Fangfic 7

Trusting The Vampire

by DevilKat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/devilkat/fangfic07.php
Summary: This is Daniel's view of what happened in Part 5, plus extras

He's here. He's here. He's...here.

Good grief. I sound like an ad for "Poltergeist". I pause on the stairway, gather my breath up, get a grip. My heart is slamming against my rib cage so hard it actually seems to jerk me forward. My skin feels like it's ablaze, and there's a distinct urge to throw up.

I try to tell myself it's because I'm so angry with him. And I am. Furious. That would account for the flaming skin, the hammering heart.

The overwhelming urge to regurgitate every atom of coffee in my system? I'm very much afraid it's a mix of love, desire, and terror.

It was all so easy, coldly figuring out a game plan at his desk. Mapping out strategy. I won't let him treat me like this. He'll suffer and he'll learn. Love you, Daniel? He'll have to prove it now.

Dozed off in a pile of books and notes. Woke up to...shadow at the window.

Oh, God...Sam said TOMORROW. I had thought this all over calmly, carefully. I'd even thought of punishing him by not being here when he returned. Because by some strange alchemy of knowledge and feeling...I knew he wouldn't return through the Stargate. Even though such an entrance would suit his notion of dramatics well. No, he'd come to me first. Angry or not, I don't doubt that he meant what he said. I can't.

I won't doubt it. It's too much to live for. But I won't let him take it lightly, either.

I didn't fool myself for more than a minute with the idea of leaving, of course.

But I didn't mean to be this unprepared. I'm half undressed, in his shirt and some old levis that are a year too tight so I have to leave the top button UNbuttoned, can't remember where I put my shoes for God's sake, and oh Lord why did I decide to just drag on these pants and forget the underwear? I pull my hair out of the leather tie and frantically rake my fingers through the shoulder-length snarls...Jesus, when IS the last time I combed it? Cut it?

He's gonna yell at me for being unmilitary again. And I've made a mess of his tidy, comfortable house...there's half-emptied coffee cups in every room, jumbled stacks of books, clothes thrown haphazardly just where I climbed out of them in the bedroom. Gonna yell at me for that, too.

I can feel him like a storm in my soul. I can almost hear his thoughts--his very PROFANE thoughts. In the yard. Stomping around and spitting fire about...something. How much vampire is in me, anyway?

How much is in Jack?

There. That's what I need to know; that's what all these tests are really about. To find out if the man I love so desperately is still in there, after all these weeks with that...that...

Oh my God how can I compete with THAT?

"DanielJackson?"

I'd started hustling down the stairs again in the dark and run into a solid wall of Teal'c. He's positioned on the fourth step up like a Jaffa pit bull.

"Teal'c, sorry, I don't have time, I gotta..."

"I found the tape you tried to hide, DanielJackson," he says sternly, not budging an inch. "It was most unlike you to try and conceal it under the sofa cushion. I would rather expect such ineptitude of Colonel O'Neill."

"Um, well, that's interesting, really, but I don't have time to talk about videos now, I've got to..."

"Fortunately when I sat upon it, it was not damaged." He does the eyebrow lift, the disapproving one he usually saves to give Jack grief. "It gave me a MOST disturbing view of vampires."

"Teal'c." I'm swaying on the stairs. Too much coffee, not enough food...something else. "Please. Don't...get between me and...Jack. Please."

"Vampires seem to be extremely charming individuals who are nonetheless egocentric, murderous and entirely ruthless. I do not recommend that you confront Colonel O'Neill if this is what has become of him."

It's the pain I feel in him--I don't hear it, his voice is stoic as ever, stern, determined to stop me. That's what keeps me from simply knocking him aside. That pain. The hurt we share.

He's afraid Jack is gone, too.

The breath I draw is ragged. "Look, Teal'c. I think...it's still Jack. I need to find out, but I gotta get down there NOW. If I think there's something wrong...I'll yell for help. 'Kay?"

