Drums by alyse [Reviews - 0]
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Category: Stargate SG-1 - Slash
Characters: Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill
Rating: NC-17
Genres: First Time, Humour, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 6232; Completed: Yes
Summary: Jack sees Daniel in a new light.
Notes: Thanks to Lou for her comments - much appreciated. And to Munchie for getting out the spellcheck and Websters. And the whip, but we don't mention that.
~*~
The air on this world was sweet and heavy. Luxuriant. The word rolled around in his mind, evidence, if any had been needed, at just how long he'd spent with his... their linguist. Luxuriant - a word that would have never occurred to him two, three years ago. Apt, though, to describe this place. It drugged his senses with the scent of the foliage growing abundantly around this crude encampment, now bruised and battered from their boot-clad feet trampling through it in the wake of their barefoot hosts. Heady and strong, that scent, sweet, making his head swim. A low rumble rolled through the night, finding an echo in the rapid pounding of his heart.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
Drums.
His breathing was unconsciously picking up the same rhythm, catching in his throat, his lips parted as he struggled to pull in enough of that fragrant air. He'd like to blame the current light-headedness he was feeling on the humidity, on that strong, demanding scent, on the harsh, bitter hooch he'd been served but Jack O'Neill had never been one for self-delusion, not in the long term. Analyse, threat assess the shit out of it. And he understood now. He knew what it was. Not perfume, not alcohol. Not easy. Shit no. Simple, but not easy. Never that. He was captured, entranced by the vision in front of him, turning his until now uncomplicated world upside down.
Perhaps, given his occupation, it would have been better to say turn his uncomplicated worlds upside down. He'd seen a lot, done a lot. Travelled from one end of the galaxy to the other, seen sights that no other Earth inhabitant had seen for thousands of years if at all, and yet...
And yet the sight that held his attention now, that tore his breath from his throat and set his heart hammering in his chest was so familiar that he'd almost forgotten the old adage and started to treat it with, if not contempt at least without paying it any attention at all. So familiar and yet suddenly so very, very different.
Daniel.
Daniel of the twenty-three languages and multiple PhDs. Daniel of the allergies, the less than perfect eyesight, the caffeine addiction. Daniel of the generally sweet and occasionally snarky nature, of the wide eyes and boundless enthusiasm.
Daniel of the drums.
Never saw this one coming, did you, flyboy? Never threat assessed the shit out of Daniel? Teal'c, hell yeah. First time he'd clapped eyes on him, he'd taken his measure and taken a chance. Been proved right too. Carter - that too. Damn good 2IC, measured her up, got in her face, seen the piss and the vinegar in her as she'd given as good as she'd got. Seen the vulnerability underlying it too, seen the weaknesses as well as the strengths. Weighed them up and didn't find her wanting. Worked around the weaknesses, hers, his, theirs, worked to strengthen them, make her part of the team and a damn fine team it was too. Worked well together, knew each other's moves, compensated for them.
This whole set up should have been familiar, as safe as any trip through the gate could be. MALP sensor readings had shown breathable air, if a little hot and humid, and little sign of technological development. No pollution in the air, no sign of radio traffic. Someone had been there though, at least once upon a time. Two worn pillars marked the path leading to the gate, with runes carved into their surface that Daniel had strained to read on the grainy monitor. He'd known then that Daniel would be pushing for a foray to this world, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a simple meet and greet and play nice with the natives, assuming there were any. Yeah, he'd known Daniel too, or so he'd thought.
Easy. Familiar. Routine.
There were natives, people for Daniel to turn his patented shy, determined and polite charm on, let loose his enthusiasm for making friends on. Tall, dark skinned, well-formed, attractive. Eyes alight with curiosity but no sign of fear or indication that they bore their uninvited guests any malice. The same light had been in his archaeologist's eyes. It had bothered him, although he hadn't known why. Maybe the enthusiasm with which they'd greeted Daniel. Taken to Daniel like so many others did. He told himself that that usually spelled trouble. Damn sight easier to expect trouble than not, to anticipate and plan for it.
Daniel had launched into his normal, familiar and routine 'we come in peace' spiel, although Daniel never seemed to grow tired of no matter how often he said it or how things tended to pan out, delivering it with the same optimism and sincerity that Jack had heard in his voice the first time. This time, however, the population of this planet seemed willing to take it at face value, and secretly he suspected that a lot of that had to do with the genuineness of Daniel's address. Daniel had a way of winning people over - a charm he scarcely seemed aware of. Sincerity, perhaps, but whatever it was they'd been welcomed with open arms and invited back to the village for a feast. Whether this had been put on for them alone or whether there was some other reason and their arrival had merely been fortuitous Jack didn't know and hadn't cared to find out, too busy watching the natives watch Daniel. Threat assessment - yeah, right.
Daniel would know what the deal was. Daniel would have cared to find out and if there had been anything that he, as CO, needed to know, Daniel would have informed him. Probably loudly and in great detail, no matter what air of disinterest he assumed.
Routine.
Safe.
Familiar.
They'd left a trail a mile wide to get here but Jack hadn't found it in him to care too much about that either. Daniel's rapid-fire exchange with chief of this village had confirmed that it had been generations since their 'Gods' had deigned to visit and, God or Goa'uld willing, that would stay the case for the few hours they spent here. And if not, any visitors would probably head for the village first anyway. Carter's geological analysis, undertaken while preparations for the feast had been underway and while Daniel chattered away volubly to the Chief and his hangers-on, had shown nothing interesting. Only trace amounts of naquadah, no trinium. Nothing to make this world interesting in the long term to either the Goa'uld or Earth.
Cattle market. The words had popped into O'Neill's mind, neatly packaging this world and its inhabitants. A host breeding ground, nothing more or less. Probably why the natives were so attractive, physically appealing, tall and strong...
He'd shut off the train of thought, pushing it back into the corner of his mind as he'd watched Daniel making nice. Making very nice, smiling and talking and nodding and not sitting too close to the Chief or anything like that. He'd been concerned about that too, knowing how often the shit seemed to hit the fan, especially around SG1's patented trouble magnet. A familiar concern, one bred into his bones.
Routine. Nothing more than that.
Yeah, right.
Not a fair assessment, given that Daniel pulled them out of the shit at least as often as put them in it, but the truth was that he hadn't felt like being fair. The irritation had been familiar too and he'd embraced it, hidden behind it, doing his 'grumpy old Colonel' routine and seeing the oh-so-familiar rolling of Carter's eyes, Teal'c's raised eyebrow and air of faint disapproval.
Daniel's familiar obliviousness.
Same old, same old right up until the foundations of his nice, familiar, routine world were ripped up.
He hadn't seen it coming. That was the kicker. For all of his threat assessment, for all of his analysing danger spots and taking appropriate action to head it off this one had snuck right up on him unannounced and bit him on the ass.
Ass. Definitely not routine. Definitely not routine for Danny to be shaking it around like that.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
He rubbed at his forehead irritably, a faint ache starting there, in echo to the drums' beat, strangely welcoming it, wanting it even. He wanted the excuse of a headache for his frown, for the way his eyes were scrunched up in the firelight, focusing on one thing and one thing only.
Daniel.
