I don’t know exactly when I started to appreciate Daniel’s ass more than Carter’s. Guess it was something that just grew on me, despite myself –I certainly never meant it to. I’m not sure I mean to even now. I really never took myself for gay. Middle aged, once married, often bedded – but always by women. Never a buddy fuck to my name, not ever, not even when it would have been a blessed relief, just lots of quality time with my right hand when it was necessary. I never dreamed it would be possible for me to fall for another guy, for Chrissakes, that I was anything other than straight as a die. But I have, and I am – what a spectacular way to have a mid-life crisis, huh?
But then again, I’m not convinced that I am gay, per se – I’ve never checked out any other guy’s butt. Never even speculated about doing that. The idea of finding say, Simmons or Ferretti sexually attractive is laughable. Yet they’re both good-looking guys, both in great shape. No, I don’t think I’ve been in the closet for years, it’s more, and less, straightforward than that. It’s just Daniel that I find irresistible. Not ‘guys’ in the abstract, just the one guy in the absolute.
There’s so much that I love about him – in a friend-type way, you understand, not in a guy-guy way: or maybe in a guy-guy way, I dunno. I’m not that sure I can tell the difference any more. Hell, I’m not sure that there is a difference to tell. He’s kind, he’s generous, he’s smart, he’s done a lot for me over the years in the way of helping me to regain some kind of normality in my life. We fight like cats and dogs over many things, but our arguments are usually productive, and most times we meet somewhere in the middle. His friendship means a whole lot to me, if I’m honest, and I can’t imagine my life without him in it any more. But that’s a far cry from really, really, aching to fuck him six ways since Tuesday. At least, I think I do. That has been a comparatively recent development. I’m not that sure about anything just now. My whole life is in the process of being turned on its head. I’m not sure I like it and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.
The only sure thing about this is that I really, really, do appreciate his ass. I’m lounging here, under a blazing hot sun, on an apparently deserted planet, ostensibly watching his back while he futzes around in the dirt fondling his rocks – stop that thought in its tracks –dangerous turn of phrase in the circumstances - but actually I’m concentrating on his lower back. His lower, lower back.
He sure does have a lovely ass, though, and it’s had the starring role in my jerk-off fantasies recently. I don’t want to think of him in this light. I always start off thinking of Carter, or that little dark-haired nurse with the huge tits. But I always end up drifting back to thoughts of Daniel when I start to get… involved. Wondering how it would be to run my hands over his lovely ass, imagining what his skin would feel like under my wandering hands. Wondering how it would feel to suck him, to fuck him, to nail him through the mattress, to collapse in a shivery, sweaty heap over his back having given him, and me, the ride of our lives. Or to have him doing the same to me… What? I’ve done research, God help me, I know the mechanics…
Whoa, O’Neill, don’t go down that road, not here, not now, when you can’t do anything about it except make yourself uncomfortable. Thank God BDUs are comparatively roomy… think, man, think turn-off – think Fraiser with a honkin’ great needle, or with a good excuse for an internal exam… No, internal ain’t gonna work, that’s getting way too close to fantasy fodder… Think about the Tollan, the Tok’ra, the snakes… Hathor. Now there’s a train of thought that can scupper a hard-on faster than virtually anything else.
There are so many reasons why this whole deal is a no-brainer. Not that I’m seriously thinking about it. Just, ya know, hypothetically… First off, and most obvious, Daniel has never given me any reason to even suspect that he might feel the same way about me. He was married too, for heaven's sakes, and if all the indications are to be believed, he was happy with Shau'ri. Nothing in his personnel file either to indicate anything other than solid heterosexuality, no matter how far back you go, not even a whisper. Yeah, I've checked, what can I say? RHIP. What kind of sad bastard does that make me? A sneaky sad bastard, that’s what kind.
Second, even if he was into guys, there’s no way he could consider me much of a catch, and I’m not that far gone to flatter myself that he might. I know that I don’t have that much going for me – I’m a good ten years older than he is, for a start, and grumpy and smart mouthed to boot. My knees are shot and my back’s bad. Still got all my own teeth though, well apart from the one that was knocked out by that rat bastard weasel in Iraq, but that’s probably only a matter of time. Scarred and worn inside and out, just about seems a fair assessment.
Third, even if he did return the favour, there’s nothing we could do about it. It was bad enough when I thought I had these kinds of feelings about Carter, for God’s sake - frat regs being what they are and all – real dishonourable discharge territory. And while I have resigned once, that’s a far, far cry from discharge and all that entails. I can’t really say I’d relish a future that included food stamps. Besides, I like my job and, let’s face it, what else could I do? So how much worse to even entertain the idea of fucking Daniel? Not only a subordinate in my team, but completely the wrong gender as well – not just an undesirable relationship, but positively illegal in USAF terms. Guess I must have it bad if I’m even thinking about it. Not that there’s anything to think about, really – just a fantasy, Jack, just a beautiful, sexy dream…
Come on O’Neill; get with the program here. You’re supposed to be thinking up reasons why jumping Daniel’s bones is a bad idea. Okay, what number am I up to? Oh yeah, fourth: the team. SG1 isn’t just a good team, it’s a great team, it’s the team. We all look out for each other, we all care about each other; we’re all committed to the idea that nobody gets left behind. I kinda think starting a relationship with Daniel, even if it were possible, might leave the other two so far behind that the team would never recover. I care about all of my kids, and that’s the way it should be, a CO has no damn right to care about one more than any of the others.
And yet… this CO does. Can’t help it. Oh, I don’t mean that I would do anything to put any of them in danger, or that I wouldn’t do my damnedest to get any of them out of trouble. I care more than the brass would say I should about them all. But it would rip my heart out if anything happened to Daniel: life really would not be worth living all over again.
So where does all this
leave me? Basically, I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t. So I’m just
gonna have to settle. Try my best to deal with all the inappropriate feelings
and not let them show, try to keep things as they were, as they should be,
between the lot of us. Fuck, it’s gonna be hard though… my head knows I’m right,
but my dick just won’t listen…
O-kaay, now it’s official. Strange is now officially upgraded to weird. He’s checking out my butt, I’m pretty sure of it. I’ve thought something was up for a couple of months now, but I’ve never really had the time to analyse what’s been wrong, to pull all the threads together.
