First Published: March 21st, 2004
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Word Count: 90kb

Summary: Daniel sets out to open Jack's eyes. It works!

God, this is torture. Nine days and counting... Nine days of boredom, heat, and frustration. Nine days of watching Daniel dig in the sand, sift through endless shards of pottery, and stare at bits of rock like they're the most interesting things in the world. And to Daniel, they probably are.

I feel a bit redundant on this mission. This has to be the most peaceful planet we've ever been on. There are no people, no animals, nothing here for me to protect Daniel against. Still, it's my job to watch his six, so I walk the perimeter at regular intervals and then spend the rest of the time slowly melting under the relentless sun. Still, it's my own fault. After all, I did volunteer for this.

I'm really here to remind Daniel to drink, and to pass him the sunscreen. The guy is clueless to his own discomfort when he gets wrapped up in this dusty stuff. His first and only true love. Archaeology.


He'd made a good case for needing to explore this place, but the team had been on duty for weeks with no leave, and Hammond had refused to let Daniel come by himself. There were no other teams available to act as back up, so I'd volunteered. It was almost worth it just to have seen the look of gratitude and pleasure on Daniel's face.

I shift uncomfortably, stretching my legs out on the sand, taking off my sweat soaked cap to scratch my scalp.

I've decided to give Daniel one more day. One more day of dehydration, sand fleas and boredom, and then I'm going to drag his skinny ass back through the gate. I don't care if he's on the brink of discovering the fountain of youth. There's a limit to how much even I can take.

I glance over to where he's sprawled face down in the sand and lick my parched lips. It isn't skinny. His ass, I mean. It isn't skinny at all. It's actually quite...

I reach into my back pocket and pull out a bandanna, using the soft green cloth to wipe the sweat from my face. I'm under a makeshift awning I constructed from a ground sheet and a twisted tree branch. It isn't the best protection from the heat, but it affords me some shade, and keeps the glaring sun out of my eyes. I don't want to wear my sunglasses all the time. They tend to spoil the view.

I raise my arms for a stretch, twining my hands behind my head, and watch Daniel work. He's lying on his belly, field jacket discarded long ago. He's tied a bandanna around his head to keep the sweat from tricking down his nose, and his black t-shirt has been tugged out of his BDU's. It's ridden up a little at the back, exposing a few inches of skin, which I check out for signs of sunburn. I should really tell Daniel to cover up, but the view is way too nice.

Daniel's skin is something I get to see too rarely, and although I'm not stupid enough to let him risk sunstroke on account of my irrational voyeuristic tendencies, I *am* pathetic enough to lie here and drool over an inch or two of bare flesh!

I clued into my attraction to the man a while back and decided to just ignore it. Figured I'd deal with it later. We've known each other for seven years. Daniel is straight. I take great comfort in that fact, because I'm straight too, so I can occasionally have dirty little fantasies involving my friend, and it's perfectly safe to do so, because nothing can ever come of them. I had decided that it was all perfectly harmless.

I'm not yet ready to deal with it though. Instead I wriggle down in the sand and continue to 'Danny watch'. It should really be made into a national pastime.

Daniel carefully lifts the latest shard of broken pottery from the sand and runs a soft brush over it lightly. That brush reminds me of something my grandfather used for shaving, but much bigger. It looks incredibly soft, and I wonder what it would feel like against my skin. I watch Daniel's long, gentle fingers caress the piece of clay, carefully tracing the pattern barely discernible on its surface. His fingertips touch it lightly, smoothing a path over the glossy surface, and I shiver despite the oppressive heat. Those fingers...

My fantasy life is on intimate terms with Daniel's fingers. More than once, I've jerked awake, drenched in sweat, the memory of what those fingers could do to me dissipating in the cold light of day. I figure the dreams are harmless. Can't do much about them anyway.

I watch in silence for a while longer before deciding that it's far too hot to be getting so flustered. I scrub the bandanna over my face again, and swipe it once over the back of my neck.

"Daniel, time to give it a rest. C'mon, take a break buddy."

As expected, Daniel doesn't even glance up. He answers me with a minute shake of his head, and a mumbled, "I'm fine."

I slip my sunglasses and cap back on and haul ass out from under the canopy, brushing loose grains of sand from my pants as I straighten. Daniel must have caught the movement, because he glances up at me, brows coming together in a slight frown.

I know that look. He's worried that I might come storming over there and grab him. He needn't worry; I learned my lesson well after the last time I went marching right up to him and, allegedly, kicked half a ton of sand over the carefully excavated area that had taken him three hours to clear. An irate Daniel is something I'm prepared to live without.

"Daniel, drink," I bark in my best 'colonel' voice.

He rolls onto his back to look at me, bringing up his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. The t-shirt pulls up even further at the front, and I find my eyes captivated by a tiny trickle of sand rolling over his tight stomach muscles, cascading down his sides, only to disappear into the desert floor again.

Blink, Jack, blink! Fortunately, my face is in silhouette and my eyes are covered in dark shades, so he misses my hungry look.

I bend down and pull Daniel's canteen from his discarded pack and toss it to him. He expertly catches the canteen in mid air and carefully sits up.

"Why do you do that?" he asks, uncapping the canteen and bringing it up to his dry and flaking lips.

I don't answer him. Instead, I watch him drink, watch him tip the canteen up and gulp down the lukewarm water. A trickle escapes and my eyes track its progress over Daniel's chin, and down his contracting throat. I have the strongest desire to go over to him, bend down and lick the droplet of water from that stubble-roughened skin.

Whoa! I don't usually let my fantasies out to play during the day. Must be all the time spent on this god-forsaken planet with nothing to look at but one very hot archaeologist. I'll have to be careful, or he might catch on that I think he's hot in more ways than one.

Daniel smacks his lips together, running his tongue over them to alleviate the dryness. His free hand moves to wipe away the spillage. "Why do you treat me like a kid, Jack?"

I sigh, dropping down onto the sand beside him. "Because you act like one sometimes. Do you even know how long it's been since you last had a drink?"

Reaching into Daniel's pack, I pull out a tube of sunscreen, "And when did you last use this stuff?"

I can't help giving him a smug smile when Daniel reaches around to touch the back of his neck and winces. The bandanna only covers so much. Unscrewing the lid of the cream, I squeeze a little onto my fingers.

Daniel watches silently, a look of defiance beginning to form. "I'm perfectly capable of..."

What the hell makes me do this I will never know, but I raise one finger, beckoning him forward. "Shut up Daniel," I say, softening the words with a small smile. "And c'mere."

He gives me a filthy look, but complies nonetheless, hissing when the cool cream on my fingers makes contact with his burned neck.

I make myself comfortable behind Daniel, one leg stretched out on either side of him, as I carefully work the sunscreen across the reddened area. Every now and then, my fingers ghost their way under the neckline of Daniel's t-shirt, but I'm very careful to keep the touch friendly. As his head falls forward and rolls from side to side, it's difficult to suppress the sigh of contentment that is bubbling up inside me.

I'm not entirely sure when it goes from rubbing in sunscreen to a light massage, but Daniel isn't complaining. In fact, he's almost purring. Hours and hours of poring over minuscule shards of pottery must have played havoc with his muscles. I dig my fingers into the corded tendons and grin at the sharp intake of breath the action elicits.

"God, Jack, that's so good! Yeah, oh yeah, right there... yeah!"

I feel my mouth go completely dry. If I close my eyes for a moment, I can almost imagine that... whoa! Stop right there, Sparky! It's one thing to let my thoughts drift into uncharted territory in the privacy of my own sleeping bag, on a long, lonely night, but I simply cannot afford to risk getting a hard-on with Daniel nestled between my thighs! I would never live it down. And besides, he's been working on his right hook with Teal'c, and I'm very proud of the fact that I still have all my own teeth.

Giving him a couple more light squeezes, I begin to ease back, only to stop suddenly when Daniel leans back against my chest and sighs. He lets his head tilt back until it's resting on my shoulder. What the...?

"Thanks," he says softly, staring out over the sand to a point somewhere on the horizon. Then reverently, "Isn't it beautiful?"

I gaze at Daniel's profile, and then follow his eyes to golden dunes and clear blue skies beyond. "Yeah," I whisper, "absolutely breathtaking." But I'm not seeing the sand dunes rolling out before us; I'm still seeing his face glowing with happiness.

I can feel his smile against my cheek, and wonder what's going on inside his head. I know he's grateful to me for giving him the opportunity to come here, and that deserts always give him a feeling of 'home', but this closeness, this intimacy is so uncharacteristic. Having said that, I'm not exactly pushing him away, am I? In fact, it's all I can do not to put my arms around him and bury my lips at the base of his neck. A shiver runs through me that I hope to God he doesn't feel.

We sit for a while longer, watching the shadows lengthen, then Daniel pushes himself upright again. My chest feels almost cold despite the desert heat. I struggle to my feet, brushing at the ever-present sand, which seems to cling to me. Daniel is doing the same. I pause for a moment to watch my friend swipe long fingers over the seat of his pants.

Daniel turns and smiles. "Well I think I've dug up everything I can. The light's failing anyway, so I suppose we should pack up and head for the camp."

After packing up all of Daniel's gear into our two backpacks, we move out. I take point as usual, my P90 swinging on my chest, attached to its clip.

