A MIND OF MY OWN
Most of the time, Jack O'Neill ignores me. Most
of the time, that's okay. I mean, I'm getting older now, sprouting plenty of
gray in my... uh... beard. Topknot. Whatever.
Still, I've had a pretty good life, more or less.
I mean, Jack's a talented man. He does pay attention when I'm doing the talking and he's in the mood to listen. However, lately I've been pretty grumpy because he's been argumentative with me. Not just not listening, but actively shutting me up; I'm shouting to get him to acknowledge that I'm even here.
Well, not exactly shouting. Twitching, really. Making my presence known at inopportune moments. It's what he deserves.
Denial is just not going to make me go back to sleep.
I mean, really! Stubborn man. Cranky bastard. But he's not half as determined as I am. I know who's going to win this battle of wits.
Me!
Jack's not nearly as smart as I am. Oh, he's much brighter than most people give him credit for, but keeps it well hidden under an impenetrable veil of bullshit and distractibility. He's got the attention span of a three-year-old. How he got to be a colonel, I'll never understand.
Of course, there's always that laser-like ability to focus in on the really important life-and-death stuff in the heat of battle. I guess that could be it. He's saved me from certain doom on a number of occasions -- not to mention a potential snippity-doo-dah in Seth's inner circle -- so that counts. It's important to me. And I'm pretty important to him, too.
He just refuses to take advantage of that lately. Except when he's alone at home. That's when I get to renew my fond acquaintance with his skillful right hand. But that's not what I want. The images that stream through our joint connection in those private moments are scorching, getting me revved for some Jackson Action, but I'm always a little disappointed when it's over. I guess I just know Jack's digits too well. The thrill is gone.
So now I'm thinking about going on strike.
That should tell him I mean business.
Jack has iron control, I'll give him that. Daniel normally showers alone -- it's a privacy thing with him -- but he was in a hurry to leave the base today after we got back from our latest mission, so he went in while O'Neill was soaping off all the grime and went right to business.
I made Jack look. Just a little peek. Got a quick turn around, pretending he didn't see that lovely body, all slick with water and soap.
Damn, that man is fine!
And did Jack allow me to appreciate that hot piece of man-cake?
No. He started thinking about hockey. And fishing. That'll take the starch out of anyone's collar.
So now we're at home and he's laid out on his bed in the dark and thinking about that view this afternoon. He's getting creative, embellishing, delving into fantasy territory. This is the stuff that usually gets me all hot and bothered, but not today.
Let him be the one enduring the frustration for a change, see how he likes it.
I'm going to sleep.
So there. Think about that, O'Neill!
"I think it's broken," Jack moans, head bowed. "What do I do, doc?"
Janet Fraiser looks at him with sympathy in her eyes. "Let's do the exam, shall we?" she responds gaily, snapping on a second latex glove.
The colonel sighs. He drops his pants and sits back on the table while the doctor does her thing.
I like being handled, but even now I'm refusing to cooperate. Still, it feels kinda good being squeezed and... oops! Can't be sidetracked now. The hands are moving to lower belly and thighs, so I can concentrate on staying relaxed better.
"Okay, now hop off the table, bend over and grab your ankles. You know the routine."
This part will be a little more difficult to get through. I steel myself and patently ignore the finger stroking my brains. It's quite clinical, really, so I guess it's not that... uh...
Damn, that feels...
Keep still. Relax. Be zen.
Okay, just made it.
The gloves come off.
"You seem to be fine, colonel. I'll do a blood work-up to check hormone levels, but you should be aware that a man your age will be noticing some changes in--"
"I'm not getting old, doc," Jack snaps. "I can still do the wild thing just fine. There's just something wrong with me."
She cocks her wise head and scrutinizes him with those baby browns, a slight smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Do you have a partner, colonel?"
"As in..."
"A date?"
Dr. Fraiser is so polite.
"Well... no."