Oh, this is really weird – not only is Jack O’Neill, Colonel, USAF, checking out my butt (I’m fairly sure anyway), but also I’m quite enjoying the idea that he wants to. And I’m quite hopeful that he’s enjoying the view.
Huh? Where did that come from? Like I want to be objectified? No, actually, like I want to be wanted – by him.
Oh, now that’s ridiculous. Shit, my subconscious must be really screwed to come up with an idea like that. Probably a combination of sleep deprivation and not nearly enough coffee – if I ever find out who slipped decaff into our field rations this time they are going to die a slow and painful death. Even if it was meant as a joke. I mean, fun’s fun and all, but that’s ridiculous. It’s going too far, even Sam and Jack thought so.
No, I must have gotten it wrong. He can’t possibly be checking out my butt, not Action Man over there. Pity…
See, now there it goes again. There IS a part of me that finds the idea… not unappealing. This is going to require some thought, ‘cause it’s something about myself that I have never realised until now. And unlike some people I could name, I’ve never been afraid to confront what’s going on inside my head, of reaching an explanation for my feelings through rational analysis.
Okay, let’s sort this through while I work on this layer. For once it’s a relief to be doing something routine, it frees up my mind to think about something else, to think about this… whatever ‘this’ is. First and foremost, I know I’m not gay, and I’m fairly sure Jack isn’t either, no, make that positive that he isn’t. Currently celibate, perforce – this crazy job with its ridiculous hours doesn’t leave a lot of time for a wild social life – but I would bet my bank balance that he’s straight. ‘Course that’s not to say that he hasn’t had any kind of homosexual experience, having spent his entire adult life in a closed, largely single sex, environment. But I have no information on that; it’s not the kind of thing that he would ever talk about. And he was married for years, apparently quite reasonably happily until the accident. What’s more, he would be the first to admit, if he was into talking about these sorts of things, that he’s still more than a little in love with Sara, despite the bravado he showed when his divorce came through. And furthermore, any little… adventures… that he’s had since I’ve known him have been with females, a lot of whom seem to find him overwhelmingly attractive. And vice versa. Okay, I think we have to say on the balance of the evidence that he’s straight. I’m tempted to think, relentlessly so.
As for me, any forays into the world of adult sexual experience have always been with women as well. But I’ve had occasional offers from other directions. It seems to be the penalty for going through life with this face and having to wear glasses (although I really don’t get the glasses bit), especially when you move in fairly liberal circles, although it’s not unknown in this man’s Air Force either. I’ve never really taken them seriously though, certainly not seriously enough to take them up on it and do anything other than feel mild academic curiosity about what it would be like to go to bed with someone of the same gender. And in that, the curiosity aspect, I don’t think I’m much different from most of the rest of the population. And I don’t think that ‘mild curiosity’ really translates as ‘gay’. Or even bisexual.
So, both straight then. But if I’m honest, I can see that he’s attractive. Physically, I mean. Just look at him and tell me what’s not to like? Tall, good-looking, in great shape and works hard to stay that way. Nice butt. Okay, his manner can be… off-putting shall we say, but once you get through the surface crust to find the real Jack underneath the spiky hard-ass act he’s one of the kindest, most generous, most honourable people I know. Not an easy man to like, not an easy man to get to know, but well worth the effort, and very easy to love… as a friend, I mean.
Thinking back over the years I really can’t remember actually deciding to make the effort to get to know the real Jack. We always seemed to be sort of drawn to each other somehow, even that first time on Abydos, even when he was at his militaristic worst. What an asshole he was then! I can’t imagine the Jack that I know now even considering blowing up a whole innocent population for any sort of a gain, not even to beat the Goa’uld. Oh, he might make all the right noises to buy some time, but I know he would be desperate to at least try to find another solution. No, that’s not true, I now have enough faith in him to know he would find another solution. Unlike his mirror universe counterpart who did exactly that and blew Abydos to hell, not that it got him very far. I like to take at least some of the credit for the change, to think that some of me has rubbed off on him in the same way that some of him has rubbed off on me. I’m a lot tougher now than I used to be, even if I still don’t come up to Air Force standards.
Come on Jackson, you’re wandering off the point here. The purpose of this interior debate is to find out whether or not you find Jack sexually attractive. Hel-lo, part of me does, apparently. That’s a bit of a surprise. That’s a fairly definite ‘yes’ vote – one that I don’t have the time or the privacy to explore right now. Definitely not right now, bearing in mind present company. And bearing in mind that Jack cannot possibly have been checking out my butt. Okay, time to drop the subject – but only a rain check – and to get back to the joys of this dig.
Which is rapidly coming up empty. Damn, I thought I might have found something here, still think there might be something worth finding, but there’s never enough time to do the job properly. It might still be worth sending the geophys. team in to survey the surrounding area though, now that we’re reasonably certain that they will be safe enough on their own – I haven’t seen so much as a bug in the time that we’ve been here. I must remember to check how far through their schedule they’ve gotten, see if I can add this site to it sometime soon.
“How much longer have we got before we have to start back?”
“About half an hour if we’re going to make our check-in time. We’re just waiting for Carter and Teal’c to get back here, then we’ll be moving out.”
“I might as well pack up now then. This place is turning out to be pretty much a bust after all; all I’ve found so far are a few animal bones and a couple of bits of pottery. I’ll take them back for dating and analysis, but there’s no sign here that the Goa’uld have ever been to this planet, despite the naquada deposits.”
“Don’t sweat it. That’s a good sign in my book. Helps us work out the extent of their territory.”
“Don’t sweat it the man says. In this climate? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
He’s on his feet and over beside me in an instant. Damn, he can move when he has to, graceful and fast… His hand is on my shoulder, warm and… Hoo boy! I’ll be damned. I really do find him attractive, uh, sexually. Well, whaddya know?
“Here, have something to drink. You feeling okay? It’s not like you to complain about the heat.”
“Uh, just ignore me. I’m just feeling… frustrated and ticked off is all.”
As he turns away he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “You’re not the only one!” No, I didn’t hear that… did I? Yeah, I did, but he couldn’t possibly have meant… could he? Nah, it must be my imagination, working overtime on the heels of my recent… well, ‘epiphany’ doesn’t seem too strong a term.
“Here come Carter and Teal’c now. Hey, Carter! Teal’c! Over here!”
