Ya know how everyone says that when you're about to die and you know it, your whole life flashes in front of you? Well, they lie. Like rugs. At least in my recent, excuse me, far TOO fucking recent for comfort, experience. Well, okay, they don't TOTALLY lie, they just... maybe... exaggerate a little, if you will. Bits of your life do tend to... reprise... but not the whole thing. I just point this out in the interests of accuracy you understand.. Only the very worst bits, alongside the very best bits, luckily. And hey, when time's short, you can kinda, ya know, sidestep the very worst bits, 'cause, well, they kinda PALE, ya know? I mean, how much worse can it get than dying? Dying when you really feel you finally have everything to live for, one particular, special someone to live for, one delicious, delectable, totally EDIBLE someone to live for... it sucks. Big time. It really, I mean REALLY, pisses me off that it all ends here, even if it does mean we get to save the Earth, again.
Christ, listen to me! Career military, through and through, or thought I was - something this big, this... goddamned HEROIC should not get old! I mean, this is a good thing, right? This is the kind of last-ditch selfless act that I used to dream of when I was a kid. Last stand, death or glory stuff... John Wayne at the Alamo, Sinatra on Von Ryan's Express... laying down your life for a greater good.
The short answer is, no, it's crap. I want to live, I want to make love with Danny again, I want it to be even better than the last time, and shit, the last time was fucking COSMIC! I want to look into his beautiful face again as he comes for me, in my hand, in my mouth, up my ass, whatever. I want to hear him grunt and pant and groan my name - MINE - as we give each other more pleasure than we had ever dreamed was possible. I want to watch him watching me strip off, eager and swelling in front of my eyes, only for me, only ever for me, his eyes growing soft and smoky-dark with anticipation and desire…
But it's not going to happen. No cavalry available to come charging over the hill.
"Davis! Give the order!"
SHIT! One of the little
buggers has landed on my back. Christ - curl up, quick! Oww... bastard! This is
gonna hurt! Oh pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease... Danny... blow the fucking sub,
if you ever loved me....
I can't stand this. I can't. I can't bear to watch, but I can't bear not to either. We both always knew it might end like this, that one or other of us might get killed, but 'might end' is a far cry from 'is ending'. And I never really thought that it was likely, not deep down, that we wouldn't die together. Oh, god, what am I going to do without you, Jack? Whatever I do, I'll just be going through the motions. I'll just be one half of a whole, rootless, empty...
Pull yourself together, Jackson, you can do rootless and empty, you've had plenty of practice. You're not going to fall apart, not here, not now, not in front of all these people. Especially not in front of this desk-jockey from the Pentagon. You have to be the grieving friend, not the distraught lover, for Jack's sake. No way are you turning "don't ask, don't tell" into "show and tell", giving the muckrakers a chance to pick over the bones of what we had together, that would be a lousy memorial. No, you just suck it up, and don't let anyone see that you're dying too, inside.
Sgt. Siler is giving us a running commentary from the sonar screen. I wish to god he would shut up. I want to scream at him to shut up. All I want to do is watch Jack's face, imprint it on my memory, even as I shrink from seeing the horror in his eyes.
But now I'm straining forward to watch the monitor for a different reason. Davis isn't looking; he's turned to drop his head into his hands. Doesn't immediately matter though as my mind struggles to make sense of what I'm seeing in front of me - yesss! Holy fuck! Seeing is supposed to be believing, but I don't believe what I'm seeing, or rather, not seeing!
Jack and Teal'c have both vanished, leaving those bastard bugs that were swarming over them collapsing towards the floor over empty space. Asgard, it has to be the Asgard!
Feeling hot all over,
and more than a bit light-headed as relief floods through me, I can feel my
mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. I'm trying to break the good news
to everyone else, but all I can do is stutter like a fool, and point to the
heavens. Brain and mouth are not cooperating because all I can hear running
through my mind on a continuous loop is, "thankyouthankyouthankyou". And then
I'm grinning like an idiot at the one word shouting in my head.
What just happened here? Can somebody please explain what happened here? Am I dead, or what? I'm lying on something cold and grey, still curled in a little foetal ball; guess I can't be dead then, if I can feel things, see them and... yep, touch them. Yesss! Stop grinning, O'Neill and think. Who do you know that could have done this? Asgard, it has to be them. Thor, my beautiful little scaly grey buddy - just gotta love the little guy. Okay, compose yourself, make with the smart remark - you got a rep to keep up, you gotta be cool. Uncurling to take my first real look around, I point in the general direction of the company and say, "Now, THAT's timing!"