As we trudge over the dunes in silence, I begin to wonder about the incident earlier. Daniel isn't a big one for touching. He allows me to touch him, but he has never once been the one to reach out before. Granted this time he didn't so much reach out as lean back, but it was still damned odd. And what was with the whole face snuggling thing? Damned odd, and damned nice.

By the time we get back to camp, I'm wearing a genuine frown of confusion. Daniel goes to pack the carefully crated discoveries onto the MALP ready for transportation back through the gate. He turns at the sound of me lighting the fire.

"Are we staying for dinner?" he asks, confusion evident in the tone of his voice.

I add a few more pieces of kindling to the smouldering pile and sit back on my haunches, leaning on the bone white trunk of a long dead, fallen tree. Something odd is happening. I can feel it. If we go back now, back to the real world, back to paperwork and sirens, to rules and regulations, I'm afraid this 'feeling', whatever it is, will be lost. Daniel is happier than I've seen him in months, and I think I helped to put that smile back on his face. I'm enjoying the hell out of this. One more night won't kill us.

"I thought we could leave tomorrow morning," I say, watching his surprised reaction with a measure of pride. It's not often that I can surprise Daniel.

His eyes widen, but he's obviously unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. He treats me to one of those rare smiles, the ones that make me warm inside and out, and turns back to the MALP, digging around in the boxes until he unearths a couple of MRE's.


Jack hasn't taken his eyes off me all through dinner. I'm trying very hard not to get too excited about that. After all, if he hasn't made a move on me by now, it's probably never going to happen.

I scrape the bottom of the food pouch and smack my lips in appreciation. I got used to MRE's a long time ago and now it no longer bothers me that they all taste like chicken. A canteen of water materializes in front of me, and I gratefully accept it, glancing up at my benefactor through lowered lashes.

I often wonder what it would be like to be truly loved by this man. I think he cares for me a great deal, but he has no idea how deeply I care for him. Why would he? I only came to terms with it myself recently.

Turning my back on a lifetime of heterosexuality wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, and it was an uphill struggle all the way, right up to the very end. But after my accident on Kelowna, being doped out of my head on morphine with my insides turning to liquid from radiation poisoning, I guess I saw a few things more clearly. I'd had a Death Bed Epiphany, you might say.

I realized that I was in love with the stupid son of a bitch and I just couldn't tell him. Not there in the infirmary, surrounded by monitors, security cameras, nurses, doctors, friends... and family. I took that knowledge with me into the light, held tight inside my heart as I left him behind to pursue my new destiny. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

The last few months since I came back have been difficult. So many things to remember, so much I have forgotten. But the way I feel about Jack is something I will never forget. I'm sure that if I die a hundred times, my soul will always remember Jack.

I know Jack is also aware of this new depth in our feelings for each other. There have been answering flashes of recognition in his eyes. He hides it quickly, but not quickly enough. Occasionally, when I feel it's safe to do so, I test my convictions, like I did today in the dunes. When I leaned back against his chest, I could feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

It would have been so easy to just...

My mind drifts for a moment, imagining Jack pushing me down in the sand, ripping my shirt off, kissing my chest, my throat, my lips...

Giving myself a mental shake, I gulp down some water, while watching him finish his dinner. I have a rich fantasy life, but recently, those fantasies haven't been enough to sustain me. My feelings for Jack are getting harder to ignore. If it were just about lust, I could probably get by, but I look at him and I ache, not just with longing, but also with despair. I'm afraid I can never have the part of Jack I truly want. His heart.

I watch him wolf down his dinner and force the pain back down. Normally the man can't wait to leap back through the gate, especially when the mission has involved copious amounts of waiting around, sand, rain and/or trees. His boots usually hit the ramp running, and nothing short of a direct order from General Hammond will keep him out of the base showers. Yet tonight he's actually volunteered to stay on the planet for another night when there is no reason to do so.

I uncap the canteen again and take another swig of water. Actually, Jack has been acting weird for a while now. We've been on this planet for nine days, and he hasn't tried to kill me once. In fact, he'd been patience personified, even going out of his way to be nice to me. Something is very wrong.

Recapping the canteen, I swivel around to hand it back to Jack, only to catch him gazing right at me. He jumps a little, obviously startled out of his musings by my movement, his smile being replaced by a look of flushed embarrassment as my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline.

"Okay, Jack. Spill. What's going on inside that head of yours?" I ask nervously, not sure I really want to know.

Jack's eyes fall to inspect his boots. Clearing his throat, he looks up again, meeting my eyes unflinchingly. "Busted! I should learn to keep my sexual fantasies for my down time."

I nearly choke on my own laughter. So that's it! He's been countering the boredom by thinking up new kinks? Somehow it doesn't surprise me. These last few days Jack has been making an awful lot of late night trips to the 'latrine'. He normally takes care of business before hitting the sack and never moves again until dawn.

I would dearly love to know what he's been fantasizing about, and if I figure in any of it. Yeah, dream on, Daniel! I'm trying to paste a serious look on my face, but Jack's grinning now too, making it almost impossible.

"So where were you then? In a harem full of scantily dressed slave girls, or chained to a wall being whipped within an inch of your life by some leather clad dominatrix?" I ask. I try to look innocent, but fail, due to the rather tantalizing image I now have of Jack chained to a dungeon wall, his clothes in tatters, his body covered in sweat.

I've had a bit of a 'thing' for this particular fantasy ever since the business with Shyla and the sarcophagus, when the guards dragged a filthy and manacled Jack O'Neill before me and forced him to his knees. I nearly made a mess all over the inside of that lovely green silk robe I was wearing! Woof!

Jack raises one eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Why, Doctor Jackson, whose sexual fantasies are we discussing here, mine or yours?"

Oh, Jack, you really don't want to know about my sexual fantasies. I doubt our friendship would survive that. I toss the canteen back to him and begin clearing up the detritus of our meal. "Mine aren't very interesting," I hedge, hoping that Jack isn't going to demand details.

"Details," he demands, taking a deep swallow of water without taking his eyes off me. "C'mon, give." He grins at me some more.

I flop down onto the sand beside him and begin poking the dying fire with a stick. Looking up at the stars above our heads, I wonder what Jack would say if I told him the truth; that my fantasies never feature a dominatrix or slave girls, never feature girls at all if I'm totally honest here. Just one very big, strong, sliver haired... Damn! Maybe one day I'll have the guts to tell him.

"Tame stuff." I shrug, tossing the charred stick into the fire. "I'm really just a vanilla sorta guy."

He shifts forward, picking up a stick and taking over my attempt to coax some life back into the campfire. When I don't elaborate, he turns to face me, eyes dark and hooded. "You are one of the most passionate people I know, Daniel," he says softly. "I doubt your fantasy life is any less passionate, even if the subject matter could use some more... imagination."

I can't help glancing sideways at him, squirming under the intensity of those burning eyes, like a moth on a pin. It's a surreal conversation. I'm sitting here talking about sexual fantasies with the man who is the star of most of mine.

Time to change the subject. "Well, thanks... I think," I say dubiously, "and you didn't answer the question."

He stares into the fire and sighs. "I was thinking about that little brush thing you use to clear away sand from your artefacts. It looks very soft..."

"Jack!" I holler in mock horror. "I swear, if any of my kit goes missing, I'll hunt you down like the pervert you are!"

Of course, now I'm imagining trailing the brush over his naked skin, and I think I might be making a late night visit to the latrine myself. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was flirting with me. But I do know better, unfortunately. Jack will never admit he's attracted to me, not even to himself.

He grins and ruffles my hair affectionately. "Before you start throwing out insults like that, remember Daniel – you talk in your sleep." He kicks sand onto the fire, indicating that it's time to hit the sack, throwing over his shoulder as a parting salvo, "Which is how I know you like the feel of satin on your nipples!"

I sit, absolutely speechless, trying to figure out if that was just a lucky guess.


Daniel is finally asleep. I know this, because he's snoring. It isn't a bad sound. He snores softly, endearingly, not like I would expect from a guy with allergies.

I, on the other hand, am very, very awake. I've been staring at the canvas over my head and shifting about uncomfortably for the last hour and a half. Having Daniel in my arms earlier, not to mention all the talk about satin and nipples, has gotten me horny. It's an almost permanent state of being for me these days, to be honest. Now I can't get to sleep for the insistent erection demanding my attention.

The humidity and heat inside the tent are not helping things. It's always like an oven in here, and we've been sleeping practically naked since we arrived. The result is that every night this week I've been waiting for him to fall asleep, then taking off into the dunes to spank the monkey.

Tonight the need is greater than ever. Just as I'm about to unzip the sleeping bag, when Daniel moans. My eyes are drawn to his sweat-drenched torso, and I'm staring at it with a mixture of guilt and longing, when he throws back his head and moans again, achingly. His hand is sliding over his chest and down his stomach, and then it disappears under the thin fabric of the sleeping bag.

He looks like he's in pain, as he writhes on the tent floor barely two feet away from me. I think he's in the throes of a nightmare, and I have no idea what to do. It can be dangerous to wake a guy during a nightmare, but he really does look distressed. I gulp around the lump in my throat. Licking dry lips, I reach out to touch Daniels shoulder, to ease him gently awake, but my hand never makes its target.

He lets out a strangled cry and moans, "Pleeeeease, Jack!"

