Last one...
Aug. 6th, 2006 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mogwai_dofor now anyway. Sequel to Thinking It Through.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but come the revolution they will be mine! Until that day though, I will make no money from this and no harm is meant in any way.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, brief implication of rape
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Notes: Follows soon after Thinking It Through. First person pov.
Summary: Simple things aren't necessarily the easiest things to do.
Baby Steps
Copyright Margaret Turner
21st February 2003
I've spent the entire morning doing not much of anything; I just can't seem to focus. Normally, if I were at my apartment I'd tidy; it's a no-brainer activity, but necessary sometimes much as I might wish otherwise. But Jack keeps his home military neat so there's really nothing for me to do aside from the dishes. I eat the remainder of the Chinese for my lunch and I think the food helped because I have a sudden burst of inspiration with my chicken Kung Po. The afternoon finds me rooting through Jack's freezer. It doesn't even occur to me to get permission first. SG-1 has lived in each others' pockets for years now and our respective homes are practically communal.
After being stuck offworld for three days he doesn't have much in the way of fresh stuff, but like all of us he keeps his freezer stocked for just such occasions. I prefer fresh to frozen vegetables, but they'll do. Assessing what I have to work with, I decide to make a stew using some diced lamb I found. It's perfect for a long, slow cook and while it's doing that, I can bake. Some flatbread rounds should go nicely with it and, depending what else I can find in his cupboards, maybe a pie or some cookies.
In any other relationship doing this might cast me as the little wifey, but it's really not the case here. I'm cooking to distract myself mostly, but also because I want to do something for Jack and I know he likes it - so do I. I spent a fair portion of my life in places where you cooked or you starved and despite Jack's predilection for junk food, he grew up on the homemade stuff and it's comfort food for him. Living the lives we lead, neither of us get much opportunity to indulge, but I don't see why we shouldn't today. Snippets of personal knowledge like that took on grand significance when I realised I was in love with Jack. He doesn't let anyone but me this close.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear he timed it. I'm just pulling the ginger cookies from the oven when I hear Jack return. The bread is done and the stew has been keeping warm for the last ten minutes. I'm pulling bowls and cutlery out as he appears in the kitchen doorway, sniffing appreciatively.
"Hey," he greets and I smile, gesturing to the table.
"It's ready if you're interested," I offer and he nods, gesturing vaguely to indicate he's going to wash up first. I watch him leave and then pull out the stew, scooping large helpings into each bowl. It occurs to me just how domestic this is, but I don't mind; I haven't had a lot of experience with domesticity in my life. Jack seems more settled than he did when he left this morning and I'm glad; I don't really want to make things difficult for him.
I jump when I turn from retrieving the bread to see Jack already seated at the table, I think that Special Ops stealth thing is Jack's payback for my lectures in the briefing room. He grins benignly and despite myself I smile back; he must be feeling better if he's playing his tricks again. He thanks me softly as I hand him the warm bread and I find myself smiling all over again. Is it sad that such little things mean so much to me?
We eat in companionable silence, Jack taking a second helping, so I guess he missed lunch.
"Stay here tonight?" Jack's words catch me off guard. His inflection is odd, uncertain, and I'm not sure if he's asking me if I want to, or he's telling me he wants me to. I guess it makes no difference to my answer.
"In the spare room?"
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes, "If you like."
I take a chance, "With you?"
He looks up and though his expression is serious, his softly-spoken words make my heart light. "I'd like that."
It takes real effort not to scream and jump up and down like those teenage boyband fans on TV. I know Jack's not offering a night of wild passion and to be honest, having got this far I don't really need one. I know how tired he still is and I guess my revelations haven't helped that any, but his acceptance, his willingness, are far more than I ever expected. Besides, I don't want to rush this and fuck it up. There are still so many unknowns for both of us; we're certain of each other, but that's about it. Jack doubts himself and I'm not sure why, but I have faith in him, in us.