Carter's standing by Thor, huge grin plastered over her face. Thor looks... much as usual. Where's Teal'c? Yeah, Big Guy, you made it too. All right, all my kids safe and sound. Maybe some of them are a little bent out of shape, but all basically sound. We can deal with 'bent out of shape' later. Touch, I need to touch, just to reassure myself that this is real, I'm really here. That small, scaly, grey fairy godmothers DO exist. Can't touch Carter - WAY too much misunderstanding there already - Teal'c. Can touch Teal'c.
"I am, O'Neill."
Shi-ii-t! My legs feel kinda funny, sorta like cotton wool. Reaction, shock, I guess. But I gotta keep going, I can't cave now. Carter's yammering on, and I'm answering more or less at random, but she's not looking like she's sucking a lemon so I guess I must be making the right noises. All I can think is "Yes! I get to feel Danny again!" and it feels sooo good.
Wait a minute, what was
that? A ship? Named after me? Cool! Guess I really MUST have made a good
impression on the little grey guys. Oh. Carter blew it up. Figures.
Well, hey, it's the thought that counts. Wonder if Thor would like to go
fishing? The words are scarcely out of my mouth when I start to feel a familiar,
tingling feeling... guess that's a 'No', then... why the fuck does NOBODY like
As entrances go, it's... impressive. All the more so because it is so quiet. A beam of light, a slight hum, and presto! Three extra people where there was only floor space before.
Thanks to all the gods there are, he looks okay. More than okay, actually - downright cocky might come close, with a big, shit-eating grin on his face. His eyes rake the room as all the on-duty personnel crowd round, finally latching onto mine. Ah. So it is an act then, he's had as big a scare as I've had.
For some reason that makes me feel worse instead of better. In that instant I want to run to him and hug the shit out of him - but I can't. Wouldn't be appropriate, not from me to him - I'll just have to wait until he manages to get to me. I have to work hard to keep the big, soppy grin off my face, though.
Hammond is on cue. "Colonel O'Neill, welcome home. A job well done, son. You too, Teal'c, Major."
He straightens perceptibly. "Thank you, General. As it turned out, yessir. A close shave, though."
Cool, Jack, very cool.
"It was indeed." The General is twinkling. "Do you require any medical attention?" Janet is hovering, carrying out a quick visual inspection of all three of them with a slight frown on her face.
Jack throws a quick glance in her direction. "Not... immediately, sir. Hardly a scratch on any of us, as far as I know." Sam and Teal'c nod their agreement.
"Very well then." He too glances in Janet's direction as she stares hard at Jack, then signals her agreement with a minute inclination of her head. "I would like to conduct a very quick preliminary debriefing now before you report to the Infirmary." Jack draws a breath to protest, but Hammond overrides him. "You'll all be free to head home as soon as you are cleared by Dr. Fraiser. We'll reconvene for a full debriefing in the morning, and discuss the matter of downtime then."
I've been edging forward through the press of bodies as they have been speaking. As Hammond turns, his eyes fall on me. "Ah, Dr. Jackson. You will of course be required at the debriefing too, as will," he glances round, "Major Davis. All right, people, we have a base to run here."
The crowd recognises the tone and begins to disperse.
"Daniel? You okay?"
I look into his eyes, seeing the lines of strain on his face that weren't there a couple of hours ago. Jeesus! Is that all it's been? It feels more like a week! God, I so want to feel him in my arms! With that thought my arms come up and around ME, on the principle that it's safer to hug myself than him - I'm having to fight hard enough for composure, I don't need any additional temptation.
"Yeah, better now that I've seen you're okay. I mean, really okay. You ARE okay, aren't you?"
A quirk of his lips. "I'll do... for now."
A silent message passes between us - "But later..."
"You okay with this debriefing?"
"Yeah - for now." A quick look round to check that we can't be overheard. " See you at my place when you're done?"
He ruffles my hair. "Yeahsureyabetcha." And then he adds, almost as an afterthought, " I've got faith in you, Danny. We did good today, both of us."
Did we? I'll take your word for it. So why do I suddenly feel like shit?
The debriefing passes in a blur, I'm not really concentrating. I'm too busy watching HIM, but trying not to make it too obvious.
Jack recounts his experiences in a dry, unemotional voice, his hands the only indication of how he really feels. They are drumming on the desk, until he gets to the part where he and Teal'c were overrun, when they become completely still, the way they do when something cuts really, really deep.
