Work Text:
"No," Jack said. "Absolutely no fucking way."
"Then we don't get to go back to the gate."
"Do we get to go back to the gate if I mow a path through these fuckers with my way superior firepower?"
"It's been a long day, Jack. I'm just not up for climbing over a whole pile of dead fuckers right now."
"How about just a few fuckers? How about just one or two? How about I just scare the piss out of 'em a little?"
Daniel knew that Jack was only just on this side of kidding. He was frustrated too, and this was an odious place, the people twisted by their gods long ago into a culture of hierarchical abuse. But compared with the alternative, this was mild as milk. "They won't talk to me anymore, Jack. Diplomacy has failed and force is unethical. We have a fairly simple way out. We should just take it."
Jack rubbed the back of his head, swept the hand down hard, and swore profusely. "I'll do you, then."
"They won't accept that. You're the obvious commander. You do me and they won't just keep us here as an unfathomable curiosity, they'll bury us here." Daniel forced his voice lower. "It's just a blowjob. Really not a big deal in the scheme of things." Jack shot him a look, and he said, "Not a life-and-death big deal. Promise me you'll still respect me in the morning, and we'll be square."
"And then what? Teal'c, then Carter? Or would that have to be the other way around?"
Teal'c and Carter were penned up, out of view beyond the crowd, and Daniel had told them a lie about what had to happen here; they hadn't believed it, but at least they couldn't watch, so they'd never be sure. "Technically I should do them too, but they can't process how a woman should rate higher than me in the hierarchy, and they can't figure out where she stands in relation to Teal'c, and they can't work out how to adapt their ritual of submission to ... " He couldn't bring himself to subject Jack to the words 'female ejaculate'. " ... the female anatomy, so they've avoided the whole question by demanding that only the lowest kneel for the highest."
"This is seriously fucked up."
"They think so, too. That's why they want it clarified within the context of what their culture demands."
"Just to let us go. Instead of, you know, just letting us go."
If we can't prove we're gods-fearing people with a clan pecking order that makes sense to them, they're duty bound to exterminate us -- telling Jack that would only get him more worked up, and the crowd of armed warriors around them was a pile of dry brush waiting for a spark. "You really want me to explain it to you? You have an hour to spare?"
"So explain how me putting my dick between your teeth is you showing submission."
"Well, if I bite down, that proves something too, doesn't it. The point is that you have me controlled to the point where you know that I wouldn't dare. And that I'll swallow, which they consider profoundly taboo."
The word 'swallow' seemed to push past some boundary of Jack's. "No," he said, sharply. "There's always another way. Find it."
"Besides the option we already declined, there is one other way, and you don't want to go there."
"It really can't be worse than receiving fellatio from a male civilian under my protection and nominal command."
"It really can. Trust me on this."
Jack shot him another look without quite making eye contact, a glancing blow of frustration and denial. "No way," he said.
"Way. You can fuck me or I can suck you. Bottom line."
"This is not happening."
Daniel's stomach growled, evidence that this was happening: they were out of rations, the local food and water contained poisonous levels of metallic trace elements, they had critical intel to deliver to the SGC but the mountains were blocking their radio signals, they couldn't get back across the gorge to the gate without using the local transports, and they were forbidden to use the transports until they'd proven they weren't the heretical egalitarians their behavior suggested. "Jack, we're out of rations, we can't -- "
"I'm aware of the situation."
"So what is the problem? You get to come. No matter how bad I am at it, it'll still feel good. If we keep arguing, if it looks like I have to talk you into this, the whole thing comes into question. I'm sorry I'm a guy, I'm sorry that's repulsive to you, there's nothing I can do about it, OK? It won't fuck up the fragile detente in our stupendously crappy working relationship unless you let it. Just say yes and open your pants."
"And what the hell do I put on the report?" Jack said, so low that Daniel almost didn't hear him.
"You say I made our chain of command clear to the natives by opening my famously big mouth."
Jack let out a bitter laugh. There was a note of defeat in it. After a long, tense hesitation, he gestured at the ground in front of him, looked away, and moved his fingers to his fly.
Daniel went down to both knees and stared at the ground while Jack unbuttoned. "No hangups here," he said. "OK?"