"Maybe that's the problem." She writes something in the chart. "Get dressed and I'll have one of the nurses do a blood draw. I'll let you know if you I find anything, but if I don't. Maybe you should think about developing a social life." She smiled. "And there's always Viagra."
Jack rolls his eyes, more embarrassed than anything at her insinuation that he's just too old for sex anymore.
He's not, but I have tried to tell him.
He's worried now, and wanders aimlessly down the corridors, thinking he's headed for his own office. Only I've taken charge of his subconscious, and am taking him on a side trip, giving him a nudge in the right direction. He stops in the doorway of Daniel's office, realizing where he is.
The lights are off, except for the desk lamp. Daniel must have a headache again. There's an open bottle of Ibuprofen on the blotter among the artifacts and books. He's studying, rubbing at the back of his neck, keyed up, strung tight as a piano wire.
"Hey, Daniel," Jack says.
Flash of a welcoming smile, then tension around those lovely eyes again. "Jack." The eyes look harder. "Are you okay? You look worried."
He's startled that it shows, forgetting how easily Daniel reads him. Shrugs it off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired. Haven't been sleeping well lately."
"We need some time off," Daniel agrees. "I've been having the same problem."
Jack wanders into the room and somehow ends up behind the desk, behind Daniel's chair, peering over his shoulder to see what he's doing. Daniel's still rubbing his neck, now his temples.
"Let me do that," Jack offers helpfully, and settles his hands on Daniel's shoulders. They're hard with stress, like rocks under his skin. Daniel's hands move away and he eases forward in his chair a little to give Jack room to work.
Like I said, Jack is good with his hands. He gives a great massage. Pretty soon, Daniel's making noises. Noises like I've wanted to inspire.
I take interest.
Hey, Jack, guess what I need?
"Oh, God, that's so gooooood," Daniel moans. "You can stop that sometime next week."
That did it. I am so awake now it's scary. There's not enough room in Jack's pants for both of us. I want out.
Jack doesn't say anything, just keeps moving his hands. I know what he's thinking, though. He wants to shut me up again, put me back to sleep. He knows there's nothing wrong with him now. I've made my point.
Loud and clear.
I want Daniel, dammit!
Okay, he tells me. We'll deal. Scary as this is, we'll take the leap of faith and see where the day takes us. But you could be ruining a perfectly good friendship, you selfish little bastard.
Trust me, I tell him.
Will you let me out of this gracefully? he asks.
Happy to oblige, I respond, and relax again.
He finishes up the massage and steps away from the chair, moving around the front of the desk.
Daniel smiles up at him. "Thanks, Jack. I feel a lot better now. I didn't know you knew how to do that."
"I know how to do a lot of things you don't know about."
I'm getting the picture as ideas flash through his mind. And I'm having a very hard time being polite, here. Patience is not one of my virtues.
Daniel puts his head down and returns to his work. "You know, I was thinking. Maybe we could go do something together tonight. I can't remember the last time we did anything resembling fun."
"I'm up for that. Whatcha got in mind? No museums or lectures, right?"
He looks up at Jack with those big blue eyes, calculating and concerned.
That's when I know for sure. He's planning, trying to figure out how to make both ends meet. Snicker.
I know how to do that just fine. All I need is an opening. That'll be coming tonight, I'm sure. Can I do innuendo, or what?
"Oh, sure, no, no museums. I'll meet you at your place after work, and we'll. go from there. Shall I bring pizza?"
"I'll cook. What time?"
Daniel checks his watch. "Sevenish?"
"Don't be late." Jack walks out, and we're both happy. I can hardly wait. Visions of whipped cream, chocolate syrup and... uh... cherries are running through both our minds. It's enough to give a guy like me a swelled head.
It's the evening of truth.