I snatch my hand back and draw it roughly over my eyes and down over my mouth. I watch his face contort and wonder if, in the dream, he's begging me to help him or if I'm the one causing him pain.

His head lolls, brows drawn together in a frown of intense concentration, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. The moonlight slanting in through the open tent flap makes them glisten invitingly, and there is nothing I want more at that moment than to move over and kiss him.

Then he groans again, throwing back his head "Yes, Jack! Oh God yes... feels so good!"

What!!!? Oh, Jesus, he isn't having a nightmare is he? He's having a wet dream.

Sure, the guy is entitled to that, we all have them, but hell, he cried out my name! *MY* fucking name. My heart is hammering in my ears. I should go. I should just slip out of the tent and let him have his dream in peace. Only one thing wrong with that plan. I can't seem to drag my eyes away from him.

As I watch him, I'm half aroused and half horrified by my inability to move. This is insane! I don't know why I'm still here. His tongue eases out again, licking his lips provocatively, licking away the trickles of sweat that have pooled in the hollow just above his mouth. His breathing rate increases slightly, enough to make his chest rise and fall, and I notice that his lower body is rocking slightly, making tiny little thrusts. Shit, I'm still not moving!

Maybe I just need to see what he looks like when he comes? Could it be that simple? I just need that final piece of the picture for my late night fantasies. I try to swallow, but the tight knot in my throat refuses to go down. I would almost give my soul right now to be the one making him tremble like that.

His mouth falls open allowing tiny panting breaths to escape. His movements become more desperate, more obvious, and I can only stare, wide-eyed, like the sick pervert he accused me of being. Under the thin material of his sleeping bag, I see the outline of Daniel's hand moving up and down, then my eyes snap back up to see the expression of bliss that accompanies the deep throated groan, torn, it seems, from the depths of Daniels soul, as his hand finds the perfect rhythm.

Daniel's head falls back, his body arching upwards into the heat of his own hand, and he groans again. "So good! Oh yeah, Jack, like that... yeah!"

My mouth gapes open in shocked arousal, my own erection seeking out the friction of the sleeping bag. I hadn't even realised that my body was moving until I felt the rasp of the zipper through my boxer shorts, pressing against my cock. I can't stand it. Thrusting my hand into my shorts I clamp my hand tightly round it.

God, this is sick! Am I actually thinking about jerking-off while watching Daniel have a wet dream? No way! I can't do this. I *won't* do it.

Oh, But I *am* doing it!

Closing my eyes as tight as I can, I try to block out the vision of Daniel's slowly writhing body, but I can't shut out the sounds he's making! I have to open my eyes again. I have to see him! Daniel's head is rolling from side to side, and I feel my blood turn to molten lead, burning a trail from my chest right to my groin.

My hand begins moving, falling into the familiar hard tugging motion, but as I watch Daniel's hand slide sensuously up and down, I find myself holding back, slowing, and matching my rhythm to his. It's so fucking erotic. My eyes droop, heavy with passion, fixing on Daniel's arching neck, and I imagine burying my head there, licking, biting, sucking.

His hand moves slowly under the material, long gentle strokes up and down, forcing tiny gasping breaths from his throat. He begins to pick up the pace, and God help me, so do I.

"Jesus, Daniel," I whisper, breath hitching, as my thumb swipes over the head of my cock, on each upstroke.

Daniel shudders beside me, thrusting wildly into his hand now, beyond reason, beyond thought. He gasps, "Oh, God!" And I can tell he's close. So am I. Oh, Christ so am I!

Got. To. Stop. This. NOW!

I drag my hand away and try to think of something else, something very, very un-erotic! Maybourne in a bikini, Kinsey elected President, Teal'c in a tutu, yard work, paperwork, piles and piles of it all over my desk, Daniel writhing on the paperwork, wearing nothing but a look of ecstasy as my mouth slowly sinks down over his...

Whoa - Shit! Think, Jack, think... Maybourne in a bikini, Maybourne in a pink polka-dot bikini!

After what seems like an eternity, I'm finally regaining my control when Daniel cries out and arches up off the floor, thrusting the sleeping bag aside, his thighs trembling with the force of his orgasm.

He jerks sideways towards me as it tears through him, "Oh, J... Jack," he gasps, eyes flying open and locking onto mine. "Oh, God, YEEEEEEEEES!" he screams, coming explosively all over my chest. Under my sleeping bag, I viciously squeeze the base of my cock, or I swear to God, I'd have added to the mess.

My whole body is thrumming with the effort not to come. I look down at my chest and then at Daniel who has curled up into a ball. I don't know what to do. He needs comforting right now but for the life of me, I can't trust myself to touch him.

As always, when faced with a situation that's this far outside my comfort zone, I resort to humor, hoping that we can chalk this one up to the mysteries of the cosmos, and forget about it.

"So. That was interesting," I croak, indicating the sticky mess, glistening on my chest.

Daniel stares at it in horror. "Shit! Was that--?"

"You? Yeah. Gee, thanks!"

"Oh! Oh shit, Jack, I am SO sorry!" He lifts the corner of his sleeping bag and begins dabbing apologetically at my chest without meeting my eyes. I push Daniel's hand away. He's only succeeding in smearing the mess around. I reach into my pack, and after a moment of fumbling pull out a pack of moist tissues.

"Did I... did I say... anything?" he asks nervously, watching me clean up.

Should I risk the truth? What would he say? Even if he *has* been dreaming about me, would he admit it? Or would he die of embarrassment? If this had happened to me, I would have been mortified. And the thing is, it could so easily have been me. I've had more wet dreams starring my friend over the years than I care to count.

He dreamed about *me*. He cried out *MY* name as he came!


This is not good. Daniel isn't supposed to feel the same way I do. Everything has changed, and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. I'm not ready to deal with this yet. So I compromise. A truth followed by a lie. "Actually you shouted out a name several times," I say, noting his almost subliminal wince. He grabs one of the tissues and rolls away to see to his own ablutions. "Oh... whose?" I'm impressed he manages to sound so nonchalant. "I think it was Sha'uri, which would definitely explain this little... incident." I can hear his sigh of relief, even with his back to me. I wad the tissue into a ball and throw it at him. He bats it away in disgust. We settle down to sleep, and within moments, he's gently snoring again. Well that's nice. I'm glad one of us is relaxed enough to sleep.

I take a deep breath and reach for my BDU's because one of us still has a 'little' something to take care of.


Jack looks like shit this morning. He didn't get a hell of a lot of sleep last night. Neither of us did.

My little 'performance' last night has got to be one of the worst ideas I have ever had. It made him uncomfortable. Having said that, I know he found it erotic. Anyone else would have beat a hasty retreat or tried to wake me up. But he just lay there and watched me. Of course I couldn't see his face, I had to keep my eyes closed, but I could hear him just fine. He was gasping for breath, and he whimpered. I distinctly heard a whimper, *and* he said my name.

I didn't intend to take it as far as I did. But knowing that he was watching me was such a turn-on. When I realized that, I couldn't stop, so I pushed the sleeping bag out of the way. Well, I didn't want to sleep in a sticky mess, and in my erotic haze, I forgot how close I was lying to Jack. God, I hadn't meant to... all over his... okay, so that had been a major turn-on, too! I admit it.

I suppose I could have tried to take it even further. I could have pinned him to the ground and kissed the crap out of him. But that would only have earned me a swift kick to the balls. I guess it was stupid of me to believe that he might actually be ready. For a moment, one brief timeless moment, I thought he was going to admit that I'd called out 'his' name. Stupid! He's never going to acknowledge there could be anything more than friendship between us.

I don't know what holds him back. I suppose he has his reasons, but I'm sure they have little to do with the fact that he's military. He has a very highly developed sense of duty, but he also has very little respect for rules and regulations, or at least the ones that he considers to be stupid.

Maybe he's scared that I'll reject him. I haven't exactly encouraged him, even after I began to suspect he would like more than friendship. Oh sure, I flirt with him, test the boundaries occasionally, but I've never stepped over the line. I have my reasons, too, and most of them, I'm ashamed to admit, are based on fear.

I've lost everyone that ever meant a damn to me. It seems that the minute I give my heart to someone, their fate is sealed. Tragedy stalks me like a shadowy predator, waiting to strike when I let my defenses down. I don't want to add Jack to that list of casualties.

It's irrational, but I look at him sometimes, and my insides start to quake with fear. I'm afraid of losing my friend, but I'm even more terrified of losing another lover. My heart couldn't take that again. Or at least that's what I used to think.

Now I know that I'm tired of being alone. I want to share my life, my woes, my hopes, and my fears with another human being again. And oh, God, how I wish it could be with Jack. But if I ever told him how I feel, I feel sure he'd run for the hills.

Then I get a moment of inspiration. Maybe if he thinks us getting together is HIS idea...?


As soon as we set foot on the ramp at the SGC, I can think of nothing I want more than a hot shower and a decent meal, so when Hammond allows us both an hour before debriefing, I waste no time in heading for the gear-up room.

Daniel and I have barely said two words to each other since we woke up, and I want to try to keep it that way. The man has a bad habit of wanting to 'talk' about shit. My philosophy is 'shit happens, so wipe it off and keep on going.'

Carter and Teal'c are already there when we push open the door, Sam smiling widely, T nodding his head respectfully. Don't get me wrong, I'm pleased to see them, but nothing is going to keep me from my date with a bar of soap and a cascade of hot water. Behind me, I hear Daniel's cheerful exclamation as he sees the other half of the team waiting for us.

