"Daniel? You mind if I watch the game while you're working?"
"Uhmm? Uh, no, I suppose not - if you wouldn't mind keeping the volume down. And I don't just mean the volume on the TV. I really need to concentrate."
"Sure, no problem." I can do that. I've even got a set of those cordless headphone things round here somewhere, if I can just find them.
Damn it! Freakin' TV's on the fritz. I've flicked through every damn channel and nothing's playing. I really wanted to catch the game, too. Especially seeing as Daniel's busy. He's sitting over there with "Do not disturb" radiating off him - some damn translation or other claiming his attention. Which wouldn't have been a problem if the damn TV wasn't on the fritz.
Okay, it's an important translation, I guess. Doesn't alter the fact that I now have a serious entertainment deficit though.
I can't believe this! The whole freakin' thing's down! First chance I've had to catch a game in I don't know how long and the damn TV's not cooperating. Damn it!
"You know I am. What is it?"
"So fix it."
"So find something else to do. And before you even think of asking, you can forget it - hot monkey sex is not an option available to you at this time. I've got too much work to do right now to be able to drop everything just because your horizontal hold's gone."
"Nothing else to do. And there's nothing wrong with my horizontal hold, it's the TV that's on the fritz." And if you got your ass over here in the near future I'd prove it.
"Okay, bad choice of words. But there's always something to do. So find something! Go online, read a book. Do a crossword or something."
Maybe the TV's come back up again. No harm in trying. Flick, flick, flick - nothing but parallel lines and more snow than a Minnesota Christmas. Snow, snow, flick, flick, snow - sounds like a damn ballroom dancing lesson. Not what I had in mind for tonight's entertainment, not even close.
So. What to do instead? Obvious alternative is to go to bed early. Not alone - get Daniel to come with. And just for the record, I didn't mention it first this time. Now that is an acceptable alternative. Tonsil hockey instead of ice hockey. Works for me. But one glance at my little studmuffin tells me that he ain't going to be playing anytime soon, he's hip-deep in verbs and conjunctions and modifiers. Which is a shocking waste, really, when you think about it, 'cause the one thing I could really go for him doing or conjoining or modifying right now is my ass. He could be balls-deep in me - or I could be balls-deep in him. Whatever. I'm easy. Either. Really. Both, on a good night - that man is double-strength Viagra in an easy-to-open, Daniel-shaped bottle.
I suppose I could try giving him my best smouldering stare, but he's on a roll over there - he probably wouldn't even notice, unless it was to ask if I had gas or something.
Okay, so bed's out, at least in the short term. Which is a cryin' shame, 'cause a certain part of me was just starting to sit up and take notice. Stand down, airman, no jumping the gun here. No jumping Daniel either, more's the pity.
Wonder if the damn TV's got its act together yet? No, and no, and no - geeze, what a night for a Springsteen moment. Not even an announcement to say what's going on. Maybe I'll phone the cable company.
"Jack? Will you stop with the trigger finger? It's only a couple of minutes since you last checked."
"It's at least ten, and how long does it take, for crying out loud? It could have come back on again in that time, and I could have been watching the game right now if it had. Whatcha doin' anyway? You must be about finished by now."
"Not, actually. I've just reached a really critical part of the translation, and I have to get it right. You're really not helping with the constant flick, flick, flicking and all the sighing and muttering - it's distracting."
"Sorry. I'll try to be bored and irritated a bit more quietly." Not to mention horny.
"If you could, please. Thank you."
Nothing more aggravating than having sarcasm taken literally, absolutely nothing. It sucks all the fun right out.
Okaay. Now what? The newspaper, I guess. Now where did it get to? Aah, there ya go. Aww geeze, will ya look at that? What a mess! This has to be the single most irritating habit that Daniel has, leaving the newspaper all messed up like this. Just look at it - pages out of order, the middle section crumpled so that the damn thing won't fold properly --
"That an offer, Doctor Jackson?" Can't blame a guy for trying. If our positions were reversed, that would be an offer. Definitely. No question.
"No, that was an expletive, Colonel O'Neill. Just how do you work out that fucking around rustling the fucking newspaper is an improvement on the fucking flicking?"
Wow, good snarl, delivered by an expert. Gotta love watching an expert at work, even if you can't let the criticism go by without comment.
"Hey, not my fault Mr. Pottymouth! I wasn't the one that left it looking like something the cat dragged in. I can't even open it to read it, it's in such a mess. Don't get your panties in a bunch, I'm nearly done here... there ya go. Much better."
"Good. Just great. Sure you don't want to iron it or anything? No? Fine. Now, if you're finished fidgeting...?"