Jack's more creative than I gave him credit for. There's the modern translation, complete with photographic illustrations, of the Kama Sutra lying on a side table, bookmarked like he's been reading it. There's the tall pillar candle at the center of the dinner table with two pinecones, one on each side, that's such an obvious phallic symbol it's... well, inspiring. There's also a book he checked out from the library featuring a great many works of art from ancient Sparta. Daniel will be sure to pick that up and thumb through it. And liberally sprinkled through all that are inspiring scenes of naked men with obvious -- even legendary -- love for each other.
There's soft music in the background, one of the more romantic operas Jack likes. He and Daniel have been talking, but it's not the regulation verbal sparring they usually enjoy. It's quiet, soulful and deep stuff. Jack's talking philosophy, surprising the shit out of his dinner guest that he's this well versed in the field.
Jack does read.
The main thing is, all this heady conversation is really stimulating to Daniel. His eyes are so huge now they're all pupil, no iris. That's an automatic signal of arousal.
If only he wasn't sitting under the table. Jack can only see the upper half, so he's still not sure.
"Couch?" he suggests, picking up his glass.
It's champagne tonight. Daniel's not much of a drinker, but he's been enjoying this. He likes the good stuff, but the object isn't to get him drunk and take advantage. Jack needs to put the brakes on, or he'll end up with a handful of me instead of Daniel.
Daniel reaches for the champagne bottle, and Jack covers his hand.
"That's enough, big guy," he advises wisely.
"I'm a grown-up," Daniel argues. "I can get drunk if I want to. You'll let me sleep over, right?"
Jack's eyebrows lift. "Oh, yeah. But let's wait a little. Talk some more. There's no hurry."
They adjourn to the sofa. Jack sips his bubbly, and picks up the library book. Daniel grabs the one on the end table and opens it to the bookmarked page.
"Oh, my."
"What?"
Daniel licks his lips. "I'd forgotten about this position," he says, his voice low and sexy. He turns the book to show it to Jack.
Who pretends nonchalance. "One of my personal favorites," he observes with a smile. Turning his eyes back to the book on Sparta, he frowns at the page. "The Spartans were some of the most feared soldiers of their time. I checked out this book to read about some of the battle strategies, military stuff, and look what I find." He showed the page to Daniel. "Were they all gay?"
"No, of course not," Daniel told him. "Marriage and child-rearing were just as much a part of Spartan life as the military, art, politics. They simply celebrated an appreciation of masculinity in a more forthright sexual way that our culture adopts."
His eyes were glued to the page.
Jack checked out those loose-fitting khakis and saw the little archaeologist take an interest in the pictures, too.
"It looks like they had massive male orgies during sports events," Jack added. "They've all got hard-ons while they're throwing javelins and such."
Daniel didn't look up. "That's a symbolic expression of their virility, Jack. I'm sure they weren't... you know... doing each other on the playing field. Although that is what it looks like."
"I dunno, Daniel. A guy gets pretty worked up when he's competing. Makes you horny as hell."
Blue eyes flashed up to his face and stayed there. A tiny smile eased into the corner of Daniel's mouth, making that dimple flare. Something wicked gleamed behind the glasses.
"The Spartans were considered the most macho men in the world during their day," Dr. Jackson remarked. "And they practiced flagrant bisexuality, with a huge contingent of homosexuality."
Jack set his glass down on the coffee table. "So, you're saying... what, exactly?" He leaned toward Daniel, waiting expectantly.
Daniel put the book down. "That it doesn't necessarily compromise a man's masculinity to love another man."
"Same sex pairings are okay in your book?"
"Have you looked at my pants?"
Jack blatantly dropped his gaze to Daniel's crotch and smiled. "So, that's a yes?"
I was cheering. I didn't need to wait for the answer. The little archaeologist getting ready for a new dig told me plenty.
Daniel laughed, his shoulders shaking, breath raspy with humor. "Jack, you did a great job. This was a beautiful seduction, but I saw right through it. Why didn't you just ask?"
"Don't ask, don't tell," he reminded his companion soberly.
"No one will know," Daniel assured him.
Yeeeehawwww!!!