Yeah, headache. That was it. That was all. Nothing to see here, folks. Just walk on by. Just your normal, common or garden, ageing and irritable Colonel wondering why the hell his linguist stroke anthropologist was up there, shaking his stuff, losing himself in an ancient rhythm. Really losing himself, his eyes shut, his brow creased, his body caught up in the same rhythm he was beating out on the huge, hide drum, swaying to the beat, his hands pounding on the taut, tight surface. Wondering what the hell Daniel was playing at now. Wondering why the hell Daniel had had to take his shirt off. It was hot, sure, but...
Daniel was hot.
The thought rose unbidden in spite of his attempts to quash it, drying out his mouth and setting his heart hammering again. It was his headache. That was it. You know, with migraines you saw flashing little lights in front of your eyes, or so he'd heard. Sara used to get them sometimes, especially at that time of the month. She got flashing lights, he got...
Archaeologists shaking their stuff.
He narrowed his eyes further, blaming the firelight, blaming the smoke, the scent, the beat of the drums for the throbbing in his head, but it wasn't just his head that was throbbing. His whole body was. He felt that beat in his bones, in his blood, setting his teeth on edge, shaking his body apart.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
He could feel it in his balls too, tightening up, the fabric of his boxers scratchy against his skin. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling every rasp of the rough cotton against his over-sensitised flesh, feeling his cock thicken and arch as he continued to watch the drummers.
Danny.
His mouth tightened as he watched the way the firelight caught Daniel's skin, turning it bronze and gold, gilded his hair, glistening in the beads of sweat adorning Daniel's face and torso. Daniel, he noted absently, had lost his glasses somewhere along the way. They were probably tucked haphazardly into one of Daniel's jacket pockets, the jacket gone the way of Daniel's t-shirt, cast aside as the heat grew.
Hot.
Jack swallowed convulsively, his eyes tracking down once again to the sweet curve of Daniel's body as he leant over the drum, his hands flashing out in an ancient, sensuous rhythm. Watched as Daniel's hips swayed in that self-same rhythm, his weight shifting subtly from side to side as his muscles played underneath that golden skin with each beat. Daniel's eyes were closed, his face still and concentrated, that familiar frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows.
Familiar and yet so new and different.
Daniel was biting his lip and, as Jack watched, the muscles around his mouth twitched slightly, as though he were holding something in, something wild and free and liberated. Something primal. Something so not 'Daniel'. Only he was having to reassess just who 'Daniel' was now, wasn't he? The other times Daniel had had this wild edge, this hunger and presence, there had been things to blame. The Sarcophagus. Righteous anger. Something to hide behind, to give Jack an excuse not to see.
He was starting to wonder if he'd ever really 'seen' Daniel at all. And now, he couldn't help but see him.
Daniel was still moving to that beat, eyes closed, his head tilted to the side, sweat streaming now from his forehead, spiking his hair, gilding his body. Focused as only Daniel could be.
He wondered if that was how Daniel looked when he came.
The thought finally got him moving, half-panicking but hiding it as always, muttering something to Carter about needing to see to the little Colonel. She grimaced slightly, unable to hide it, before smiling and nodding as he threw her completely off the track. The little Colonel did need seeing to, but not in the way she probably thought. They'd had no choice but to partake of some of the tribe's hooch, not without seeming unfriendly, something Daniel had been remarkably eloquent about. Eloquent as only Daniel could be, those elegant hands darting about while that frown graced his face again and that lush lower lip pouted, just begging...
For what?
Oh Jesus, he thought, as he staggered through the darkness, away from the incessant rhythm of those godforsaken drums, how long had he been watching Daniel without acknowledging what lay between them? How long had he kidded himself that those touches, that careless affection that he threw at Daniel with abandon was 'brotherly'? How long since it had been anything but?
It had taken seeing Daniel - being forced to see Daniel - in such a way that he couldn't ignore it anymore, to see Daniel as familiar and exotic at the same time to open his eyes. Forced to see Daniel as what he really was - alive, so fucking full of life and energy and focus, so fucking sensual - before he'd even look the facts full in the face.
He'd never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the box, especially compared to his kids, but he'd finally got it. Doomed. He was fucking doomed.
He got it, but he didn't get to have Daniel.
His wild, lurching run finally came to a halt, the energy draining out of him as the thought struck home. Beaten, he sank against a tree, the bark rough against his back, gasping for breath, his eyes closed and his chest heaving. He was far enough from the village now that drums were nothing but a hollow echo but he could still feel that driving beat coursing through his blood, throbbing in every part of his anatomy, making his teeth rattle and his body ache. One part in particular.
He gritted his teeth, growling under his breath. Sparks danced under his closed eyelids, coalescing into images of Daniel, eyes and hands flashing, body swaying hypnotically. Another growl escaped him as his body reacted to the pictures in his mind, making him achingly hard, desperate for release. His fingers began to fumble with the fastenings of his BDUs.
"Jack?"
The soft word cut through his befuddled state, dragging him back from fantasy to face reality. For once, however, the reality was too close to fantasy; tousled and flushed, chest bare, lips parted to drag in harsh breaths. The sharp tang of Daniel's sweat teased his senses and those goddamned drums just didn't quit.
"Jack? You okay?" The blue eyes sparkled with concern as Daniel moved closer, his body language almost wary as his gaze darted all over Jack's face, searching for a sign that his friend was all right. "You kind of rushed out of there. Sam was a bit worried. So was I."
Jack pressed back against the tree trunk, his fingers moving to dig into the sharp bark. It was an instinctive move, born of the desire to get as far from Daniel, from temptation as possible. He didn't trust himself not to do... something. Something stupid. That would be par for the course. He was obviously out of his fucking mind and therefore couldn't be blamed for anything stupid he did, right? And he wouldn't do anything remotely stupid if Daniel would just let the matter drop and go back to that drumming thing. Or, a damn sight more preferably, put some clothes on and went back to being the familiar, slightly shy and overly garrulous Dr Daniel Jackson.
Daniel, of course, couldn't buy a clue. He had that concerned look again, the one that said he was worrying himself sick over Jack, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth pursed in a little moue. The look he got whenever he thought Jack was sick, was hurting, when it seemed that nothing else, not Danny himself or anyone else, mattered. And he was coming closer.
Oh shit. Jack pressed himself further back against the truck, wondering why the hell Daniel couldn't leave him alone. Give a man some quality time with his own right hand and let him deal with some fucking startling revelations about the exact nature of his relationship with his best friend.
Because he was Daniel, of course.
"Jack?"
"I'm fine, Danny," he spit out, his eyes tightly closed so that he wouldn't be confronted with the sight of all that taut bare flesh moving any closer. The diminutive slipped out, spilling past lips made careless by a little too much booze and a lot too much self-analysis. "Just takin' a leak. Go back to the camp."
There was a long, loaded silence and he risked cracking his eyelids open to peek at Daniel, and was confronted with what he expected. Daniel, head tilted to the side, face screwed up as he stared intently at Jack, looking for all the world as though he though that if he stared long enough and hard enough he'd find the answer to all the mysteries of the Universe.
"I'm fine, Danny," he repeated, desperation giving his voice an edge this time.
"Uh huh." Damn the man, couldn't he take a hint? "Sure you are, Jack. That's why you don't look fine. Your face looks a little flushed."