Teal'c's voice too, is unemotional. But then he would be hard pushed to come up with any other kind.
Sam alone is animated, pleased with her efforts on behalf of humanity. I'm glad for her, really, in a detached sort of way. I can recognise that she's done well. But... everything seems distant now, as if wrapped in cotton wool.
I really need to go home, to process. All the thoughts and emotions of the last few hours are catching up and battering at me, demanding that I think about them, deal with them, come to terms with the fact that I nearly killed Jack, and I have to work hard to keep them at bay. I nearly killed Jack. I nearly threw away what we have. Sweet Jesus, I actually gave the order! No, don't go there, don't think of that, push it away, stick it in a box and deal with it later. Concentrating hard, I force myself to go numb inside, just like I did when I was a kid.
The numbness lasts until I'm nearly home, until I pass a flashing red neon sign a couple of blocks away from my apartment. Immediately I'm back in the mission control room again, in front of a bank of monitors, feeling cold all over at the enormity of what I have to do. My hands are shaking so badly against the wheel that I have to pull over and stop for five minutes, waiting for the worst to pass with my head resting against the wheel.
When I finally get myself back under control, I feel drained and sweaty. Time to get moving, get home, get safe. It seems just a couple of minutes until I'm there, with no recollection of driving, parking, getting my key into the lock. Everything is on auto pilot. Hey! That's kind of funny, and I start to giggle weakly as hysteria sets in and I close the door behind me. My legs are starting to shake again - have to sit down, before I fall down.
Christ, it's a relief to be here, alone, sitting in the dark, shoes kicked off. Nobody asking me if I'm okay, how I'm coping, if I want a glass of water...
Now I can sort through
my feelings. Finally come to terms with what I have nearly done. Finally express
the totally irrational rage that has been building in me throughout the last
couple of hours, that Jack, Jack of all people, Colonel "Nobody Gets Left
Behind", should expect, no, DEMAND, that I deliberately end his
"That was really close."
"Ya think?" A quick glance at Daniel's face. No, now is probably not the time for levity. What's happened here? He seemed okay when he left the base. I say soberly, "Yes it was. Way TOO close. But we pulled it off."
"With a lot of help from our friends."
Another try to lighten the atmosphere. "Well, yeah, but hey, what are friends for?" The joke falls flat. His face stays grim.
"Look, Danny, it worked out this time. Maybe we got lucky. Okay, Teal'c and I got very lucky..."
"Why is it always YOU who has to take the risk?" The words burst out of him, cutting across what I'm saying. Damn! He's hugging himself tight. Aah, crap! I know that look, his imagination's running riot again. Time for a reality check.
"Danny, you know the way I operate. I will not ask anyone to take a risk that I wouldn't take myself. And I don't take stupid risks, just calculated ones. This time, my calculations were a bit off, is all... just the way the cookie crumbles. Some you win, some..."
"And the next time your calculations are 'a bit off'? What happens then? The same as today? I have to sit and make the decision whether or not to have you killed again?"
"As I was going to say, some you come a bit closer to losing. But we didn't lose. We won, we saved the world again. We had the luck and, like it or not, that sometimes tips the balance. We did our job. We're military, Daniel, this is what the military does."
"That would be a 'yes', then."
His tone is flat, even - he could be discussing the weather forecast. Hell, this goes really deep then. His imagination is a great gift, a great asset to the team, and VERY stimulating on a personal level - but damned inconvenient sometimes, times like this. He takes a breath, as if to speak, then falls silent. His brows knot and he stares past my shoulder at the wall.
"I really believed you were going to die today, I mean I really, deep-down believed it." I take another breath, but again he cuts me off, not rudely, just lost in his own train of thought. "And I was stuck here, all I could do was watch. I thought you were going to die by my hand. Davis was waiting for me to give the order, he wasn't about to do it, not after you asked me to. I had to give that order. I believed you were going to die alone… without me." He mutters that last comment, almost as an afterthought.
Aah, shit! Here it is then, the crux of the whole thing. Not just me dying, not just him being the one that had to give the order, not even having to do it long-distance. All his life so far he has lost the things that have been precious to him. Now I've asked him not just to lose something precious, but to deliberately throw it away. I put that responsibility on him. And no, it's not fair that I had to, and yes, it's even less fair that I can foresee similar situations playing out in our future. Just one of the complications waiting to bite you in the ass when you get involved with someone on your team, one of the reasons the frat regs are in place.
