Daniel's Birthday Present

by DevilKat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/devilkat/present.php
Summary: Er, silliness and smut?

Doctor Daniel Jackson gripped the bridge of his nose, and squeezed hard. Relaxed back in his chair...oh, the nice computer chair he had gotten the last time he complained about his aching ass...er, back. Must remember not to lean TOO far back and fall on his butt on the nice plush carpet he had also requested... Would require another requisition; either for a plusher carpet, or a sturdier chair.

His allergies were killing him. He'd forgotten to request an air cleaner. Well, even a genius couldn't think of EVERYTHING.

Shit. There might be a downside to being the fair-haired boy of SG-1.

For one thing, all the damn Marines glared at him on every cafeteria trip. Even though his request for Hawaiian Pizza had NOT come through.

Well, maybe that was why they blamed him. He needed Jack. Jack was on another damn planet. Jack always signed off his...requests. And also took care of the Marine problem. Usually with a gun.

And now it was six days until his birthday, and Jack was offworld, there were still too many Marines left, and someone had sent him...

Oh, God. He couldn't concentrate on the knife and sheathe that they had retrieved from PX4869-whatever. Even though Jack was absolutely frantic for some kind of word from him about whether it could be a weapon against the Gou'ald or not. "Before I go offworld with another team, Daniel, for cryin' out loud!!"

He hadn't been able to finish it in time. Frankly, he hadn't given a damn. He had been stressed, and tired, and...mad at Jack. For being so obtuse. For not realizing, well...lots of important stuff. Like the fact that when Daniel followed him into the showers and helped him soap up his privates it meant something, dammit!

With a kind of jerk, Daniel sat up. He'd been dreaming. That was it. He'd been dreaming about being tired of fighting the Gou'ald and finding a knife and sheathe. Dreaming about soaping up Jack...no, wait, that was a dream? Aw fuck!! no wonder Jack hadn't known what he was mad about! and being sent this strange gift from someone who labeled their present "To the One Who Will Know What to Do with It."

He wasn't even going to think about what else had been included in the package, how he wasn't gonna go there, how it had arrived on his desk so nicely wrapped just like a real birthday present and when he'd curiously pulled on the bow it just sorta...fell apart. He hadn't really meant to open it, but the tape sticking it together hadn't been worth a lame shit as far as holding stuff went. Which wasn't really a clue; typical government issue.

It had been just like a present Jack would send him. Except it had been too neatly wrapped.

And Jack was off-world with another team.

And it was...tiger-striped underwear.

Now who the HELL...

Jack. In his fondest best most wondrous dreams it was Jack who'd sent him these things. No, make that "thing" singular because this was definitely not a pair of boxers here. This was more like...

Daniel dropped the bit of stripy cloth on his desk. Pulled it open to its fullest extent. Eyeballed it from half an inch away-using his jeweler's glass--and from his full standing height, both with spectacles and without. He scowled, pursed his lips, and rubbed his forehead. No doubt about it.

This wasn't "underwear" per se. His first assessment had been too generous.

This was simply an orange and black striped pouch, held together by, er, string. Granted there was a backside as well as a frontside, but...er. That backside wouldn't cover anything. At best, it would only go...between...anything. Which would only serve to emphasize...anything. And now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if that front part would cover all of everything, either.

Especially if Jack had really sent it, and intended to be present when he, Daniel, er, modeled it.

Ah, shit! He had to think that, didn't he? Even if he'd guzzled the world's supply of beer Jack would never have sent him anything so...so...revealing. And if Daniel drank that same amount plus two, he would never ever in a trillion years wrap himself in any such bit of cloth and strut around in front of his best friend that way, now would he?

Unfortunately, the mental picture that slammed into his brain was of him doing exactly that. In front of Jack. Only more so; doing a slow and languorous, well, call it a dance instead of just wiggling his ass and stroking himself...in that little scrap of five or six stripes. And Jack...well, lounging on his couch. With one of that world's supply of beers in his hand, watching Daniel as intently as any hockey game. And Jack...well. Was wearing sunglasses. But not on his dick...oh, HELL no. Jack on his couch, wearing sunglasses and a beer, watching cable Jackson instead of hockey and definitely cheering for the home team.