Sam’s arm goes up to acknowledge that she’s heard and they both veer towards us. Even at a considerable distance it’s apparent that Sam’s face is scarlet as she plods along beside Teal’c. We both head off towards them, narrowing the distance as fast as is decently possible in this heat, speaking at virtually exactly the same time as we draw close enough, both voicing our concern.
“Sam, you okay? What’s happened?”
“Carter, you been goin’ too easy on the sunblock again?”
“I have seen to it that she has not, O’Neill. However, this preparation does not seem equal to the task of protecting against such a sun as this.”
“Teal’c’s right, sir. This heat and my colouring are not a good combination, no matter how much sunblock I use. There was absolutely no shade out there, none at all.”
“Nothing much to speak of in this neck of the woods either, Major. Can you last for another hour or so?”
“Yes, I think so, sir. I’ll be fine in a minute or two. Once I’ve had a chance to catch my breath.”
“Okay, rest up for five, and as soon as you’re good to go, we’re out of here. We start now, we can take our time getting back to the ‘gate. No point in rushing if we don’t have to. Not in this heat. Daniel, you 'bout finished packing up?”
“I think so. I’ll be ready to go when Sam is.”
“Okay, kids, let’s get
this show on the road. People to meet, promises to
Geeze, however did the stack of paper on my desk get to be so high? Half the trees in Oregon must have thought this gig was to die for. Literally. This in-tray is ridiculous… surely some of this crap has to be duplicated, or even in triplicate – if I’m lucky… requisitions, recommendations, endless memos… To think I used to complain that I wasn’t getting all my memos… why the hell didn’t you quit when you were ahead for once, O’Neill? I don’t know how George even begins to cope with the amount of crap that must cross his desk in the course of a week – I was only off-world for 72 hours, for crying out loud, and look at what I come back to!
Oh well, there’s nothing else for it – just get your head down and go for it…
Sheesh, my back is killing me… there’re knots in it that any boy scout would be proud of… what time is it? Fuck, two and a half solid hours and I’ve hardly made a dent in Paper Mountain here… okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, it is a lot less than it was, maybe about two thirds. Oh, that’s it, I’ve had it with all this crap, life’s too short… If I have to read another memo discussing the correct way to fill in stationery requisitions I may well run amok with my P90, and there’s not a court in the land that would convict me for it… what’s next on my list?
Oh yeah, mission report. Well, that’s going to be mercifully short – went there, got hot, found nothing… Got hot. Hot. Aah, crap, O’Neill, don’t start that again. Oh man, this is getting ridiculous, it’s getting beyond ridiculous and moving towards sad, I mean really sad, a man of your age behaving like a horny adolescent… there must be a pill or something you can take? The cold shower motif is getting soo old… I’ve never seen the opposite of viagra advertised, though… doubt if it would have that many takers, unless there’s a huge untapped market out there consisting of sex-starved middle-aged air force colonels with a terminal case of priapism and an inappropriate lust for a subordinate’s ass…
Right, that’s it. Enough, already! Time to do something – anything – rather than sit here feeling sorry for yourself. Which you will start to do if you get to dwelling on the whole "I wanna fuck Danny" deal. Get to the gym, work out. Do something physical to take the edge off, take a shower, freshen up, and come back and finish up here when you’re done. Get those endorphins pumping. Yeah, good idea, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
The corridors are nice and quiet at the moment - not many personnel about mid-shift, no alarms going off, no-one running to or from the 'gate room - a nice tight ship, no problems to have to deal with. Gym shouldn't be too busy just now either, which is all to the good, I really just want to get there and use up some energy, no talking, no socialising, just good, solid, hard work and a lot of sweat.
Oh shit. Through the door and the first thing I see… Ya just had to be here, Danny-boy, didn't ya? And ya just had to be looking all rumpled and sweaty and totally fucking doable, sprawled wide-legged over the bench press. And ya just had to be grunting and moaning and rocking your hips as you try to lift the weights for one more time. And ya just had to be wearing shorts loose enough to slide low down round your hips when you rub up and down the bench… and those legs! Loong, well muscled… woof! The BDUs don't do them justice… and you had to team them with a little vest number that looks like it would be several sizes too small for Carter, that rides up every time you stretch and shows off your belly button in the middle of that gorgeous flat stomach that you are apparently working so hard to maintain…
Oh man, what do I do now? Stop staring would be good, O'Neill - and closing your mouth would work well, before you start to catch flies. Covering up your hard-on would be kinda high on the list too. Oh, and working up enough spit to be able to conduct something approaching a normal conversation. Christ, I can't fucking believe that we would both turn up here at the same time – I mean, how many times has that ever happened before? Way to kick a man when he's down…or up…whatever.
“Uhhnm!… Hi, Jack… Uhhnm!… ohhhhh!… You come… uhhnm!… to work out… uhhnm!… as well?… ohhhh!”
Shitshitshit, stop it already! How much can a man take, for Chrissakes? Ya’d have to be made of freakin’ stone not to be turned on by that!
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been catching up on paperwork, but I was getting a bit… stale. Ya know how it is – seen one requisition, seen ‘em all. Thought I’d come down here for an hour, ya know, nice change of pace… Thought it might help to prepare for round two.”
“Oh… uhhnm!… got much left to do?… uhhmn!”
“Yeah, fair bit. I don’t know what it is about this base and paper, I’ve got the damn stuff oozing out of my ears.” Yeah, together with my brains. And probably the entire contents of my seminal vesicles sometime real soon, if you don’t quit with the grunting.
“How ‘bout you? I didn’t expect to find you here – I thought you’d be up to the ears in paperwork as well. Or are you playing hooky for once?”
“Uhhnm!… No, I’m done… uhhnm!… I just thought I’d… uhhnm!… tire myself out… uhhnm! … before I went home to bed… ohhhh! That’s it, I’m done here.”
I wish. I could do you right this minute, no problem. My dick is so hard it’s aching.
“Home to bed? This early? It’s not even six o’clock yet. Way to have a life, Daniel.” Unless, of course, I was going home to his bed too…stop, already, things are hard enough as it is… pun so not intended… but entirely appropriate…
“Well, it’s not unreasonable, given the time frame on PX537D… we have just gained six hours after all. According to my body clock, it’s about 11 p.m. now… uh, sorry, 23.00.”