Responsibility, he can handle, but responsibility for expending someone else's life? For laying down my life? Whole other ball game. Dammit, he's come on so much recently that I keep forgetting that he's not military, not at all. And now that simple fact has come up to hit us with a double whammy. He has too much imagination to dismiss a close shave, chalk it up to experience, learn from it and move on, and he doesn't have the pragmatism to sacrifice the one for the many, even when I'm not involved. Only when the 'one' is him. Then it's okay.
But if I can't give him such responsibility, who else? There's no-one else that I trust like him, no-one else that means so much to me that I can trust them so absolutely, that I know I can rely on to see the big picture, to do the right thing, no matter what the personal cost.
I have to consider my reaction, have to do the right thing here, otherwise the whole kit and caboodle is going to end up going to hell in a hand basket. Much as I hate to admit it, we really do need to talk about this. Maybe I should just tell him the simple truth.... or maybe better to wait and tell him later when I've managed to gentle him some. Shit, I need time to think, but there IS no time...
What can I do here? How
can I make this all go, not away, it'll never go away completely, but into the
background? How can we reach an understanding that will make sense to both of
He's hesitating, not quite sure yet what to do, what to say, weighing the alternatives the same way that I have seen him do hundreds of times in the field. And suddenly I know, I just KNOW, that a measured response is not going to do. Sure, we need to talk about this, and sooner rather than later, but right here, right now, I'm sick of words - strange response for a linguist, I know - and a little picture flashes into my mind. Jack saying to me, "You think too much... DOING is better."
With that image comes action, a sudden unfreezing of muscles as I launch myself across the space between us, nothing in my mind, just a blind reaching for the reassurance of touch. I haven't been able to touch him for hours, certainly not since he came back. I need to feel for myself that he is still warm, alive and vital. I need to bury my anger and fear in sensation, need to bury myself balls-deep in him and lose my nightmare imaginings in the realness of him, confirm to myself and to him that we have not lost anything, not this time. Wipe out the fear that there might be a next time.
He grunts in surprise as I cannon into him, pushing him against the wall, and stiffens momentarily before his arms snake up and round my waist. It's as near to formal permission as I'm going to get, and I take it eagerly. I pin him flat against the wall as I lick, suck and bite all the skin that I can reach, my hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt to free up more, grasping, pinching and kneading the flesh of his back and his arms as his shirt gives up the unequal competition and I slide it down over his shoulders. His hands leave me only long enough for me to slip the shirt down his arms and drop it to the floor. Permission definitely granted.
I thought I was hard
before, but now I'm even harder. The clothes have got to
His hands are rough, demanding, as they roam across my skin, his kisses hard and bruising. My Danny, who was never demanding in his life! Okay, so that needs qualification: never until recently, and even then always with a faint air of apology... it's something we're working on. And he's quiet, too - that's a change. One of the things I enjoy about bedding him is he's so vocal... groaning and moaning, never leaving me in any doubt that he is HOT, and generous enough to give me all the credit... But not this time. This time he's not making any noise at all, just doing what he's doing with grim determination. And I know here and now that this isn't about gratification, or sex, or even love, this is about reassurance. Hey, shit-thick hard-ass I may be, but I can do sensitive. If I have to.
As soon as I think it, I know that's not true. For this guy, I can do it any time. Make that ALL the time. Okay, this time's for him, as rough, as hard and as fast as he needs it. Well, for me too, a little, if I'm honest - hey, I'm a guy too. Rough, hard and fast comes with the turf - sometimes... but mostly this is for him. Next time is going to be for both of us, I promise, slow and tender... the way we both really like it, deep down.
Right now, he needs to
know that I'm alive and here for him. Where he leads, I'll cheerfully follow.
Got a funny feeling that it might hurt a bit, though. What the hell, O'Neill,
you've had worse, and with far worse motive, too. Just go with it and hope that
you can walk normally in the morning. For him, you'll manage
Oh, this feels so good. Jack feels so good, skin warm and soft over hard muscle. He smells so good, so absolutely JACK, musk and citrus, with a faint tang of sweat mixed in. He smells so REAL, so alive. It's intoxicating. I can feel the cold hard lump of terror that's been lying in the pit of my stomach for hours starting to melt away. He must feel something of it too because he's responding in kind, pushing against me, forcing me to overwhelm him, using his strength as an erotic tool.
Forget it, flyboy - I've got you right where I want you, and that's where you're going to stay. I'm in charge here. Your ass is so MINE.