Oh, Lord. The workload and the military coffee had finally done it. It was all his, Daniel's, delusion. He was losing it, totally losing it. He had probably hallucinated the package, the scrap of cloth, even the date of his birth. This was better...no, worse, far WORSE! than fantasizing about giving Jack a slow, sensuous, soapy sponge bath in the SGC...

"Daniel? What are you doing?"

"Showers!" Daniel squeaked, dropping into his chair like a stone in a pitiful attempt both to hide his erection and pretend his hand had been anywhere else but right on top of it. Not for the first time, he cursed his absentminded habit of leaving his office door unlocked, and everyone's assumption that this meant, "Come on in and stare at the horny archeologist!"

"Showers? What? Daniel, are you okay?"

"Hi, er, Sam. I mean, I. Need shower. Bad. Phew. Stink. Working too long. Going now. Bye, Sam."

She eyed him doubtfully, thinking he looked decidedly flushed. As a matter of fact, a tomato could've taken lessons from that face. And caffeineated to the max; his whole body seemed to be quivering even though he was sitting...very stiffly indeed...behind his desk. And despite the words he'd sort of barked at her, he was making no effort to get up and head out to the showers. Come to think of it, he hadn't made eye contact once since he started babbling.

Adding two and two had never been much of a problem for Sam. Damn her.

"Daniel, you have to stop fantasizing about the Colonel behind your desk all day and DO something about it," she chided him fondly, but with concern.

"Don't! Wasn't!" The linguist's shoulders slumped under his friend's skeptical regard. "Can't," he admitted, drearily.

She pursed her lips. "You have to tell him, Daniel. Janet says your blood pressure is starting to alarm her. And the last few times you've been sedated in infirmary, you've yelled out his name."

"I have not either!"

"Several times, intermixed with suggestions and 'Oh, babys!'"

"It's a lie!"

"Passionately. Several witnesses." Sam was merciless. "The morale among the nurses has plummeted because of your, well, eloquence on the subject. And the last time it happened, Major Davis was there getting his hangnail infection treated. He's been dragging around base stepping on his lower lip ever since."

"Shit."

"You should just jump his old bones, Daniel. Give him a thrill," Sam insisted. "Take him home, nail him in front of his stupid television after filling him with beer to his eyebrows so he can't move. Chuck the remote out his window and go for it...hey, and speaking of thrills, what have we....OWWW!"

Daniel's frantic attempt to slam a huge textbook on top of the little stripy scrap of cloth before Sam snatched it from his desk was just a tad too slow. Shaking her bruised fingers reproachfully, she extracted the damning item and gazed at it inscrutably for several seconds before...

...oh, dear. Sam was blushing. Even worse, she was...snorting. Naw, make that falling down laughing in a fit of mindless hysterics.

Daniel eyed her sourly, finally feeling safe in standing up and attempting to grab the thing back from her. Whatever response it had originally elicited from him had long departed in the humiliating wave of Sam's cheerful chatter.

"Daniel...what is this...THING?"

"Well, if you don't know THAT, Sam, you get out even less than I do."

"No, I mean...what are you doing with it? I'm sorry, it just doesn't fit y-you."

"I haven't tried it on yet."

"No, I mean...never mind. I mean, what are you doing with it?"

Daniel shrugged, and sighed. "Birthday present."

"Daniel!"

"I didn't mean to open it, okay? It was so poorly wrapped it just fell apart." He gestured at the remains of the wrapping paper and ribbon. Despite himself, he sounded a bit wistful as he added, "That's why I was thinking...I kind of hoped...it was from Jack. But he's not due back for hours and I just don't know who else..."

"Geez." Sam handed his present back to him cautiously, her eyes fixed on the bright birthday paper. Then she looked at him with such sympathy in her eyes that he was more than mildly alarmed. "Uh, Daniel. I don't think it's from Jack."

"W-what? Why not?" Damn, why did someone always have to burst his happy little bubbles of self-deception? And why was it usually Sam? No, strike that--it was usually JACK. But no doubt as his second-in-command, Sam felt obligated to continue his work in his absence.