*****
I listen to Jack in the shower and try not to think about sex. It's hard in more ways than one. I'm in Jack's bed, surrounded by the scent and feel of him, I'm even wearing a borrowed pair of his shorts. I didn't want to leave the haven of Jack's home and risk losing this fragile extension of our friendship. Stupid probably, since I suspect this will be as solid as our friendship, but I'm not about to chance it yet. I love Jack, I know he loves me. Our friendship is sound, but we're going out on a limb trying to take it further. I don't think either of us can be completely certain until we've done the proverbial deed, though I'm more sure than he is. It's not that the relationship is about sex, it's just the opposite. I want the sex, but I can live without it as long as I'm part of Jack's life. Jack is willing to let me try to prove that sex is right for us, despite the apprehension I see in his eyes. That trust takes my breath away.
I hear the shower stop and a few minutes later Jack enters the room clad only in a pair of shorts, moisture still gleams faintly on his skin in places and it's a struggle not to get hard at the sight. Jack is trusting me with so much more than his life and I'll cut my dick off before I'll betray that trust.
There's no hesitation as he climbs into bed with me and pulls the quilt up over us. I'm a little surprised when he then turns towards me with a smile. I catch the mischievous glint in his eyes just before he leans quickly forward and drops a kiss on my nose.
"'Night Daniel."
And before I've finished processing the unexpected action and marvelling over Jack's continued comfort in my presence, he's already turned over, his breathing slowing in sleep. I lie awake for a while, just watching him before the day's events catch up with me too and I join him in dreams.
*****
I wake to incomprehensible mutterings; I should have known. From past experience it'll be a few days yet before the demons woken by this mission are stuffed back in their boxes. As I did the night before, I shift closer to Jack, trying to reassure him he's safe. Unfortunately it's only as I curl my body around his that I realise my inevitable hard-on is pressing against Jack's buttocks.
Time seems to slow strangely as my brain tells me of the folly of that move even as I see Jack's fist lash out. I don't have time to duck, asleep or not Jack's got the reflexes of a snake - or maybe a mongoose is a better analogy. Thanks to my teammates' patient tutoring I know to roll with the blow, but I'm still going to have a fairly spectacular bruise on my face tomorrow. Despite that though, I'm actually thankful because the solid contact has woken Jack up. His eyes are haunted but coherent as he looks at me for a long moment. Then he's up and gone, the bathroom door closing with finality. I don't take it personally, I know from my own experience that sometimes you just need to be alone to distance yourself from your nightmares.
I lie back and listen to the shower run, waiting for Jack's return and trying not to dwell on the way my jaw aches. I'm sure if it was actually broken I'd be in a lot more pain. I can't pretend I'm not concerned by Jack's reaction, but I have to believe that if Jack's problem is with me he would tell me so.
I hear the bathroom door open and see the light click off, but Jack doesn't come back to bed. I wait another few minutes in case he's just gone for a glass of water, but when silence descends on the house again I can't wait any longer. I grab a t-shirt against the night chill and pad on bare feet in search of Jack.
He hasn't gone far and I find him on the couch, wrapped in the robe I've never seen him wear. He's staring at the unlit fire, but I know his focus is inward. He doesn't react when I move around the couch to sit on the coffee table in front of him, so I know he was aware of my entrance at least, not lost in the past the way I can be.
Jack watches me silently, but I don't know if it's because he won't say anything or he just can't find the words. Knowing Jack I suspect the latter, but I'm not sure how to make it easier for him. I don't know what sort of reassurance he needs right now, that particular talent has always been his.
Strangely the silence becomes more comfortable, not less, and I work my jaw a little trying to alleviate the ache.
Jack winces, "I'm sorry about your face," he murmurs sincerely and I find myself smiling, remembering the response he gave me years ago for the same reason.
"'S'okay, not your fault. I was born with it."
I see the memory of those words in Jack's eyes and he smiles, but it's all too brief.
"I won't blame you if you've changed your mind," he offers softly and I shake my head firmly. I'm not sure where this has come from, but I'm not going to give him any reason to doubt this.
"Never happen," I reply with the same certainty that made me stay on Abydos with Sha're. I think Jack knows me well enough to know this is non-negotiable. He shakes his head, his expression rueful, as if he should have expected as much. Then he reaches out and gently touches my sore jaw.
"You could do so much better, Danny."
I take Jack's hand from my face and clasp it tight between my own, "I don't think so, Jack."