“Well, yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there. Okay. See ya in the morning, bright and early.”
Thank God. He really is done. He’s picking up his towel and slinging it round his neck before moving towards the door. Can I get away with slapping him on the ass on the way past? Sorta guy to guy thing? Happens all the time in football games. Better not, O'Neill, you really don't want to make things worse…
“See ya, Jack.”
“Yeah. See ya, Daniel.”
Where’s that punching
bag? I really need to pound the crap out of something. For relief. Relief of
what? Relief of sexual tension or relief that Danny didn’t notice anything
amiss? Who gives a shit, relief is relief.
Well, that was interesting. Not the conversation, that was hardly scintillating – the… body language. Not subtle, I’ll grant you, but interesting. Fascinating, even. Bottom line: Jack O‘Neill, Colonel, USAF, had a hard-on like a stallion. And the cause of this? Me. It could only have been me, there was no one else in the gym and he didn’t have it when he walked through the door. My head was at just the right height to be able to see that clearly. Although what he could find attractive about me at my sweaty, red-faced, post-workout best is… Oh my God. The sexual subtext has just hit me like a ton of bricks. And, God help me, I’m blushing, even when I’m here on my own.
Jack wants… me. As in, Jack (Jack!) wants to… have a relationship on a different plane than friendship with… me. Wants, apparently to… fuck … me. Or something.
Okay, Daniel, how do you feel about that?
Well, I think I feel fine. Initially, anyway. Not totally averse to the idea – no, actually, not averse to the idea at all. Although it is a bit weird for a basically straight guy to be considering starting a sexual relationship with another basically straight guy – but hey! I’m open… no, baaad image. And it’s not just ‘a guy’, it’s Jack. And that makes the difference? Well, yes it does, I’m just not quite sure why. So, time for some serious thought. And probably some research as well, although you can’t be a classical scholar without picking up some idea of the ins and outs of same sex relationships – uh, strike that… Dear God, is every thought I ever have for the rest of my life going to be a double entendre? That’s a downside I’m not sure I could live with.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the classics… research. I do have a general grasp of the principles, but I think I need some specifics before I can really say whether I’m okay with this or not. Not much profit in opening up this particular can of worms unless I’m sure that the mechanics won’t prove to be a total turn-off. Research? The Net, I suppose – but I’d better not do that on-base, it would be a bit embarrassing to be caught with my hand in that particular cookie jar. So, shower, home and surf. Sounds like a plan to me.
Base showers to home in forty minutes – that must be some kind of a record. It’s early enough yet that I can get in some solid research before I turn in for the night and still get a good eight hours’ sleep before work tomorrow. But first things first – a little glass of something, I think. I reckon I deserve it. And to be honest, I need some… fortification before I get started.
Right, a simple search should turn up quite a bit. Dross as well as pay dirt, unfortunately, but it’s as well to see what’s out there, I suppose. Ho hum, think I’ll give ‘Hot Porno Action’ a miss… can’t these people think up anything original? Ditto ‘Ebony/Ivory Massive Cocks’…guess that doesn’t reference prize winning Wyandottes… oh now, here we go, the ‘Guide to Gay Sex: the definitive ‘how-to’ guide’. That sounds more like it.
Ewww, that looks a bit… unhygienic. Not sure that I can envisage that, either giving or receiving, it would be a bit of a worry either way. But this, on the other hand… oh yeah, this gets a ‘yes’ vote… and that too, that looks… ‘stimulating’ would be the adjective of choice. Maybe not for the beginner though… Funny how the guys in these pictures look quite… indifferent, somehow. Quit being naïf, Jackson, of course they are, given the context and all. But still, the idea… of doing that to Jack, of having him doing that to me… hoooboy. I guess I could live with it is what I’m saying. Bullshit, be honest with yourself at least: you would positively relish it is what you mean, at least if what’s happening in your pants at the moment is any guide.
But only with Jack. That’s one other thing I’ve learned from this exercise: ‘guys’ in the abstract are not desirable, but Jack is. Absolutely, positively, totally. Despite the fact you’re basically straight and so is he. Admit it, at least to yourself, why don’t you? You’re more than a little in love with him and have been for a while. What you’ve taken as friendship, close friendship, has been quietly evolving into something else. For how long? Oh, since about when he came back to Abydos. Despite Shau’ri.
So what was Shau’ri then? Just an exercise, a distraction, a decision to settle, a last ditch attempt to underscore your basic heterosexuality? No, not any of those, not ever just any of those. I did love her, I did desire her, I did enjoy being with her, making love with her. There was a rightness, an inevitability, about being with her and spending time on Abydos. We could have been happy for ever if she hadn’t been… dammit, we were happy. What we had was precious. That whole year was precious.
But it ended and I lost her. And that can never be undone. She taught me a lot though, about loving and giving and generosity of spirit, she released impulses in me that had been buried for far too long. And I’ve always been a quicklearner. I learned the lessons that she taught me well. Maybe it’s time now to pass them on…
Which would bring a whole new set of problems in its wake. Which is why Jack has never said anything, I guess, despite the fact that I think he would have liked to. The whole team thing, the frat regs, the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ nonsense – and nonsense it is. Love is too rare a commodity on this world or any other to turn up your nose at how it expresses itself. That’s another lesson I was quick to learn when I was much younger than I am now. I knowexactly what it is like to be loveless. But still, it’s there, and it has to be dealt with, one way or another.
Well, I suppose the frat regs don’t technically apply – after all, I’m not military even if Jack is. I do hold a notional rank as a civilian consultant and it has to be quite high – possibly even as high as his. I am Head of Department after all. Something else I need to check up on. Although, strictly speaking, in the practical sense, he is the leader of the team I work with and as such my commanding officer. Which could, in turn, have a knock-on effect on the team as a whole. It would be bound to be difficult – whoa, probably the understatement of the century there. I’m not so sure I could give up being on the team.
But then, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ would probably work in our favour, as long as we were circumspect. Jack would probably manage it. He has this whole special ops thing working for him. I would just have to manage too. He would be taking a huge risk with his career… Oh my God. Another revelation…this does seem to be my day for travelling the road to Damascus. This isn’t just about sex. To be prepared to take a risk like that, he must love me too. You’re slowing up Jackson, if this hasn’t occurred to you before now. Too close to the problem, I expect. Wow, Jack O’Neill is in love with me?!