Flushed? Oh crap. How could his face be flushed? All of his blood was currently pooling elsewhere. He was grateful for the late hour, hoping the darkness would hide what he didn't think he could anymore. The moons were bright, sure, but please God they weren't bright enough for Daniel to spot the tent pole he was sporting in his pants.
Before he could come back with a snappy rejoinder, get his poor, overburdened brain working to figure a way out of this, come up with plausible deniability, Daniel upped the stakes, moving closer to invade his personal space. No, Daniel definitely couldn't buy a clue, not if the way he was currently playing with fire was any indication.
Fire. The thought of it brought other thoughts in its wake, thoughts of Daniel's skin gleaming red and gold and bronze as the light from the campfires caught him, thoughts of him moving so fluidly, so easily, so fucking sexily leading to thoughts of Daniel moving like that under him.
Daniel's hand came up to cup his face, and he stared into dilated black pupils and lost it, losing himself in the process.
Daniel let out a brief, startled squawk of surprise as Jack's mouth settled fiercely over his, cutting off any other noises that he might have made. Jack's hands came up automatically, grabbing at his friend's shoulders, pulling Daniel towards him and using the momentum, the fact that Daniel was off-balance, to twist the other man around and pin him firmly against the tree. He was on automatic pilot now, acting on frenzied instinct alone, going with what he knew - kissing, touching, his hands running over Daniel's smooth skin while he devoured Daniel's mouth. This was... familiar, the act if not the taste, if not the feel of Daniel's stubble underneath his lips as his mouth moved hypnotically, rhythmically over Daniel's. Daniel tasted of that same hooch he'd been drinking, of the mints he'd obviously chewed to take that taste away and, underlying it all, the harsh, rich taste of coffee. The taste of Daniel.
A sharp hiss of pain brought him back to his senses and he pulled back, staring shocked into Daniel's face. Daniel's mouth was hanging open, the archaeologist's eyes wide and dazed and, as Jack watched, that small, pink tongue darted out to swipe across that lush, lower lip. It sent another shiver of heat through him even though his mind was screaming that he'd taken complete leave of his senses, that he was fucking up so badly. His grip on Daniel's arms was tight enough to turn the skin white underneath his fingertips and, horrified, he loosened it, just as Daniel surged forward.
This time he was caught off balance, Daniel repeating the move he'd used, using Jack's own body weight to twist and turn, spinning them around like a pivot so that this time it was Jack who ended up with his back up against the wall... tree. Trapped, he could only stare into Daniel's stark face, unable to even find the words to apologise while those damned drums echoed the harsh, hard rhythm of his heart.
Daniel stared into his eyes for a long, tense moment, his own eyes and expression for once guarded before finally breaking the deadlock between them.
"About fucking time, O'Neill."
He gaped, there was no other word for the open-mouthed guppy impression he was doing, and Daniel took advantage of it, of him. Daniel, who never took advantage of anyone, was eating out his mouth as though his life depended on it. Was pressed up against every inch of his body, his thigh insinuated between Jack's legs, pressing maddeningly against the throbbing erection Jack sported. His hands cupped Jack's face, holding the other man steady, holding him in place so that Daniel's agile tongue could do what it would to the inside of Jack's mouth. There was little gentleness in that touch, those hands. It was pure command, need, fire and Jack gave himself over to it, lost himself in Daniel's passion.
And still the drums beat.
The rhythm made him restless now, got him rocking against Daniel, no longer willing to be as passive now that the shock of Daniel's passion, hunger had worn off. His arms wrapped themselves convulsively around Daniel, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of Daniel's back, feeling the heat and the muscle, the sinewy shift beneath the skin as Daniel reacted to the touch, moving closer to him. Daniel let out a soft sound, a greedy sob of need, moving closer to him, writhing against him, his hands finally releasing Jack's face to come down and grasp Jack's hips, holding him steady. Holding him away from Daniel.
Jack let out a sound of his own, a disappointed growl as the pleasure he sought was denied him. He slid his hands down Daniel's back, grasping the other man's ass and pulling Daniel hard against himself, against the throbbing in his groin, leaving Daniel in no doubt of what he wanted. And, goddamn it, he wanted it now.
That earned him a soft chuckle, Daniel pulling back from his mouth just far enough so that the air gusted maddeningly over his lips. His blue eyes were slumberous, drugged with desire and yet still there was a spark in there, a slightly mocking edge to the look. "Something I can do for you, Colonel?"
He swallowed convulsively, Daniel's grip on him loosening enough so that the archaeologist could lean back, his hard thigh stirring lightly against Jack's heavy cock, teasing and tormenting and promising what Daniel obviously had no intention of delivering in the short term.
"Get me off," he growled, leaving Daniel in no doubt of what he wanted.
Daniel's lips quirked in a wicked smile, his eyes glinting from behind suddenly lowered lids. His whole posture screamed sinful and Jack's cock twitched violently at the wanton promise in that look.
"Get me off, or get off me?"
The words had the same slightly mocking edge to them, and Jack swallowed another groan, the only answer he was capable of. "That all?" Daniel all but purred, his voice low and throaty and once again Jack's traitorous cock reacted. Daniel leant forward, the heat from his bare chest almost burning into Jack's skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. Daniel's voice dropped lower, rumbling against the soft skin of Jack's neck as Daniel leant in closer. "Sure you don't want to be more specific? You're normally very good at specific, Jack. Do this, Daniel. Do that." He breathed into Jack's ear again and Jack shied away automatically as that touch arced to his aching cock, earning him another chuckle. "No?" asked his tormentor, sounding unutterably amused. "Guess I'll have to improvise then."
Jack's mind searched frantically for a come back, any comeback which would wrest him control of the situation back but came up blank. He doubted it would have done him any good since Daniel's mouth settled back over his again before he could have said anything, even if something had come to mind. Oh Christ, Daniel was good at this. It appeared his talented tongue didn't stop at languages. That agile muscle was curling around his own tongue the way that it caressed consonants, leaving no stone unturned in its ambition to master 'Jack'.
He let out another moan, his fingers clutching desperately, rhythmically at Daniel's ass, pulling the other man closer so that he could grind his aching, needy cock against the answering hardness at Daniel's groin. This time Daniel didn't object, which was just as well because if he had, the small part of Jack's brain that wasn't currently occupied with savouring the electric sensations flowing through his body thought, he'd have to shoot Daniel. And then hump the remaining consciousness out of the man.
Of course, he added the thought conscientiously, he'd have to be careful where he aimed. Not incapacitate... oh Christ... hands or arms or... oh fuck... legs or... Jesus, Mary and Joseph... anything that Danny needed to keep on doing just what Danny was doing.
It wasn't only Daniel's tongue that was talented.
He gave up, surrendered, waved the white flag figuratively and something else literally as Daniel's hands slid up underneath his t-shirt and ghosted over his bare chest. There was an odd combination of delicacy and possessiveness in the touch, in the way that Daniel was now deftly unfastening the buttons of Jack's BDUs, and it was turning Jack on big time. Turning him on more than he was already turned on. He was already turned on big time. Hugely turned on. Really, truly, absolutely...