He sits back, his hand still trapped within mine, and his gaze drifts meaningfully to my jaw. "I'm old and I'm scarred Daniel; you're paying too much for damaged goods."
The emphasis is only slight and if I didn't know Jack as well as I do, I would have missed it entirely, but I don't. Long ago cryptic comments, Jack's deliberate choice of words and the sharp recollection of what prompted this midnight tête à tête all suddenly mesh together like they did when I saw Orion in the gate symbols. I feel sick.
Part of me wants to pull Jack into my arms, to hold him, swear to him that it doesn't change a thing for me - a lesson I learned with Sha're. But part of me wants names and faces, or better yet a time machine that actually works so I can go back and kill the bastards before it ever happened.
I see Jack's eyes widen momentarily and I know he read that impulse and finds it hard to believe he could be the cause of it. How can he not know how highly he's valued? Again I have to stamp hard on the urge to just grab him and kiss him fiercely. Now I know what I know, his odd reticence makes far more sense, in fact I'm amazed he's given me so much. I won't repay that by taking anything he doesn't want to give - I know too well how that feels myself.
I squeeze Jack's captured hand as I search for the words that will convey what I would prefer to tell him with a kiss. "Jack. I love you - I want you. I can't believe you trust me as much as you do and I would never, ever..." Words fail me as I try to contemplate the magnitude of such a betrayal. I can't voice it, never mind do it. But from the look on Jack's face, he doesn't need the words, he trusts me so much that the unspoken intent is enough.
This time I really have no other means of expressing my feelings adequately and I lean forward, all the time expecting Jack to back away. He doesn't and though this kiss is as chaste as our first, it has to be the most powerful promise I've ever made. To my surprise Jack accepts it as such, responding just enough to let me know he understands even with such awful memories still fresh in his mind.
We split apart and I can see a measure of peace in his eyes. I think if I suggested it, we could both go back to bed and sleep now, but I find I don't want to. For all he's given me I'd give Jack the world if he wanted it and right now I want to do something for him so badly it hurts. I want to thank him, comfort him, but most of all I want to prove to him that I love him no matter what. The desire that comes to mind is a long held fantasy, but I honestly don't know if this is the right time or the right answer. Jack watches me curiously, seeing the thoughts as they cross my face, but unsure what they mean. I guess if I want to know Jack's opinion I'll have to ask.
"I want to do something for you," I propose.
Jack grimaces, "I don't need a pity fuck, Daniel."
The words are harsh, but his tone is merely tired. I know a pity fuck is the last thing he wants or needs right now. I shake my head in denial, "Not pity, Jack. I've wanted to do this for a long time."
I watch his expressions range from doubtful to apprehensive to accepting. I don't expect anticipation, nor do I get it. That understanding is probably the only good thing to come from ever meeting Hathor; I'd always wondered how Jack had known what I needed in the aftermath of that, it's not something that can be understood unless you've been there. Right now, Jack knows I mean what I say, just as I know that his brief nod of acceptance is not just because I want it. I'm not sure what his reason is for accepting, but I'm not going to question it; Jack has a level of self-knowledge I still feel a long way from achieving myself.
The expected nerves are strangely distant even though I've never done this before, a fact I'm sure will be immediately apparent. I kiss him and he lets me, responding but not initiating anything of his own. I don't mind. I trail kisses from his mouth to his throat as I edge forward on my seat. I push the robe open slowly, reverently, and Jack doesn't object as I bare his chest to my mouth. For all my research and my fantasies, it's still strange to have a man's hard chest beneath my lips. I keep things slow and gentle as I lave each nipple in turn; Jack's chest hair fascinates me, but much as I like foreplay and the idea appeals, I know tonight is not the time. I reluctantly abandon this playground and move further south inch by inch. I can't tell if this is doing anything for Jack, his breathing might be a little more rapid but I'm not sure. Unless he says otherwise though, I'll assume his permission still stands.
The belt of the robe is only loosely tied, but I still ease the knot free carefully. Jack is naked beneath the heavy towelling, exposed to my view, and though his cock is not even half erect I'm not dismayed, in some ways I'm actually almost glad. I place tender kisses along the length and then with less apprehension than I expected I draw it into my mouth. Jack's soft gasp is music to my ears and encouraged I begin a gentle suction, exploring the soft flesh with my tongue as much as I can. Reading aside, I don't really know what I'm doing, especially when Jack responds to the stimulation and starts to harden. Much as I would like to, I can't keep his entire length in my mouth and I'm forced to pull back before I choke myself.