That's Daniel's hand feeling me up there, folks! Hot damn!
And oh God, can he kiss.
It doesn't take them long to get upstairs. Seconds longer to get undressed. I think there might have been some significant collateral damage to clothing, but that doesn't matter.
I'm finally getting some Daniel!
There's a lot of kissing and touching going on. Hands everywhere, making me blush. Lips nibbling and sucking and, Jeez, Daniel's tongue feels hot and wet and Christ, he's swallowing me and oh...
I'm drowning in him. Fucking delirious. Daniel.
Fingers, slicked up with gel, stealing inside, stroking me inside out. There, that's it, right there and I'm going blind it's so good don't stop--
"Daniel!"
Jack's on his back and Daniel's spreading his legs, getting between them. Jack's heart is beating faster, moving into the red zone. He's scared -- this is new for us -- but hardly unwelcome. It's what we've wanted for a long, long time.
Easy, so easy. Daniel's careful, tender as he pushes inside. Jack groans. I dance with excitement. I'm close, so fucking close. Gotta hold on but oh damn this is good.
I'm squashed between them, getting a great rub from Daniel's hard belly. He's whispering now, something sexy in some foreign language. His hands are in Jack's hair, stroking and petting, caressing his face. Those whispers, they're tearing me up. There's love in his eyes, something I didn't expect to see. This is way more than just need and frustration.
God, why didn't we notice before? Why did we wait? Oh, yeah. Jackass Stubborn O'Neill. Couldn't see himself doing this, having this done to him.
Guy needs an imagination.
But right now, who the hell cares?
"Daniel." Jack gasps. He's tensing up. I'm getting a huge headache. His body arches. Daniel's moving faster now, really slamming me, digging deep. Lightning is striking with every thrust. I love it!
"Do it for me, Jack. I wanna make you come. I want to feel you come," he begs silkily.
The little archaeologist -- really on the husky side -- dances with Jack's prostate. I can't see now, gone fucking blind. My skin is so tight it feels like it's going to tear. I'm aching, lost, drowning in sweat, smothered between them, losing my mind Daniel oh God--
Bam! Bam bam bam pulse throb beat oh yes breathe gasp Daniel.
Holy buckets! It's an earthquake! No, wait... it's just his tool exploding and oh my God yes.
"Daniel," Jack breathes. "Jesus. I love you."
Daniel smiles. "Just now figuring that out? Part of you's known that for a while."
"Huh?"
"The little colonel. He's been saluting me for a while now. Or hadn't you noticed?"
"Aw, hell, Daniel." Jack was embarrassed that he'd been the last to know. But that vanished in the face of glowing love hovering above him. "You okay with this?"
"I've been doing my best not to let it get to me that you were resisting, but I had plans of my own. You just beat me to it."
"Oh yeah? What was I gonna get?"
"Hockey and beer."
"Damn. Okay, you seduce me next time. I'm a cheaper date."
"Are not."
"Am, too."
"Not."
Ah, the bliss of a committed relationship. I smile and drift off quietly to sleep, dreaming of archaeologists and drilling tunnels of my own. That's my fantasy, but for now, this'll do just fine.
FINIS
The Big O is everything I dreamed. O'Neill, that is.
There's some cuddling afterward, which we enjoy immensely, and when Jack drifts off to sleep, Daniel gets up for a shower. One must take proper care of one's tools, you know, and Daniel's into hygiene. But when he comes back to bed, Jack's awake.
He wants to talk. Has to set up perimeters for the relationship. That's his way, and Daniel accepts it. I mean, this is serious for both of them but especially for Jack. His career's at stake here.
No displays of affection on the base, off world, or in the presence of anyone they know. That's a given. Not even a glance or a gleam in the eye. Business as usual, as if this never happened.
Contented at last, we all attempt to get some sleep. However, I think I've waited long enough for this relationship to get off the ground, and rise early. Daniel glances at the bedside clock and calculates an hour before it goes off. Which should be about the same timetable I'm planning.