I don't realise that I've said these words aloud until Jack's grip slackens, all resistance fading for a couple of seconds. Looking into his face, I catch the expression in his eyes, amused speculation tinged with challenge, almost immediately giving way to a surge of desire.
"Ya think?" he drawls, deliberatively provocative.
"I KNOW," I growl back, illustrating the point by pushing him back against the wall again and fastening my mouth on the skin where his neck meets his shoulder, using just enough teeth to make sure he gets the point. He hisses, partly from pain, partly from arousal, and I apply myself to releasing his jeans button. He sucks in his stomach to give me better access and scrabbles around with his feet to lose his shoes.
The button gives way and I'm able to slide my hands down under the waistband of his jeans. Oh. My. God. More of my blood supply surges south as I realise he's going commando. There's nothing now between my hands and all of him, and I bury the grin that threatens to break out on my face in his shoulder. Sneaky bastard, he knew this was going to happen, he's PLANNED for it. He knows me too well...
Well, Jack's asked for it and he's surely going to get it. His jeans slide easily down over his hips as I run my hands over the sweet planes of his ass. He kicks them off and over into the corner. He's standing naked before me, proud and erect, a hint of challenge still in his gaze. My eyes rake over him and he shivers. He is so beautiful, the way he's standing there - handsome face, toned body, long, lean legs… perfect. Perfect and mine for the taking. The thought makes my balls tighten, and I realise that though he might be naked, I'm still fully clothed and my pants are now feeling WAY too tight.
We kiss as I undo my pants, a hard, bruising kiss, tongues rasping and sliding over each other, both aggressive, both demanding, both giving as good as we get, both now pushing against each other. With a sigh of relief I manage to get the pants down and my erection springs free, already weeping and aching to be surrounded by his heat. I can't wait any longer, I have to feel him engulf me.
"Jack." My voice sounds rusty, strange. "Turn round. I want to be in you so badly, right here, right now."
He looks into my eyes, and I see that his are dark and hungry. Then he slowly, deliberately, turns round and stands with his feet apart, arms spread and braced against the wall, ass canted up invitingly as he looks back at me over his shoulder: Colonel Slut.
It is the most erotic thing I have ever seen and I stand admiring the play of muscles across his back, the promise in his stance. The breath catches in my throat, and the only reply I am capable of making is a hiss of pure lust.
No time for a lot of preparation. My desire is building up to fever pitch seeing him standing there, offering himself to me. I slick one finger with a mixture of pre-come and saliva, tracing down the inviting cleft in front of me until I find his opening. Gently at first, then more firmly, I press into him as Jack deliberately relaxes and dilates to let me in.
A couple of strokes and then two fingers, easing them past the rapidly loosening ring of muscle that guards his entrance. He is starting to sweat, and groans as I withdraw. I place my hands on his hips, the head of my cock now nudging at his cleft, my pre-come easing the passage as I encircle his waist with one arm and pull myself slowly towards him, breaching him, sinking slowly and surely into his glorious silky heat.
It won't last long - it can't, <I> can't. After a moment or two of adjustment, of pure, hot pleasure coiling low down in my belly, I can't stay still any longer. I have to thrust, but shift my angle slightly to hit his sweet spot buried so deep within him. He cries out, writhing beneath me, and I reach round with my free hand to grasp his shaft, pumping it in time to my thrusts, stretching my fingers to fondle his balls, loving the sensations of velvet skin and steely hardness. My Jack. Mine. Alive. With me.
"Ohhh, fuck - Danny!
Ohh, Jesus!" He is howling as he comes, hot semen pulsing over my hand. It is
enough to push me over the edge. I scream his name as the waves of pleasure boil
behind my eyes and I empty myself into him, sated and content, finally convinced
that we are both still alive.
Damn, but my ass stings. Stings? 'Stings' doesn't even begin to cover it. Shower didn't help it much, a bath might have been a better plan. I'm going to have to be VERY careful about plopping down in my chair at the debrief later this morning, IF I can walk well enough to get there. Christ, so many stairs, so little time... Oh Jeez, my Danny. Master of the Universe. Who knew?
It was worth it though, if it lays some of the demons to rest. And it seems to have worked. No nightmares last night, for either of us.. Skin's cheap, and it soon mends - quicker than minds anyway.