Strange as it may seem, none of the things I've read describe what it's actually like to do this for someone. Gating to other planets has nothing on the thrill of discovery here and now. I find the heat and the weight of Jack's cock in my mouth oddly satisfying. The taste is a little strange, but far from unpleasant and the tension I can feel building in his thighs beneath my hands and the soft sound of his rapid breathing make me feel... happy. That I can do this for Jack - that he will let me do this for him.
I redouble my efforts, trying to live up to my reputation as a linguist, using my tongue as much as I can to make up for the fact I can't take as much of him as I would like. I nearly choked myself in my one aborted attempt to deep throat him. I'm so absorbed in trying to make this good for Jack that I'm caught unprepared when I hear a choked gasp and his hips buck briefly as my mouth is filled. I pull up quickly, coughing and spluttering. I think it's probably safe to say I'm not very good at this, but I'm hoping I wasn't so bad that Jack won't let me practise on him.
Jack's breathing settles pretty quickly and despite what it seemed like from my perspective, I don't think he came very hard. I don't take it to heart; there are a lot of reasons why he wouldn't and my total lack of skill at giving head is not going to overcome them. But I did what I set out to do and I hope it helped Jack at least a little, if nothing else it should be easier for him to sleep now. It's not how I imagined our first time would be, but it's better because it's real.
I look up and find myself the focus of a soft smile and affectionate eyes. I don't expect to be pulled into a deep, slow kiss so when it happens I simply close my eyes and savour. When I open them again Jack's eyes radiate a warmth that completely banishes the night chill. Ever so tenderly he brushes my hair back from my face.
"I can't believe you did that. Thank you." Jack's voice is as warm as his eyes and for a moment I just rest against him, aware of all the places our bodies touch, and I bask. Every last unspoken doubt I had about this has been banished. This is right for us, I know it is. And I think Jack knows it too.
FIN
11th March 2003
Comments appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but come the revolution they will be mine! Until that day though, I will make no money from this and no harm is meant in any way.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, brief implication of rape
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Notes: Follows soon after Thinking It Through. First person pov.
Summary: Simple things aren't necessarily the easiest things to do.
Baby Steps
Copyright Margaret Turner
21st February 2003
I've spent the entire morning doing not much of anything; I just can't seem to focus. Normally, if I were at my apartment I'd tidy; it's a no-brainer activity, but necessary sometimes much as I might wish otherwise. But Jack keeps his home military neat so there's really nothing for me to do aside from the dishes. I eat the remainder of the Chinese for my lunch and I think the food helped because I have a sudden burst of inspiration with my chicken Kung Po. The afternoon finds me rooting through Jack's freezer. It doesn't even occur to me to get permission first. SG-1 has lived in each others' pockets for years now and our respective homes are practically communal.
After being stuck offworld for three days he doesn't have much in the way of fresh stuff, but like all of us he keeps his freezer stocked for just such occasions. I prefer fresh to frozen vegetables, but they'll do. Assessing what I have to work with, I decide to make a stew using some diced lamb I found. It's perfect for a long, slow cook and while it's doing that, I can bake. Some flatbread rounds should go nicely with it and, depending what else I can find in his cupboards, maybe a pie or some cookies.
In any other relationship doing this might cast me as the little wifey, but it's really not the case here. I'm cooking to distract myself mostly, but also because I want to do something for Jack and I know he likes it - so do I. I spent a fair portion of my life in places where you cooked or you starved and despite Jack's predilection for junk food, he grew up on the homemade stuff and it's comfort food for him. Living the lives we lead, neither of us get much opportunity to indulge, but I don't see why we shouldn't today. Snippets of personal knowledge like that took on grand significance when I realised I was in love with Jack. He doesn't let anyone but me this close.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear he timed it. I'm just pulling the ginger cookies from the oven when I hear Jack return. The bread is done and the stew has been keeping warm for the last ten minutes. I'm pulling bowls and cutlery out as he appears in the kitchen doorway, sniffing appreciatively.