"God, I missed you guys!" he says, stepping around me to embrace Sam in a warm hug.

Hugging? Since when did he start hugging other members of the team? I'm the only one who gets to hug the archaeologist. Team leader's prerogative. I give Carter a dirty look and throw my jacket in the direction of my closet. I begin unbuckling my belt.

"Yeah, me too," I say, forcing a smile through tight lips. "Daniel is very boring when he finds interesting pottery to commune with." Ha! See, I can do nonchalant, too. I sit down on the bench to remove my boots, tipping half the desert out of them onto the floor.

Daniel throws me a 'look' and begins to divest himself of his clothing too. Sam and Teal'c sit on the bench beside me and listen politely as Daniel babbles on about the significance of his latest finds. Before long, I'm down to my boxers, and much though I'm enjoying watching the other half of my team being bored into a stupor, I have more pressing needs.

"Major Carter, I suggest you either avert your eyes, or leave the room."

She turns and sweeps an assessing look from the top of my head to my toes, making me blush furiously. "Nothing I haven't seen before, sir," she states boldly.

Oh really? Calling her bluff, I hook my thumbs into my waistband. Ha! Now it's her turn to flush as she hastily gets to her feet and makes for the door.

"I'll go get us a table in the commissary." She smiles at me over her shoulder, and I find myself grinning back. God, it's fun to tease them, and despite how much I've enjoyed having Daniel all to myself, I have missed the shit out of the other half of my team too.

Teal'c stands slowly and inclines his head again. "I will accompany Major Carter. I have found that my presence often results in us obtaining the best tables."

Daniel tries and fails to hide a wide grin behind his hand. I don't even try. Snorting rudely, I pull off my shorts, lobbing them at the laundry basket. I pad off to the showers before the door even closes on Carter and Teal'c, leaving a trail of sand in my wake.


I'm glad that the others have gone. The sight of Jack's ass swaying off to the showers has made walking a bit difficult. Still, I manage to get my clothes off and follow him at a sedate pace. The shower block on this level is the largest on the base, with enough showerheads arranged along the walls to service three SG teams at once. But with just about every other team off world at the moment, they are remarkably deserted.

There is one cubicle at the far side of the room that I habitually use. It's not that I'm modest, exactly; it's just that I hate all that childish, macho posturing and horseplay that guys in communal showers seem to love so much.

Jack is already under the nearest showerhead, caterwauling at the top of his lungs and scrubbing shampoo into his hair when I enter the room, wrapped in my favorite blue bathrobe. I pause at the doorway to take in the view.

This is something I have done on more than one occasion over the years. Jack is oblivious to my presence, of course, so I can indulge myself a little. It always amazes me to see how fit he keeps himself. I often work out with Teal'c and Sam, but I rarely see Jack working out.

He prefers sparring and using the punch bag to lifting weights, and it makes perfect sense when I think about it. Jack is a fighter. He needs to hit something to release his pent up tension. Well whatever he does, it certainly works for him. There isn't a spare ounce of flesh anywhere on him. At his age, most men are well on their way to developing a paunch, but his stomach is still flat and tight, maybe softening a little at the sides, but it's no where near middle age spread.

His body is a roadmap of scars and welts. Behind each one, there is a story of courage and fortitude. They are like medals of honor, marking him as a man of bravery and conviction. One day, I'll trace every one of those scars with my fingers, and then with my tongue...

Okay, this is neither the time, nor the place to be fantasizing about my C.O. I take one last long look at the man currently murdering "Bella Note" and decide that for once, I'm going to use the communal showers. Slipping the robe off my shoulders, I hang it on a peg, and step under the showerhead next to him.

"The sand gets everywhere doesn't it?" I ask conversationally, switching on the shower. I turn my back to Jack and then bend down to retrieve his shower gel from the floor. Straightening up, I squeeze some gel into my palm. I know he got an eyeful by the choked little gasp he just made.

I'm throwing him off balance, and although I really should be ashamed of myself, I'm not. I'm having too much damn fun. I know I have to be subtle here. The key word is seduction. It's not something I consider myself particularly adept at, but I am, however, highly motivated. And the beauty of this is, that if I play it right, Jack will think it was all his idea.

My thoughts are interrupted when Jack turns off his shower and beats a hasty retreat. When I join him out by the lockers a moment later, he's tugging his t-shirt on over soaking wet hair in an attempt to get himself covered up before I come in. I don't know how I manage to keep the grin off my face.

I let my robe drop to the floor. Jack makes a strangled sound behind me, as I stand naked in front of my closet, taking my own sweet time deciding on which color of BDU's to wear. Think I'll go with blue today.

I hear him wince as his zipper goes up and turn to give him a smoldering look over one bare shoulder. "You look hungry," I comment. Jack's eyes immediately drop to the floor again, and he coughs with embarrassment.


"Save me a seat?" I ask, well aware that he has completely misinterpreted my last remark, just as I hoped he would. He mumbles something unintelligible and then storms out of the gear-up room, carrying his boots under one arm, and letting the door slam behind him.

Oh boy! This is going to be a lot of fun.


I'm standing here trying to decide if I really want to go into the commissary. Sure I could eat, after nine days of nothing but water and MRE's, who couldn't? But can I face eating while sitting opposite a man I was jerking off with only last night? Okay, maybe Daniel wasn't aware of what I was doing, but *I* know what I was doing, damn it!

My face flushes crimson, just thinking about it, and I divert quickly to the men's room, where I splash cold water on my face. I don't want to think about last night at all, but my brain isn't co-operating. And Daniel isn't exactly helping!

Why the hell did he pick today of all days to lose his inhibitions? When he bent over in front of me in the showers, it was all I could do to make it out of there without tripping over my dick!

I think I could have coped with Daniel's newfound nudist tendencies, if it weren't for what happened last night. He shouted out my name, for cryin' out loud!

God, I wish I knew what that meant.

And how the hell am I supposed to ask him? 'Hey Daniel, how are you today? Nice shoes. Oh, and by the way, last night, did you have a wet dream about me?'

And anyway, even if he did, even if he regularly has erotic fantasies about me, it doesn't mean he wants to make them a reality. Jesus, I dream about him all the time, but like I said, only because nothing can come of it.

Shit - I am still *so* not ready to deal with this.

Grabbing a handful of paper towels, I scrub them over my face, glancing up into the mirror but unable to meet my own eyes. At least I'm returning to my normal color again. Sighing, I throw the towels at the trash, miss completely, and beat feet out of the restroom.

The moment I enter the commissary, I see that Daniel is already seated at our favorite table, head bent close to Carter's, listening to her with a small smile playing on his lips. I take a steadying breath and stride towards them. Can't spend the rest of my career in the men's room.

If Daniel can play it cool, then so can I. Plastering a big grin on my face, I ruffle his hair in a friendly fashion. "So you guys eating or what?" I ask, managing to keep my voice light, despite the shock of discovering that Daniel's freshly washed hair feels absolutely fucking incredible.

Daniel gets slowly to his feet, eyes sparkling with amusement as he sweeps his hand over the others' empty plates. "Seems our team-mates couldn't wait for us, Jack. We must have taken too long in the shower."

I glance down at my watch and swear. We only have fifteen minutes left before the debriefing. That's not nearly long enough to eat the three-course meal I've been fantasizing about for a week. When I look back up, Daniel is already heading for the serving area. I shrug and followed him. I guess a light snack is better than nothing.

Daniel slides his empty tray to the dessert cooler and picks out a carton of natural yogurt and a banana. My eyes widen when I see his choice, and my hand freezes in the act of removing a wedge of apple pie from the shelf.

Daniel leans close and smiles. "You want ice cream with that, Jack?" he asks, voice low and sultry, with a little too much emphasis on the word 'cream' for my comfort.

I'm fucking choking again! Why is it that suddenly every word out of his mouth has a double meaning to me? He's has already handed over his vending card by the time I recover enough brain cells to finish loading up my tray. Once finally seated opposite Daniel at our table, I'm only a little surprised to see that I've bought the biggest load of crap imaginable.

Carter frowns at my selection but wisely keeps her mouth shut. I hand one of the three blue Jell-O's on my tray to her. Might as well make my brain meltdown look like an act of thoughtfulness.

I pick up my spoon, break off a piece of pie, chase it around the plate until it's thoroughly coated with ice cream, and raise it to my open mouth, where my hand freezes, and my eyes bug right out of my head.

Daniel has peeled his banana. Daniel is dipping his banana into his yogurt. Daniel is licking creamy white yogurt from the end of his banana with his eyes closed in pleasure. Oh. My. God!

That's it. I'm dead. I just bought the farm.

All the blood in my body slams into my dick, which seems to be trying to escape my pants to peek over the table and see what all the fuss is about.

My peripheral vision tells me that I'm not the only person at the table captivated by Daniel's erotic, yet innocent little display. Carter's tongue is rolling across the fucking table. Teal'c turns in his seat and regards him soberly as Daniel slowly withdraws the abused fruit from his mouth, takes a tiny little nibble from the tip then plunges it back again.


I cross my legs, stuff my spoon into my mouth, and swallow without chewing, determined that I *am* going to finish my pie even if it kills me.