What time is it? Oh-six-thirty? I've overslept for the first time in years. Guess that's the result of all our exertions yesterday, daytime and evening... Still, debrief's not 'til 10.30 so there's plenty of time to implement Plan B. I made myself a promise yesterday, and I'm not about to go back on it. Officer and gentleman here - we always keep our word.
Okay, tactical decision needed now. Sitrep: I'm lying, pinned flat by 160 lbs of unconscious archaeologist stroke linguist. Said archaeologist stroke linguist is notoriously unpredictable in the early mornings and is liable to take you out, good style. Mission objective: rouse said archaeologist stroke linguist, AROUSE said archaeologist stroke linguist, fuck him six ways since Tuesday. Piece o' cake, O'Neill, you can do this in your sleep. 'Cept I would really rather both of us were awake for this. Wide-awake.
Recommendations? Well, from this position I can start with feather light stroking down his spine, just... so. Hell, ineffective. He's just snuggling closer, burrowing his beautiful face into my neck, but still asleep. O-kaay, how about this? A little bit harder, along his waist and under his ribs, just at the really tickly bit. No-oo, not quite. He's swatting half-heartedly at my hand, like you would at an annoying insect, but still not moving. Okay, again - I can DO persistent and annoying, trust me - oh yeah! Finally! Ree-sult! He's shifting over, rolling onto his side, curling up facing away from me. One arm still pinned, but the rest of me can move. Now what? There's a patch of skin there that's just begging for a kiss. Oh, and hey, look, another one juuust... there. And another. And another.
No reaction yet, but no sweat. Times like this I feel I could spend a lifetime just looking at him, he's so damn gorgeous. Perfect skin, perfect body... and all mine. Okay, so I'm gloating. So what? Only natural when you've got something this good to gloat about. Counting my blessings too, if I'm honest - a near miss will do that to ya, I've seen it dozens of times in the field.
Sometimes I get scared I'll lose him, that I'll push him away, not that he'll throw me away - he's a keeper, my Danny. God only knows what he sees in me anyway. I know myself well enough to know I'm not much of a catch. There's a whole heap of shit buried inside just waiting to rear up and bite me in the butt - Iraq, Sarah, Charlie, stuff that's happened on the program - things I can't face. No, not true. Things I won't face. I suppose we're quite alike in that at least: fate does seem to enjoy dumping on Daniel, plenty shit happens to him too... maybe that's why we're good together... soul mates, two halves of a whole. I do pragmatic, he does idealistic. Together, we're better. Yeah, I like that idea...
Whoa, wait up! Drifting a bit off-topic here aren't we? Get with the program already, you've got promises to keep. More kissing required here, definitely more kissing, maybe throw in a bit of nibbling for good measure...
Oh yeah. Definitely reacting now. Nibbling works for you? It works for me too. No, Danny, no burrowing. Quit with the burrowing, at least quit with the burrowing into the pillow. Or maybe... not - now I've got the nape. The nape so does it for me, nibbling the nape is...
Yes, we have whining. Whining is good... I think... yeah, has to be more promising than burrowing. Watch it though, O'Neill, this is the bit that needs the careful handling... steady...
"What time is it?"
"Ohhh, shit. And you're waking me up at this ungodly hour why?"
"'Cause you're missing the best part of the day."
"Whaat? How the FUCK do you work that out?" Outrage. Snarling. Turning round. This is getting better by the second. Pouting now. Lovely lush bottom lip thrust out, just begging for me to swipe at it with my tongue.
"Trust me." Swipe. "I've got plans in that department." Swipe. "The 'making sure that this..." Swipe. "... is the best part of our day' department." Nibble. "Until we get our downtime, of course."
"What kind of plans, uh, exactly?" Mellowing slightly. He's interested, just doesn't want to cave in too quickly. It's kinda an early morning thing.
"Well, for starters, nibbling. LOTS of gratuitous nibbling. Kinda like this." Oh, this is working out just fine, he's stretching his head back to give me better access to his neck, and I'm taking full advantage.
"And licking. Ad hoc licking." From his neck to the curve of his ear, tracing the delicate shape with my tongue, feeling him squirm and gasp, making me HOT. His arms have come up around me of their own accord, are tracing delicate patterns up and down my spine, and I'm shivering with wanting. Where was I? Oh yeah...
"Did I mention kissing? Extempore kissing, lots and lots of kissing?" Matching actions to words, I'm moving in on his lovely mouth, kissing him long and slow and gentle, just the way I like it. Such a beautiful, talented mouth, opening slowly under mine, inviting me in... I could fall into his kisses and drown, and I would die happy...or sappy... or something...