"Yep. Settled here. Just going to quietly do the crossword - if the TV's not up yet, that is -" flick, flick, flick - "nope, nothing yet. Okay, crossword it is then."
"Jesus Christ! You are such a pain in the ass when you're bored! Are you sure you're finished now?"
"Yes, totally, thank you. Sheesh, what a bear! You just carry on with what you were doing, don't pay me any heed. I'm just going to sit here quietly --"
"Jack! Shut the fuck up!"
Well, that crossword was a bust as attention holding goes - only took about ten minutes to finish the whole thing, none of the clues were exactly taxing. Now what? I've read the sports pages, I've read the funnies, I've even read the classifieds. Damn near know the whole newspaper by heart. Wonder if the TV's up and running yet - where did I drop the remote? Uh oh, forget that idea Jack - the look he's giving you would blister paint. Leave it another ten at least, and call it your healthy sense of self-preservation kicking in rather than out and out chicken. You know if you tick him off much more, you might not be getting any tonight whether he finishes his translation or not. Just divert to the coffee table, snag the book that came from Amazon the other day instead. Excuse me, Daniel? Me reach for the remote? Noooo... and here's an innocent little 'What, me?' look to be going on with as well, segueing into a sympathetic grin.
Hah, gotcha! Looking a little guilty there at misinterpreting my motives are we, Danny boy? Do I see slight signs of a softening attitude there? A little drop in the general pissiness level? Well, that's a start, tables beginning to turn here. Enough to make my dick start to take an interest again. Not exactly a clock stopper yet, more a timely reminder. As in, 'Give him a little bit more time to finish the damn translation and therefore lose the pissy attitude, and I'll remind you to make your move.'
That's it, I've had about enough of this book as I can take. Under other circumstances it'd be quite interesting, but right now it's just not grabbing my attention somehow. Not in quite the same way as random thoughts of sweaty, willing, eager Archaeologist slash Linguist up close and personal with ditto Air Force Colonel are. Daniel's still looking fraught; maybe I should test the temperature of the water again before I get my hopes, and other things, up.
"How's it going now?" Nice, supportive question, team leader well to the fore - not horny at all, no, no, no.
"What? Sorry Jack, I was miles away. What did you say?"
"The translation. How's it going?"
"Oh, I got that wrapped up about twenty minutes ago. I'm just trying to plough through some of my memos."
"Cool." Not. Sheesh! Memos! Finished the damn translation twenty minutes ago! The little prick's been holding out on me for the last twenty minutes! Stay calm, Jack, keep your head. Translations may be sacrosanct, but memos? Pffft! Memos pretty well amount to a green light.
Note to self: find out tomorrow if there is any reason other than general pissiness and making a point for Daniel to be reading memos at home rather than at the office. My S.O. works way too hard as it is.
"Anything very interesting?"
"Yeah, a couple of them are - recommendations for new staff, time management proposals, stuff like that."
You have got to be shitting me! Aha, is that a suspicion of a smirk I see before me? Just a little twitch of the lips giving the agenda away there? Need to learn to keep a straighter face, Danny boy, if you're going to outmanoeuvre a master. I see payback in our immediate futures. Just not the sort of payback you're expecting. Sweet.
"All stuff that should make the running of my department easier, hopefully. I'll write a recommendation once all the research is in, submit it for your consideration. How's the book? What is it, anyway? It must be absorbing, you've been mercifully quiet for the last hour or so."
" 'Astrophysical Quantities', revised and updated edition. Came from Amazon the other day. It's good - lots of new information."
"Good. I'm glad."
"I'm glad you're glad."
Okay, O'Neill, J, USAF Colonel and fisherman, how're ya going to go about this? Get it remotely wrong and he'll take you out at the knees just on general principles, the mood he's in right now. Brawn so isn't gonna cut it, much as I'd like to play the Neanderthal, sling him over my shoulder and carry him off to bed. 'Sides, I did that last week, and had the backache for days afterwards to prove it - gotta start believing that I'm not as young as the archaeologist I feel. That leaves brain. Strategy. Tactics. All the stuff that good ol' Uncle Sam has been at such pains to instruct me in over the course of my long and varied career. Guess now's another opportunity to find out if the mighty tax dollar has been wasted.
All I need is an angle.
And I've got one. Every way I look at it, it looks like a plan, and best of all, it's a win-win situation. I get to have some fun and he's pretty well certain to take the bait.
In my line of work, you pretty soon learn that exploiting the enemy's weaknesses is good tactics. Seems obvious, I know, but you'd be amazed at how many people just don't grasp it. You get some assholes that have seen far too many John Wayne films and think the only way to neutralise a threat is to meet it head on, all guns blazing. Well, that's crap, and as good a way to get yourself killed as I can think of. Oh sure, it looks all very fine, especially in the movies, but in real life the end result is usually a bust. No, the best kind of plan is the one that lets the other guy lay down his life for his principles. Much better to dig in, let the enemy bring the fight to you, rather than you take it to him. That way you get to choose the ground. And the best way to get the enemy to come to you is to gather intel, identify his weaknesses, and play on them.