"If I thought there were," Jack replied, low and hard, "this is not how I'd shoot my way out of here." His head was still turned away. His hips dipped briefly and his elbow cocked out as he reached in for himself. Daniel raised his gaze halfway. His cheeks flamed as Jack left it dangling there. For him, it was just a closer perspective on something he'd seen every day for years. For Jack, it was exposure, maybe even humiliation. He hadn't considered that.
The crowd was silent, but in his peripheral vision he could see them watching intently, and he'd sensed their ... interest, arousal ... from the moment he knelt down. He thought that seeing someone abase himself was what excited them, but he couldn't be sure.
Hands weren't allowed. Less from the necessity to get this over with than from an impulse to cover it, protect it from sun and air and the onlookers' eyes, he leaned forward and lapped Jack's penis up into his mouth.
It swelled immediately -- a lot faster than he expected. Abruptly it was too much to take; he pulled back and saw Jack's hands clenching into fists. He knew he couldn't smell the pheromones, but he could feel his own response to the strong scent. His mouth filled with saliva around the erection filling it, lubricating the shaft.
He hadn't considered tactics or technique. When he was getting head himself, it could take him a long time to come just from the slide of lips, and Jack might be the same. What got him off the fastest was hard sucking right at the crown, but if Jack didn't like it that hard it could backfire. The no-hands rule ruled out jacking him while he tongued the head.
That left deep-throating. Ambitious for a novice, judging from what he'd read. But he'd eaten enough repulsive foreign and alien foods to have pretty good control over his gag reflex. Twenty years ago, a sixteen-year-old college freshman who'd do almost anything to fit in, he'd learned to chug beer without swallowing it -- enough beer that he'd stopped liking the flavor until he started associating it with Jack. And this wasn't repulsive to him. Only a lot bigger than he'd imagined.
Way to go, Jack.
He kept his eyes closed. He drew back and sucked gently on the head, teased with his tongue. Felt a tremor go through Jack. He couldn't tell if it was arousal or disgust, but the penis stayed hard. OK. So far so good.
He breathed deeply, relaxed his throat, and went down.
He heard a click from Jack's throat, a reflexive swallow, maybe sympathetic. It made him need to swallow, as contagious as a yawn, and he worked Jack's glans into the movement of muscle, tried to make it a stimulation, tried to rub the underside with his trapped tongue.
No good. No way this would make him come, if it were him. He was down too far to suck, down too far to swallow. No room to maneuver, no way to know what kind of maneuvering would do it for Jack anyway, and he was trying to control this, and that wasn't going to work.
This was about subordination. This was about submission. This was about yielding.
He yielded. He gave up, gave way, gave in. He ceded all muscle control, melting all the way down through his neck and his shoulders, his hands sliding limp off his thighs, his spine going fluid, and sank forward on his own weight until his nose pressed Jack's fly and the whole hard length of Jack's swollen cock was jammed down into him.
Jack's body jerked as if he'd been punched in the base of the spine, and he shot in silence straight down Daniel's throat.
Daniel didn't fight it. He could go without air for a good forty seconds. He defocused and stayed limp and submissive. Weird, vague concepts swam through layers of his diffused awareness, vessel and receptive and drowning from the inside. When reflux carried a bitter alkalinity up to register as a taste, he started to surface and thought he'd gag after all. He couldn't maintain the trance state. It became an act of will to keep his throat relaxed. Somehow he persevered, and didn't choke.
Jack's cock pulsed strongly, for what felt like a long time. When it stopped, Daniel drew back enough to swallow what he could, and breathe. It got easier as Jack softened, but that took a while. He didn't want to pull off while Jack was still erect; he didn't care what the crowd saw him do, but he wasn't giving them an eyeful of hard-on, and he didn't think Jack could get all that stuffed back in through his fly, so he waited 'til it went down. Then he pulled off, in a slide of firmed lips meant to clean as much as possible off Jack's skin, and swallowed what he hadn't been able to get down with Jack in his mouth. He sat back on his heels, kept his eyes shut while he listened to fabric shift and buttons close. So he wouldn't see Jack's penis dangling there again, wet and limp and vulnerable, even for a moment. So Jack wouldn't see whatever his own eyes would show, while he was still half in a self-induced trance, while he still had the taste of longing on his tongue.
He startled when Jack's hand touched his head. Fingers combed back through his hair, both rough and gentle. The hand was shaking. Surprise opened his eyes, but he couldn't force them above Jack's crotch.