Daniel withdraws the banana completely from his mouth, dips it into the container of yogurt again, and slowly raises it to his lips.

I just can't take it! I have to say something. "Daniel, quit going down on your banana will ya, some of us are trying to eat here," I croak, stuffing in another spoonful of pie.

His eyes meet mine briefly and then he goes a little cross-eyed trying to squint down his nose at the long white phallic symbol currently rammed firmly into his mouth.

The blush starts as two spots of red on his cheeks, and then rapidly spreads to encompass his whole face as he hastily drops the banana onto the tray. A flustered and embarrassed Daniel is a sight to behold. His eyelashes bat frantically against his flaming cheeks and his mouth makes a little 'o' before he captures his bottom lip with his teeth.

Swallow, Jack, Swallow!

It had crossed my mind that maybe he was doing it on purpose, but judging by the color of his face right now, I'm obviously being paranoid. Daniel hasn't got a clue how I feel about him. I would really like to keep it that way, but if I continue to see double entendres everywhere I go, he's going to figure it out.

Teal'c and Carter must be able to feel the tension, because they beat a very hasty retreat, leaving us alone at the table. Daniel watches them go, throws me a strange look, scrapes back his chair and mumbles an apology as he flees after them. I glower at his retreating back calling to mind all the ways I know how to kill a man with my bare hands.

I poke the forlorn banana with my spoon and shake my head. It's gonna be a few more minutes before I can risk standing up. By the time I've counted to ten, my hard-on has subsided enough for me to make it to the briefing room table just a few seconds before General Hammond enters the room.


I'm trying my best to make this presentation interesting. After all, General Hammond didn't *have* to let me go to P4X 784, and in fact he went out on a limb by allowing me to monopolize one very valuable asset of the SGC (i.e. one crusty Air Force colonel) for nine whole days. So it's important that I make him understand how valuable my findings actually are.

I haven't had time to prepare my usual power point presentation with color coded handouts in matching binders, but the table is strewn with pottery shards and assorted coins and brooches that attest to the fact that 784 was once inhabited by yet another displaced Earth culture.

That's important. This is the farthest out from Earth that we've found evidence of the Goa'uld transplanting humans. I'm on to something here. I know that if I could just take some time to study these artefacts properly...

But of course, that isn't possible. The General likes to give me these little rewards every now and then for being a good little archaeologist, then it's back to first contact, never having enough time, never solving a damned thing.

I sigh and sit down with a thud, tossing my scribbled notes onto the briefing table.

It's over to Jack now for his riveting mission report. I'm expecting his threat assessment of my little desert planet to include the words 'sand' 'hot' and 'more sand'.

It's a formality. Hammond has already decided that there isn't enough here to warrant sending me back for a longer look. Some other archaeologist will get the pleasure of solving the mysteries of 784.

I'm not really bitter. I've come to expect this. Every now and then it rankles, but I do understand how important my expertise is in first contact situations. They don't want me wasting my 'talents' digging in some off-world backwater ditch. Never mind that it's what I enjoy doing best. I get it. I can deal.

To take my mind off my disappointment, I concentrate on phase two of my cunning plan to seduce the pants off Jack. Literally.

I underestimated him when we first met. He puts on this whole dumb-fuck soldier act, but the man has a half a million dollars worth of the best training Uncle Sam can give under his belt. He wouldn't have made it to the rank of full bird colonel if he were stupid. Neither would he have landed his current position as 2IC of a program like Stargate Command, if he were as dense as he pretends to be sometimes.

Like all good tacticians, he has the ability to talk about mundane matters, while thinking three moves ahead. He's doing it right now.

And while he's waffling, I'm doodling. His eyes stray to the images I scribble on the back of my yellow legal pad, and I hide a grin when he blinks in surprise.

The doodle is innocent enough. It's just the stargate, and this is just a torpedo being launched through it. And this? This is just a train going into a tunnel... a fountain... a waterfall... a rosebud... Oh, and this one is a 'still life' of a banana and a couple of apples, although I can see how that one might be misinterpreted.

He's tugging at the neckline of his shirt. What's the matter, Jack, feeling a little... warm?

I lean back in my chair and slip the end of my pen slowly into my mouth. I watch him intently, nodding at all the right bits, making it look as if I agree with whatever he's saying, making it look like I even give a fuck.

Slowly I suck the hapless Papermate deeper, letting it make a bid for freedom, only to suck it back in with even greater force. Just a nervous habit, of course.

I'm a little hard on pens. I tend to chew them while deep in concentration, and this pen is missing the little plastic stopper from the end. I rest in against my lips and make tiny circling motions around the end with my tongue, probing inside a little, all the time nodding, and rolling my eyes at what Jack is saying.

He stutters on the word 'pe-*rim*-eter' and sits down a little too hard, making Hammond raise his eyebrow in surprise. "So in other words, colonel," The General prods, his eyes flying back and forth between us. "That about wraps it up for 784?"

Jack clears his throat several times, shuffling his paperwork, so I take pity and answer for him. "Yes, sir. I think that pretty much says it all. Sand, hot, more sand."

I smile smugly. 'Phase two' has been a resounding success.


I just spent nine days sweating my balls off on some off-world version of the Gobi Desert, so maybe I'm reacting to the six-foot snow drifts that bank either side of the road down from the mountain with a little more venom than necessary. All I know is that on the drive down the mountain, I've sent out more curses than a witch at a christening.

It takes all my concentration to navigate my way down the mountain without taking the sudden drop 'short cut'. By the time I reach the bottom, my arms are aching and my head has started to throb, but at least the road is less treacherous here.

Now that I don't have to concentrate so hard, my mind wanders to recent and somewhat disturbing events. What the fuck am I going to do about Daniel?

First he cries out my name during a wet dream, coming all over me, and then he practically crawls under the same showerhead as me. Then he does all those little phallic doodle thingies, and the pen! God, he gave his fucking pen a blowjob right in front of the general. And the banana – the less said about that, the better!

Everything he does lately seems loaded with sexual innuendo. He HAS to be doing it on purpose. No one is that clueless!

As I continue to think, the wind picks up, throwing big huge clods of snow against the windshield. My wipers have a hard time keeping up with it. The truth hits me broadside like a sledgehammer to my head.

He knows.

Oh fuck, somehow... he KNOWS.

I very carefully pull over onto the side of the road, shove the truck into park, and sit there, banging my head on the steering wheel. The little shit knows that I'm attracted to him, and he's teasing me. Everything he's done has been aimed at getting a reaction out of me. Jesus, some friend you are, Daniel Jackson. Do you have any idea how cruel you're being?

He must know how hard this is for me to accept. I've been in the Air Force for nearly 30 years. It's all I know, all I'm good at, and I'm terrified of losing it. Why is he torturing me? It's so out of character for him to hurt someone on purpose. I can't believe he would do this to me.

Wait! Wait a god dammed minute here. I know Daniel; I KNOW he wouldn't hurt me on purpose. But if he isn't trying to hurt me, what the hell IS he trying to do? My mind does a quick re-evaluation of what I know about Daniel.

He was married, and I've seen him date women, so Daniel *is* straight. But on the other hand...

Mentally I begin to tick off my fingers. He dreamed about me, shouted out my name, came all over my fucking chest, took a shower in the communal area, bent down and wiggled his naked ass at me, went down on his lunch, drew pornographic things on his legal pad, went down on his pen...

Oh God, he isn't straight, is he?

Daniel is trying to run me over with a clue bus. Christ, what the hell am I going to do about this?

It takes me a while to discover that my truck is now totally snowed in. With a sigh, I get out to start digging, using the physical effort to distract me from the battle raging inside my head. And five minutes after that, I give it up as hopeless and start trudging back to the base.


The world outside the complex looks more alien to me right now than many of the planets we've visited over the years. Snow has that effect. It takes landscapes that are familiar, and cloaks them with a mantle of uncertainty. Suddenly landmarks are obscured, distances are uncertain, and trees take on ghoulishly contorted shapes.

As I leave the parking lot, the snow begins to fall even heavier. My headlights are reflecting on the incandescent flakes as the wind drives them into flurries. I think about turning back, spending the night in a VIP room, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling all night. Nope, wanna be in my own bed.

Halfway down the slippery mountain road, my headlights pick out a huddled form, battling against the wind. I touch the brakes carefully and pull up next to the forlorn figure, who straightens, pulling one hand out from under his armpit to shade his eyes from the dazzle of my high beams.


He staggers forward, hauling open the door and throwing himself in along with a blast of frigid air and a flurry of snow.

"T... t... tr uuuuck... got snowed innnnnn," he explains through chattering teeth. I switch the heater on high, watching the snowflakes in his hair melt and drip down his nose. Good grief, he must have been trying to make it back up to the mountain. I reach forward and take his freezing cold hands between mine.

He's an icicle. I'm tempted to blow on his fingers, but the heater will get him warmed up far quicker. His hands are blue and numb as I press them against the vent. "Jack, I think I should turn around, get you to the infirmary. You might have frostbite."

"N... n... nah!" He shivers, his face gaining more color by the minute. "Hadn't been out in it l... l... long enough. Just t... t... take me home."

Trusting his judgement, I don't waste any more time arguing. We pass his truck, and he sighs and gives it a baleful look.