Now Daniel's weaknesses in this situation are threefold: first off, he's a guy, which makes his buttons pretty much the same as mine, and second, he can never manage to stay in a pissy mood for that long, especially when his... curiosity's up. Third, he loves fucking. He loves fucking just about as much as I do, and that's a lot. More to the point, he loves fucking me, or being fucked by me, pretty much every opportunity he gets. And that's my ace in the hole (no pun). Oh, I'm not swell-headed enough to think that fucking me is more important than the work he does for the SGC, or low down enough to distract him from anything important - but memos? Sheesh! The time for reading memos is not the valuable time we could be rolling around in the sack (or on the couch, the floor, whatever), having the most fun that we've had since last time. Memos are strictly a workplace activity and should not interfere with your downtime.
But I'm wandering off the point here. Now I've got me a plan, I need some firepower to pull it off - and I've got some of that too: snacks. And imagination. Yeah, should be able to do something with them. Lemme just think here... yep, got it. Much as I would like to say that it was good forward planning for me to have a supply of suitable snacks to hand, I have to admit that it was pure dumb luck. But hey, I'm not knocking it - dumb luck can be the difference sometimes. That, and the ability to exploit it to your advantage.
Okay, I think I'm prepared: I've got a plan, I've got intel, I've got ammo, I'm in position. Let Operation Fuck Me Senseless commence.
First objective: draw the enemy in by creative use of snacks. The luck kicks in right here since the snacks in question are breadsticks, lovely, long, suggestive, Freudian breadsticks, and creamy, white dip - do I really need to paint a picture here? (Geeze, I can't believe I just thought 'Freudian' - just shows ya what hanging out with Daniel can do to a guy.) Nothing too creative all at once though, just a swirl of the stick in the dip, a quick thrust in to my mouth, and a long, slow, thoughtful withdrawal to suck the dip off while I read my book. Got your attention yet, Dannyboy? Not quite, huh? Okay, I can keep this up no problem, this dip is good. See what I mean about win-win?
Oh, there we go. I saw that little glance over in my direction. And I spotted the double take too - covert surveillance over the top of a book is a piece of cake for a specialist, my peripheral vision is as well trained as the rest of me. Gotta keep up the pressure though, keep the rhythm going: dip, plunge, long, slow suck. Short pause. Dip, plunge, long, slow suck.
Oh, better and better, we have more glances accompanied by licking of the lips. Just a little flicker of his tongue over his bottom lip, the kind of little flicker we often get when a certain archaeologist of my near acquaintance is having wholly appropriate inappropriate thoughts about his CO. Time to up the ante just a little - nothing too overt though, only enough to convince him I might be trying for subtle.
Time to add some sound effects. Just little ones - small, breathy 'mmm' type sound effects, and not too many of them. Oh, yes - score one to the colonel! That got your attention, didn't it? Don't think I missed the way your head came up there, Danny, 'cause I certainly didn't.
"I know perfectly well what you're doing, you know."
"I said, I know perfectly well what you're doing. It's not going to work."
"What's not going to work? I'm sorry, did I miss a bit of this conversation?"
"What you're doing's not going to work."
"What? What am I doing? I'm just sitting here quietly is all, reading my book and having some snacks. Want some? This dip is great." And to prove my point, dip, plunge, long, slooow suck. With added 'mmm'.
"That. That's what you're doing. It's about as subtle as a train wreck. And I say again, it's not going to work."
Wanna bet? I know my archaeologist. It'll work. Eventually. Besides, I just spotted that little wriggle as you adjusted the fit of your pants.
"I don't pretend to know what you're talking about, Daniel. Can we just drop the subject here? I just got to a good bit in my book."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The X-rated snacks are what I'm talking about. The oral abuse of inoffensive fast food products. You're not eating those breadsticks, you're going down on them in a blatant attempt to lure me away from what I'm doing here."
"I'm so not! I'm just sitting here quietly reading, enjoying breadsticks and dip, leaving you in the peace that you earlier indicated you wanted. In support of this, I would point out that I've not even mentioned sex - but you have. Twice now."
Veeery nice, you got that 'wounded dignity' tone taped there, O'Neill. Yes indeedy, taped down flat. Hah! Look at that face! Not one hundred per cent certain that you haven't done me an injustice, are you, Danny? Okay, probably ninety eight per cent certain, but there's still just a little niggle of doubt there. And that's my 'in'.