Jack is sleeping on his back, so his body's in easy reach. Already I'm whispering to Archaeologicus Major, letting him know I'm ready for action. What we don't expect, however, is the reaction when Daniel's hand skims over Jack's belly, headed south.
Startled O'Neill is quite a sight to behold, let me tell you. The man's hot-wired for action even in his sleep. Next thing I know, Daniel's flat on his back with a hundred eighty pounds of colonel on top of us with a fist drawn back, ready to take no prisoners. The fist impacts before Jack's sleep-fogged brain can stop it, crashing right into Daniel's cheek.
"Jack, it's me! Don't kill me!"
"Dammit, Daniel! You know never to touch me when I'm sleepin'!" He relaxes and climbs off, switching on the lamp to check out the damage. "You okay, babe?"
There's a bruise starting already. Daniel's left eye is smarting. Suddenly I'm not interested in romance.
"I'm sorry," Jack whispers, delicately touching the bruise. He goes to kiss Daniel's brow and the archaeologist turns away.
"It's okay," Daniel says softly, but inside he's embarrassed and hurt. He knew better. Jack had given instruction early on about how to wake him when it's time for him to take watch. Call me by name and give my toes a shake so you're out of range of my fists, or you'll get it. It's a combat-ready reaction. But Daniel was thinking this would be different, since they'd slept side by side all night in Jack's own bed. Now he knows even that distinction doesn't make a difference. It can't, not if he wants his lover to stay alive.
He flings back the covers and gets up with Jack hot on his heels, apologizing and trying to touch, with Daniel pushing his hands away.
Oh, boy. I'm in for a long haul here. Daniel can ignore me like you wouldn't believe.
The briefing's over, and Daniel's still sitting at the table. He saw the doodles on Jack's pad -- a pillar candle with pinecones, an undecorated urn, javelins and soccer balls. They had the desired effect -- I'm fat and happy -- but Daniel is finishing up his own notes while reciting the Greek alphabet in the back of his mind to make me lose interest so he can get up from the table without ditching his dignity.
Jack's still doodling, unwilling to leave Daniel's side.
Wish he was doodling me. Or vice versa.
Four hours into the mission, we're hightailing it back to the gate. Jack has been distracted and moody. Daniel's been quiet and kept his head down, won't even look at the man. Nobody doubted Daniel's plausible little lie about the black eye he's sporting, but Sam and Teal'c have been shooting glances between the CO and the civilian. They know something's up between them.
And it isn't me.
At the moment, however, we've got a troop of Jaffa on our... uh... six. I'm not looking for a naquadah enema, so I'm being a good boy. We make it home in no time, shaken but not stirred, and after the requisite debriefing, hit the showers.
There goes that damn Greek alphabet again.
This has got to be the most stubborn man on the planet.
He's pissing me off. Thinks he's so cerebral, more powerful than a hard-on. He forgets that he's still just a guy underneath it all, and that, when it comes to deep-seated desires, I'm the boss.
He needs a demonstration of who's really in charge of his body.
It's not going to be pretty.
"I said I was sorry," Jack growls dispiritedly. He's standing on the far side of Daniel's desk, touching things with just his fingertips, like he's afraid to pick anything up. Which he probably is. He's been griped at about that a lot.
Daniel won't even look at him. "It was my fault," he says quietly. "I knew better. I just..."
Oh, great. He's on the verge of tears.
"I just wanted to love you a little." His voice is just a whisper. He wants to be all petulant and wallow in self-pity.
Fat chance, with me around.
Jack is right there. In grabbing distance. I remind Daniel of that with a little twitch.
Not on the base, he reminds me.
Then go home, I respond, complete with reminders of last night's fun and games.
He ignores me. Work to do, he reminds us. Leave me alone.
Jack turns and walks out stiffly. He knows he can't win this. He'll just have to wait till Archa. Major defrosts.