"Hey," he greets and I smile, gesturing to the table.
"It's ready if you're interested," I offer and he nods, gesturing vaguely to indicate he's going to wash up first. I watch him leave and then pull out the stew, scooping large helpings into each bowl. It occurs to me just how domestic this is, but I don't mind; I haven't had a lot of experience with domesticity in my life. Jack seems more settled than he did when he left this morning and I'm glad; I don't really want to make things difficult for him.
I jump when I turn from retrieving the bread to see Jack already seated at the table, I think that Special Ops stealth thing is Jack's payback for my lectures in the briefing room. He grins benignly and despite myself I smile back; he must be feeling better if he's playing his tricks again. He thanks me softly as I hand him the warm bread and I find myself smiling all over again. Is it sad that such little things mean so much to me?
We eat in companionable silence, Jack taking a second helping, so I guess he missed lunch.
"Stay here tonight?" Jack's words catch me off guard. His inflection is odd, uncertain, and I'm not sure if he's asking me if I want to, or he's telling me he wants me to. I guess it makes no difference to my answer.
"In the spare room?"
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes, "If you like."
I take a chance, "With you?"
He looks up and though his expression is serious, his softly-spoken words make my heart light. "I'd like that."
It takes real effort not to scream and jump up and down like those teenage boyband fans on TV. I know Jack's not offering a night of wild passion and to be honest, having got this far I don't really need one. I know how tired he still is and I guess my revelations haven't helped that any, but his acceptance, his willingness, are far more than I ever expected. Besides, I don't want to rush this and fuck it up. There are still so many unknowns for both of us; we're certain of each other, but that's about it. Jack doubts himself and I'm not sure why, but I have faith in him, in us.
*****
I listen to Jack in the shower and try not to think about sex. It's hard in more ways than one. I'm in Jack's bed, surrounded by the scent and feel of him, I'm even wearing a borrowed pair of his shorts. I didn't want to leave the haven of Jack's home and risk losing this fragile extension of our friendship. Stupid probably, since I suspect this will be as solid as our friendship, but I'm not about to chance it yet. I love Jack, I know he loves me. Our friendship is sound, but we're going out on a limb trying to take it further. I don't think either of us can be completely certain until we've done the proverbial deed, though I'm more sure than he is. It's not that the relationship is about sex, it's just the opposite. I want the sex, but I can live without it as long as I'm part of Jack's life. Jack is willing to let me try to prove that sex is right for us, despite the apprehension I see in his eyes. That trust takes my breath away.
I hear the shower stop and a few minutes later Jack enters the room clad only in a pair of shorts, moisture still gleams faintly on his skin in places and it's a struggle not to get hard at the sight. Jack is trusting me with so much more than his life and I'll cut my dick off before I'll betray that trust.
There's no hesitation as he climbs into bed with me and pulls the quilt up over us. I'm a little surprised when he then turns towards me with a smile. I catch the mischievous glint in his eyes just before he leans quickly forward and drops a kiss on my nose.
"'Night Daniel."
And before I've finished processing the unexpected action and marvelling over Jack's continued comfort in my presence, he's already turned over, his breathing slowing in sleep. I lie awake for a while, just watching him before the day's events catch up with me too and I join him in dreams.
*****
I wake to incomprehensible mutterings; I should have known. From past experience it'll be a few days yet before the demons woken by this mission are stuffed back in their boxes. As I did the night before, I shift closer to Jack, trying to reassure him he's safe. Unfortunately it's only as I curl my body around his that I realise my inevitable hard-on is pressing against Jack's buttocks.
Time seems to slow strangely as my brain tells me of the folly of that move even as I see Jack's fist lash out. I don't have time to duck, asleep or not Jack's got the reflexes of a snake - or maybe a mongoose is a better analogy. Thanks to my teammates' patient tutoring I know to roll with the blow, but I'm still going to have a fairly spectacular bruise on my face tomorrow. Despite that though, I'm actually thankful because the solid contact has woken Jack up. His eyes are haunted but coherent as he looks at me for a long moment. Then he's up and gone, the bathroom door closing with finality. I don't take it personally, I know from my own experience that sometimes you just need to be alone to distance yourself from your nightmares.