Jack said, "There's a guy coming over."
"He has to check me," Daniel said, thickly.
"He has to what?" Jack's hand shot out, catching the official's hand, bending his wrist. The official grunted at the pain and the insult. Daniel kept his gaze where it was, a reasonable approximation of respectful deference. Jack said, "You put a hand on him and I'll tear this whole arm off."
OK. That was OK. Don't-fuck-with-me, don't-fuck-with-what-belongs-to-me. That was good. But the official did have to check.
As if translating what Jack had just said, Daniel asked the man, in their language, if he should just open wide for the man to have a look. The man said no, and brandished a tool -- basically a wooden tongue depressor, with a spoonlike scoop at one end. Daniel told Jack, "He has to take a swab. Let him do it."
Jack kept hold of the turned hand, but nodded to the official. Daniel turned his face up, opened his mouth. He couldn't keep his eyes from wincing shut as the wood scraped along his palate.
The guy pushed it all the way to the back, and Daniel gagged, and jerked away, and coughed spasmodically, nearly retching. Suddenly the guy was down on his level, forced there with what looked like effortless pressure on his wrist, and Jack was keeping him on his knees and the guy's shriek of startled outrage was only just registering in Daniel's brain.
"Fuck," Daniel choked. "I didn't know -- " He pulled himself together, stopped coughing, asked the official if that was sufficient. The official just looked at him hatefully. Daniel rephrased: his commander wanted to know if that was sufficient. The official looked at the spoon-like thing, turned it over and back -- making a show of it, demonstrating his small temporary power by making them wait -- then finally nodded. "You can let him go, Jack. That's it. We're done." He got up and backed away, stumbling a little. Only then did Jack release the official, who went off to present the evidence to his superiors. Jack stepped around Daniel. His arm came up strong and flat against Daniel's back, steadying him. "I'm OK," Daniel said.
"Yeah, yeah," Jack said. "You have a macro for that or what?"
"I'm just always OK."
"I think Carter peeked."
"She did not."
Jack's arm along his back felt really, really good. Daniel sighed, and stepped to the side. "We can go back now. Let's go back, OK?"
Jack looked at him, hard, for a few seconds, then nodded, and went to liberate Sam and Teal'c.
Daniel swallowed again, rolling the flavor around on his tongue. It tasted the way Jack's fingers had felt in his hair. He wanted to reach for his canteen or a power bar, except the thought made him instantly queasy, and his pack was with Sam and Teal'c. He shook his legs out, trying to make his erection go down. He didn't know if Jack had seen it. There was nowhere to masturbate it away in quick privacy; in the warm season they lived under the sky, sheltered from rain under temporary canopies, and their latrines were open and communal.
Jack came back up beside him with his pack, Sam and Teal'c just behind. Daniel was trying to figure a way to keep his body turned away from them, but Jack did it for him, turning him, lifting the pack onto his shoulders. He kept Daniel beside him, had the others take up the rear as they set off through the red-sea-parting of the gathered natives, following the guide who would bring them to the transport that had stood between them and home. Nobody spoke the whole way back. The guide looked back once, smirked at Daniel's groin, then ducked away from whatever he saw on Jack's face.
So Jack had seen. He didn't know what Jack would make of it.
The freezing dislocation of wormhole transit killed the hard-on. He stumbled when they came out onto the gate ramp. He didn't really listen to what Jack told Hammond, but he got that the debrief had been postponed until the morning -- it was after five in the afternoon, local time -- and that meant he could leave. Jack pounced on some excuse to delay getting changed with the rest of them. Daniel went to the locker room with Sam and Teal'c and changed fast, without showering. Both of them made talky overtures and he shut them both down. He could feel their eyes on him, looking for marks, welts. He thought he was covered there; bruises wouldn't show up for another couple of hours. He didn't want them to think Jack had consented to beat him, but they had to keep suspecting physical domination, not sexual. By tomorrow's briefing he'd come up with something plausible to explain how he kept it verbal.
He didn't run into Jack on his way out. He didn't know why that unsettled him. Jack was the grandmaster of denial, and though he often pretended to a prurient curiosity about his teammates' private lives, he was intensely private himself and happy to leave other people to their own personal denial. But Daniel had expected to have to have the usual stilted, incomprehensible dialogue of half-sentences, "You know this doesn't" and "I know," "You know I'd never" and "Of course." It was weird, the lack of closure he felt owing to the absence of one of those fractured exchanges.