Oh God let him agree because I WILL go through him if he keeps blocking me...yes!

Slowly...very very reluctantly...he moves aside. "I will keep watch." His brief pause is dark and meaningful. "If I grow concerned...I WILL act accordingly."

"You do that, Teal,c. Back me up," I mutter as I dash past him to the kitchen; it's almost startling to realize that I really, really mean it.

I win the toss; I flip the kitchen light on an instant before he does.

And then I focus on him and lose at least a hundred points. This might put me at minus twenty, for all I know.

Oh - My - God. Who told him he could wear black leather?

Not the stiff Hell's Angel stuff; this looks butter-soft, tighter, clinging to his lean wiry body like another skin. A long black coat thrown over all so he's not, ah, totally indecent-slash of crimson at the slightly unzipped throat...

He's frozen in the harsh illumination and he STILL seems to be moving. Like a jungle cat. Like a storm wind is streaming through that shaggy dark silver-streaked hair...woah.

Who told him he could grow hair?

No, I'm not dreaming. Hammond is gonna have a fit.

This isn't military, this is the mane of a pack leader wolf. Dark brown, tipped with silver-grey over all...and one very large, very...obvious...streak of pure white straight down the left side. Which even as I watch he flips back impatiently with a toss of his head. His face...the same rugged, devilish face I've always yearned for, minus many lines of pain and suffering. Doesn't look too shockingly much younger, not like anybody's kid, looks like...like...

Black leather and crimson silk. Dark hair streaked with starlight. Pirates and bikers and punk rockers. Bad boys, dangerous men.

God help me, he looks like every wet dream I never had until now because I was too...busy...to really visualize what I wanted. Well, I knew I wanted Jack, of course.

But...oh, God.

What's before me here is Jack, morphed. Computer enhanced. Become the stuff of fantasy and legend. Now looking like the hero I've sometimes seen him as, those days he wasn't being a total asshole.

I gotta be so careful here. If I even CAN. Because I've never been so turned on in my life.

His eyes are dark flame. Fastened on me as if I'm a really well-cooked steak and he'd really, really like to eat me up.

Thank God for long shirts. And glasses I can hastily tip down my nose so vision is blurred. Thank God for the doorframe I can sag against until I think what to say. While I ruthlessly discard one hundred of the hundred and ten tortures I meant to put him through.

He may get them later. There are things I HAVE to put him through, for both our sakes.

But right now, I really don't know how I'll manage to even get to number three without just falling on the floor, crawling straight up those long legs and all that black leather and just LETTING him devour me. And if I manage to make it to number ten, I'll reward myself by dragging him to bed and screwing him senseless.

He's gotta still be mostly Jack. Gotta. Because I don't WANT to call Teal'c for help here. I wish Teal'c was back at base, or even better back on Chu'lak.

Time to speak...light's been on at least five seconds.

"Hi, there," I say softly, with all the casual indifference I can muster.

"Uh...Daniel," this creature of dark fantasy finally stammers like a...dork.

Oh, yes. Oh so absolutely...yes!

Test over. I win. No...we win.

I'm so happy he's still...my Jack. My irascible, surly, curiously vulnerable Colonel O'Neill.

We've been kissing for a few minutes, an hour, a million years. Soft and slow at first, tender but kinda noisy, lots of smacking, licking and slurping as things grow, get heated. Some snickering...Jack thinks all the sloppy kissing noises are funny, I find the kisses, the noises AND the laughter an incredible turn-on.

When he pins me beneath him and begins to absolutely tongue-fuck me, I also find it an incredible turn-on. I think really if he pulled out a yo-yo and started walking the dog I'd get hard for that, too. Anything you want, Jack. Just ask.

Being Jack, he does. Finally pulls his mouth from mine, in a long series of sinful tongue sucking dissolving to mere hot wet clinging lips, reluctantly pulling free in a series of nips and soft bites.