Daniel is staring at a piece of pottery we brought back. Runs his fingers over the gritty surface tracing the incised writing with the ridges of his fingerprints, feeling more than seeing the script.
Touch sensors engaged.
Damn, I'm good.
He keeps the lights low because he's light sensitive. The overheads give him headaches, so he uses the lamps more to light his desk. It sets a mood.
Check.
The scent of fresh coffee compels him to reach for the cup. Scent and taste are working fine. Check. The aftertaste of the coffee can be manipulated to stimulate another memory... the taste of Jack's pre-come on his tongue.
He relaxes back into his chair and closes his eyes. Remembers kissing Jack. The feel of that long, lean shaft sliding between his lips, how strange and exciting it felt to be doing that. Best of all, though, was Jack O'Neill giving himself up to Daniel Jackson, letting him inside where no other man has gone before. Daniel was in control that night, taking the lead. He'd been the alpha male, and he had loved it. Loved Jack.
Remember? I remind him, tapping against his trousers. Heat and slippery Astroglide, tight muscles squeezing and stroking me. Jack's ass taking in every inch of me and begging for more.
Daniel groans. He rubs his face, imagining Jack's lips encircling me, Jack's fingers in his ass while he swallows me whole. Jack's hands rubbing me till I explode.
Oh, yeah. I am sooo there! It's damn hot in here.
Archa. Major glances at the door, confirming that it's closed. He unbuttons his trousers, grabs a tissue from the box on his desk and reaches inside, intending to soothe my aching head with a little self-love. I'm having none of that and stubbornly ignore those articulate fingers. I'm ready. Loaded and hot. But not in the mood for a helping hand. The more he rubs, the faster I wilt.
He loses focus and gives up with a frustrated sigh, buttoning up and pouting at the pottery.
"Fine, then," he snaps and stands up. His chair rolls back and hits the bookcase. He doesn't even flinch, grabbing his jacket and heading for the locker room to change into civvies. Less than an hour later he's at home in the shower, giving me all he's got.
He's gonna rub my skin off, but this is a battle of wills that I won't let him win. Only one thing is going to satisfy me, Dr. Jackson. Put down the conditioner and pick up the damn phone.
Jack is wary as he enters the apartment. He sees the tension in Daniel's face and cringes a little at the sight of the black eye as the door shuts behind him. "You wanted to see me?" He sticks his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with himself.
Daniel is wearing his bathrobe and slippers, and nothing else.
I wave hello.
Jack grins and waves back. "Is that an excavation tool ready for a dig or are you just happy to see me?"
Daniel frowns.
Jack sobers. "You forgive me yet?"
"I forgave you when you hit me," Daniel snarls. "I was mad at myself. Still am."
"So you punish me for it? Is that how it's gonna be between us?"
"I'm complicated, Jack," Daniel pouts. "I don't even understand myself sometimes."
Jack takes him in his arms and just holds him, careful not to bump into me. Not that I'd mind, I just prefer not to get... uh... bent. After a moment, Daniel embraces him and sighs against his shoulder.
"I don't know how to do this," he moans.
"Just remember who and what I am," Jack murmurs in his ear, planting a little kiss on the side of his neck. "I have to be a soldier first. After that, I'm all yours."
Whoa, lips! Warm breath raising the little hairs along there. Time for me to take things up a notch.
"Uh, Daniel?"
"Jack?"
"Did you have a repressed desire to be a drummer when you were a kid?"
"No. Why?"
"Because the little archaeologist is tapping a rhythm on my crotch."
"Just knocking on the door, Jack."
That gets a little breathy laugh.
"Well, then, come right in."
"No hockey?" Daniel asks. "No beer?"
"Later," he growls.
Oooooh, yeah.
Both of his hands are now full of Jackson ass, grinding me and the little colonel together. Nice salute, sir!
Backatcha.
He's reaching into the robe, going for the gold. Yeah, baby! Misbehave all you want.