Oh fuck. He let out a harsh, needy cry, thankful for those fucking drums still beating if it meant no one back at the encampment would hear it as those long, slim and deceptively strong fingers curled firmly around his cock. He almost climaxed at the touch, at the familiarity and yet wonderfully foreign feel of those hands on his skin, on that part of his skin, but Daniel's fingers touched that spot at the base of his cock and pressed down, stemming the tide as Daniel's tongue darted back into his mouth. Those fingers, those wonderful, terrible fingers released him and he groaned out at the loss, the sound swallowed hungrily by Daniel. He almost let out another howl as he felt Daniel's hand fumbling between them, freeing Daniel's own cock from the confines of his trousers to jerk up and meet Jack's own. Oh Christ, nothing had prepared him for this, for the feel of Daniel's erection against his own, for the heat and the hardness and the softness of Daniel's skin, a study in contrasts.
Daniel pushed into him again, his erection digging into the skin of Jack's groin and he could feel the curly hair of Daniel's pubic hair, coarse against his own sensitised skin. His fingers by now must have been bruising Daniel's ass, he was gripping so hard, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. With a great effort, he managed to loosen the death hold he had, scrabbling frantically at the waistband of Daniel's BDUs before sliding his hands in to cup bare skin. Smooth, hot and deliciously bare skin.
It was nothing like holding a woman. Where a woman was all soft curves, Daniel was all hard planes, strength and need and power and, oh Christ, it was a turn on, having that coiled strength pinning him in place, tested against him. He'd noticed Daniel bulking up recently, was aware of the work outs and the lack of confidence, Daniel's worries about his effectiveness in the field that had inspired them, but he'd never been so consciously aware of the result. Never let himself become aware of it. Hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty. Now, holding, cradling Daniel's tight ass in his hands, he couldn't help but be hyperaware of it. And for the first time he wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like to be buried balls deep in that ass, to feel that coiled strength underneath him, to try and tame it.
And hard on the heels of that thought was another - a vague desire to know what it would feel like the other way around. To have Daniel's strength pinning him to the bed, to have Daniel in him, moving in him with that sinuous roll to his hips that he'd seen Daniel exhibit in front of those drums.
Daniel was losing it now, his breath panting softly against the skin of Jack's neck, his face pressed into Jack's shoulder, mouthing mindlessly against Jack's skin. Jack threw his head back, imagining that mouth on him, imagined thrusting into that perfect pout and the arousal spiked in him again. He closed his eyes and saw the stars anyway, sparking again behind his eyelids as Daniel thrust against him. It obviously wasn't enough for Daniel, not close or hard enough because Daniel's lean, strong hand came down to grip Jack's right thigh, pulling it upwards so that it was curled over the sweet curve of Daniel's thigh.
Oh Christ, that was good, that was very good, bringing them closer together, intensifying the sensations that were ripping through Jack. Again that image, of being pinned under Daniel, of having Daniel move like this above him and in him, transfixed him. That should have been the point where his macho masculinity kicked in on him, told him that was out of the fucking question, no way in hell was he giving his ass up to another man but all he could think was that this was Daniel. Daniel who was familiar yet new and exciting and such a fucking turn on at the same time. Daniel who was even now gasping his name out over and over again, his own excitement clear in his voice, the rhythm of Jack's name eerily synchronising drum beat, speeding up as that rhythm quickened, as his thrusts against Jack's body quickened, as Jack's balls tightened and his fingers dug into Daniel's ass and he came in long, luxurious pulses over Daniel's tight stomach.
Somewhere in there, among the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, all of his senses were working overtime and yet, at the same time, his focus was so narrow, so tight. He heard his own voice crying out Daniel's name, felt Daniel tensing against him, every inch of Daniel's burning skin pressed against him, and heard his own name being sobbed out in a soft counterpoint to his own cry. Felt Daniel's come splattering across his skin, the thick, salty scent of it filling the air, more fragrant than anything else encountered on this planet. Tasted the sudden, sharp, metallic tang of blood as he bit the inside of his mouth to hold back another cry, one of triumph and possession, of joy at Daniel's climax. Luxuriated - that word again - in the sudden lethargy that gripped him, in Daniel slumping against his body, his breath moist against Daniel's overheated skin.
Listened to the sound of the drums, softer and slower now, a perfect echo in the aftermath of their orgasms.
He prised his fingers off Daniel's butt, moving them up and down the other man's spine in a gentle and mindless caress. Daniel pressed soft kisses against his skin before pulling back, his eyes soft and satiated in the twin moonlight. He let out a rueful chuckle as he met Jack's eyes, his hand drifting down between their sandwiched stomachs, sticky and sweaty, to come back glistening with their combined essence. Holding Jack's eyes with his own, he brought them up to his mouth, that pink tongue darting out again to lap it up with every evidence of enjoyment.
The arousal slammed through Jack again, causing his limp cock to twitch against Daniel's belly, earning him a quick glance downwards from Daniel, followed by an admiring look in his direction. Jack had no doubt whatsoever that his own good mood, the sheer mushiness he was wallowing in was clear on his face, that his eyes were showing the tenderness that only Daniel had been privy to since Charlie died. Daniel's face softened briefly in response, a flash of his own tenderness showing in those expressive blue eyes, before a look of sheer devilment crossed his face, his head dropping until he glanced up slyly at Jack from beneath lowered lashes.
"See, Jack," he smirked softly. "There are some things to be said for indulging in native rituals."
He gave Daniel a good-humoured smile, still coming down from that post-orgasmic high and not rising to the bait.
"So, will you be protesting next time I want to cement relations between cultures by participating in tribal customs?" Daniel added, his voice soft and slightly smug.
That one he couldn't let pass. "The only cementing of relationships you'd better be doing, Danny-boy, is with me," he growled. Daniel gave him that familiar half-irritated, half-amused look. "Danny?"
"I'm an anthropologist, Jack," he answered calmly. "Occasionally I may be asked to strut my stuff in front of someone other than you."
"Danny..." There was a distinct note of warning in his voice this time, and Daniel gave him a cool look, before ruining it by smirking again.
"Relax, Jack. I'm sure that I won't need to be quite so... obvious again. Not now that you've finally gotten a clue."
He stepped back, fussing with the fastenings of his trousers while Jack gaped at him, speechless again, the wheels in his mind spinning on the mental equivalent of wet tarmac. Daniel finally cleaned himself up to his satisfaction, and met Jack's stupefied expression with that cool, amused smirk that was now becoming as familiar to Jack as his normal shy academic persona.
"Come on, Jack. If we're really lucky, there might be dancing. Or should that be if you're really lucky?" That smirk again, before Daniel added, "Although, didn't you just get lucky?"
Before Jack could respond he turned on his heel and sauntered back off in the direction of the encampment, a subtle roll to his hips that drew Jack's eyes magnetically to his ass. Jack couldn't find it in himself to call Daniel on it - mingled in with the smirk and the smugness, he'd seen more than a hint of joy and not a little relief in Daniel's eyes, leading him to wonder just how long Daniel had been waiting for him to 'get a clue'. If Daniel wanted to walk back to the camp as though he was king of the world, glorying for a brief moment in the knowledge that he wanted and was wanted in return, all power to him.
The view had nothing to do with his supportive stance. Really.
He sighed heavily. There was no escaping it. In spite of his threat-assessing, in spite of his supposed courage and cool-headedness under fire, there was no missing the fact that he was well and truly screwed.
And if he were really lucky - that would be literally.
The End.