Well, this was a little different from a philosophical argument over someone else's war or heated words forced out by the subsonic cries of a wounded life-form or a confrontation faked for surveillance mics. This one, he thought, they really did have to just forget ever happened.
Sam called him twice, prompting to make sure he didn't want her to come over, or meet somewhere for coffee or a stiff drink. When his doorbell rang two hours later, he swore a blue streak at both of them in three languages. He thought he'd made himself clear. Talking it to death would only make it a thing, and all he wanted in the world right now was for this not to be a thing.
"Daniel," Jack said, leaning against the doorjamb, when Daniel pulled the door open ready to tear somebody a new one.
He blinked a few times. "Of course. It had to be. What was I thinking?"
"I don't know. Maybe Arnold Schwarzenegger?"
Not my type. "Try Morgan Fairchild." She wasn't his type either.
"Yeah, that's the ticket." Jack waited, then said, "OK: Can I come in?"
No, Daniel thought. But there was no point. He cocked his jaw, sighed, stepped back. Said, "Beer? Coffee?" in an aggressive mockery of generous-host voice.
Which Jack ignored. "Whaddya got?" he asked, moving into the living room.
"The same microbrews you didn't like the last time, and some gut-rotting espresso beans."
"Beer's good. Thanks."
Daniel popped a beer, topped off his mug, set the drinks down on the table. He didn't sit down. Jack ignored the implicit lack of invitation and sat on the sofa. Daniel stayed standing. Jack took a long slug of beer, killing a third of it in one shot. Daniel blinked away from the phallic imagery, pissed.
"So," Jack said. "How fucked up are we?"
Daniel's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "As fucked up as you make us by coming over here and pushing it instead of letting it go."
Jack rolled the beer bottle between his palms. His chin went down and his brows went up and he said, mild gaze fixed on the bottle, "Your dick didn't want to let it go."
Daniel blew air through his lips in exasperation just short of disgust. At least Jack had gone right to the point. "So I got hard blowing a guy. I never said I was a hundred percent straight, Jack."
Jack's expression didn't change. His gaze didn't rise from the bottle. He was still giving it a handjob. Daniel shifted uncomfortably. Jack said, "I saw a lot of guys forced to do what you did today. Not all of them were straight. Not one of them got hard."
"Because that wasn't rape!" Daniel gripped his arms tight to keep from slamming the wall. "What do you want, absolution? Confirmation? You want me to give you a hug and say there there don't worry you didn't violate me today? I talked you into it." He blinked, frowned. "Or is this about you feeling violated? It was OK as long as I was taking one for the team but going down on you turned me on and that makes your skin crawl?"
"Are you planning to stop when you hit twenty questions?"
"How many am I up to now?"
"Four or five? Few of those could go either way."
"Apparently so can I. Deal with it, Jack."
Jack looked up and smiled straight at Daniel, shaking his head. "Did they teach you nothing in basic hand-to-hand, Daniel?"
Daniel almost groaned through his teeth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Somebody jumps you, you execute the defense and then you incapacitate. It doesn't matter how you do it, but you follow through, fast and aggressive. Then you run away. When they can't run after you anymore."
Daniel stared at him for a long time. The challenge in the dark eyes. It took him a minute to get what Jack meant, and then he understood. He was supposed to turn it around. Say, Something you want to get off your chest, Jack? Like maybe why you took all of four seconds to pop your cork? Daniel was an academic; he knew from brutal rhetorical tactics. But torquing a lie wasn't in his arsenal. It would only have occurred to him to strike back with the truth.
Carefully, he said, "I think most men get off on getting head. Your heterosexuality is unimpeachable, Jack. A mouth's a mouth, and who knows how long since someone blew you. Right?"
Jack's gaze remained steady even as he turned his head slightly for a pull on his beer. "In this case, not so much."
Daniel swore, irritated almost past endurance. "Not so much what? Not so long since you got head? Not so ... " The penny dropped with a wincing ping. Jack's expression didn't change; he had the grace not to gloat about scoring a point. Daniel sat down slowly, and then said, "So ... you achieved orgasm in record time because I'm male? Or because I'm ... me?"