Both hands are all over me, stroking and smoothing over my raw skin, setting me on fire. His hands are hot and rough, cupping my balls, squeezing them till I'm ready to pop. He's kissing Daniel's neck, moving slowly down his chest, nosing into the robe. His tongue sweeps over a flexed pectoral and Daniel's watching. He can't keep his balance and staggers back against the bookcase in the entryway.
Jack's an animal now, wild and savage. He nips Daniel's left nipple and gets a yelp and a gasp. That almost drives me over the edge, a hot spurt of pleasure searing me from balls to helmet.
"Oh, Jesus, Jack. Take me to bed," he moans.
Jack's hand slides deeper into Daniel's crotch, one finger dipping quickly into his ass, and then gone. It feels so good Daniel's knees give. My head is spinning now, intoxicated.
Daniel trips on his robe on the way to the bedroom, and crashes into Jack's arms.
"Slow down there, hot dog," Jack teases.
Wincing as he stands up, Daniel is holding his face, which he bumped on Jack's shoulder when he fell.
"I'm sorry," Jack murmurs again. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Daniel. It's just gonna take me some time to overcome instincts."
"Don't try to," Daniel advises, reaching for Jack's shirt. "You need that alertness in the field. I'm the one who has to adjust."
For a moment they just stand there, just outside the bedroom door, looking into each other's eyes. Jack's hand drifts across the bruise, and Daniel nestles his face into Jack's palm, ignoring the throbbing there. "I love you," he whispers. "I have for a long time."
"Daniel." Jack holds his face with both hands, and descends to his lips with a kiss that shakes the pillars of heaven. He's pouring his whole heart and soul into that, and it has an effect.
Boy, does it.
We're not gonna make it to the bedroom.
Jack drops to his knees and kisses me, wrapping one hand around me, the other on my balls. He's a little uncertain at first and scrapes me with his teeth. Hurts a little, but it's exciting pain. Daniel's watching, his hands carding through that silver hair, making it stand on end all over the place. Jack is sucking, his tongue swirling all over me. He breaks away for a second to wet three of his fingers, then swallows me again to the sound of a guttural moan from Archa. Major.
Daniel's hands grasp that silver hair. His hips start to pump. "Jack," he gasps. "Oh, God, Jack, I'm..."
I'm fighting it. I want more, so much more, but I've been waiting so long and Jack's mouth is so hot and wet, his tongue so rough-sweet I can't stop can't think can't hold back--
"AhhhhoooohhhJaaaauuuhhhGod!"
Jack swallows and smiles around me, exhaling a soft little laugh that tickles my hair.
I feel much better now, throbbing with lovely afterglow.
Only he's not done with me yet. He's got a finger in Daniel's ass, probing and stroking while his mouth continues swirling around me as I deflate. Ohhhh, this is so fucking good.
Reluctantly he draws away and they head for the bedroom. I'm taking a little break at the moment while Daniel looks for some lotion, keeping one eye on Jack as he does this hot striptease, flexing his muscles while Daniel appreciates. He groans as he arrives back at the bed, looking down at flagrante delectabilis O'Neillus.
"Do you have any idea how hot you are, Jack?" Daniel growls.
"Show me," he teases, wiggling his hips, making the little colonel dance.
"I never thought I'd be eyeing another man's dick with sex in mind, you know," Daniel confesses as he climbs onto the bed and prostrates himself between Jack's legs. "I've never done this before. With a guy."
Jack's face brightens. "Really? You felt plenty experienced last night."
Daniel raises a hand and waves. "Cultural expert, here. I read a lot. Boned up on the subject when I figured out you were... uh... interested. No pun intended."
"Boned up, huh?" Jack chuckles. "My ass is still tingling from the boning."
Daniel smiles. He watches Jack watching him as he lowers his head and starts nibbling the little colonel. Intentionally scraping his teeth lightly over that satin-smooth flesh, swelled to the breaking point. Jack shouts, hands slamming against the headboard.