- Text Size +
Category: Stargate SG-1 - Slash
Characters: Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill
Rating: NC-17
Genres: First Time, Humour, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 6232; Completed: Yes
Summary: Jack sees Daniel in a new light.
Notes: Thanks to Lou for her comments - much appreciated. And to Munchie for getting out the spellcheck and Websters. And the whip, but we don't mention that.
~*~
The air on this world was sweet and heavy. Luxuriant. The word rolled around in his mind, evidence, if any had been needed, at just how long he'd spent with his... their linguist. Luxuriant - a word that would have never occurred to him two, three years ago. Apt, though, to describe this place. It drugged his senses with the scent of the foliage growing abundantly around this crude encampment, now bruised and battered from their boot-clad feet trampling through it in the wake of their barefoot hosts. Heady and strong, that scent, sweet, making his head swim. A low rumble rolled through the night, finding an echo in the rapid pounding of his heart.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
Drums.
His breathing was unconsciously picking up the same rhythm, catching in his throat, his lips parted as he struggled to pull in enough of that fragrant air. He'd like to blame the current light-headedness he was feeling on the humidity, on that strong, demanding scent, on the harsh, bitter hooch he'd been served but Jack O'Neill had never been one for self-delusion, not in the long term. Analyse, threat assess the shit out of it. And he understood now. He knew what it was. Not perfume, not alcohol. Not easy. Shit no. Simple, but not easy. Never that. He was captured, entranced by the vision in front of him, turning his until now uncomplicated world upside down.
Perhaps, given his occupation, it would have been better to say turn his uncomplicated worlds upside down. He'd seen a lot, done a lot. Travelled from one end of the galaxy to the other, seen sights that no other Earth inhabitant had seen for thousands of years if at all, and yet...
And yet the sight that held his attention now, that tore his breath from his throat and set his heart hammering in his chest was so familiar that he'd almost forgotten the old adage and started to treat it with, if not contempt at least without paying it any attention at all. So familiar and yet suddenly so very, very different.
Daniel.
Daniel of the twenty-three languages and multiple PhDs. Daniel of the allergies, the less than perfect eyesight, the caffeine addiction. Daniel of the generally sweet and occasionally snarky nature, of the wide eyes and boundless enthusiasm.
Daniel of the drums.
Never saw this one coming, did you, flyboy? Never threat assessed the shit out of Daniel? Teal'c, hell yeah. First time he'd clapped eyes on him, he'd taken his measure and taken a chance. Been proved right too. Carter - that too. Damn good 2IC, measured her up, got in her face, seen the piss and the vinegar in her as she'd given as good as she'd got. Seen the vulnerability underlying it too, seen the weaknesses as well as the strengths. Weighed them up and didn't find her wanting. Worked around the weaknesses, hers, his, theirs, worked to strengthen them, make her part of the team and a damn fine team it was too. Worked well together, knew each other's moves, compensated for them.
This whole set up should have been familiar, as safe as any trip through the gate could be. MALP sensor readings had shown breathable air, if a little hot and humid, and little sign of technological development. No pollution in the air, no sign of radio traffic. Someone had been there though, at least once upon a time. Two worn pillars marked the path leading to the gate, with runes carved into their surface that Daniel had strained to read on the grainy monitor. He'd known then that Daniel would be pushing for a foray to this world, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a simple meet and greet and play nice with the natives, assuming there were any. Yeah, he'd known Daniel too, or so he'd thought.
Easy. Familiar. Routine.
There were natives, people for Daniel to turn his patented shy, determined and polite charm on, let loose his enthusiasm for making friends on. Tall, dark skinned, well-formed, attractive. Eyes alight with curiosity but no sign of fear or indication that they bore their uninvited guests any malice. The same light had been in his archaeologist's eyes. It had bothered him, although he hadn't known why. Maybe the enthusiasm with which they'd greeted Daniel. Taken to Daniel like so many others did. He told himself that that usually spelled trouble. Damn sight easier to expect trouble than not, to anticipate and plan for it.
Daniel had launched into his normal, familiar and routine 'we come in peace' spiel, although Daniel never seemed to grow tired of no matter how often he said it or how things tended to pan out, delivering it with the same optimism and sincerity that Jack had heard in his voice the first time. This time, however, the population of this planet seemed willing to take it at face value, and secretly he suspected that a lot of that had to do with the genuineness of Daniel's address. Daniel had a way of winning people over - a charm he scarcely seemed aware of. Sincerity, perhaps, but whatever it was they'd been welcomed with open arms and invited back to the village for a feast. Whether this had been put on for them alone or whether there was some other reason and their arrival had merely been fortuitous Jack didn't know and hadn't cared to find out, too busy watching the natives watch Daniel. Threat assessment - yeah, right.
Daniel would know what the deal was. Daniel would have cared to find out and if there had been anything that he, as CO, needed to know, Daniel would have informed him. Probably loudly and in great detail, no matter what air of disinterest he assumed.
Routine.
Safe.
Familiar.
They'd left a trail a mile wide to get here but Jack hadn't found it in him to care too much about that either. Daniel's rapid-fire exchange with chief of this village had confirmed that it had been generations since their 'Gods' had deigned to visit and, God or Goa'uld willing, that would stay the case for the few hours they spent here. And if not, any visitors would probably head for the village first anyway. Carter's geological analysis, undertaken while preparations for the feast had been underway and while Daniel chattered away volubly to the Chief and his hangers-on, had shown nothing interesting. Only trace amounts of naquadah, no trinium. Nothing to make this world interesting in the long term to either the Goa'uld or Earth.
Cattle market. The words had popped into O'Neill's mind, neatly packaging this world and its inhabitants. A host breeding ground, nothing more or less. Probably why the natives were so attractive, physically appealing, tall and strong...
He'd shut off the train of thought, pushing it back into the corner of his mind as he'd watched Daniel making nice. Making very nice, smiling and talking and nodding and not sitting too close to the Chief or anything like that. He'd been concerned about that too, knowing how often the shit seemed to hit the fan, especially around SG1's patented trouble magnet. A familiar concern, one bred into his bones.
Routine. Nothing more than that.
Yeah, right.
Not a fair assessment, given that Daniel pulled them out of the shit at least as often as put them in it, but the truth was that he hadn't felt like being fair. The irritation had been familiar too and he'd embraced it, hidden behind it, doing his 'grumpy old Colonel' routine and seeing the oh-so-familiar rolling of Carter's eyes, Teal'c's raised eyebrow and air of faint disapproval.
Daniel's familiar obliviousness.
Same old, same old right up until the foundations of his nice, familiar, routine world were ripped up.
He hadn't seen it coming. That was the kicker. For all of his threat assessment, for all of his analysing danger spots and taking appropriate action to head it off this one had snuck right up on him unannounced and bit him on the ass.
Ass. Definitely not routine. Definitely not routine for Danny to be shaking it around like that.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
He rubbed at his forehead irritably, a faint ache starting there, in echo to the drums' beat, strangely welcoming it, wanting it even. He wanted the excuse of a headache for his frown, for the way his eyes were scrunched up in the firelight, focusing on one thing and one thing only.
Daniel.