"It'll still be there in the morning, Jack," I soothe, ignoring the venomous look he shoots me. The forecast is for more snow, so we both know that the damned thing will need digging out and maybe even towing. He'll be without his wheels until the roads are cleared in a day or two.

I reach out and pat his knee, giving it a reassuring little squeeze for good measure.

He lapses into morose silence. The blizzard really picks up, and I have to concentrate hard on my driving. When we pull up outside Jack's house, I'm exhausted, shaking with fatigue. He turns in the seat, dislodging a few drops of melted snow, and his eyes seem to bore holes right through my skull.

"You'd better stay here tonight," he murmurs. I can't tell if he likes the idea or not.

What the hell does he think I'm going to do, wait until we're inside, and ravish him up against the wall? Shit! Down boy! I really must try to stop having these strange fantasies about him.

He fishes around in his pocket for his keys, which gives me a moment to get myself back under control. We make a break for his front door, slipping on the unshoveled pathway, and I manage to land in a heap at his feet. He helps me up, his hand coming out to brush away the snow clinging to my trousers, only to freeze half way when his brain finally catches up with his unconscious action. Boy, I really must have him off balance.

He's still shaking so much, I have to take the keys from him and open the door.

Once safely inside the house, I'm not taking any arguments; I drag him into his bathroom and turn the shower on, adjusting the temperature so that it's nice and steamy.

"Clothes off, Jack," I order, trying to use the same tone I've heard him use with raw recruits, but he isn't buying it. He leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest and grins at me.

"Without dinner and a movie first? What kind of a girl do you take me for?"

"One who needs warming up fast," I counter, handing him a towel and leaving him to it.

I know my way around his house. While he showers, I crank up the heat, light the fire in the fireplace for some extra warmth, make a huge pot of coffee and grab a bottle of Irish Malt. He emerges from the bathroom, just as I'm adding the secret ingredient to the hot toddies.

Oh Lord, give me strength! Would it have killed him to get dressed? It would have been the humane thing to do. But no, here he comes, wearing nothing but a very small bath towel and a grin, water still running down his legs, making the rough hair dark and thick. I would gulp, but I suddenly have no spit in my mouth.

He saunters over towards the fire, scrubbing his fingers though damp hair until it stands up on end, and I hand him a mug. He takes it from me, our fingers briefly brushing together and he clears his throat.


The telephone's shrill blare makes us both jump, and I almost scald myself with the hot liquid.

Jack curses and bends down to put the cup on the hearth. His towel slips and I have to squeeze my eyes very tightly shut or risk coming in my pants. He's managed to re-secure the errant terrycloth by the time I feel ready to risk opening one eye.

He somehow manages to get the receiver to his ear upside down, and it's an amusing diversion watching him struggle with the cord.

"General Hammond, yes, sir! You found my truck at the bottom of the mountain? No, I'm just fine. Daniel came by and gave me a lift home. Yes, sir, he's still here with me. All right, I'll tell him. Thank you, sir."

Jack puts the phone down and grins widely. "Apparently the road up to the mountain is now totally impassable. We're on stand-down until the plows can get out, which won't be for some time. Hammond says you've not to risk driving to your place tonight."

"Nice of him to offer your hospitality so freely," I say, taking a small sip from my mug.

Jack bends to pick up his cup again, this time keeping one hand firmly on the towel. "I left some hot water if you want to... you know..." Jack gesticulates vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

I look down at my pants and nod. The ass and most of the left leg are soaked from my earlier tumble in the snow. If I'm staying at Jack's tonight, I have to get these dried off so I can wear them again tomorrow.

But I have to admit that there are other 'reasons' to take him up on the offer. Jack in a towel, me in a towel, whiskey and firelight and a blizzard raging outside? What am I waiting for? I'm heading to the bathroom before he even notices the secret ingredient in our drinks.


I'm still not ready to deal with this. But as I gaze out of the French doors at my snow-covered moonlit yard, I'm willing to at least start *thinking* about it.

Daniel hasn't made any overt moves that make me think he wants a physical relationship with me. He could just be flirting a little; all the incidents could be innocent. I really don't have enough information to be sure about this, but everything I know about Daniel Jackson is telling me that he needs something from me.

And how do I feel about that? Well, maybe it's the strange, almost surreal quality of the night, maybe it's the firelight or maybe it's the 100 proof cup of Joe the sneaky shit just handed me, but God, help me, I want him.

There! I said it! It's still rattling around inside my head, but for the first time, I think I'm facing it.

I take another swallow of the coffee-alcohol mix, gasping as it burns a path down my throat, and let out a deep breath. The window fogs up, obscuring my reflection, but that's okay. I was having trouble meeting my own eyes anyway. I want him. I want Daniel.

I want to...

Jesus, I want to fuck him through the floor and the raw violence of that need scares the shit out of me. Oh it's not the first sexual fantasy I've had about Daniel. Remember, his fingers... intimate acquaintance...

But that's just it. In my dreams, it was always Daniel doing something to me, touching my skin, caressing me with his lips, licking, biting... okay, sucking, there was sucking too.

I never imagined doing anything to HIM. Hey, it's a guy thing, okay? We like to fantasize about being 'serviced'. In my dreams, I'm passive, allowing Daniel to do whatever he wants to me.

But now, standing here in my own living room, wrapped in a towel not much bigger than a postage stamp, I have to admit that I want to screw my best friend into the middle of next week. I want to make him scream my name as he comes, like he did in the tent, but for real this time. I want to make him come so hard he sees stars. I want to bury myself so deep inside him that I no longer know where Jack ends and Daniel begins. I want to make love to him long and slow and hot, all night, on the floor, the couch, my bed and all the areas in between.

And then I want him to do it all to me. I want all of him, body, mind, and soul. I want to spend the rest of my days arguing with him and the rest of my nights making love to him. I want him more than my career, my duty, more than life itself. I want him. I need him. Oh, God, I'm in love with him.

I'm in love with Daniel.

Well, spank my rosy! I guess I'm finally ready to deal with it after all. And yeah, I admit to myself that if he wants to spank me, rosy or any other color, I'll probably go along with that, too.


The water in the shower is beginning to cool down, but I'm still standing under the relentless cascade, lost in thought. I'm having a serious rethink here. My little seduction plan has definitely worked. The look of raw hunger in his eyes as I fled the living room left very little doubt about that.

This was all so much fun when I thought Jack would never clue in, but now he has, and I need to be honest with myself here. I love him, and I want to be with him, but not just for tonight, not just to satisfy his curiosity or mine, not just because I got him horny by flirting with him and teasing him all day. I desperately want this to be about love.

I don't want a quick fuck with Jack. I want nothing less than forever.

It's one thing to discover that a normal red-blooded alpha male like Jack might be willing to overlook a lifetime of heterosexuality for one night of lust with me. But to hope that this could be something deeper, to want promises of commitment and professions of undying love from the man? Never gonna happen.

Oh God, what have I done?

I wish I could turn back the clock, go back to that tent on 784. I wish I'd never tried to change the status quo. No, can't go back, have to go forward, and I sure as hell can't stay in here all night. Eventually, I'm going to have to walk out there and face the monster I've created.

Sighing, I turn off the shower and grope around for a towel with my eyes screwed shut. My hand closes on naked, warm flesh rather than soft terrycloth.

"Jack!" I squawk, jerking my hand away from his chest, still blinded by rivulets of water from my wet hair. "What the hell are you doing?" I protest. His fingers close around my biceps, tugging me out of the shower stall and hard against his body.

"Saving you from turning into a prune," he mutters, his face only inches away from mine. He's still wearing nothing but that itty bitty towel, and I don't think I'm imagining the solidity of the fixed forward armament poking me in the belly.

The moment of truth has arrived.

It's time for us to stop kidding around and face up to the facts. What we decide to do in the next few moments will affect the rest of our lives.

I pull back, reaching behind me for the towel I had left hanging over the sink. He lets go, silent and watchful, waiting to see what I'm going to do next.

"I think we need to talk," I offer, my voice not entirely steady. I'm trying to buy a little time here. I need to know exactly what he wants from me. And what he's ready to give back.

He smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up, dark eyes glittering intensely, and I swear, my knees go weak. I feel claustrophobic all of a sudden. Wrapping my towel around my waist, I push past him, fleeing to the relative safety of the living room.

The only light is coming from the fire, and I gravitate there, feeling the darkness of the room closing in behind me. I feel the warmth of the fire on my skin as I stand, staring at the flickering flames, and then I feel the heat of his body behind mine. I close my eyes.

I can't deny this any longer. Even if this means nothing to Jack, even if this is a once only deal, even if it kills me to accept that, I decide that I have to stop fighting.

His fingers close on my arms, and he's turning me around. I keep my eyes closed, afraid to see what burns behind those dark eyes. Afraid I'll see only lust where I need so badly to see love.

I just keep telling myself, I don't need forever, I just need right now. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes.

"Hey." Deep and gravely, like a mountain stream, his voice caresses my cheek, and I'm coming apart, fighting for breath in the airless space between us. His mouth closes around the tip of my nose. I don't think that's what he was aiming for, but it is quite dark, and we're both nervous. If nothing else, it makes me smile.

He closes the tiny gap between us again, pressing against me, head bowing so that he can kiss my neck, and I'm losing it, giving in to the sensations roiling in my belly. His teeth scrape against my throat, and I feel my entire body surge towards him. He's fucking growling and the sound goes straight to my groin.