"You," Jack said.
In a further display of rhetorical brilliance, Daniel said, "Huh."
Jack pulled from his beer again, more deeply, dark gaze unwavering. Swallowed, in a very deliberate double entendre of gesture, then said, "Ergo, my curiosity."
"You ... like me," Daniel said. "And you want to know if I like you back."
Jack rested the beer bottle on his thigh, a time-out from the flirting, or maybe an end on it, now that the real question was on the table. "Do you?"
"Yes," Daniel said. Heart pounding, palms moistening, gaze irresistibly dropping from Jack's face down his body, down to the sprawl of his legs, the hint of package under the crossed seams at the crotch in his Levi's, the long soft bulge above the right thigh that might just be a fold of denim but wasn't ... then rising, over the flat plane of abs, the shadow of chest hair at the V in his shirt, back up to his face. Which had a quiet, neutral expression now, a little tension around the eyes, all the smoky seduction gone, while he watched Daniel check him out.
"'Yes, but'?" Jack said, quietly now.
"Just yes," Daniel said. "Does this mean I get some payback for today?"
"If you don't mind that I have no idea what I'm doing."
"You didn't seem to mind."
"You didn't seem like you didn't know what you were doing."
Daniel walked around the coffee table, took the bottle from Jack and set it aside, then stood between his knees, right up against the couch. "Like this?"
"If you want."
Unable to read anything from Jack's expression but certain that he was bluffing, Daniel made a go-ahead-then gesture towards his fly and dropped his hands to his sides.
Jack reached up and popped the button on his jeans, awkwardly, with both hands, unperturbed by his own awkwardness, calmly persevering over the unfamiliar angle. He turned his right hand to take hold of the metal tab of the zipper, and Daniel covered it with his left hand, abruptly, stopping him.
Jack cocked his head: What?
"I thought I was calling your bluff."
"I wasn't bluffing."
Daniel sighed. "I was."
"So is that a no?"
"I ... don't know." He looked around, trying to get the perspective to judge correctly, as if he'd spy a print on the wall with an ideogram of fellatio in a big red circle with a slash through it, or a book on the shelf with WHAT TO DO WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND ISN'T KIDDING ABOUT GIVING YOU HEAD stamped down the spine. Subtitled ESPECIALLY WHEN YOUR RELATIONSHIP'S BEEN ON THE ROCKS FOR MONTHS. Footnoted, on the half-title page inside, with AND IT'S TOO LATE TO TAKE BACK YOUR ADMISSION THAT YOU HAVE A THING FOR HIM. "This is crazy."
Jack's left hand, which he wasn't holding, knuckled along the length of the erection inside his jeans.
His hips jerked. Heat flooded his groin, his face. "Dammit, Jack."
"Tell me to stop," Jack said, running his knuckles back the other way. Daniel couldn't tell whether it was an order or an offer. The bony pressure felt intensely fucking good and made it hard to think.
"No."
Jack's hand stilled. "No as in no?"
"No as in I won't tell you to stop."
"You don't want me to stop."
"I don't want you to get caught," Daniel growled, before he even knew that was what his problem was, before his head even twisted to check the window blinds. He'd never looked at this place from outside with the lights on inside.
"There's no vantage on that window," Jack said calmly. "Not with an angle this far into the apartment."
Daniel thought about that, then said, "Don't stop."
Jack rubbed with his knuckles, outlining the shape of him through the thick fabric. He spent a lot of time on the head, finding the ridge of the glans, following it around. When he zeroed in on the base of the slit, Daniel felt a wet seep in his briefs.
"Crap," he said softly.
Jack wasn't looking at him. He was looking at what he was running his knuckles over, back and forth. "Hm?" he said, and switched to the pad of his thumb, rubbing and swirling.
"I'm leaking," Daniel said. He was looking down at himself too, arms held a few inches from his sides, as if he'd just noticed that he had a body below the chin. "That never happens."
Jack crooked half a grin up at him. "Can I see?"
Daniel's gaze flicked to his face, and he blinked at the jolt of eye contact. "I'm not ... "
Jack waited, brows raised.
"I'm not cut," Daniel said, uncomfortable with the terminology. "That'll ... gross you out."