But is he prepared to do anything about it? Well, at the moment, no. But then he has no idea how I would feel about it, and he’s obviously not in a hurry to push it. How could he be when he has no idea how this would leave us? I daresay he’s decided to settle, that would be so typical of him.
So it’s up to me then. Scary thought – after I’ve finally worked all this out, I’d hate to do anything that would spoil our friendship, it means far too much to me. If sex was all that was on offer, then I guess I’d just have to settle too. That would be the safe thing to do, at least for the moment. But I suspect that there’s so much more too it than that. So, to just let all this slide, to let all the possibilities die a death through inaction, would be the easy way out, and when have I ever taken the easy way, personally or professionally? No, this is too important to change the habits of a lifetime. Guess the hard way it is, then.
Guess it’s time to make a move.
What move? Take the bull
by the horns, I suppose. What time is it? Geeze, is that all, half past nine? I
seem to have lived a lot longer than that in these last three hours… But that’s
neither here nor there. It’s still early enough, and now that I’ve finally
worked out that we’re both pretty much on the same page, I don’t feel inclined
to put off the evil hour. I’ve got time enough to work out my strategy on the
Oh for crying out loud, who can it be at this time of night? Okay, okay, hold on already, I’m getting there… Oh. Daniel.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Can I come in?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. Come in, take a seat. Wanna beer?”
He looks wound up tight about something and he’s frowning slightly, even before I’ve opened my mouth, hardly – what’s happened here? He seemed fine earlier.
“Umm, no thanks. Not just now, I’m… fine thanks.”
“I’m going to get another, anyway. Go on through, make yourself at home.”
But of course he doesn’t. He follows me into the kitchen as I head for the icebox. Oh well, go for it. You can’t threat-ass effectively on the basis of incomplete information - command course one-oh-one.
“So what’s up? What brings you here at this hour?”
“Jack, I think we have a problem."
His face is stern and he sounds… clinical. Cold. Is he mad at me? Can't think why he would be - Oh Christ. Danny, do we ever have a problem if you’ve finally put two and two together. My heart zooms up into my throat and I have to swallow hard before I can speak round it.
“A problem? What, exactly? A problem with the last mission, with the team, what?”
“Specifically, a problem with the way we’ve been getting along recently. With your attitude towards me. But I think I know a way to resolve it.”
I can feel the colour leaving my face. Oh shit, what the hell’s happening here?
“Resolve what, exactly? I’m not really aware of a problem, Daniel, but we’ll do what it takes to fix whatever it is.”
“Well, I really don’t see how you couldn’t be… 'aware' of it... but you might be in denial.”
He sounds very calm, very much in academic mode. I, on the other hand, do not.
“Say what? Denial? Of what, exactly?”
“Of your feelings.”
“Yes, feelings, Jack. About me.”
Oh shit! Have I been that obvious, or what?
“Oh. And how would I be feeling? About you?” Good, Jack, that was better. That sounded calm, open, reasonable, with just the right degree of puzzlement. Quite the model CO, despite the fight/flight reflex kicking in. Deep breaths, pal. Calm down and you might manage to snow your way out of this yet…
“Uh, I’ve been noticing a few things recently. I may be focussed, but I’m not totally one track minded. For example, I’ve noticed you watching me quite closely at times.”
“I’m your CO, Daniel. Merely demonstrating my concern for your safety. Carrying out my orders.”
“Oh? The last mission was totally routine. What exactly did you think was going to get me… in the butt?”
“What? What do you mean by that exactly?”
“Exactly what I’m saying. I’ve noticed that recently, you’ve been watching my butt more than usual. And I mean that more literally than figuratively.”
Oh shitshitshit! Busted! Way to be blindingly obvious, O’Neill. Come up with something quick, for Chrissakes! Two ways to go here, attack or retreat. Bluster some more or apologise – profusely. Either way, you’re blown out of the water. Think, man – were all those tax dollars invested in your training completely wasted?
Apparently, yes. I can’t
think of a thing, I’m completely thrown. I can only wait for the axe to fall –
shit knows what it’s going to cut off though – my head, if I’m lucky. Very
lucky. I’m starting to get a bit – well, panicky here, I can’t read his face at
all. Usually I’m good at interpreting Daniel, but this time I’m flying blind and
I hate that. In the meantime, all I can think to do is more of the same: stand
here, gasping like a landed fish (red mullet, I would guess – something very red
anyway) and wait and see which way he jumps.
Jack’s face has just gone very red and his jaw is hanging open. I think I can safely say that this is the last thing he expected. He looks pretty desperate; guess it’s time to put him out of his misery, although I must admit a part of me is enjoying having him on the ropes. Doesn’t happen often.
“So I think that now might be an appropriate time to resolve this to the satisfaction of both parties.” No point in letting him off the hook too soon.
He swallows audibly before he replies, “Uh, resolve this, Daniel?” His eyes are taking on a wary look: he's in a corner and he knows it. He’s just not sure what corner yet.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Resolve this once and for all.”
Now that it comes right down to it, I’m scared. Oh please, God, let me be right! Now that it comes right down to it, I’m not that sure of my facts – I might be digging a hole for myself that I’ll never claw my way out of. But now that it comes right down to it, I can’t make any move other than my next one. I move into his space very deliberately and reach out to take his face between my hands, pulling him gently forward. His face has gone from red to chalk white and he makes a strangled noise deep in his throat. Shit, have I read this right? Impossible to tell, without resorting to the even more blatantly obvious, but it’s too late now. I’m committed, and I lean in to kiss him gently. A soft, chaste kiss, a mere brush of the lips, over too soon. Oh my God, I’m actually doing this! And more to the point, I’m enjoying it!
He looks stunned as I pull him forward for another, longer, less chaste this time, my tongue teasing his lips. He’s on the point of opening to me when hesuddenly jerks back.
“Daniel, stop! There are so many reasons why this is such a bad idea, I can’t even begin to count them…”
“Ssh, love. I know. I’ve probably thought of at least as many as you have. But we’ll work it out, we have to. Just… let’s do it later, okay?”
The expression in his eyes is hard to read as he pulls back a little further, his hands gripping my arms to hold me away from him as he stares into my face.
“What did you just say?”
“I said, we’ll work it out. Later.”
“No, what did you say before that? What did you call me?”