Yeah, headache. That was it. That was all. Nothing to see here, folks. Just walk on by. Just your normal, common or garden, ageing and irritable Colonel wondering why the hell his linguist stroke anthropologist was up there, shaking his stuff, losing himself in an ancient rhythm. Really losing himself, his eyes shut, his brow creased, his body caught up in the same rhythm he was beating out on the huge, hide drum, swaying to the beat, his hands pounding on the taut, tight surface. Wondering what the hell Daniel was playing at now. Wondering why the hell Daniel had had to take his shirt off. It was hot, sure, but...
Daniel was hot.
The thought rose unbidden in spite of his attempts to quash it, drying out his mouth and setting his heart hammering again. It was his headache. That was it. You know, with migraines you saw flashing little lights in front of your eyes, or so he'd heard. Sara used to get them sometimes, especially at that time of the month. She got flashing lights, he got...
Archaeologists shaking their stuff.
He narrowed his eyes further, blaming the firelight, blaming the smoke, the scent, the beat of the drums for the throbbing in his head, but it wasn't just his head that was throbbing. His whole body was. He felt that beat in his bones, in his blood, setting his teeth on edge, shaking his body apart.
...thudda... da... da... thudda.. thudda... da...
He could feel it in his balls too, tightening up, the fabric of his boxers scratchy against his skin. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling every rasp of the rough cotton against his over-sensitised flesh, feeling his cock thicken and arch as he continued to watch the drummers.
Danny.
His mouth tightened as he watched the way the firelight caught Daniel's skin, turning it bronze and gold, gilded his hair, glistening in the beads of sweat adorning Daniel's face and torso. Daniel, he noted absently, had lost his glasses somewhere along the way. They were probably tucked haphazardly into one of Daniel's jacket pockets, the jacket gone the way of Daniel's t-shirt, cast aside as the heat grew.
Hot.
Jack swallowed convulsively, his eyes tracking down once again to the sweet curve of Daniel's body as he leant over the drum, his hands flashing out in an ancient, sensuous rhythm. Watched as Daniel's hips swayed in that self-same rhythm, his weight shifting subtly from side to side as his muscles played underneath that golden skin with each beat. Daniel's eyes were closed, his face still and concentrated, that familiar frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows.
Familiar and yet so new and different.
Daniel was biting his lip and, as Jack watched, the muscles around his mouth twitched slightly, as though he were holding something in, something wild and free and liberated. Something primal. Something so not 'Daniel'. Only he was having to reassess just who 'Daniel' was now, wasn't he? The other times Daniel had had this wild edge, this hunger and presence, there had been things to blame. The Sarcophagus. Righteous anger. Something to hide behind, to give Jack an excuse not to see.
He was starting to wonder if he'd ever really 'seen' Daniel at all. And now, he couldn't help but see him.
Daniel was still moving to that beat, eyes closed, his head tilted to the side, sweat streaming now from his forehead, spiking his hair, gilding his body. Focused as only Daniel could be.
He wondered if that was how Daniel looked when he came.
The thought finally got him moving, half-panicking but hiding it as always, muttering something to Carter about needing to see to the little Colonel. She grimaced slightly, unable to hide it, before smiling and nodding as he threw her completely off the track. The little Colonel did need seeing to, but not in the way she probably thought. They'd had no choice but to partake of some of the tribe's hooch, not without seeming unfriendly, something Daniel had been remarkably eloquent about. Eloquent as only Daniel could be, those elegant hands darting about while that frown graced his face again and that lush lower lip pouted, just begging...
For what?
Oh Jesus, he thought, as he staggered through the darkness, away from the incessant rhythm of those godforsaken drums, how long had he been watching Daniel without acknowledging what lay between them? How long had he kidded himself that those touches, that careless affection that he threw at Daniel with abandon was 'brotherly'? How long since it had been anything but?
It had taken seeing Daniel - being forced to see Daniel - in such a way that he couldn't ignore it anymore, to see Daniel as familiar and exotic at the same time to open his eyes. Forced to see Daniel as what he really was - alive, so fucking full of life and energy and focus, so fucking sensual - before he'd even look the facts full in the face.
He'd never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the box, especially compared to his kids, but he'd finally got it. Doomed. He was fucking doomed.
He got it, but he didn't get to have Daniel.
His wild, lurching run finally came to a halt, the energy draining out of him as the thought struck home. Beaten, he sank against a tree, the bark rough against his back, gasping for breath, his eyes closed and his chest heaving. He was far enough from the village now that drums were nothing but a hollow echo but he could still feel that driving beat coursing through his blood, throbbing in every part of his anatomy, making his teeth rattle and his body ache. One part in particular.
He gritted his teeth, growling under his breath. Sparks danced under his closed eyelids, coalescing into images of Daniel, eyes and hands flashing, body swaying hypnotically. Another growl escaped him as his body reacted to the pictures in his mind, making him achingly hard, desperate for release. His fingers began to fumble with the fastenings of his BDUs.
"Jack?"
The soft word cut through his befuddled state, dragging him back from fantasy to face reality. For once, however, the reality was too close to fantasy; tousled and flushed, chest bare, lips parted to drag in harsh breaths. The sharp tang of Daniel's sweat teased his senses and those goddamned drums just didn't quit.
"Jack? You okay?" The blue eyes sparkled with concern as Daniel moved closer, his body language almost wary as his gaze darted all over Jack's face, searching for a sign that his friend was all right. "You kind of rushed out of there. Sam was a bit worried. So was I."
Jack pressed back against the tree trunk, his fingers moving to dig into the sharp bark. It was an instinctive move, born of the desire to get as far from Daniel, from temptation as possible. He didn't trust himself not to do... something. Something stupid. That would be par for the course. He was obviously out of his fucking mind and therefore couldn't be blamed for anything stupid he did, right? And he wouldn't do anything remotely stupid if Daniel would just let the matter drop and go back to that drumming thing. Or, a damn sight more preferably, put some clothes on and went back to being the familiar, slightly shy and overly garrulous Dr Daniel Jackson.
Daniel, of course, couldn't buy a clue. He had that concerned look again, the one that said he was worrying himself sick over Jack, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth pursed in a little moue. The look he got whenever he thought Jack was sick, was hurting, when it seemed that nothing else, not Danny himself or anyone else, mattered. And he was coming closer.
Oh shit. Jack pressed himself further back against the truck, wondering why the hell Daniel couldn't leave him alone. Give a man some quality time with his own right hand and let him deal with some fucking startling revelations about the exact nature of his relationship with his best friend.
Because he was Daniel, of course.
"Jack?"
"I'm fine, Danny," he spit out, his eyes tightly closed so that he wouldn't be confronted with the sight of all that taut bare flesh moving any closer. The diminutive slipped out, spilling past lips made careless by a little too much booze and a lot too much self-analysis. "Just takin' a leak. Go back to the camp."
There was a long, loaded silence and he risked cracking his eyelids open to peek at Daniel, and was confronted with what he expected. Daniel, head tilted to the side, face screwed up as he stared intently at Jack, looking for all the world as though he though that if he stared long enough and hard enough he'd find the answer to all the mysteries of the Universe.
"I'm fine, Danny," he repeated, desperation giving his voice an edge this time.
"Uh huh." Damn the man, couldn't he take a hint? "Sure you are, Jack. That's why you don't look fine. Your face looks a little flushed."
