine’ didn’t you grasp?” Jack asks
sarcastically. He retrieves a bottle from the cart, peers around,
spots the price and chokes. He checks the aisle for rogue
shoppers, then leans in. “I thought you were a cheap date!” he
accuses.
“I was
lulling you into a false sense of security. I’m a very expensive
date. Better start thinking about re-mortgaging.”
Sheer devilment has me slipping a bottle of Heidsieck Blanc de Blanc
champagne into the cart right under his nose. My turn to lean
in. “We’ve already got the strawberries,” I murmur.
“Breakfast.” Jack surprisingly takes his $150 breakfast menu
without a blink.
“I hope it
doesn’t go off,” he says pleasantly. “Because it’ll be about
three months before we get round to sinking this puppy.” Then he
winks at me as I glare at him.
I trail
sullenly along in his wake as he heads confidently towards the scent of
fresh-baked bread.
“That’s
another trick,” Jack confides. “They have this down-home scent
wafting through the store to make you more amenable to spending money
right when the only thing on your mind is getting out of this hellhole
alive.”
A young
girl stacking shelves whirls around and glares at Jack. Then she
blushes and smiles at him, dimpling. Jack actually looks over his
shoulder to see who she’s smiling at and the moment he realises it’s
him, he bolts. I nod to her politely as I walk past. Her
smile widens as her gaze focuses at butt height and I bolt after Jack,
blushing furiously. She looks about twelve with those braids.
“Jeez,”
Jack groans theatrically when I catch up with him. “I feel like a
cradle-snatcher as it is, but THAT…” he shudders. “If she was any
younger she’d be sperm.”
I’m about
to sympathise wholeheartedly when his meaning sinks in. “Cradle
snatcher? How old do you think I am?” I hiss indignantly.
“Thirty-five,”
Jack tosses over his shoulder as he spies family packs of those
cinnamon doughnuts. “Going on about fifteen.”
“What?”
Jack
glances around. “Come on! Admit it. You’ve never even
fooled around with another guy," he whispers, face alight with
amusement.
I’ve never
even kissed another guy but what’s that got to do with Laughing Jack?
“It’s
different,” Jack insists, looking amused. “Trust me,
alright? It’s different.”
Well,
we’ll see won’t we? When we get home. Kissing. Curled
up in Jack’s bed, in Jack’s arms, kissing. Niiiice. Jack
bends down suddenly to investigate chocolate chip muffins and I get an
eyeful of the O’Neill derriere. I’m decided. Absolutely.
Lots of
protein.
Lots of
protein then kissing.
Lots of
kissing.
JACK
“You want
to stay?” I ask as Daniel emerges from the kitchen with two heaped
plates. I feel faint. My taste buds have already died and
gone to heaven over the egg and tiger prawn salad. Didn’t know
you could do THAT with lime juice. I bitterly regret all those
years of take-out. I mean, look at this! I’ve got sirloin
steak with sautéed everything, and I’ve already done my duty by
the green stuff, so he can’t whine when I leave it this time.
“Please,”
he asks politely.
This has
been one surreal evening. A hot date in Safeway of all places,
and now Daniel is insisting he wants to stay over. “Sure,” I
agree easily. “I wouldn't risk the couch myself, but I’ll spring
for the chiropractor.” Daniel scowls at me. I don’t think
he has any idea how confused he looks to me, how conflicted. He’s
checking out my butt one second, the next he's blushing and sidling
along with his back to the wall when I return the compliment.
I shake my
head wryly. Truly surreal. He turns up on my doorstep dressed
like THAT, looking utterly fuckably hot and was totally fried when I
wanted to. Threatening to go down to the ‘Hide & Seek’ to see
what he could pick up? I swear, dating him seems like the safest
thing, containment-wise. Doctor Celibate's sexuality looks about
ready to explode right outta the closet if he doesn’t die of
embarrassment in the meantime.