"Pants, Daniel," he says then softly. "Lose 'em." His eyes are wild and wicked, dark flames above me holding my stunned gaze. Inciting. Exciting. So hot. How long have we been necking on his couch, anyway?

I hear myself draw a ragged breath, though I don't seem to feel it. Can't feel anything except Jack. "C-can't," I manage to whisper.

Dangerous eyes. "Why not?"

"You're on top of me, Jack."

He blinks. "Oh. Uh-huh. So I...am."

He rolls back up to a sitting position on the couch, freeing me. Watches, as I scramble to my feet and fumble with the zipper, almost tearing at it in impatience to be back under his body. Why are these damn levis so tight?

Well, it could be, Dr, Jackson, because the biggest, hottest erection of your life is in there.

Finally I master the zipper, peel my way out of them...ouch...feeling damn clumsy, here...

"Oh, yeah, Danny," Jack says softly. "Strip for me." I hear him swallow harshly. "Show me."

I nearly trip over the damned pants. God, I didn't think I could get any harder. I was wrong. Stop distracting me, Jack...there! I kick them free...one sock goes with them. I start to go for the other one and freeze as he leans forward and strokes my thigh, lightly.

I'm standing here naked...well, except for the sock...and Jack's touching me. Looking me over with dark, suddenly inscrutable eyes. Eyes that seem to blaze a trail of fire over my skin. His hand moves up in a leisurely fashion and wraps around me gently, as if it's something he does every day. Same old, same old. "Huh," he says. "Not cut. Cool."

I can't seem to move, or think, or breathe.

He looks up at me with that devilish grin that's always made me think "pirate" and says softly, squeezing a bit, "NICE superstructure, Dr. Jackson."

"T-thanks," I blurt out like a complete imbecile, and then I make the mistake of looking down and reality slams into me with the force of madness. There's a big, cool hand gripping my cock and it's...it's...Jack's hand.

Oh my God, this is really happening.

I feel myself swell and shudder and then I'm gone, lost, pushing into that strong hand once, twice, making noises like a desperate animal. As if in a dream I watch Jack's startled face turn feral and then a leather-clad arm slides around my thighs, steadying me, one hand on my ass and the other tightening, stroking now in counterpoint to the frenzied clumsiness of my thrusts. Thoughts only chaos, language half-forgotten, I'm a being of liquid fire whose only purpose is to feel, to burn, to...to...oh, God, Jack...please...

He gives me a wicked little squeeze in the middle of a caressing stroke, don't know if it's that or the way he says my name as he does it, but that's it, that's enough, that's everything.

Coming. To him, for him. Exploding into fired night as if saved up for a century, hard and long and shattering, pleasure so mindless, everything that's me disintegrating except for two sounds screaming from my soul maybe out loud TOO loud? don't know don't care yesjackyesjackohyes...

Then from coming I'm going, going down, knees won't work but someone's catching me, got me, lifting me up with a gentle strength I'm safe I'm home oh God yesjack...

My body's still jerking slightly as I slowly come back to myself. Laying half across Jack on the couch. He's stroking my stomach lightly. Feels good.

"Hey, tiger," he says softly. "Okay, there?"

"Uh."

I can feel his body shake as he chuckles at me. So much for my plan of being in control of this situation. I am so busted. I'm crazy for him and he knows it.

I can't seem to care. My thought processes seem drowsy, sticky, melted chocolate. Warm and sweet and slow.

I thought I'd been waiting for Jack for over a year. I was wrong. All my life, I've been waiting for this. For him.

Always wanted to be this, feel this. Passion freed, wanton. Desired and desiring. Nobody to trust, though. Not even Jack for awhile there, and that hurt the most of all. Caught in a dream turning cold, but the wanting can't just be wished away. Pour it all into work, study, knowledge. Slowly losing the sense of wonder as the possibility of sharing myself with anyone turns on me like a dark mirror. I know myself, know if I let go it'll take me like a ravening storm, obliterate me, and no one to refit the shattered pieces, no one to catch me when I free-fall out into...nothing.