But a small part of me remains sane. "Stop!" I croak, pushing him away. "Please."

He's breathing heavily and swearing between panting breaths. "Jesus, Daniel, what'd I do wrong?" he reaches for me, but I back off. "I thought you were okay with this. I want us to make love. Isn't that what you want, too? Did I read your signals wrong? "

Now I'm speechless again. He wants us to 'make love'? Not 'screw the pants off me', not 'nail me to the floor', and not 'fuck me senseless'! This suggests that feelings might be involved here. It suggests that it could be about more than lust for him too. My eyes scan his, searching for answers.

And I find them.

Oh, my God! It's all there, everything he feels, everything he wants, and everything he needs. Love, pure and honest. He loves me.


I finally manage to force down the lump in my throat, and I drag my eyes away from his tortured gaze to settle on his lips. My head moves forward until I can feel his breath against my mouth, until I can almost taste the coffee and whiskey that lingers on his lips and I close my eyes and whisper, "I love you, Jack."

"Thank God!" He breathes. His hands are on my shoulders, squeezing, bruising, branding me, he pulls me tight against him and I can feel him trembling. "Because I love you too," barely a whisper, his mouth closes over mine.

Oh! I've never been kissed like this before. His mouth is so firm and insistent, strong lips, masculine and rough, eating me alive, tasting me like I were the main course at a fancy French restaurant. His tongue traces the contours of my lips, sparking off shivers down my spine until I have to cling to him for support. Then he deepens the kiss, tongue probing between my teeth. I let him in, surrendering completely, giving him access to everything, and he takes it all willingly.

In that one moment, everything changes. It's no longer about what 'might' happen, it's about what 'WILL' happen. But as much as I want to let my body over ride my brain right now, I have to be sure he knows what he's doing, or rather, what he's about to do.

Breaking the kiss, I reach up, cupping his face with both hands. "Jack, have you ever done anything like this before?"

He jerks back, "I know where everything goes," he mutters, staring at a place somewhere on my chest.

That's not exactly an answer. What does that mean exactly? "Jack, I want you to answer me honestly," I say taking a halting half step towards him. His eyes snap up and he's blinking like crazy, one hand reaching for my arm. "Have you ever has anal sex with another man?" I ask him.

His hands freeze, and I can see the indecision in his eyes. "Okay, no. I haven't," he admits reluctantly. He takes a couple of hesitant breaths. "Have you?"

I blink at him, slowly shaking my head.

His eyes widen and darken, I can feel heat rising between us again, the sound of my own heartbeat threatening to deafen me. He's as much a virgin as I am. Oh, my God! I'm going to be Jack's first male lover. And he's going to be mine.

Then another thought occurs.

"How about with a woman then?" I ask, to gauge if anything we are about to do will be familiar to him. Again he shakes his head, and I have to grin. Well what do you know! I have one over on him. And that puts me firmly in the driver's seat.

Slowly and deliberately, I drop my towel to the floor, gulping at the heat that springs up in his eyes. "Well I guess that solves who's gonna be top then?" I smile running my hands up his chest.

"Top?" His eyebrows shoot into his hairline so I elaborate, hooking my fingers through the chain of his dog tags and tugging him closer.

"The 'top' needs to carefully prepare the 'bottom' if you'll forgive my pun, otherwise it hurts like hell." His eyebrows are in danger of climbing right off the top of his head. I think I might be losing him here. "I know how to do it because I had this girlfriend in college who liked me to..."

"Whoa – I don't need the gory details," he interrupts, closing the gap between us, his voice a whisper against my neck as he spreads his hands wide. "Okay, Maestro, what do I do?"

He's shaking.

I'm shaking.

We're both shaking like leaves here. We're actually going to do this. We're going to make love.

I expected to feel terrified, out of my depth, floundering in my ignorance. But I don't. I feel serenity and peace settling all around me like warm blanket. This is the missing part of the puzzle, what's been lacking all these years. He's standing there, waiting patiently for me to wrestle with my demons. Waiting for me to make a choice. So I make it.

"You got lube?"

He smiles back, satisfied with my decision, then his face clouds as he processes what I've actually said. "Lube?"

"Lubricant? We're going to need some."

It doesn't surprise me that Jack has no idea what I'm talking about. I had never heard of Astroglide myself until I'd met Marie-Claire. I know that it's necessary to have lube, but I'm not nearly experienced enough to know what other substances can safely be used to do the job in its absence. I'm starting to wonder about the garlic butter Jack keeps in his fridge when he draws back a little.

"Is it a problem?" he asks uncertainly.

"Well, yeah, actually, it is. Some form of lubricant is necessary, especially if you've never done it before."

I still remember the time with Marie-Claire when we tried to do it without lube. The scream she let out drew campus security from three blocks away, and I was almost arrested for rape until she got her voice back.

I'm about to suggest we wait until we can buy some proper supplies, when he slides off the towel and I get a good look at what I'd be putting on hold.

"Never mind, I'll think of something." I rasp.

Jack's grinning from ear to ear and so obviously at ease that it makes my head spin. "So, how do you want me?" he asks. God, look at him! He's never done this before, and yet he's relaxed, eager, erect. Then it hits me. Trust. He trusts me enough to give this gift to me. Now I'm shaking again but not with the cold. Not with desire either, I'm fucking terrified of messing up!

How do I want him? Anyway I can have him.

"Hands and knees?" I suggest. At least that way he won't be able to see the fear in my eyes. He drops to his knees on the hearthrug, and glances back at me over his shoulder. "Like this?"


I have to grab my dick and squeeze really hard or risk coming right then. Jack is one sexy man. His ass is perfect; firm, round, covered in fine fair hair. I reach out tentatively and touch it. He shivers, and I have to squeeze myself hard again.

Oh God, what now? Foreplay? Would Jack want foreplay? Women - I know! But this is a whole new ball game for me. I lick my lips, thinking desperately.

He has no idea how much this can hurt. He's just kneeling there, on all fours, smiling at me over his shoulder, trusting me to look after him. Oh Lord! Then I remember something that Marie-Claire did to me once which will definitely help with the lubrication issue a little.

"Spread your legs a little more so I can... there, that's it."

Jack obliges, turning his head again to stare straight ahead. His tone is jovial and relaxed and I bend forward. "So, you want to give me some commentary on what you have planned? Or are you just gonna....OoooDANNY!"

I jerk upright. "What?"

Suddenly, he's flat on his belly then rolling onto his side so he can state at me accusingly. "What the HELL was that?"

I can look innocent when I try. "My tongue," I reply.

"You LICKED my ass."

I lower myself onto the floor and nod. Perhaps I should have asked his permission first? But there's really no polite way to ask a friend if he enjoys a good rimming, now is there?

"Yes, Jack. Yes, I did."

"What the hell did you lick my ass for?"

"Trust me, it's quite pleasant once you get into it."

"You licked my ASS!"

So, not quite as relaxed as he would have me think? I can see that it's going to take a while for him to come around to this and quite frankly, my dick won't survive much longer. I need to find somewhere nice and warm to bury it. Oh, fuck! Down, boy!

"Jack! On your knees. NOW!" He looks askance at me but gets onto his knees anyway, scowling at me suspiciously over his shoulder. I very carefully place my hands on his ass cheeks and lean closer. His head snaps back to face the front and I feel him tensing up.

Deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and...

He manages to stay on all fours this time although *I* nearly collapse. I never knew that doing this could be so erotic. I trace a small circle with my tongue just above the cleft of his ass then move downwards, this time using the tip to tease the quivering, star shaped pucker. The musky aroma of arousal pervades my senses, and my moan of pleasure is muffled against his flesh.

"God almighty!" He gasps.

I've lost any doubts I may have had before as I press my tongue inside. God, I'm actually trembling with desire. I lose myself in the tiny noises he makes as I slide in and out, interspersing the probing thrusts with long wet swipes over his balls.

"Jesus!" he cries when I slide a hand down his ass, between his legs and cup his balls, using my thumb to stoke the velvety skin between them. His whole body surges backwards and my nose is crushed against his coccyx.

His hips are rolling against my face now, and he's panting. Oh, Jesus, gotta pull back, or I'm gonna blow right now! His head falls forward onto the rug as I straighten up, but I'm a long way from being finished with him. He's not nearly ready for the main event.

Taking a deep breath, I slide my hand from his balls, trailing my middle finger up the cleft of his ass. This is uncharted territory for me now, and I pray that I can make it at least *look* like I know what I'm doing. Before he can guess what I'm going to do, I push it firmly inside, as far inside as I can get before his muscles clench tight around it.

"Ohsweetgodinheaven!" he howls, sweat dripping off his forehead, the tendons in his neck and arms corded. He's gasping, sucking in great lungfulls of air. "It... burns!" he cries as his eyes bug out of his head. I can't get my finger in any father, but neither can I get it out again.

"Relax, Jack," I plead, giving it an experimental tug. Nope, not going anywhere. He's tightened right up on me.

Jack finally gets his breathing under control and throws me a filthy look over his sweat soaked shoulder.

"Relax? Relax, he says! What the hell is that shoved up my ass, Daniel?"

"Its only my finger." I assure him.

"Only ONE? Are you sure?"

I'm positive I'm doing this right. I use my other hand to rub soothing little circles on Jack's back and feel him relax a fraction.