"Oh yeah?" Jack said, as if he found the notion of being grossed out intriguing. He knew perfectly well that Daniel was uncircumcised. He'd seen Daniel naked every day for years, too. He looked back at Daniel's crotch, and rubbed a little. "'Cause I've never gotten to play with a foreskin before. Being deprived and all."
Daniel frowned a little -- struggling, because Jack's thumb was rubbing again and because hearing the word 'foreskin' come out of Jack's mouth made him a little dizzy. "Do you want this, Jack? Really? Or is this some kind of a dare thing that I'm totally not getting?"
"No dare," Jack said. "I want this. You want this? Or all the stalling's more than just nerves?"
"Jack, you're offering to suck my dick."
"Actually I'm offering to play with your foreskin for a while and then probably suck the head of your dick, because there's no way I can do what you did to me. But yeah. So?"
Flailing, almost voiceless with arousal, Daniel said, "So ... go ahead."
Jack unzipped his fly and spread his jeans and pushed them down to mid-thigh, and they dropped around Daniel's knees, new and stiff enough not to pool at his ankles. Then he slid his fingers under the elastic of Daniel's briefs and pulled the front out to clear the erection as he pulled them down far enough to drop after the jeans. Daniel winced as his dick bounced free and hung heavily.
Jack looked fascinated. He took the base in his left hand and ran his right fingers lightly over the shaft and the head, then closed his fingertips just below the glans and gave an experimental pull. The bunched foreskin ran up over the lip and closed partway.
"Sweet," Jack murmured.
Daniel said, "Oh, god."
"Feels good?" Jack said, running the foreskin back and forth, finding the limits of play in it.
"You could say that," Daniel managed. Jack's touch in itself was a wonder, fingers smoother than he'd imagined, not as callused, and they were -- jesus, they were Jack's fingers -- but the exploratory curiosity in them was possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever felt.
"You feel it underneath, or all over?"
"Both. All over. It's ... nnngh, fuck."
"It's good when that stretches."
"Frenulum," Daniel said. "It's very good."
"I'm developing some serious foreskin envy here."
"Yours is ... smooth," Daniel said, "sweet," and thought, I sound like I'm stoned.
Jack didn't seem to notice the drugged incoherence. He had his whole hand around the shaft now and was working the foreskin all the way up and back at a moderate pace -- watching what he was doing, maybe because it excited him or maybe because he didn't trust himself not to misjudge and pull too far if he didn't watch. "You liked having it in your mouth?"
"Inasmuch ... as I could ... appreciate ... under the ... circ -- um -- nnnngggh -- "
Jack slowed his hand. "You close?"
Daniel needed a couple of breaths before he could form words again. "Yeah."
Jack palmed the foreskin back and eyed the head. "How bad does it taste?"
"Everyone's different. You don't -- "
"I'm going to swallow, I just want some idea."
"Not that bad. I think it might take some getting used to. Seriously, there's Kleenex on the -- "
"You like hard sucking, or that turns you off?"
God. Oh my god. "Hard," Daniel said, more a whispery, pleading moan than a word.
"You got it," Jack said softly, and closed his mouth around the head of Daniel's penis.
Jack didn't seem like he didn't know what he was doing. He sucked gently, working up spit, teasing and tonguing, getting his lips seated, not quite closing the seal. He shifted from fist to fingers, medium pressure, running the foreskin fluidly back and forth. He increased the suction and the speed at the same time, but he didn't bear down until Daniel groped for his head, groaning out an inarticulate mix of warning and encouragement. Then he pressed with his fingertips and doubled the speed of his strokes, and made a seal, and sucked hard.
Daniel cried out and came in Jack's mouth. No lead-up, no swelling orgasmic surge; an explosive burst. His hips were jerking, somewhere between reflex thrusting and a spasm of electrocution. He didn't want to force himself farther into Jack than Jack could handle, but he'd lost control. Jack's left hand moved to his hipbone, firm and strong, and right in the middle of his orgasm he was flooded with profound gratefulness for that. Jack wasn't defending his throat. Jack was holding him steady.
His hands were light on Jack's head. He hadn't clutched. His eyes hadn't winced shut. He'd been ambushed by ejaculation, too shocked to do anything but come. His mouth was open, too; he thought his whole face had probably bugged out, and he was glad that Jack wasn't looking up at him and thinking how pathetic he looked when he came. Jack's eyes were open but focused inward, on what was happening inside his mouth. His right hand was still jerking lightly. He was easing the seal to swallow, carefully and methodically, but his lips stayed around the glans in a fleshy pout.