I lie back and listen to the shower run, waiting for Jack's return and trying not to dwell on the way my jaw aches. I'm sure if it was actually broken I'd be in a lot more pain. I can't pretend I'm not concerned by Jack's reaction, but I have to believe that if Jack's problem is with me he would tell me so.
I hear the bathroom door open and see the light click off, but Jack doesn't come back to bed. I wait another few minutes in case he's just gone for a glass of water, but when silence descends on the house again I can't wait any longer. I grab a t-shirt against the night chill and pad on bare feet in search of Jack.
He hasn't gone far and I find him on the couch, wrapped in the robe I've never seen him wear. He's staring at the unlit fire, but I know his focus is inward. He doesn't react when I move around the couch to sit on the coffee table in front of him, so I know he was aware of my entrance at least, not lost in the past the way I can be.
Jack watches me silently, but I don't know if it's because he won't say anything or he just can't find the words. Knowing Jack I suspect the latter, but I'm not sure how to make it easier for him. I don't know what sort of reassurance he needs right now, that particular talent has always been his.
Strangely the silence becomes more comfortable, not less, and I work my jaw a little trying to alleviate the ache.
Jack winces, "I'm sorry about your face," he murmurs sincerely and I find myself smiling, remembering the response he gave me years ago for the same reason.
"'S'okay, not your fault. I was born with it."
I see the memory of those words in Jack's eyes and he smiles, but it's all too brief.
"I won't blame you if you've changed your mind," he offers softly and I shake my head firmly. I'm not sure where this has come from, but I'm not going to give him any reason to doubt this.
"Never happen," I reply with the same certainty that made me stay on Abydos with Sha're. I think Jack knows me well enough to know this is non-negotiable. He shakes his head, his expression rueful, as if he should have expected as much. Then he reaches out and gently touches my sore jaw.
"You could do so much better, Danny."
I take Jack's hand from my face and clasp it tight between my own, "I don't think so, Jack."
He sits back, his hand still trapped within mine, and his gaze drifts meaningfully to my jaw. "I'm old and I'm scarred Daniel; you're paying too much for damaged goods."
The emphasis is only slight and if I didn't know Jack as well as I do, I would have missed it entirely, but I don't. Long ago cryptic comments, Jack's deliberate choice of words and the sharp recollection of what prompted this midnight tête à tête all suddenly mesh together like they did when I saw Orion in the gate symbols. I feel sick.
Part of me wants to pull Jack into my arms, to hold him, swear to him that it doesn't change a thing for me - a lesson I learned with Sha're. But part of me wants names and faces, or better yet a time machine that actually works so I can go back and kill the bastards before it ever happened.
I see Jack's eyes widen momentarily and I know he read that impulse and finds it hard to believe he could be the cause of it. How can he not know how highly he's valued? Again I have to stamp hard on the urge to just grab him and kiss him fiercely. Now I know what I know, his odd reticence makes far more sense, in fact I'm amazed he's given me so much. I won't repay that by taking anything he doesn't want to give - I know too well how that feels myself.
I squeeze Jack's captured hand as I search for the words that will convey what I would prefer to tell him with a kiss. "Jack. I love you - I want you. I can't believe you trust me as much as you do and I would never, ever..." Words fail me as I try to contemplate the magnitude of such a betrayal. I can't voice it, never mind do it. But from the look on Jack's face, he doesn't need the words, he trusts me so much that the unspoken intent is enough.
This time I really have no other means of expressing my feelings adequately and I lean forward, all the time expecting Jack to back away. He doesn't and though this kiss is as chaste as our first, it has to be the most powerful promise I've ever made. To my surprise Jack accepts it as such, responding just enough to let me know he understands even with such awful memories still fresh in his mind.
We split apart and I can see a measure of peace in his eyes. I think if I suggested it, we could both go back to bed and sleep now, but I find I don't want to. For all he's given me I'd give Jack the world if he wanted it and right now I want to do something for him so badly it hurts. I want to thank him, comfort him, but most of all I want to prove to him that I love him no matter what. The desire that comes to mind is a long held fantasy, but I honestly don't know if this is the right time or the right answer. Jack watches me curiously, seeing the thoughts as they cross my face, but unsure what they mean. I guess if I want to know Jack's opinion I'll have to ask.