"You don't need to mention it. You're having it. With breadsticks."
"Daniel, if you know of any other way to eat dip off breadsticks I'd be delighted to have you demonstrate."
"Oh no, you're not sucking me in that easily. Okaay, bad choice of phrase - I knew it as soon as I said it, so you can wipe that smirk right off your face. The fact still remains, most people don't just eat the dip. Most people eat the breadsticks too. Face it, Jack, most people don't have simulated oral sex with breadsticks."
"See, now, there ya go again with the sex thing. That makes three times you've mentioned it to my none. But that's not the point, anyway: fact is, I don't have that many breadsticks, but I do have a lot of dip. So I have to make the breadsticks last. I have to use each one more than once. Trust me, recycling makes sense in this context."
"Oh. So you're actually going to leave me in peace to --"
"Finish whatever it is you're doing. Yes."
"And that wasn't an obvious attempt to --"
"Absolutely not." Careful now, Jack m'boy - don't overdo the virtuous indignation bit. Especially in view of the early goal with the 'sucking me in' comment. "What do you take me for?"
That's right, Daniel - you think it over. The element of doubt is flourishing nicely now, if I'm any judge, and the pissiness level is dropping like a stone. Which is good, it leaves him some room to consider the arousal level - his and mine. Time for phase two: flush the enemy out of cover.
Dip, bite, crunch, crunch, crunch. And again.
"What're you doing?"
"Eating the breadsticks, isn't it obvious?" And with any luck, that one didn't lay down its life in vain.
"Are you running out of dip?"
"No, there's plenty left. Why? Want some?"
"Aren't you hungry any more?"
"Yeah, I'm still hungry. Why?"
"There's no need to stop eating the dip off the breadsticks on my account, you know."
"Oh. I thought it was annoying you."
"No, 's okay. You were enjoying it, you just carry on. I overreacted. Sorry."
Score! Gotcha! If that isn't carte blanche, I don't know what is. You thought oral sex was on the cards earlier, did ya? Let me tell you something, Danny boy, you ain't seen nuthin' yet. Ammo's getting low here, so I gotta make every shot count.
"Yeah, you go right ahead."
"Well, if you're sure..."
Dip, plunge, looong, slooow suck. No 'mmm' though, don't want to go too far overboard. Dip, vary the pace: swirl the tongue around and run it up to the top of the stick. Hah, saw that little glance as well, Danny. And don't think I didn't notice the way your jaw dropped just a little bit, either. That works well for you? Okay, I can do that again. And again. And now back to the original motion. And for added artistry, I'll just make sure that a little of the dip ends up dripping down my chin. Just so's I have to catch it with my finger and suck it off. Slooowly.
Damn, I sure hope I'm not wasting my time here, Danny: going down on these sticks is making me horny as hell and hard as nails. I'm thinking about the taste of you, the size of you, the heat of you, the silky feel of your dick in my mouth, the weight of your balls as I palm them in my hand, the feel of your ass as it ripples with pleasure round my fingers. I can hear the noises you make, the little moans and huffs of encouragement, and the noises I make in reply. I can hear me saying, "Come on, Danny. Give it up for me... for me... only ever for me..." during the short moment that I take my mouth off your dick and I can feel you shudder as I swallow you whole again...
Nope, I don't think I'm wasting my time, I'm getting all the encouraging signals at once. The glances, the tongue, the dropped jaw and the wriggle. Whoo momma, this is looking good, his imagination's really kicking in. But I gotta put the brakes on my imagination, or I'm not gonna last long enough to --
Oof! How'd you get over here so fast, without me noticing? I must be slipping...
"Okay, Jack, you win. Starting without me is fine, but finishing ahead of me? No way that's going to happen. Time to prove your horizontal hold's still as good as ever. And I get the added satisfaction of saving... only two?.. breadsticks from a fate worse than death."
Ohh, yes! Mission accomplished. Armfuls of sweaty, horny, eager archaeologist slash linguist up close and personal with ditto Air Force Colonel, ready and willing to play. Strategy and tactics win out again, beating brawn hands down. And that hand sliding down under the waistband of my sweats to cup my balls and stroke my dick as you laugh at my antics is the proof.
"Nah, call it a draw - you held out for a lot longer than I thought you would." I can afford to be magnanimous.
"I really did know what you were up to all the time, you know."
God, I love the fact that I can make you laugh. The sex is good, better than good, but the laughter that goes with it? That's the icing on the cake.
"I know you did. That was more than half the fun."
"And I knew that you knew. That makes it even better. Now, are you going to put theory into practice, or...?"
"Or am I?"
"Why not both?"
"A man with a plan. I like that."
Just gotta love these win-win scenarios.
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