I don't
know what to say to him, I really don't. Daniel has been
presented with an opportunity he never expected or even wanted, and in
a way it's admirable he's so free of prejudice he can even consider
being with another man let alone me, given the way he knows me. I
guess I never really knew I mattered this much to him, and yeah, I'll
admit it's flattering as all hell that Daniel cares about me enough to
let me have sex with him. That's the kind of the friend he is,
though, generous and giving to a fault.
Which
doesn't help me being the kind of friend I am.
Daniel
loves me, that much is crystal clear. He loves me enough to want
me in his life, to want me close, which is wonderful. Good stuff
I can work with, build on. Daniel being ready to forsake his
heterosexuality and rush in where straight guys fear to tread without a
fucking CLUE what he's dealing with or what it could do to him is a
whole other thing. After all the times we've butted heads, argued
about every conceivable goddamned thing under this and every other sun,
I never suspected he trusted me this much. I'm BLOWN AWAY he
trusts me this much. I want him, he trusts me, he's mine?
Jesus.
I hope to
fuck I'm strong enough not to take advantage. He turned up
tonight with an overnight bag which is sitting pointedly by my front
door. I checked it out while he was cooking and now I’m feeling
disgustingly sappy and tender-hearted. I found a huge sweater
which I think is designed to stop people other than me from admiring
his rear end, and the goddamn receipt is in the bag. He bought
this stuff specially. I can't believe he's so uncertain of his
own attractiveness he had to dress sexy. I haven't the heart to
tell him he's sexy whatever he wears and my mind can't even go to what
he'll look like naked, because it was melty-spine time over the fuzzy
jammie bottoms he brought with him, along with his toothbrush, a little
travel bag with all his stuff, and a book.
Daniel
dressed sexy and he brought jammies and a book.
I know
what this is. This is Daniel willing to get laid so he can
get…what? A hug? Time? He's got that. I'd like
to have him just plain old comfortable before we even think about
getting as physical as I need to get. I'm not saying I'll wait
until he wants to make love as much as I do but he has to come to me
something more than just accepting. Sex isn't going to be the
price he pays for the other stuff, the stuff he really wants. The
relationship stuff.
"I'm not
sleeping on the couch," Daniel insists as he slices vindictively into
his steak.
"Well
don't look at me," I say pleasantly. "My house."
God, he's
sexy when he's sullen and thwarted. That sulky pout is giving me
a bad desire. I smile slowly. Nothing new there.
"I'm
sleeping with you," Daniel challenges.
"As in…" I
wave my hand suggestively.
"WITH
you,” he announces decisively.
I casually
shrug assent like it's no big thing the man I'm in love with will be
sharing my bed for the first time.
"And
we're…"
"Not," I
finish emphatically.
"I want
to," Daniel admits quietly.
"What?
What is it you want to?" I ask just as quietly. I don't want to
get on his case. I don't think he's ready, but I'm not in his
head with him, and I'm not his daddy, so I'm not going to make his
decisions for him. Whatever he wants, if it's for him and not
what he thinks should be for me, I'm here for him. "Seriously,
Daniel," I assure him. "What is it you want me to do for
you?" I'm hoping he'll see what he really wants is just to open
up and sleep with someone, that all he really needs to do is
relax. I'm not going anywhere.
"Kissing,"
Daniel suggests hopefully, risking a small smile.
"Kissing
is good," I agree warmly and Daniel relaxes.
"I like to
kiss," Daniel murmurs wistfully.
"Yeah?
Me too." I'm relieved. It could have been worse.
"I want to
be with you," he admits shyly, eyes fixed intently on the steak he's so
very busy with just now.
O-kaay.
That’s worse.
"Wanna
know when I was first attracted to you?" I offer as I take a long
draught of my beer. Daniel's head snaps up, eyes wide and
eager. "I'll take that as a yes," I say dryly. "First time
I laid eyes on you."
Daniel's
mouth drops open, which gives me another bad desire and a treacherous
twitch of interest from the greedy little bastard downstairs.
"Don't get
me wrong," I say easily. "We're not talking hearts and
flowers. I just…noticed."
"Oh,"
Daniel mumbles uncertainly, busy now with his sautéed mushrooms.