"I want to do something for you," I propose.
Jack grimaces, "I don't need a pity fuck, Daniel."
The words are harsh, but his tone is merely tired. I know a pity fuck is the last thing he wants or needs right now. I shake my head in denial, "Not pity, Jack. I've wanted to do this for a long time."
I watch his expressions range from doubtful to apprehensive to accepting. I don't expect anticipation, nor do I get it. That understanding is probably the only good thing to come from ever meeting Hathor; I'd always wondered how Jack had known what I needed in the aftermath of that, it's not something that can be understood unless you've been there. Right now, Jack knows I mean what I say, just as I know that his brief nod of acceptance is not just because I want it. I'm not sure what his reason is for accepting, but I'm not going to question it; Jack has a level of self-knowledge I still feel a long way from achieving myself.
The expected nerves are strangely distant even though I've never done this before, a fact I'm sure will be immediately apparent. I kiss him and he lets me, responding but not initiating anything of his own. I don't mind. I trail kisses from his mouth to his throat as I edge forward on my seat. I push the robe open slowly, reverently, and Jack doesn't object as I bare his chest to my mouth. For all my research and my fantasies, it's still strange to have a man's hard chest beneath my lips. I keep things slow and gentle as I lave each nipple in turn; Jack's chest hair fascinates me, but much as I like foreplay and the idea appeals, I know tonight is not the time. I reluctantly abandon this playground and move further south inch by inch. I can't tell if this is doing anything for Jack, his breathing might be a little more rapid but I'm not sure. Unless he says otherwise though, I'll assume his permission still stands.
The belt of the robe is only loosely tied, but I still ease the knot free carefully. Jack is naked beneath the heavy towelling, exposed to my view, and though his cock is not even half erect I'm not dismayed, in some ways I'm actually almost glad. I place tender kisses along the length and then with less apprehension than I expected I draw it into my mouth. Jack's soft gasp is music to my ears and encouraged I begin a gentle suction, exploring the soft flesh with my tongue as much as I can. Reading aside, I don't really know what I'm doing, especially when Jack responds to the stimulation and starts to harden. Much as I would like to, I can't keep his entire length in my mouth and I'm forced to pull back before I choke myself.
Strange as it may seem, none of the things I've read describe what it's actually like to do this for someone. Gating to other planets has nothing on the thrill of discovery here and now. I find the heat and the weight of Jack's cock in my mouth oddly satisfying. The taste is a little strange, but far from unpleasant and the tension I can feel building in his thighs beneath my hands and the soft sound of his rapid breathing make me feel... happy. That I can do this for Jack - that he will let me do this for him.
I redouble my efforts, trying to live up to my reputation as a linguist, using my tongue as much as I can to make up for the fact I can't take as much of him as I would like. I nearly choked myself in my one aborted attempt to deep throat him. I'm so absorbed in trying to make this good for Jack that I'm caught unprepared when I hear a choked gasp and his hips buck briefly as my mouth is filled. I pull up quickly, coughing and spluttering. I think it's probably safe to say I'm not very good at this, but I'm hoping I wasn't so bad that Jack won't let me practise on him.
Jack's breathing settles pretty quickly and despite what it seemed like from my perspective, I don't think he came very hard. I don't take it to heart; there are a lot of reasons why he wouldn't and my total lack of skill at giving head is not going to overcome them. But I did what I set out to do and I hope it helped Jack at least a little, if nothing else it should be easier for him to sleep now. It's not how I imagined our first time would be, but it's better because it's real.
I look up and find myself the focus of a soft smile and affectionate eyes. I don't expect to be pulled into a deep, slow kiss so when it happens I simply close my eyes and savour. When I open them again Jack's eyes radiate a warmth that completely banishes the night chill. Ever so tenderly he brushes my hair back from my face.
"I can't believe you did that. Thank you." Jack's voice is as warm as his eyes and for a moment I just rest against him, aware of all the places our bodies touch, and I bask. Every last unspoken doubt I had about this has been banished. This is right for us, I know it is. And I think Jack knows it too.
FIN
11th March 2003
Comments appreciated.