Flushed? Oh crap. How could his face be flushed? All of his blood was currently pooling elsewhere. He was grateful for the late hour, hoping the darkness would hide what he didn't think he could anymore. The moons were bright, sure, but please God they weren't bright enough for Daniel to spot the tent pole he was sporting in his pants.
Before he could come back with a snappy rejoinder, get his poor, overburdened brain working to figure a way out of this, come up with plausible deniability, Daniel upped the stakes, moving closer to invade his personal space. No, Daniel definitely couldn't buy a clue, not if the way he was currently playing with fire was any indication.
Fire. The thought of it brought other thoughts in its wake, thoughts of Daniel's skin gleaming red and gold and bronze as the light from the campfires caught him, thoughts of him moving so fluidly, so easily, so fucking sexily leading to thoughts of Daniel moving like that under him.
Daniel's hand came up to cup his face, and he stared into dilated black pupils and lost it, losing himself in the process.
Daniel let out a brief, startled squawk of surprise as Jack's mouth settled fiercely over his, cutting off any other noises that he might have made. Jack's hands came up automatically, grabbing at his friend's shoulders, pulling Daniel towards him and using the momentum, the fact that Daniel was off-balance, to twist the other man around and pin him firmly against the tree. He was on automatic pilot now, acting on frenzied instinct alone, going with what he knew - kissing, touching, his hands running over Daniel's smooth skin while he devoured Daniel's mouth. This was... familiar, the act if not the taste, if not the feel of Daniel's stubble underneath his lips as his mouth moved hypnotically, rhythmically over Daniel's. Daniel tasted of that same hooch he'd been drinking, of the mints he'd obviously chewed to take that taste away and, underlying it all, the harsh, rich taste of coffee. The taste of Daniel.
A sharp hiss of pain brought him back to his senses and he pulled back, staring shocked into Daniel's face. Daniel's mouth was hanging open, the archaeologist's eyes wide and dazed and, as Jack watched, that small, pink tongue darted out to swipe across that lush, lower lip. It sent another shiver of heat through him even though his mind was screaming that he'd taken complete leave of his senses, that he was fucking up so badly. His grip on Daniel's arms was tight enough to turn the skin white underneath his fingertips and, horrified, he loosened it, just as Daniel surged forward.
This time he was caught off balance, Daniel repeating the move he'd used, using Jack's own body weight to twist and turn, spinning them around like a pivot so that this time it was Jack who ended up with his back up against the wall... tree. Trapped, he could only stare into Daniel's stark face, unable to even find the words to apologise while those damned drums echoed the harsh, hard rhythm of his heart.
Daniel stared into his eyes for a long, tense moment, his own eyes and expression for once guarded before finally breaking the deadlock between them.
"About fucking time, O'Neill."
He gaped, there was no other word for the open-mouthed guppy impression he was doing, and Daniel took advantage of it, of him. Daniel, who never took advantage of anyone, was eating out his mouth as though his life depended on it. Was pressed up against every inch of his body, his thigh insinuated between Jack's legs, pressing maddeningly against the throbbing erection Jack sported. His hands cupped Jack's face, holding the other man steady, holding him in place so that Daniel's agile tongue could do what it would to the inside of Jack's mouth. There was little gentleness in that touch, those hands. It was pure command, need, fire and Jack gave himself over to it, lost himself in Daniel's passion.
And still the drums beat.
The rhythm made him restless now, got him rocking against Daniel, no longer willing to be as passive now that the shock of Daniel's passion, hunger had worn off. His arms wrapped themselves convulsively around Daniel, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of Daniel's back, feeling the heat and the muscle, the sinewy shift beneath the skin as Daniel reacted to the touch, moving closer to him. Daniel let out a soft sound, a greedy sob of need, moving closer to him, writhing against him, his hands finally releasing Jack's face to come down and grasp Jack's hips, holding him steady. Holding him away from Daniel.
Jack let out a sound of his own, a disappointed growl as the pleasure he sought was denied him. He slid his hands down Daniel's back, grasping the other man's ass and pulling Daniel hard against himself, against the throbbing in his groin, leaving Daniel in no doubt of what he wanted. And, goddamn it, he wanted it now.
That earned him a soft chuckle, Daniel pulling back from his mouth just far enough so that the air gusted maddeningly over his lips. His blue eyes were slumberous, drugged with desire and yet still there was a spark in there, a slightly mocking edge to the look. "Something I can do for you, Colonel?"
He swallowed convulsively, Daniel's grip on him loosening enough so that the archaeologist could lean back, his hard thigh stirring lightly against Jack's heavy cock, teasing and tormenting and promising what Daniel obviously had no intention of delivering in the short term.
"Get me off," he growled, leaving Daniel in no doubt of what he wanted.
Daniel's lips quirked in a wicked smile, his eyes glinting from behind suddenly lowered lids. His whole posture screamed sinful and Jack's cock twitched violently at the wanton promise in that look.
"Get me off, or get off me?"
The words had the same slightly mocking edge to them, and Jack swallowed another groan, the only answer he was capable of. "That all?" Daniel all but purred, his voice low and throaty and once again Jack's traitorous cock reacted. Daniel leant forward, the heat from his bare chest almost burning into Jack's skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. Daniel's voice dropped lower, rumbling against the soft skin of Jack's neck as Daniel leant in closer. "Sure you don't want to be more specific? You're normally very good at specific, Jack. Do this, Daniel. Do that." He breathed into Jack's ear again and Jack shied away automatically as that touch arced to his aching cock, earning him another chuckle. "No?" asked his tormentor, sounding unutterably amused. "Guess I'll have to improvise then."
Jack's mind searched frantically for a come back, any comeback which would wrest him control of the situation back but came up blank. He doubted it would have done him any good since Daniel's mouth settled back over his again before he could have said anything, even if something had come to mind. Oh Christ, Daniel was good at this. It appeared his talented tongue didn't stop at languages. That agile muscle was curling around his own tongue the way that it caressed consonants, leaving no stone unturned in its ambition to master 'Jack'.
He let out another moan, his fingers clutching desperately, rhythmically at Daniel's ass, pulling the other man closer so that he could grind his aching, needy cock against the answering hardness at Daniel's groin. This time Daniel didn't object, which was just as well because if he had, the small part of Jack's brain that wasn't currently occupied with savouring the electric sensations flowing through his body thought, he'd have to shoot Daniel. And then hump the remaining consciousness out of the man.
Of course, he added the thought conscientiously, he'd have to be careful where he aimed. Not incapacitate... oh Christ... hands or arms or... oh fuck... legs or... Jesus, Mary and Joseph... anything that Danny needed to keep on doing just what Danny was doing.
It wasn't only Daniel's tongue that was talented.
He gave up, surrendered, waved the white flag figuratively and something else literally as Daniel's hands slid up underneath his t-shirt and ghosted over his bare chest. There was an odd combination of delicacy and possessiveness in the touch, in the way that Daniel was now deftly unfastening the buttons of Jack's BDUs, and it was turning Jack on big time. Turning him on more than he was already turned on. He was already turned on big time. Hugely turned on. Really, truly, absolutely...