I can
guess what Daniel noticed about me. Scary suicidal asshole is
about right. Not that he ever was. Scared of me, I
mean. A lot of people were. A lot still are. Daniel
isn’t. Never even crosses his mind I could do him harm.
Technically I blew him up one time, but he didn’t take that personally.
"And when
did you first want to…you know…drag me out back and…um…y’know?"
Daniel asks hesitantly.
I
know. I had an inkling I felt way more for Daniel Jackson than I
should when I thought I'd lost him to Nem. I kinda went to
pieces. As for the other…I can't help but look embarrassed.
"Plant Boy," I admit reluctantly.
"What?"
Daniel squawks.
"Right
after you did that little dance thing. I've never seen a man who
needed to get laid as much as you did right then…”
Daniel
stiffens and glowers at me with palpable hostility. I lick my
lips lasciviously and he subsides, blushing. Excellent powers of
deduction he’s got there. Yes indeedy. Right now, he needs
to get laid even more than he did back then.
“…and of
course I couldn't say a goddamn WORD what with you being you, me being
me and…" I shrug.
"Me being
married," Daniel says softly.
His face
stills in grief for a moment, just a moment, but he doesn't leave
me. I hadn't looked for that, and it touches me all the more for
the unexpected generosity of it.
"What do
you mean, me being me?" Daniel demands abruptly, the hostility level
cranking back up.
"Daniel,
there's enough sparkage between us to power the goddamn gate and you
never even saw it until I embarrassed us both this morning. I
know what I feel, I know what I want. I've had TIME." Lots
of time. This thing between us has gone on. On and on and
on. And on. "You say you want to be with me?"
Daniel
nods tightly, still glowering and brooding over my unflattering
assessment of his sexuality.
"Fine.
Tell me what you want me to do for you."
"Whatever…"
he begins anxiously.
"What YOU
want, Daniel, not me," I correct him gently. I'm not trying to be
confrontational, I think he realises that. I think he sees I'm
worried for him. "Tell me honestly what you picture us doing
together, what you actually WANT us to do."
Daniel
stares back at me for a long time. "Kissing," he admits
reluctantly. "And touching,” he adds quickly, obviously hoping
that makes up for him being him, I guess.
"Nice," I
agree simply, smiling warmly at him. "It's a start."
"It's a
date," Daniel emphasises, brightening up. "And I mean it about
the touching, so no weaselling out of it later," he warns. "What
about you?" he asks thoughtfully. "What do you want us to do?"
"I want
to…"
"Okay, um,
yeah, gotcha," Daniel interrupts hurriedly.
I'm not
mean enough to mention The Blush as he drops his head and applies
himself to his salad, muttering distractedly about asking stupid
questions.
He
shouldn't be too hard on himself. We've established we're in the
same book, even if we're not on the same page. It’s a good place
to start, and THIS is another! I delve enthusiastically into the
sautéed portion of the plate. I could kick myself.
Seriously. All that time WASTED. I knew he had the pans…if
only I'd known he could use them. I got freezer capacity.
Would it kill him to cook bigger portions? Share? Maybe I
should work up to that. In the meantime, we're dating, he's
wanting a little hands on…we eat in.
Except
Saturday. Saturdays are sacred. If he wants to go out in
the real, old-fashioned together sense of going out, I’ll take him to
the Dale Street Café. They have music on Saturdays.
Bands, or singers. I’ll check into it. Make
reservations. Maybe sink that champagne, after. I’d like
that. Next Saturday. Hopefully by then he’ll be a little
more comfortable with this where this thing is taking us.
"Plant
Boy?" Daniel blurts as I'm chasing the last bit of
balsamic-and-something-or-other sauce around my plate with the last
slice of tomato.
I have to
laugh at the bewilderment on his face.
"All this
time?"
"Sorry."
"You've
wanted me all this time?"
"Yeah."
Daniel
frowns at me. "Have you ever come close to…to making a pass at
me?"
"I came
close when I took you fishing," I tease.
"The
tickling!" Daniel accuses me. "You were sublimating."
"Busted,"
I mourn, grinning as he gives me a distinctly flirty look from beneath
his lashes.