"God, stop, stop stop! I can't stand it," he pants a few moments later. "That's too fucking good, Daniel. That mouth of yours ought to be illegal."
"It is in some states," Jackson teases. He prowls up Jack's body to his lips and kisses him. And then promptly finds himself flipped onto his back with Jack's arms around him.
There is kissing the likes of which this Earth has never seen. The universe trembles, and when they draw apart, blue eyes and brown are heavy-lidded, drugged, locked in silent conversation. Jack's fingers smooth up Daniel's arm to his hand, flipping the cap on the lotion without looking away; a well-practiced team, moving together without thought. Daniel squeezes the tube and lets his hand drift down to the bed.
Jack pulls away to lubricate himself, and Daniel rolls onto his belly, turning his head to the side to watch.
"I want to see your face," Jack breathes. "I want you under me, looking at me while I fuck you."
"This way will be easier on your knees," Daniel assures him gently.
Jack nods and moves behind him, breathing hard. He strokes his slick fingers from the base of Daniel's balls upward, seeking and finding that intimate place he's wanted. One finger steals gently inside and Daniel gasps, his cheeks tightening in response, then relaxing as I stir.
"Good?" Jack asks hopefully.
"You have no idea," Daniel murmurs with a little moan, hugging the pillows.
Another finger steals inside, probing, twirling, thrusting, driving me crazy. Jack's lips stroke Daniel's buttocks, nibbling and nipping, dropping little kisses here and there. But Jack is in a hurry and settles over Daniel's backside. He guides himself in and pushes. Daniel tries to stay relaxed, but it's too much, too fast. He grunts and jerks away.
"Slower," he pants. "Take it slow and easy."
"Sorry, babe," Jack whispers, his body reclining fully against Daniel's back now. His fingers stroke across Daniel's shoulder and arm, then back up to his face, touching his cheek, tracing lightly around the discolored area around his eye. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Daniel. I never mean to, but I know I do it a lot."
"Shhhh. Just feel me, Jack. Feel us."
The little colonel is moving so smoothly I can barely feel it, until I realize he's all the way in. It's indescribable, this sensation of being filled, stretched, completed. I'm aching, drugged with love. I think it can't get any better than this... and then he starts to move.
Oh, I was wrong.
Sweet, deep strokes turn me inside out. My skin is on fire, my mind struggling to endure the thought-blanking sweeps across Daniel's prostate that send me... somewhere... and make me quake. Daniel is swearing now, shouting in a dozen different languages. His hips rock back, jarring against Jack's pelvis, urging him to move faster, harder, deeper. He clutches the pillows and pushes up to hands and knees and Jack reaches beneath him, taking hold of me in a fierce grip. It hurts wonderfully, he's squeezing me so hard, fingers stretching my skin, sliding down and back, demanding that I obey him.
I can't resist. I don't want to. It starts as the little colonel buries himself home, heat and light shooting up from inside, twisting my balls into spasms, pulsing down my length and ejecting hot semen all over his hand and the bed. Daniel collapses in a heap with a lusty, hoarse yell that cracks the bricks in the wall. Jack falls on top of him, jamming forcefully into his depths with a series of loud, raspy grunts as he shoots his load.
For a long time, neither of them can move. Jack's fingers are slack as they lay wrapped around me, trapped beneath their bodies. Then he lifts himself a little and pulls his hand away.
I miss it instantly.
"You're a screamer," he puffs in Daniel's ear proudly.
"No shit, Sherlock. Got some volume there yourself. I'm deaf in one ear."
"Want me to get off?"
"No." Daniel sighs, clenching his cheeks around the little colonel. "I've got you right where I want you."
Slowly, they disentangle and adjust to face one another. They're smiling. Jack spreads himself over Daniel until the little colonel and I are nestled together. We're sticky and sweaty and slick with semen and lotion, and I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life.
This is good. Better than I ever imagined. And I'm not giving this up for anything or anyone. Not ever.
FINIS
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