Was wrong. So wrong. He caught me after all. With a tenderness to his strength that leaves me shivering with the wonder I thought was dying.

He caught me. I'm caught. I'm...his.

I can't tell him any of this. He's still Jack...thank God for that...but that also means if I soften too much too soon his ego will swell to the point it will probably pop and kill him or something. Or kill us, and that I will not allow.

So I focus, and attempt more speech. "Uh." Dammitall!

"You said that. Twenty-three languages? Sheesh."

"Sorry..." Finally. A real word.

"For cryin' out loud, what are you sorry about?" His glowing eyes stroke me as intimately as a touch; even though his smile is faint, I think I've never seen him look happier, more content. It's his "Danny, You Did Good" look, with something indescribably delicious added. Considering the circumstances, I'm not sure whether to feel proud or foolish. Settle for shy.

Shyly, I flap my hand. "Leather...mess. Sorry." Three words, one a repeat admittedly, but my mouth may catch back up to my brain after all.

He peers down at himself, grins, and looks back at me roguishly. There's so much stuff all over him I can hardly believe I'm responsible. "Jacket never looked better." He sighs. "Pants are a bit of a disaster, too, but from the inside."

I feel myself beginning to blush. "You mean you...er...too."

"Christ, Danny, how could I help it with the show you put on?"

What?...show?!...prick! I'm swarming upright, totally humiliated and half furious with him yet again. He puts one hand flat on my chest, holds me down gently but with such ease I can only wonder at how he let me push him around earlier. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm sorry. Shouldn't tease you. Don't get upset; that was beautiful. You're beautiful." He waits till I'm relaxed on his lap again, then the grin comes back. "A very mistrustful expression there, and a pouty lip too. Love it. C'mon, lighten up, Doctor J. Don't you realize how absolutely flattering that was to an old coot's ego?"

"You're not old!" I snap automatically. "And I didn't even get to watch...you...you know..." I mutter almost to myself.

I don't believe I'm saying these things. Talking about sex with Jack. After, I guess, HAVING sex with Jack...although certainly not the way I'd planned it. In my daydreams, it was always a bit more...well, polished. Smooth. Choreographed. Bedroom, candles, a drawer with lube close to hand. Me inside him finally, driving him crazy, making him come like he's never had it before. Of course being a daydream, he wants this as badly as I do. There's no "Ouch, goddammit!" or "What!? Not up my ass, you don't!!" or "I outrank you; team leader gets the top."

I helplessly start to giggle at my own thoughts; he smiles down at me, looking bemused, but wisely doesn't offer me a penny.

This is much better, in its way. Element of surprise. Didn't expect to be the one going sex-crazed-berserk, from a mere TOUCH, godammit, and with almost no effort on HIS part either. But I'll get revenge. There are still parts of that daydream I'm NOT giving up on, Colonel O'Neill. You WILL pay for the free sex show.

Talking about sex. With Jack. It feels...comfortable. Well...at this point, no reason why it shouldn't; nothing like ejaculating all over a guy to break the ice between you. I decide to press my luck. "Are you sure you came? I didn't see it happen."

"Am I sure I...!! Duh! Daniel, believe it or not, there ARE some things I have a clue about." He's starting to shake again, trying to repress the snorts of laughter and failing. "Tell you what, next time it's YOUR turn to watch. Only fair. Take a snapshot if you want. Verify those suspicions.""

"You just seem so...cheerful." I'm enjoying myself; making him laugh is fun. Another form of torture.

He's absolutely whooping now, and the leather which felt so good before is beginning to stick to me. But I don't feel like moving...just yet.

He finally gets control of himself and says almost matter-of-factly, "Well, I don't know about you archeologists, but I personally get pretty goddamn cheerful after a hot, sizzling sexual experience."

"I had a hot, sizzling sexual experience," I tell him grandly. "You came in your pants. Maybe." This is...really, really...fun.