"Plant
Boy!"
I
shrug. I make no excuse. I'm a mutt and proud of it.
"Sublimating
your sexual desire into childish Alpha Male displays," Daniel muses,
looking as pleased as he sounds. He stiffens suddenly and glares
at me. "Spacemonkey?" he asks dangerously.
"I swear
to God." I try to look innocent, which doesn't help my case
much. Falling in love with Daniel didn't happen in a minute or a
month or a year. I felt that pull, and buried it. I knew I
cared more for him than I'd cared for any friend and I went with the
flow and refused to think about what it meant. I felt desire
boiling up from nowhere, slamming right through me, never leaving me
completely, not from that day to this, and I learned to live with it,
to sublimate it as Daniel says. I've been in love with him for a
long time. I think I know when it happened, I think I knew I
loved him when I got the knowledge of the Ancients fused to my synapses
and he refused to leave me. Seeing his face in the briefing room
footage…I knew it, but still, that Plant Boy moment grabbed me by the
balls and rocked my world. I've had so many reasons to keep my
peace, and the only one it would take to make me break it is still one
I'm waiting for.
I've got a
chance now, one I don't intend to blow. A chance Daniel will
finally learn to love me back.
"Wanna
watch a movie? You can pick," I tempt, my gut tightening in
anticipation. He wants to kiss? Just let me get him on that
couch…
"Sure,"
Daniel shrugs as he finishes his wine, sets down the glass and heads
down into the living room, another of those tentative flirty looks
drawing me right after him.
I catch
Daniel as he reaches the couch, just turning to sit, his eyes widening
as I close in and pull his glasses off, Daniel instinctively fumbling
for them, swallowing hard and letting me set them down out of harm’s
way.
"Jack?" he
asks uncertainly.
I'm not
sure if that's a smile or a wince on his face as I close in again, but
he's not backing down. Too late either way. I'm going to
kiss him. I can wait for everything else but I have to kiss
him. Have to. He's mine if we kiss, he's committed.
Can't, won’t quit on me. Mine.
I firmly
take his face between my hands and draw him strongly to me, my eyes
fixed on his, huge, drowned as reality bites and my mouth is bruisingly
hard against his. Daniel gasps in shock, literally staggering as
I free him.
"Oh,
shit," he groans as I pull him into my arms. "Shi…mmmph."
God, he's
sweet, so fucking sweet. I never imagined. His lips look
soft, soft and full, but they're firm against mine, firm and mobile and
yielding. I thrust deep and Daniel staggers again, arms curving
desperately up over my shoulders for balance as I drive relentlessly
into his warm, silken softness and take him down to the couch beneath
me in a tangle of limbs.
His body
is warm and firm, trembling beneath mine, fitting me perfectly, his
heart is racing and Christ, what a RUSH this is.
The breath
hitches in Daniel's throat as he feels how hard I am when I push my
hips subtly into his. He's scarily still for a long moment, my
hands smoothing over his face as I passionately kiss him, shakily
stroking over the softest skin I've ever known on a man and suddenly
Daniel is back, he's with me. Letting me…kissing me back,
thrusting tentatively against my probing tongue.
I groan as
he wraps a long leg around mine, the other slipping down to brace
against the floor as the force of my kiss jolts into him. Losing
it. I'm losing it. His breath is sobbing as I eat him
alive, the hands on his face aren't enough to reassure…he's getting
hard. He's hard and he's shaking; he's losing it too. For
all his decisions and his fine ideas he wasn't expecting…
"Danny," I
sigh into his ear, muscles burning as I fight myself to stillness,
fight the urge to take.
Daniel's
gentle mouth wavers and then he finds a hint of a smile.
"Danny? I…I like that. Here. L-like this."
I teased
him with Danny and Dannyboy until I realised whose pet name it was, and
it felt cheap to use a name that meant family to him. I know the
importance of that. None better. "Danny," I whisper
caressingly as I drop my head and kiss him again, coaxing him to open
to me and sliding sweetly home as he arches up to meet me. His
fingers are careful in my hair, mine framing his face as we kiss
deeply; slow and tender.