He had a penis in his mouth. He had come in his mouth. He looked placidly content about it, even a little entranced. He looked as ruggedly handsome as ever.
"Jack," Daniel gasped, moving his fingers in Jack's hair, petting. "Jack. God. Jack." Jack responded by sliding more mouth around him, gently. A surge of pleasure shook him. Too powerful to be an ordinary aftershudder, but it wasn't just from the slide of Jack's lips. After a second, he identified the source through the overload of images and sensations. Jack was rubbing the underside of his dick with his tongue, viscous and slick -- rubbing come around the sweet spot, then rubbing his tongue into it. Pushing into it -- stretching the frenulum. Playing with the foreskin in his mouth while Daniel's erection gradually subsided.
Jack let out a soft, appreciative moan. It was the first sound he'd made, beyond the noise of sucking and swallowing. It was the way he said "Yeah" when something deeply satisfied him and wasn't over yet. His two-thirds-through-a-great-meal sound. His third-quarter-of-a-great-game sound.
Daniel's shoulders slumped. His hands rested heavily on Jack's head. His knees sagged against the sofa cushion between Jack's legs. His stomach unclenched. All the reflexive resistance of doubt and awe and surprise melted out of his body.
He gave in, completely, to the pleasure Jack was giving him, and the pleasure Jack was taking in it.
Jack moved his right hand to Daniel's other hip, so that he had him by the pelvis in both hands. His fingertips rubbed gentle circles into Daniel's ass, soothing the prickles that orgasm had scattered across his skin. His thumbs seated naturally in the soft hollows of hipbones. He held Daniel strong and steady in his palms, and squeezed, and stroked.
Daniel's sag had lowered his groin. Jack's mouth followed the softening erection down until the angle defied his neck, then let it go with a soft slurp. He raised his head and cocked it a little, regarding the wet, drooping penis.
"You're beautiful, Daniel," he said. His voice was thick, his throat coated with come.
"I'm so not," Daniel mumbled, automatically. His hands fell away from Jack's head, down between them. He almost covered himself, just managed to stop the impulse.
Jack looked up at him with the sweetest smile Daniel had ever seen. "Yeah you are. Trust me on this." His left hand shifted around to support Daniel's ass while his right stroked up under Daniel's shirt to feel his abs. "You have a beautiful body. You have a beautiful face. You look like an angel when you come."
Daniel blinked, his head giving a little shake. "I ... didn't think you could see my face."
"Peripheral vision, baby. It's not just to the sides anymore." He rubbed Daniel's belly gently, then pulled his hands back to himself and offered them palm-up. Daniel took the offer, pushing off Jack's hands, pushing up into his knees to stand. He winced a little as it put his spent package more on display. When Jack leaned in to kiss softly down his shaft while he reached for briefs and pants, the wince smoothed away on a sighing moan he couldn't suppress.
"Beautiful dick, too," Jack said, and snugged Daniel's briefs up over it, then pulled his jeans up high enough for Daniel to reach and finish himself.
Daniel buttoned and zipped and managed to step around and turn to sit beside Jack without crashing onto the coffee table. "Give me a second and I'll -- "
"Nuh-uh."
"You don't even -- "
"Of course I do." Jack slumped back comfortably, legs sprawled, the same position he'd been in before, and ran a hand over the bulge in his pants. "We're the equality guys, remember? If this is it, now we're even. If this can maybe be the start of something, I'd rather save it 'til we both have a full tank."
Daniel's heartbeat sped up and his chest got tight. He looked away, off toward the blinded windows. "There are ... feelings, Jack."
"No shit, Daniel. I wouldn't be here if there weren't feelings."
"We haven't been getting along all that well lately."
"And I think we've discovered the source of that interpersonal friction now, don't you?"
"If we fuck up, we don't get to go through the gate anymore."
"So we don't fuck up." At Daniel's easier-said-than-done headshake, he said, "We can but try."
Daniel made himself glance over. "You're still hard. That still doesn't seem fair."
"I let this one go down, next one'll be twice as good. You don't find that?"