"Christ, Daniel, I'm not sure I can... OHMYGOD!"

Moving my free hand from his back to his hip, I push forward again as he begins to relax and the result is Jack in 'vertical take off' mode. I wiggle my finger a little and he starts cursing under his breath. Jesus, I don't even know half those words, and I'm a linguist. Then suddenly, Jack slams himself backwards, impaling himself on my finger.

"F...fuck!" he stammers. He's definitely getting into it now. I'm getting into it myself. Slipping another finger inside, I can tell it's going to take more than a little saliva to manage anything bigger. I'm mentally flicking through a very short list of possibilities when he groans loudly.

God, I love that sound. It sends little shivers of pleasure right through my cock. Many more of those groans, and I'll be supplying a whole shitload of natural lubricant all over his ...

Whoa – wait a minute. Why didn't I think of that earlier?

All I have to do is get Jack to come before I do. Easy! I release his hip, sliding my hand round to encircle his cock and he rears up suddenly, his head landing hard on my shoulder.

"Daniel! Warn a guy before you grab his dick will ya?" he gasps thrusting his hips forward, forcing his cock through the tight circle of my fist.

His hands slide over my thighs and around behind us, cupping my buttocks, pulling me closer, and he's screwing his ass against my fingers. I release his cock, trailing my hand up over his stomach, fingertips brushing though the fine hair on his chest, and ghosting over both pebble-hard nipples before returning it to its original perch.

Jesus! I can see our reflections in the French windows. I can see the intensity and wonder written on his face, the joy of discovery, and the intensity of these new and powerful sensations. I can see the movement of my forearm as I work three fingers inside him, my other hand slowly pumping him, wringing out each low moan from his throat. I can see my own cock leaving wet smears all over the small of his back.

God, I need him.

"Do you like blowjobs?" I whisper shakily in his ear. Silly question Daniel. It's amazing how fast the man can move. One minute, I'm plastered against him, the next he's flat on his back with his leg wrapped round my waist and a smile as wide as the Pacific. I take it that was a yes then?

"Just tell me when you're gonna come." I warn, casting a critical eye over the landscape before me.

Okay I can do this, how hard can it be? I must look worried, because Jack is giving me a funny look. It's a cross between embarrassment and pride.

"Problem?" he asks. Bastard! Until five minutes ago, I'd never seen another man's erect cock before. I'd only ever seen my own from above and from that perspective, it didn't seem nearly as impressive as the one waving hopefully at me right now. I'm sure it wasn't this big a moment ago but then again, a moment ago I wasn't contemplating trying to swallow the thing whole! I reach down and wrap my fist round it again.

"Awwwwwww GOD!" He flops back onto the rug, and I try to keep my breathing steady. Okay. It's now or never. I take a brief moment to lick the head, remembering the whole banana and yogurt fiasco, and then I go down on him.


I would never have believed it of myself, but I'm enjoying this as much as Jack appears to be. He has one arm thrown over his face, so I can't see his eyes, but judging by the sounds he's making, we're getting perilously close to the edge here. I have to reach between my legs and give my balls a vicious little tug to stop them beating Jack to the punch.

His back arches, and I can taste him more strongly now, salty and a little bitter, but not too bad. I like it. I like it a lot. More than I like natural yogurt anyway.

"Oh god, stop Danny, stop," he gasps frantically scrabbling at my hair, his body arching even more and I'm almost tempted not to. He tastes so good, and I want more, much more, but I guess we will have to save that pleasure for another day, because I feel his balls spasm, and I jerk backwards just in the nick of time. A ribbon of come shoots upward, missing my cheek by millimeters, then splatters back onto his stomach.

Wow, he's still coming; it's actually very impressive. Writhing around on the ground, shouting out my name, the whole enchilada. I can hardly believe I did that to him. I'm afraid I'm not going to last long. Making love to this man turns me on so much that I have almost no control left. Jesus, look at him. *I* did that to him.

By the time he's finally come down from the ceiling, my cock is so hard I could use it to hammer nails. I'm not sure what the correct etiquette is for collecting the... erm... natural lubricant, so I go for the easy option. I cover his still quivering body with my own, wriggle around in the mess and kiss the shit out of him.

I feel his hot semen coating my dick and it takes every ounce of will I have left not to add to it. It isn't easy, not when Jack even responds to my kiss like it's the most erotic thing that ever happened to him. I can't get enough air into my lungs, my head is spinning, ears ringing. I can't hold back much longer. I really need to come. NOW!

Pulling back I line everything up and hook his legs over my shoulders. I can't seem to drag my eyes from his face. His chocolate brown eyes are totally black with desire and that alone is enough to have me panting like a dog. His eyes are one of his best features, that and his hair.

God, I love his hair. Shaking fingers slide through the silky strands, burrowing deep, clenching tight. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and push forward.

I've seen him tortured, shot, beaten, stabbed and electrocuted but I have never heard him squeal like a pig before. I'm almost expecting security to come for me again. I freeze, looking down to where our bodies are joined. Hardly even an inch, and he's screaming like a bastard. Damn, damn, damn!

Okay, so this is not a good position for a first time. "Breathe, Jack," I instruct tightly. "Breathe through the pain."

I'm just about to pull out, when his eyes find mine again and he takes a deep breath. Suddenly all resistance evaporates and the weight of my own body pushes me deep inside him. It's beyond words, beyond description, beyond anything I have ever felt. I'm inside him. I'm buried to the hilt inside Jack!

"Daaaaaany" a long and breathless moan, but it's a sound of pleasure not pain.

"Jack, Oh God, Jack..."

If I ever had any doubts about his feelings for me, they have long gone. He loves me. He loves me enough to let me do this. He trusts me enough to let me in. I'm a little awestruck by it all, to be honest. We stay absolutely still, neither of us moving so much as a muscle.

I think neither of us can believe it. We're connected now, on all levels. Joined, body and soul. Mated.

"You planning on moving at all?" he mumbles, wiggling his ass provocatively, and I have to smile. Here I am, getting all cosmic, all deep and meaningful, and Jack cuts straight to the chase. So I move. I pull back nice and slow and watch his eyes darken even more. He's quiet, watching me right back.

"Love you," he whispers as I push forward again, and that's all it takes. I'm no longer in control of the vehicle. Slam, slam, slam.


"Yeah, go for it, Danny. Oh, fuck yeah!"

My vision blurs, darkening around the corners, and I experience little tiny sparkling light behind my eyelids. I think I've either passed out or died. Let's face it, neither one is exactly a new sensation to me. Funny, death usually hurts way more than this!


Who'd a thunk it? After all these years, all this time, all the miscommunication and misunderstanding, I'm finally exactly where I've wanted to be. Right here. With Daniel.

God, it took us long enough! Seven years of denial, is that a record? Might have gone on longer too, if Daniel hadn't embarked on his little enlightenment quest. I have to admit, he's got balls! I know I wouldn't have had the guts to take a chance like he did, dropping all those hints, the innuendoes, the double entendres, but then I always knew he was a brave son of a bitch, ever since that first mission to Abydos when he stepped in front of a staff weapon that was aimed at me and got himself killed.

That's Daniel for you, brave and loyal and... mine! I can't believe I have him, and I can't believe how happy having him makes me. I haven't been so much at peace for years. This is what he does for me; this is what he gives back to me. Contentment.

He's sound asleep in my bed, curled behind me like a big cat, his soft breath tickling my neck. I think he might be drooling down my back, but I don't have the strength to move. We made love twice more last night, and I'm so tired I can't even raise my eyebrows this morning, far less anything else.

A sigh escapes me. Only a tiny sound of contentment, but it's enough to rouse him.

"J'k, you 'wake?"

I roll to face him, seeing that his eyes are still closed, but other parts of him are waking up rapidly. Damn! I wish I were that young and resilient. He's going to be the death of me, but what a way to go.

"Good morning," I croak, throat still raw from last nights enthusiastic cheerleading. I lean in for a long, slow, sloppy kiss and he just lies there, letting me do whatever I want.

Finally both his eyes crack open. They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul, and as I look into his, I think all those poets might be on to something. I can see all the love, longing, need and desire that he has hidden from me for so long bubbling to the surface. He's open to my scrutiny, laid completely bare. I hope he can see the same things, mirrored in my own eyes.

"You know you're mine now, right?" I ask.

He nods, his face almost solemn, like he's making some kind of sacred vow when he replies. "I do. And you know you belong to me too?" And I see that Daniel *is* making a vow.

I take a deep breath and smile. "For better, for worse," I answer and there isn't an ounce of sarcasm in my voice. I really mean it. We've already seen the worst of each other and yet here we are, still together after all these years. More 'together' than ever in fact.

I'm in for the long haul; we're making a commitment here and even if there can be nothing official, nothing in writing, no ceremony and no fancy words, we've made this vow to each other, and that's enough for me.

We're just starting out on our voyage of discovery, and I have no idea what the future will bring for us. There will be obstacles in our path, I have no doubts about that, but Daniel and I will face them together, and we *will* get by them. I have no doubts about that either. With him beside me, I can face anything.

"I love you, Jack, now and forever," he whispers softly against my cheek.

The world around us fades, until all I can see is the love shining out of those incredible blue eyes. I pull him tight against me and kiss the crap out of him.

"Forever," I echo. That should be just about long enough.



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