Daniel's
hands skim cautiously down my back as I kiss and suckle dreamily at his
throat, getting off on the soft moans he can't suppress. I
haven't pushed it, think he's got enough to contend with in
embarrassingly eager erections alone, so I leave him be. He
hesitates and hovers for a long while, but finally his hands
respectfully cup my ass. I wriggle encouragingly and he flinches
away for a beat, then settles again.
I think I
know what he wants. The sweat is standing on his brow, gathering
at the hollow of his throat and his breathing is hitching from more
than the way I'm nuzzling his neck. He's flushed and dazed with
desire, biting his lip as he pushes up into my subtly rocking
hips. It's easy and gentle but the rhythm is there, he's moving
achingly beneath me, his fingers clenching at my shoulders.
I'm not
going to do him on my couch.
Daniel
jerks and pulls at me instinctively when I lift myself free of him but
he follows readily when I hold out my hand to him.
"Bed."
That's all
I have to say, and Daniel's eyes light with pleasure. I slip my
arm around his waist, keep him close by my side as I lead him up the
stairs, pausing only to scoop up his bag as we head around the corner
to the bedroom. I usher him in, hand him the bag and with a
quick, hard kiss leave him to go grab some candles. I figure
maybe he could use some privacy while he changes. He doesn’t like
to be touched, and it’s instinctual. For Daniel to be comfortable
enough to even sit close enough to brush your side is a big
thing. He lets me in, lets me hug him, hold his shoulder, slap
him on the back, whatever. We’re talking a leap of faith from
that to him letting me feel him up. This isn’t the time for the
colonel in the china shop routine.
Daniel
deserves finesse. And ambience. When I lope back into the
bedroom he’s snuggled under the quilt, his face an endearing mix of
embarrassment, nerves and excitement.
I don’t
exactly linger over lighting the candles on the bureau. I see
bare skin and white knuckles. I’m sensing it’s now or
never. It only takes me a minute to grab my sweats and shuck my
clothes. The sweats are easy enough to take off if it gets that
far, but my dick is a tad on the bullish side.
“How often
do you think about having sex with me?” Daniel asks out of the blue.
I glance
over my shoulder in surprise and catch him staring wide-eyed at my
butt. “As often as you think about books.”
Daniel
strives for a response as I roll into bed. I sleep on the left
side, but it’s already full of shaky archaeologist so I’m letting it
slide this once. I kind of like that love poem, that let me count
the ways thing. My ways don’t run to giving up my side of
the bed. He’d better get used to it.
“Pervert,”
he manages at last.
“Hey!
I’m not the one fondling my scrolls on SGC time,” I complain as I spoon
into his side and snake my arms around him. His retort is
swallowed by my eager tongue. I take it slow and simple, totally
focused on kissing Daniel, allowing him to relax into the embrace in
his own time and in his own way. His arms curve up around my
shoulders and gradually urge me closer until we’re touching the length
of our bodies. His skin is extraordinary, satin smooth and supple
beneath my fingers as I slowly trace the sleek lines of his muscles,
skimming over his arms and shoulders.
Danny is
built. No question. He’s still slender, but the long lean
lines of him are perfectly proportioned. I can’t get enough,
stroking everywhere as he moans and arches into my hands. The
heat is coming off him in waves as his hands venture over my back and I
drop my head to kiss a trail down his chest. Daniel’s shallow
breathing quickens as my tongue flickers over his nipple and he
whimpers when I settle down to suckle in earnest, nibbling and tonguing
each in turn until he’s writhing.
I stretch
up for a moment to steal a kiss, Daniel’s hands clamping to my head to
hold me there as he pushes aggressively into my mouth. I suck him
right in and bite down as my hand wanders lower, coasts over the soft
flannel at his waist, curves over his hip and glides down his thigh,
heavy on him as I stroke. I take a risk, roll him towards me a
little and curve confidently over his butt, kneading at the taut
flesh. Daniel shudders and squirms into me, letting me edge his
tongue free and follow him into his mouth for another lingering
exploration. We find an easy, satisfying rhythm of gentle glides
and tussling rasps, just fall into it. Into each other.