If Jack kept conversationally bonding over male sexual experience and the intriguing differences in their anatomy, the next one was going to come around in record time. It was a kind of buddy flirting that seemed perfectly Jack-like but was the last way in the world Daniel had ever expected to be flirted with. Romanced with unflappable pragmatism and genuine interest and curiosity. He laughed a little -- breathy, still nervous, but letting the mild tension go -- and relaxed back into the sofa beside Jack. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"So is this maybe the start of something?"
He hadn't actually answered Jack, he realized. Protect your head had been one of the first things they taught him how to do in hand-to-hand. He'd been too careful to protect his heart. "I think it started a long time ago. How does 'continuation of something' work for you?"
"It works for me," Jack said.
The subtle relief underneath his light tone was more powerful than any declaration he could have made.
"So, what now?" Daniel said.
"Big-picture now, or right-now now?"
"Right-now now."
"If it's up to me -- snack, some tube, and bed. Your bed. Both of us."
"You didn't eat?" Daniel said without thinking, then winced and added, "Supper."
Jack smiled. "I grabbed a doughnut and coffee on the way here. What I had since -- I'll tell you, Daniel, it tasted really good. I don't know if that's weird or what. But it's doing a number on my gut."
"At least you laid down a base," Daniel said, a touch vaguely, taking another second to process Jack's candor. It was ... thrilling, and comforting, and as exciting as his overwhelming masculinity, his easygoing charm, his rough edges; it was arousing, and he was pretty sure it would be just as much of a turn-on once it stopped surprising him as it was now. But it was going to take some getting used to.
He marshaled himself. "Come on," he said, and barely refrained from slapping a hand onto Jack's knee to push up -- taken aback, right in the middle of the aborted motion, by how like Jack and unlike him it would be to do that, and how strong his don't-violate-personal-space reflex still was. "All I've got is breakfast food, but the bacon's fresh and there's milk for pancakes."
As he went to step past Jack towards the kitchen, Jack caught him by the wrist of the hand he hadn't put on Jack's knee, and pulled himself up, right into Daniel's space. Daniel thought of him forcing the offworld official to the ground with that hand. That message had been don't fuck with me. This message was the exact opposite. Except, maybe, he hoped, for the what belongs to me part.
Daniel lifted his free hand to Jack's neck, curved it around the base of his skull. "OK," he said, before Jack could say anything.
"OK?"
"I'll try not to do that anymore. Pull back like that when I have an urge to touch you. In private, anyway."
"Yeah?" Jack said, hopefully.
"Follow through," Daniel said softly, figuring Jack would make the connection, and pulled, and leaned, and fit his mouth to Jack's.
Jack's mouth went soft and willing, then tensed against the slide of Daniel's tongue, probably as Jack remembered that he'd recently had a mouthful of semen. Daniel pushed in, gently insistent, probing, exploring, and Jack's eyes slid closed and he moaned softly through his nose and melted around the press of Daniel's tongue. Daniel kissed him for a long time, thoroughly, sucking a little, then teasing and stroking with his tongue tip. It didn't taste half-bad, actually, but Jack's was better. He freed his wrist and reached around to cup Jack's ass -- muscled and yielding and a perfect fit in the curve of his hand -- to pull Jack's groin against his, and Jack moaned again, helplessly, and melted into the press of his body.
Daniel rubbed himself against the rock hardness there, an easygoing, un-urgent thrust that set a sparkly pleasure cascading through his still tender, still sensitized package, and ended the kiss with a gentle press of closed lips so that he could say, "Twice as good, huh?"
Jack's eyes opened slowly. Up close, they were the luminous light brown of tiger's-eye, which struck Daniel as beautifully appropriate -- warm dark-amber quartz shot through with iron. They were smiling. Jack looked happy. "Four times as good, now," he said.
"Hey," Daniel said, "you got the math right."
"Says the soft-sciences guy," Jack replied, returning the thrust. The push of his hard-on into Daniel's yielding groin promised a really, really good continuation later. "Do I have to mow a path to those pancakes with my way superior erection?"
"You get breakfast without a fight," Daniel said, stepping away, turning -- reluctantly, making himself do it, because the destination was this close to shifting from kitchen to bedroom and he didn't want Jack doing anything on a queasy stomach. "But I expect a lot of mowing, after. Plowing, even."
"Not a problem," Jack's voice said, following from a few paces back. "Beautiful ass, too."
Yeah. Definitely going to take some getting used to.