Work Text:
Ficlet for Firefly 1311
ADF
“Okay, Jack,” the archeologist managed to wheeze, his breaths coming hard and fast, “really…I’ve had enough. We should go now.”
The soldier didn’t respond in the way the younger man’s request had implied. Instead the silver haired Colonel’s body tensed with strain, as his unwilling lover’s defensively pushing hands were smacked aside. “We haven’t even started…”
The linguist’s blue eyes rolled skyward with irritation, the alien sky reflected on the surface of those irascible orbs as he cursed, “Fick miche,” under his breath. Daniel was exhausted with Jack’s badgering tautology. The man was persistent to a fault. The younger man therefore gave up trying to save himself from Jack’s crazy indulgences with asking, threatening, or even pleading—seeing all had been attempted and promptly failed due to the Colonel’s single-minded steadfast resolve—and instead, accepted his only available means of thwarting the others scheme.
Jack had deflected his arms and had taken hold of his shoulders, firmly and roughly, intending to push Daniel. He lowered his sensible fighting ethics and knee up hard into the soldier’s crotch. The other’s grip had been to his advantage and with a simple twist of the archeologist’s shoulders the blow had been successfully rerouted. It landed off target, hitting the man’s abductor muscle just south of his groin with enough force to still make the Colonel wince and grunt derisively.
Saturnine eyes narrowed on Daniel as the silvered brows drew together and a wicked smirk curled the corner of the soldier’s mouth, working to both infuriate and daunt the archeologist instantly. “Now you’re going to get it.” Came the threat, low and purring, in a voice Jack only used on him. It was a dangerous voice, capable of inciting anxiety and arousal within him at the same time. It always left him with a pang in his gut, like the gripping sensation one gets before leaping down from a great height.
Instinct had told the younger man that the blow should have at least forced the Colonel to back off enough that he would be given the opportunity to escape being corner and subdued by the man. In actuality the soldier only seemed to use it to his advantage, pressing his body closer. The proximity limited the archeologist’s movements even more, making it impossible now to raise his knee or even get his arms between them. As he wriggled for freedom the other grappled his one arm and hooked his knee with his foot. With that one swift and succinct movement, which should not have caught the younger man off guard, he lost. Both bodies fell backward into the hay, falling roughly into the dusty chaff filled stack.
Rough hands were on his skin, running the length of his torso over each of his abdominals up to his peck, fingers stopping to rub, pinch, and massage his nipple, somehow having already pulled the black cotton tee out from his military issued fatigues and belt. Daniel grit his teeth to hold back another swear that was suddenly lost in a gasp of surprise and pain. Teeth nipped the tender skin around his navel as a hot wet tongue delved gingerly into the depression and around his small circumference. The scientist brought his hands to the other man’s lowered head, his fingers finding purchase on the short silvered crop. As he reefed back on the hair, violently bringing the face up and ending the tongue’s ministrations to his middle, his ire was greeted by that infamous mischievous smile that brokered no guilt or remorse.
“Get the fuck off me!” he demanded.
The smirk didn’t waver, even as his knuckles tightened against the other man’s scalp. “But I just started.”
“Dolboeb—!” the fowl curse had no sooner left the scientist’s mouth when his hands freed the other man to half catch a blasting sneeze, which rocked the younger man’s entire frame upwards in the loose straw of the hay stack. He sighed in exasperation. The sound came out of his mouth, muffled by the clogged nasal passages above. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the painful tingle of his irritated sinuses, as he felt the sclera of his eyes grow itchy, both stimulating his tear ducts to water. He complained in a long low contemptible moan, as he felt the other body tense and begin to move off of him.
The older man grumbled something indistinct, which the scientist knew damn well was ignorant and offensive, as he too groaned a complaining sigh. “Dammit, Daniel…”
“Fuck you, Jack.” Daniel mumbled acridly, as he wiped the water from under his itchy eyes with one hand and caught another sneeze with the other.
Like a turtle upended onto its shell the scientist tried to right himself, finding it hard to do in the large heap of hay the two of them had successfully flattened. A hand suddenly grabbed his forearm and he was hauled bodily to his feet, just as he caught a third sneeze. He glowered at his partner that stood beside him, hands on his hips, brows knit together, and his thin lips drawn into a discouraged frown. “Thanks allergies for ruining my fantasy.” The Colonel groused impertinently.
The archeologist felt as though there had been a pail of sand dumped beneath his eye lids and he wiped at the swelling skin under his leaking eyes again. Pushing the glasses back up into place on the bridge of his nose the younger man blinked back the water swimming on his sclera and began to stalk away from the soldier. He heard the man scoff this action in irritation, as though it were unacceptably rude to leave him standing there alone at the scene of his misconduct. From over his shoulder Daniel yelled back the man, “I don’t care why you think you need to fulfill that desire despite the fact that you know damned well it’s never going to happen with me! Allergies don’t just disappear miraculously over night, after a couple of trips through the gate.”
“Aw, c’mon, Danny,” Jack called after him. He could hear the heavy steps the man lopped to catch him up, as he added discourteously, “isn’t there a pill for that?”
“No.”
“Benadryl?”
Daniel stopped and spun on the man, his teeth grit and his finger banging into the soldiers chest, as he threateningly elicited one last argument against the subject, “Notch off ‘roll in the hay’ from your bucket list, because that’s as fucking close as you are going to get.”
There was that damnable smirk, that arousing curl to the corner of the man’s small lips, which pissed the archeologist off even more. Raising his hands submissively, as close to appeasing as the scientist could ever expect the soldier to come, the older man audaciously queried, “C’mon, Daniel, this is important to me. We could always just pump you full of Claritin and do it with your head down.”
“Foci il leat!”
“Speak English please, doctor!”
“Fuck off!” he loosely translated.
~fin~