Oh fuck. He let out a harsh, needy cry, thankful for those fucking drums still beating if it meant no one back at the encampment would hear it as those long, slim and deceptively strong fingers curled firmly around his cock. He almost climaxed at the touch, at the familiarity and yet wonderfully foreign feel of those hands on his skin, on that part of his skin, but Daniel's fingers touched that spot at the base of his cock and pressed down, stemming the tide as Daniel's tongue darted back into his mouth. Those fingers, those wonderful, terrible fingers released him and he groaned out at the loss, the sound swallowed hungrily by Daniel. He almost let out another howl as he felt Daniel's hand fumbling between them, freeing Daniel's own cock from the confines of his trousers to jerk up and meet Jack's own. Oh Christ, nothing had prepared him for this, for the feel of Daniel's erection against his own, for the heat and the hardness and the softness of Daniel's skin, a study in contrasts.
Daniel pushed into him again, his erection digging into the skin of Jack's groin and he could feel the curly hair of Daniel's pubic hair, coarse against his own sensitised skin. His fingers by now must have been bruising Daniel's ass, he was gripping so hard, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. With a great effort, he managed to loosen the death hold he had, scrabbling frantically at the waistband of Daniel's BDUs before sliding his hands in to cup bare skin. Smooth, hot and deliciously bare skin.
It was nothing like holding a woman. Where a woman was all soft curves, Daniel was all hard planes, strength and need and power and, oh Christ, it was a turn on, having that coiled strength pinning him in place, tested against him. He'd noticed Daniel bulking up recently, was aware of the work outs and the lack of confidence, Daniel's worries about his effectiveness in the field that had inspired them, but he'd never been so consciously aware of the result. Never let himself become aware of it. Hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty. Now, holding, cradling Daniel's tight ass in his hands, he couldn't help but be hyperaware of it. And for the first time he wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like to be buried balls deep in that ass, to feel that coiled strength underneath him, to try and tame it.
And hard on the heels of that thought was another - a vague desire to know what it would feel like the other way around. To have Daniel's strength pinning him to the bed, to have Daniel in him, moving in him with that sinuous roll to his hips that he'd seen Daniel exhibit in front of those drums.
Daniel was losing it now, his breath panting softly against the skin of Jack's neck, his face pressed into Jack's shoulder, mouthing mindlessly against Jack's skin. Jack threw his head back, imagining that mouth on him, imagined thrusting into that perfect pout and the arousal spiked in him again. He closed his eyes and saw the stars anyway, sparking again behind his eyelids as Daniel thrust against him. It obviously wasn't enough for Daniel, not close or hard enough because Daniel's lean, strong hand came down to grip Jack's right thigh, pulling it upwards so that it was curled over the sweet curve of Daniel's thigh.
Oh Christ, that was good, that was very good, bringing them closer together, intensifying the sensations that were ripping through Jack. Again that image, of being pinned under Daniel, of having Daniel move like this above him and in him, transfixed him. That should have been the point where his macho masculinity kicked in on him, told him that was out of the fucking question, no way in hell was he giving his ass up to another man but all he could think was that this was Daniel. Daniel who was familiar yet new and exciting and such a fucking turn on at the same time. Daniel who was even now gasping his name out over and over again, his own excitement clear in his voice, the rhythm of Jack's name eerily synchronising drum beat, speeding up as that rhythm quickened, as his thrusts against Jack's body quickened, as Jack's balls tightened and his fingers dug into Daniel's ass and he came in long, luxurious pulses over Daniel's tight stomach.
Somewhere in there, among the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, all of his senses were working overtime and yet, at the same time, his focus was so narrow, so tight. He heard his own voice crying out Daniel's name, felt Daniel tensing against him, every inch of Daniel's burning skin pressed against him, and heard his own name being sobbed out in a soft counterpoint to his own cry. Felt Daniel's come splattering across his skin, the thick, salty scent of it filling the air, more fragrant than anything else encountered on this planet. Tasted the sudden, sharp, metallic tang of blood as he bit the inside of his mouth to hold back another cry, one of triumph and possession, of joy at Daniel's climax. Luxuriated - that word again - in the sudden lethargy that gripped him, in Daniel slumping against his body, his breath moist against Daniel's overheated skin.
Listened to the sound of the drums, softer and slower now, a perfect echo in the aftermath of their orgasms.
He prised his fingers off Daniel's butt, moving them up and down the other man's spine in a gentle and mindless caress. Daniel pressed soft kisses against his skin before pulling back, his eyes soft and satiated in the twin moonlight. He let out a rueful chuckle as he met Jack's eyes, his hand drifting down between their sandwiched stomachs, sticky and sweaty, to come back glistening with their combined essence. Holding Jack's eyes with his own, he brought them up to his mouth, that pink tongue darting out again to lap it up with every evidence of enjoyment.
The arousal slammed through Jack again, causing his limp cock to twitch against Daniel's belly, earning him a quick glance downwards from Daniel, followed by an admiring look in his direction. Jack had no doubt whatsoever that his own good mood, the sheer mushiness he was wallowing in was clear on his face, that his eyes were showing the tenderness that only Daniel had been privy to since Charlie died. Daniel's face softened briefly in response, a flash of his own tenderness showing in those expressive blue eyes, before a look of sheer devilment crossed his face, his head dropping until he glanced up slyly at Jack from beneath lowered lashes.
"See, Jack," he smirked softly. "There are some things to be said for indulging in native rituals."
He gave Daniel a good-humoured smile, still coming down from that post-orgasmic high and not rising to the bait.
"So, will you be protesting next time I want to cement relations between cultures by participating in tribal customs?" Daniel added, his voice soft and slightly smug.
That one he couldn't let pass. "The only cementing of relationships you'd better be doing, Danny-boy, is with me," he growled. Daniel gave him that familiar half-irritated, half-amused look. "Danny?"
"I'm an anthropologist, Jack," he answered calmly. "Occasionally I may be asked to strut my stuff in front of someone other than you."
"Danny..." There was a distinct note of warning in his voice this time, and Daniel gave him a cool look, before ruining it by smirking again.
"Relax, Jack. I'm sure that I won't need to be quite so... obvious again. Not now that you've finally gotten a clue."
He stepped back, fussing with the fastenings of his trousers while Jack gaped at him, speechless again, the wheels in his mind spinning on the mental equivalent of wet tarmac. Daniel finally cleaned himself up to his satisfaction, and met Jack's stupefied expression with that cool, amused smirk that was now becoming as familiar to Jack as his normal shy academic persona.
"Come on, Jack. If we're really lucky, there might be dancing. Or should that be if you're really lucky?" That smirk again, before Daniel added, "Although, didn't you just get lucky?"
Before Jack could respond he turned on his heel and sauntered back off in the direction of the encampment, a subtle roll to his hips that drew Jack's eyes magnetically to his ass. Jack couldn't find it in himself to call Daniel on it - mingled in with the smirk and the smugness, he'd seen more than a hint of joy and not a little relief in Daniel's eyes, leading him to wonder just how long Daniel had been waiting for him to 'get a clue'. If Daniel wanted to walk back to the camp as though he was king of the world, glorying for a brief moment in the knowledge that he wanted and was wanted in return, all power to him.
The view had nothing to do with his supportive stance. Really.
He sighed heavily. There was no escaping it. In spite of his threat-assessing, in spite of his supposed courage and cool-headedness under fire, there was no missing the fact that he was well and truly screwed.
And if he were really lucky - that would be literally.
The End.