"Huh?" Damn, wandering here again. Just get so carried away with the feel of him, the way he makes ME feel...
"What other plans did you make?" There's a fleeting grin there, just an upturn of the corners of his mouth. He knows I'm falling. And he does the thing with the eyelashes. Shit, I'm lost, going down, suckered by an expert... where were we? Regroup, fast - diversionary tactic needed now, if I'm not to lose the initiative.. Okay, full frontal attack is the best form of defence. In all senses of 'full frontal'...
"Then I thought we'd both enjoy if I went down on you."
Silence. Sorta strangled silence. And then... Yesss! Score! Touch down! Whatever! That's it, that's The Look, the one that I was praying to see again all those hours ago. His eyes are huge, smoky dark blue, his mouth slightly open as his tongue flicks across suddenly dry lips, and it takes him two tries to produce anything like a voice.
"Guess that's why you're the colonel, Colonel. Good, practical, tactical sense. Forward planning. I like that."
My mouth is dry too. Just seeing him like that, knowing that I put that look there - ME - nobody but me. (Possessive? Moi? Yeahsureyabetcha.) But I reckon I can work up enough spit for what comes next.
"Oh, I think you're gonna like this a whole lot more." Time to make my move - which I do, very smoothly, kissing him again, long and slow, before trailing a line of kisses and nibbles across his jaw, down his neck and onto his chest.
Okay: How To Drive Your Archaeologist Wild 101. He's gasping as I play with his nipples, licking them, sucking and nibbling at them, rubbing them with my thumbs. Like that, Danny boy? Yeah, me too. I enjoy giving them the attention they deserve.
But... let's just see what we can find to play with a bit further south. Gorgeous flat stomach, muscles defined just right... worth a nibble and a nuzzle or two... or more... lots more. Smooth, long flanks, just made for skimming hands over. He feels so good, soft and warm over hard muscle.
Soft, warm, hard... I'm getting closer to ground zero, getting harder the closer I get. Not touching though, not yet, oh no. Waiting's all part of the fun. Special attention for the crease between his thigh and his groin, that's a real hotspot, always managing to juuust miss his dick and his balls, holding down his hips so he can't ambush me, keeping the tease going.
Soft bites to the inside of his thighs, sliding my hands under his ass so that I can knead it and stroke it. He's breathing hard now, and it's making me harder knowing that I can get him so hot. Don't know how much longer I can keep this up, teasing him, when all I really want is to stop teasing myself. Okay, that's it, enough's enough - executive decision coming up - I go down on him NOW or <I> die of frustration alongside him.
Where to start? I'm looking down at him, lying spread out in front of me, legs apart, inviting, promising… dear god, how did something so beautiful end up a part of my life? I swear to god, if I'd known how much of a rush this would be, I'd have made my move months ago. Sometimes it really gets to me, ya know? All that wasted time. Times when I could have been doing this, and he could have been ... yeah, well, water under the bridge. Guess it's enough to know that he's here NOW, with me, and that's the way it's going to stay.
"You just gonna keep looking, flyboy, or are you gonna put your money where your mouth is?" His voice is husky, throaty, slutty, and it sends a shiver through me that starts way down around my balls and shoots up my spine. This is going to be sooo good…
"Oh no, not just looking, planning some more, Spacemonkey. Just thinking where to start. How 'bout here?" My own voice doesn't sound any too normal, it's a good half octave lower than usual. I take an experimental swipe across his balls with my tongue, then up his shaft to the head of his dick, swirling my tongue round it, savouring the taste of him. He yelps and bucks - oh yeah! Gotta love an enthusiastic audience. Makes you want to try harder, to do your best…
I out and out love doing this - used to enjoy eating Sarah too, when she would let me. It's a trust thing, the most intimately trusting thing I can think of doing with anybody. I love everything about this, the taste of Daniel, the smell of him, the feel of him against my lips, in my mouth, down my throat, the moans and little gasps that he gives as I lick and suck and nibble at him, the way the shudders ripple through him when I slowly lick the length of the big vein on the underside of his dick. I love the way he tangles his beautiful, long fingers through my hair and strokes the back of my neck, and the way he determinedly stops himself from thrusting into my mouth, holding back from doing anything that might hurt me.
I love playing with his balls, love feeling the weight and the heat of them as they nestle in the palm of my hand, love the velvety, crinkly texture of them when I smooth my fingers over them as I suck him into my mouth.