I say, with a glorious sense of the rightness of this, “I called you ‘love’. And I meant it. I love you, Jack, I want you and I mean to have you if I can.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you called me. How long?”
A straight question
deserves a straight answer. “Since I started loving you? Not sure. Since I put
two and two together? Not long. Long enough. Long enough to be sure. Long enough
to be sure that you feel the same… I think.” A moment’s pause, then I add
softly, “I hope.”
Hot damn! He feels it too, he feels the same! This is so totally, unbelievably, abso-fuckin’-lutely incredible! It’s also unbelievably stupid, unbelievably risky, unbelievably contrary to pretty much every regulation that’s ever been written, unbelievably… unbelievable. Yesss! You finally got lucky, you poor schmuck, you finally got Thanksgiving, Christmas and your birthday rolled into one! A part of my brain is still bleating about consequences and regulations, but the bulk of it is so busy taking up residence in my dick that most of me can’t be bothered to listen. So what if I…he… we… regret this in the morning? The morning is the morning; it’s not now. I just want to know, I want to have this moment, even if all it does is provide jerk-off fodder for the rest of my natural life.
My brain may be down, but it’s not out …quite. I really shouldn’t be doing this. Neither of us should. The repercussions if this ever got out would break us both and probably cripple the program. I can't do that to Hammond, to the rest of the team. This has to stop for both our sakes.
Goddamn inconvenient time for your conscience to surface, O’Neill.
It sure would be a whole lot easier to think straight if my archaeologist would just keep his hands to himself. I really need to think with my head and not my dick right now.
It sure would be a whole lot easier to think straight if my goddamn hands didn’t have a mind of their own.
It sure is a whole lot easier to just stop goddamn thinking and enjoy what our hands are doing… Hold up! One last effort here, before I go down for the last time… I mean ‘go under’ for the last time, go under…
“Daniel! Will you just stop that a minute and think about this?”
“What’s there to think about? I’ve done all my thinking, I did it earlier when I was at home. Why do you think I came over?”
Ohhh, Danny, please don’t DO that to my neck… and that’s not much better… Christ, drowning here… move back quick O’Neill, before he finds your hard-on…
“Stop, will ya? Danny, I wasn’t kidding when I said that this was a bad idea. There are lots of reasons why this is wrong.” Come on, O’Neill, stiffen the back, find something to say to stop this, before it gets so far out of hand that you’ll never get over it, either of you… you’re gonna have to be brutal. For both of your sakes.
“What makes you think that I want this? That I’m prepared to throw everything I’ve worked for away just like that?” I’m struggling to put a real edge into my voice, I just have to make him stop so that I can think.
Yeah, that got through. He stiffens and draws away from me, staring into my eyes. God, his eyes are… don’t go there! Not the object of the exercise, not at all.
“You’re kidding me, right?” He looks long and hard for a few moments, then he says, his voice faltering, “Can you look me straight in the eye, and say that you don’t want this… that you don’t want me? If you can do that, I’ll accept that I’ve made a huge mistake, totally misread the situation. I’ll go home now, and we’ll… I’ll just have to try and deal with the embarrassment as best I can in the morning. Just tell me straight, right now. No, don’t look away – look at me and say it.”
I’m looking him right in the eyes as I draw breath to speak. I swear to God, I’m going to stop this right here, before we do something we’ll both regret. Before it gets even more complicated than it is already. I can do this – I can. God knows, I’ve done things in the past that have been a lot worse…
The expression in his eyes is so… uncertain, so miserable, so vulnerable, so… Daniel. And I’ve got a fair idea that the expression in my eyes is very similar, despite all my efforts to the contrary. And I just can’t do it. I don’t have the heart. I can’t. And I won’t. Fuck the regs – I’ve resigned once, I can do it again if I have to. My career is all very well, and I can’t deny it means a lot to me –hell, it’s defined me for most of my adult life. Butcoming back to an empty house night after night is becoming unbearable… and my house, any house, would be so very, very welcoming with Daniel in it…
If this is all wrong, we’ll just have to deal with it. And if it leads to something else, something better, well, we’ll just have to deal with that too. Dammit, you sacrificed your marriage on the altar of your career, and look where that got you. You gonna do the same thing again?
I reach out my hand and cradle his cheek in my palm. “No, I can’t say that. I’m sorry, Daniel, I can’t say that at all and mean it.”
“And you’re sorry why? When we both apparently want the same thing here?”
Think about what you’re saying here, O’Neill. Pick your words carefully. This needs an honest answer, or none at all. Bullshit is not an option. Not now, not ever with Daniel. If this goes on to be as good as it might… as good as you hope… then you have to start with a level playing field. Besides, he comes equipped with a built-in bullshit detector second to none. You’d never get away with it.
“I’m sorry because… because I’m scared, I guess.”
“Scared? You? I’ve never seen you scared of much of anything. Not in a firefight, not of Goa’uld, not of anything. Why should you be scared of this?”
“That’s different and you know it. When we’re at work, there’s not the time to be scared, the training takes over. There’s not the time to think too much, just to assess and react. But I’ve had a long time to think about this and I got scared, because there is no training that can deal with this situation. Because… I really do want this. But at the same time, I’m scared that this will ruin what we have, our friendship. Because I don’t know what I’m doing, because this is turning everything that I took for granted about myself upside down.”
“We’ll deal with it.” His voice is strong again, confident. “We have to.”
“How? Daniel, have you ever done this before? With another guy, I mean?”
“Well, no. But we’ll manage; I’ve done some research. Hell, I know what I like. So I’m guessing I can work out what you’ll like. And vice versa. I’m a guy, you’re a guy – how different can what we like be?”
I’m chuckling weakly as I pull him back towards me and lean my forehead against his. “Logical as always, Doctor. I might have known that you’d have done research. Christ, even I did research.”
His head comes up sharply at that, and he does an exaggerated double take. “You did what? You did research? Colonel ‘Don’t Ask Me, I’m Just A Dumb-ass Grunt’ actually did research?”
I’m stung. The little shit’s standing there laughing at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. And I’m lost, now that the tension’s broken. And now that his hands are once again roaming up and down my back. Under my shirt.
“Yeah, I did research. What? I might act dumb, but I’m not stupid… not that stupid, anyway.”