I love the
way he’s clinging to me, the way his shy exploration of me grows bolder
and more insistent. I can’t fucking believe my luck, can’t
believe I get to have him. Maybe a lot of this is curiosity right
now but he’s willing, he’s giving everything he can and he’s wanting
more. I’m feeling that subtle, aching rhythm of his hips against
mine again as he strains into me.
He needs
release.
I nudge
him flat on his back, gently working my hand between his knees and up,
nice and easy, Daniel’s thighs parting naturally with the soft,
massaging strokes until I can cup his erection.
“Ja-ack!”
Daniel’s gasp is strangled as he arches off the bed.
I roll
onto him and pull him back with me so we wind up on our sides together,
my left arm comfortably clasped around Daniel’s shoulders, Daniel’s
legs either side of my waist, just enough space between us for my right
hand to comfortably massage his erection through the fuzzy
fabric. I curl up so my thighs are warm against his butt.
Daniel
reaches out, stroking trembling fingers over my brow and cheek.
“Jack.”
I meet
Daniel as he leans into me, nuzzling restlessly cheek to cheek, temple
to temple. Daniel’s slumberous eyes flutter closed as I rub and
stroke him through the cloth. I watch him, watch his every move
as desire flushes the delicate skin, as he bites his lip, his hands
digging desperately into my shoulders as his legs hook around my waist
and he clings to me. I feel every pang of ecstasy shuddering
through Daniel’s body as I pleasure him. His breathing quickens
and he leans in to kiss me again and again.
“Oh, God,
Jack, please,” Daniel moans. “Pleeeease.”
That’s
what I’ve been waiting for and I wait no longer, pushing the jammies
down until I can free him. He groans as I take him possessively
in hand, his dick jerking against my palm.
“Jesus,
Danny, look at you,” I breathe. He’s fucking perfect.
Perfect. I trail my fingers greedily over the velvety skin to the
head, brushing my thumb over and over the sensitive tip as the moisture
beads and I can smooth it over his dick. I hold him, hot, hard
and heavy in my hand. Mine. He’s MINE. I get a
smooth, gliding grip going and work his dick firmly, my fingers curled
tightly as I stroke up and down, Daniel groaning and shuddering a
little more with every strong, slow caress. I know how I want
this to be for him, I want to take him to the edge and keep him there,
let the pleasure ripple through him until he can’t stand it and he
falls for me, just as slow, just as satisfying. He has to know
this is about HIM, that it’s MY pleasure to do this for him.
We kiss,
tongues gliding easily, thrusting in perfect time with my slowly
pumping hand, Daniel content to lie close and still, giving himself
over to what I’m making him feel. I refuse to quicken the pace,
determined to draw the climax out for him. I’m getting off on
watching him surrender to his own sensuality, bracing his legs around
my back so he can rock into my waiting hand. Daniel drives the
pace, my hand quickening obediently on him as he tightens around me to
thrust into my palm with short, sharp stabs, groaning low in his throat
as his hips spasm, the shudders pulsing to the core of him as he comes,
his climax as slow and easy as I wanted it to be for him.
I fumble
for tissues to clean us enough for comfort, set his jammies to rights
and untangle us to stretch out side by side. I hush Daniel when
he tries to speak, hold him close to me as I soothe the tremors away.
“I could…”
Daniel offers shyly, a coaxing hand gentle on my stomach.
I lift the
hand to my lips and kiss his palm. Daniel’s eyes widen and his
hand trembles as he strokes it caressingly over my face. He’s a
bright guy, a sensitive guy. He doesn’t offer to do me again, but
he does wrap himself around me and rest his head on my shoulder, his
hand clasped in mine.
I want to
tell him that I love him, but my gut is telling me it’s too soon.
He’s got enough right now with friends who have sex. I glance
down at him, sprawled bonelessly content at my side. GOOD
sex. His mind will make the jump to ‘lovers’, I’ve no doubt about
that.
And for
the rest, I have hope.
On
to
Part Two
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