The appalled look on his face is so over-done I start to snicker. "I am shocked and amazed at the mouth on you, Daniel," he pontificates.

I smile at him sweetly. "Not yet, you're not."

HIS mouth drops open a little and he stares at me. I stare right back, then lower my eyelashes a bit and give him The Look. The one I figured out a few months ago, after a bit of trial and error, that always made him look like someone snuck up behind him and hit him with a brick.

For a moment I think I have him; the dark eyes glaze over just right, and the fingers of one hand stroke through my hair almost reverently. Then the eyes narrow a bit and focus, and a slight smile tugs at his mouth. "You blow me away, Dr. Jackson," he says quietly.

"If you think I'm going to touch THAT line you must be crazy," I say as primly as possible.

His smile fades. He stares at me for so long, so expressionlessly, I begin to panic, to wonder what I said wrong, to wonder if he's mad at me for teasing him.

"Daniel," he almost whispers. "Good God, I love you so much."

Oh. The look on his face. Not expressionless now.

If I start crying in front of Jack I'll just have to kill myself, because then he'll KNOW.

He'll know I was lying when I said I wasn't helpless. Helplessly, hopelessly...

I rear up and grab him, slipping my fingers into that shaggy, silver-spiked dark hair and pulling his face into my throat until I can master the look that I know is spreading all over MY face. It's easier to keep my voice from shaking when he's not looking right at me with eyes so tenderly fierce, tempting me to just drown and give up everything all at once and forever.

"I love you, too." My voice is carefully just affectionate enough, and rubbing my face in his hair gets rid of the tears that have managed to escape. "But this leather is gonna weld to me permanently if you don't get rid of it soon; think of what General Hammond would make of THAT."

He snorts, burrows into my neck, begins to nuzzle and lick and nip softly. Shivers ripple through me. A dark tension low in my body informs me I'm getting hard again way too soon after such a mind-sucking first effort. It's a real act of heroism on my part to continue the bantering tone. "Anyway, it can hardly be called...uh...fair...that you're still fully clothed and I'm laying here like a slut all stuck to your...your...uh, Jack?"

From lazy licks and sensuous nips to...nothing. He's frozen suddenly, his lips pressed against my pulse-point but not moving. In fact, clamped tight shut suddenly, against a...movement...behind them that somehow is the extreme vanishing point of dark eroticism.

I've never gotten a full erection from half-way there so fast in my life. "Jack?" My voice is an octave lower than it should be, and shaking.

"No," he says clearly, and pulls back from me.

I grab his arms before he can escape fully, and stare into his face with wonder. His expression is schooled to stone as it happens, but his eyes...oh, his eyes...flame and lust and madness brutally brought to heel.

"Retractable," I whisper. "Makes sense."

"Ya think? Vampire hard-on, Danny. Not always out for public view." His tone is belligerent and mocking, but I know my Jack. Trying to distract me from taking too big an interest.

Fat chance, Colonel.

Not quite as long or dramatic as in the movies, but definitely there, sliding out smoothly to slightly dent the lower lip. The rest of his face doesn't change, except for the...expression. I reach out curiously, then stop. "Jack? Do you mind? I just...it's interesting."

He shrugs. Looks uncomfortable, but it's permission enough.

I touch. Yes, it's real. Hard, silky smooth, solid... "Ouch!"

Pointed. And sharp! I yank my finger back quickly, start to put it in my mouth...

Jack's face. Dead white, focused on the bright jewel of crimson on my fingertip.

Slowly, I bring it to his lips instead, an offering.

"Kiss it better?" I murmur nervously.

"Danny." His eyes lock on mine finally and I gasp at what's in them. His voice is low, almost toneless. "You're playing with fire, here. Back off."

Caught in a dream. A darker one, poison-sweet. Doesn't he understand yet I want everything that's a part of him?

Even this.

"Can't, Jack. Back off. Won't." I swallow, stroke my finger lightly across his lower lip before he can pull away. "Burn me..."

Next: Breathless