“And tell me, while you were conducting your research, did you come up with any new… directions for said research? A basis for experiment, if you will?”
He’s moving imperceptibly closer to me again as he speaks. Oh man, this is new: flirtatious Danny, this is one I’ve never really seen before. Guess he really does feel comfortable with this. Damn, I like this version. My lips are twitching as I answer. “Uh, yeah… a couple of the suggestions put forward had at least some merit. Speaking strictly as a tactician, you understand. You?”
“Oh, one or two. Enough to build on the hypothesis that to undertake such a project… with the right research staff… might be…rewarding…”
It's strange to be taking a new lover again after all this time, to feel again the heady cocktail of apprehension, anticipation and lust that invariably accompanies a new pairing. It’s stranger still when that lover is another guy - hard where you expect soft, rough where you expect to feel smoothness, angles where past experience has led you to anticipate curves. It's exciting, tantalising - it's not just a first time, it's like the first time all over again, perpetually being thrown off-balance by the unexpectedness of the sensations flooding all your nerve endings, by the gulf between fantasy and reality.
It's strangest of all when my new lover is Jack O'Neill. I’ve seen him every possible way over the last couple of years – clothed, naked, freshly showered, filthy, fighting fit, wounded and sick. I’ve held him up, held him down, given him comfort where I could when he needed it, and he has done the same for me. I've argued with him, fought alongside him, laughed with him and gotten drunk with him. We're friends, often so much in tune that we say the same things at the same times - but none of this has prepared me for the feel of him under my hands or my mouth. I know parts of his body almost as intimately as he does, I’ve seen most of it so often. But this…this is… intriguing. Fascinating to learn him with my body as well as my eyes and my mind. Exotic. Arousing.
His skin is warm and smooth apart from the scars, which I’ve always known were there but never really noticed until I trace them, slightly raised under my fingertips. Old scars, long healed: not imperfections but glyphs describing his past, outlining who and what he is. As I trace them, I feel his muscles ripple and shiver under his skin, and the knowledge that he is shivering with desire for me makes my heart twist with pride. At some point, when I have more leisure and better access, I will kiss every one of those scars in gratitude for the part they have played in making him what he is, for bringing him to this point in our lives.
But for the moment, my mouth is busy. My God, can this guy kiss or can he kiss? I love to kiss like this, slow and tender, taking my time, enjoying the silky glide of tongue over tongue, the feel of lips and teeth and palate, exploring his mouth and his taste, nibbling along his beautiful full lower lip. Enjoying the sensations in my groin, as my dick swells and hardens and my desire mounts. And he apparently loves it too…
I’m actually almost surprised at how careful and tender a lover he seems to be. I would have thought, if I thought at all, that his… approach… would echo his command style – that it would be more… decisive… assertive… brash, even. I guess ‘pushy’ is what I’m trying to say. But he’s not, not at all. He’s… tentative. Unselfish. Vulnerable even… and it’s oddly endearing. To think that Colonel Hard-Ass can be vulnerable… to me. That he’s willing to let me set the pace. Actually, that’s not true, it's not endearing, it’s hot. Very hot. I’m getting harder every second, as I concentrate on enjoying the moment and at the same time, leap ahead to the inevitable outcome… And the harder I get, the more I’m certain that I want this man, want him for keeps, want him 24/7, forever and a day. Thirty-five years of copper bottomed, blue chip heterosexuality out of the window in a lot less than twenty four hours…
I suppose I should have a problem with that. I suppose that should be my cue to begin to worry about consequences, personal, professional, emotional, whatever. Instead, I have the serene faith that everything will work itself out, that we will find a way to make this work out. But at the same time, a fervent wish that I’m not deluding myself… guess I’m still not certain then. At least, I’m still not certain of Jack’s reaction to this. Oh okay, I’m certain enough of his immediate reaction, which is… fairly positive… if I’m interpreting what is nudging against my thigh correctly. But as to the long haul? Not sure. Not about him, anyway, I know that I’m enthusiastic about longevity.
Still, ‘carpe diem’ and all that… time to up the ante. Dear God, whoever would have thought that buttons could be so obstinate? I deal with my own damned buttons every day in life, why the hell can’t I deal with his? Although, in my defence, it’s hard to concentrate when his hands are cupping and kneading my ass in just that way, pulling me forward to feel his hard-on jabbing insistently into my thigh while his tongue trails up my jawbone and his teeth fasten on my earlobe, worrying it, and me, towards insanity. Ohhhh…Jeee-sus! I never knew till now that my earlobe was hot-wired to my groin. Actually, at the moment,every single blessed part of me seems to be hot-wired to my groin…
My turn now to be nibbling his neck again as I finally manage to come to grips with the shirt, sliding it down and over his shoulders, suckling and licking every square inch of soft, warm skin that I can find. My God, he smells… gorgeous. Quintessentially Jack - cologne and musk, overlaid with a slight tang of salt from the sweat breaking out as he gets more aroused. He groans and quivers as I fasten my mouth on the point where his neck meets his shoulder and suckle gently –good or bad? Oh yess, good – one to remember. And again as I lick my way along his collarbone – Christ, who would have thought that collarbones were an erogenous zone, it’s not that obvious! – file that one away for future reference as well.
I’m doing plenty groaning and moaning in turn as he opens my jeans button – with a lot more despatch than I managed his shirt, damn him! – and slips his hands down onto my ass, under my jeans and shorts, kneading and stroking as they go, pulling me into another deep, leisurely kiss. My hands slide up into his hair and round the back of his neck, deepening the kiss even further. God, that feels sooo good! His hands are rough, the hands of a doer, not a thinker, slightly callused from hard use, wholly… stimulating.
I have waay too many clothes on. He has fewer, but still too many for my taste – I want to play a bit further south as well. And why are we in the kitchen,when there is a (presumably) comfortable bed within easy walking distance?
I bump him with my hip, nudging him towards the doorway, as I fumble with his belt buckle – oh yeah, he’s got the idea… quick on the uptake, my colonel, I’m pleased to say… Yeah, that’s right Jack, the bedroom’s thataway… mmmm… multitasking… Simple, elegant, economical and something that academics and military types thankfully have in common… you have to love a concept that lets you bump off the walls, kiss, feel up and strip off all at the same time.
The buckle gives up the fight halfway along the hall, his pants button and zipper a couple of steps later, just as we stumble, laughing and panting, into the bedroom doorway.