I love the way he stiffens with anticipation when I reach for the lube, the way his concentration sharpens as I lube up my fingers and he watches intently. I love the way his face blooms with heat when I probe his ass with my finger, and the way he tenses and then deliberately relaxes himself as I push first one finger in, gently hooking and turning, stretching him slowly, then a second.
I love the way he pushes down with his ass, wanting more, always more, as I finally find that sweet spot inside him and stroke it gently, making him groan and writhe. I love the heat building inside me, the coiling pleasure low down in my belly as I lie beside him, dreamily suckling his cock and fucking him with my fingers.
"I want you inside me, I need to feel you all the way inside me. I want to watch you as you come inside me. Lie back."
Christ, want him, want him, can't wait to have him, can't wait to feel his ass hot and tight around my cock as I slide home... My hands are trembling as I fumble with the lube.
Initiative lost, but what the fuck. Mission accomplished anyway. I've died, but I've gone to heaven. He's crouching over me, lining my dick up with his ass, taking all the care in the world, oh god, oh god, hurry UP already before I shoot my wad just lookin' at ya, o god, oh yess! Sliding down, sliding in, sweet Christ! The heat, the tightness, the RIGHTNESS. Christ, look at you, look at the look on your face, leaning back against my thighs, panting and sweaty, mouth slightly open, oh shit, the weight of you, the heat of you…
God, moving now, have to move now, can't just lie here without moving any longer, not if my life depended on it. Reaching for you, grasping you, feeling the hardness and the softness of you, running my thumb over the top of your dick. Seeing you shudder, feeling you shiver, feeling you tighten around me as I fuck you but good, feeling you grind yourself against me. Feeling your balls sliding across my sweaty belly, hearing you pant and grunt and moan. Pumping you firmly, firmer, fast, then slower, deeper, just the way you like it, come join me kid...
Oh oh, here we go, heat rising in my belly, pleasure/pain coiling and roiling from my groin, legs trembling, brain imploding, oh Christ! DANNY! YESS! Watching you spurt all over my belly, warm and slick.
Shaking, shuddering -
shit, tearing up? - As you collapse on top of me, chest heaving, sweat
trickling, sticky and satisfied. Cuddling you, holding you tight, I'm stuck on
you, you're stuck with me, ain't NEVER going to let you go without a fight, no
matter what. My Danny. My love.
Ohh, this is nice. Lying here, wrapped in each other's arms, snuggling up together like a pair of kids. We're in just the perfect position for stroking, lots of stroking, mutual stroking, lying content and satisfied, not in any hurry to go anywhere, nowhere really to go, not anytime soon. I don't want to spoil the mood, so I hold my peace, but he surprises me.
"I've been thinking. About what you said last night."
"And you're right. We do need to talk about things."
"I don't remember saying that. In fact, to be quite accurate, I don't remember SAYING very much of anything, really. Now, MOANING I remember, a little, maybe…"
A chuckle. "Well, no, you've got a fair point there. But I know you, you MEANT to say a lot, you just didn't quite… get round to it. You implied a lot. But we need to. Get round to it."
I'm not quite sure I believe what I'm hearing, and I hitch myself up onto my elbow to look closely at him.
"Okaay… who exactly are you, and where's Jack?"
He pokes me in the ribs.
"Hey, I'm the one that does the smartass remarks round here, remember? Get back down here. I was nice and comfy before you started with the comedy routine. I told you, I've been thinking."
I snuggle back down again, going back to tracing patterns across his chest, and say encouragingly, "Okay. What?"
Now that he's actually started on this course he seems reluctant to continue. His hand is still moving across my skin, though, stroking rhythmically up and down my arm, so he's not completely freaked. He takes a deep breath.
"Shit, I hate talking about… this kind of stuff. But I figured… well, I was thinking… last night… about learning from experience and moving on, and I figured…"
Another deep breath, puffed out forcefully.
"Just… I screwed up royally with Sarah because I couldn't bring myself to talk about… stuff… and I think I really should learn from that. Not make the same mistake again. With you. So… we'll talk. Just not now… once we've had a chance to really think through what's happened over the last couple of days. I'll… try."
"I love you."
"Yeah. Right backatcha."
"Excuse me? 'Right backatcha'?? Good start, O'Neill, really. I mean it. Great stuff. Sheer poetry. Simple, straightforward yet lyrical…"
He's laughing now. "Okay, okay, already, just don't start with the lit. crit. I love you too. Better?"
"Oh yeah. Much."
On to 'Pressures'
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