“Oww! Ya know, I don’t think I’ll ever play pinball again, now I have a clue how the ball feels.”
“Quit whining! We got here, didn’t we? And in one piece, too.”
“You speak for yourself. You’re not the one that just got a lump knocked out of his ass by the door frame.”
“Lose the pants, and I’ll see what I can do to make it feel better.”
His face is alight with laughter. “Geeze, way to go with the linguistic foreplay, Jackson. You say that to all your lovers? ‘Lose the pants’? Romantic, or what?” But he’s not wasting any time taking me up on my suggestion.
“What can I say? You bring out the caveman in me.”
“Caveman, huh? Bet my club’s harder than yours!”
Will you look at that? Always the military man, turning away to fold his pants neatly onto the chair, even in these circumstances. Mine are all over the floor - forget 'em! They'll still be there later. Just head for the bed, make yourself comfortable – and enjoy the view. Oh yeah. Lean, well-muscled back,beautiful narrow hips, tight, rounded ass, looong legs… great view.
He's turning back towards me and suddenly the laughter dies out of his face. Oh my God, what? He’s just standing there. Not making any move at all. Just staring, with a strange, almost pained, expression on his face. Hell, he’s not getting second thoughts again now of all times… is he?
“What? What is it?”
“I just wanna look at you… guess I just need to believe that this is real.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “God, but you’re… beautiful. Perfect. I could come just lookin’ at ya.”
No second thoughts then – thank heavens! For a split second there I was afraid that he might back out after all. I let out a breath that I don’t even realise I’d been holding.
“Wouldn’t that be a little… premature?”
A snort of laughter and the tension is broken again. “Funny guy. Yuck it up, Rock Boy, you won’t be getting any any time soon if I do.”
“Uhh… That would be Rock Hard Boy, if you don’t mind. And it would be a real waste if you did that. Come here, I want to make love with you. Move it,Colonel.” I open my arms to him and he growls low in his throat as he moves rapidly towards the bed. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising at the sound and my guts twist with pure lust.
The bed dips as he lowers himself onto it, carefully positioning himself to lie between my legs and supporting his weight with a fist on either side of me. Smiling, he dips his head so we can kiss again, carefully rolling onto his forearms as his mouth meets mine, trapping our erections between our bellies, then settling his weight gently on top of me as I curl my legs round his to pull him closer.
Christ, I’m not going to last… who’s making all the noise? Oh. Me. Him too, but mostly me. God, the feel of him lying on top of me… I’ve never been to bed with someone who is heavier and stronger than me, never before been pinned down like this… erotic doesn’t even come close… I’m trembling with need, with pleasure, with greed, with the force of the sparks shooting up my belly from my groin, with the feel of Jack’s cock rubbing against mine as he sets up a slow, sensual, rocking rhythm, rolling his hips so slowly I think I’ll go mad with waiting, with the effort of prolonging this, with matching my rhythm to his, with fighting the urge to push and drive…
All the time that slow sweet rhythm, the glide of flesh over flesh, smoother now that our bodies are becoming slick with sweat and pre-come, the pressure inside mounting, waves of near-pain coiling low down in my belly as the pleasure builds and builds, suddenly sharpened by the realisation that he’s trembling too with the effort of controlling himself, of moving so slowly…
I can’t take it any more, I can’t hold on any longer. I have to thrust, thrust hard, and Jack matches me thrust for thrust. Harder now, driving now, gasping and moaning now, both of us sweaty and straining, my hands slipping off him as I grab his ass to pull him into me even harder…ohhh, Jack, love this, love you, love you…
Oh, yesss! “Jaa-aack!”
He is only an instant behind me as we both shoot our loads, warm and messy and slick between our bellies, groaning my name as he comes. My name. Mine. And it sounds… wonderful.
Ohhh, Danny, my Danny, what you do to this old man. Still wheezing here, still fighting to catch a breath, still trembling with the sheer fucking power of the passion you make me feel. I thought I was way too old ever to feel like this again about anybody – guess I was wrong there. Guess I’m pretty glad to be proved wrong, too.
God, will ya look at him lying there, all rumpled and rosy, sleepy and… yeah, happy, I think. No, I don’t think, I know. And that’s a rush too, to think that I can do that for him, make him happy. Hope to God I always can. ‘Cause I’m definitely playing this one for keeps, I’m in for the longest haul. I’ve wanted this for soo long, and now I’ve got it. I’ve scooped the pool, won the jackpot, his beautiful ass is so mine! Mine and nobody else’s. And that’s the way it’s gonna stay if I have anything to say about it. Anyone so much as even looks at my Danny and they’re dead meat. I was a possessive bastard with Sara and it looks like some things just don’t change. Nothing to be proud of, I know, but there it is. Far too old to change now.
Okay, O’Neill, time to think about moving, you can’t lie here all night. On three… there ya go, knew ya could do it. Oh man, the kid’s sticking closer to me than a band aid, following me across the bed, draping himself across me and nuzzling into my shoulder. Getting into just the right position for me to slide my arms round him just… so. Oh yeah, this is the frosting on the cake, I got me a snuggler. Thank you God, this makes it perfect. Yeah, I know, this also makes me a sap – but I like to snuggle. Especially after hot sex. Talking of which…
“Daniel.” No response.
“Danny, I said, are you going to sleep on me?”
“Well, I was… 'm trying… 'm tired.”
His voice is slurred, thick with sleep, slightly muffled by my chest.
“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”
“Gonna move then?”
“Not planning to, not any time soon. Too comfy… nice.”
Okay, that works. I like having the smell of him on my skin, and I’m drying off quickly anyway.
“Me too, babe.” That penetrates, he sounds almost awake.
“Babe? You getting mushy on me, O‘Neill?”
“Yeah, I guess. One shot deal though, get it while it’s hot. You complaining?”
“Nah, feeling pretty mushy myself. I’ll deny it in the morning though. Your head is one part of you I don’t want getting too swollen.” I feel his mouth curve in a grin against my skin as he burrows back down.
“No, ‘head’, I said ‘head’. Get to sleep.”
Yeah, guess I could do with some sleep. Gotta get my strength up – I got plans for the morning myself. Plans involving showers and slipperiness and as much of my archaeologist as I can get my hands on. Oh yeah.
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