"Well, it's just...well. I saw Teal'c a few hours ago. Carrying a little box just like this one. Oh, shit, Daniel, sit down before you fall down."

"T-t-t-t-? No. You've gotta be mistaken. T-t-t-t- would never give me anything like...wouldn't even know what...you were hallucinating."

"Sorry, Daniel. Bright blue bunnies wearing party hats and waving balloons is kind of hard to, uh, forget. Especially if Teal'c is carrying it around..."

"T-t-t-t-t-t-"

"...now that I think about it, headed towards this very office. Ah, Daniel, breathe! Put your head between your legs...I'll get Janet! Damn, you're so SENSITIVE! He probably thought it was a, a...slingshot... Or something...dammit! Get a medical team in Dr. Jackson's office, stat! I don't know...he's crawled under his desk and he's trying to pull it in after him!"

He moved like a wraith, like a jungle cat. There had been Marines everywhere, and they had guns.

But he was DanielJackson, Archeologist Supreme. And he had...an artifact.

And...face it. Guns or no guns, these Marines were as dumb as a bagful of hammers.

DanielJackson, Archeologist Supreme, also had...brains.

Though in a battle with these fools, the artifact was more useful.

The last Marine was before him; a buzzcut, quivering idiot in a monkey suit, nervously swinging his gun about and rolling his eyes like round dice. No doubt he'd heard the death cries of his companions and was feeling the pressure. Daniel flexed his rippling biceps, raised the artifact, and...struck.

The last Marine toppled to the locker room floor, beaned by a large, triangular rock. Just like the two dozen others before him.

Dumb as hammers? Hell. Dumb as mud.

He paused for a moment to savor his victory, to study the doorway to utter bliss his daring had freed for the taking.

The showers. DanielJackson, Shower Raider.

There was a horrible, gargling sound coming from behind the magic door, and despite his courage and fortitude he winced. He loved Jack dearly, he really really did, but it was a sad fact that Jack's singing voice was like a nail being pulled from a board.

And of course he was trying to sing opera.

Loved Jack dearly? No, wait, he hadn't thought that. He wanted to fuck Jack. For whatever reason. Love was not an issue. Not with that sarcastic, smart-ass, giving him stupid nicknames every five minutes bastard. Jack had a nice ass and he wanted to fuck it. End of story. Love...patooey.

He slammed into the showers like an avenging angel. Like the Last Action Hero. Like...

"Daniel...what are you doing here?"

Trust Jack to burst his bubble.

"Uh. Rescuing you from the Marines?"

Jack was under the showerhead, soaping up in a leisurely fashion. He raised an eyebrow at Daniel. He had an erection to die for. One of Jack's great character traits, that dick. He'd noticed it even before the charming personality.

"Dannyboy, the Marines haven't been bothering me. You're prevaricating. Try again."

Good God. Jack had said, "prevaricating". A five-syllable word. And in the right context.

Daniel was hard and crazed with lust in an instant.

"Uh...Jack." The five-syllable word had shocked him. He blurted out the truth. "I'm here to fuck you blind, Jack. Want to fuck you. Gonna."

O'Neill didn't seem too surprised. Or displeased. Or disposed to fight Daniel off. He glanced down at what Daniel was holding. Looked up, and grinned. "Not with THAT, I hope."

With...oh. The artifact. It wasn't much bigger than what Jack had inspired in him, but it was kinda...rocky.

It turned into a bar of soap, and Daniel smiled winningly.

"Well, it may ease things along," he said masterfully, striding to Jack's side and grabbing him and...

"Daniel. Daniel. What are you DOING here?"

"I thought I made that clear," Daniel said waspishly. "I'm here to fuck you blind."

"WHAT?"

"Beat the Marines. Deserve it. Shut up, Jack, and take it like a man."

"Daniel...what the hell drugs does Frasier have you ON? I thought you were just here for a panic attack, but it sounds like you totally lost it!"

Daniel sat up with a jerk, opening his eyes and...oh, shit.

He was in the infirmary...again. Not wired up to anything, thank God...apparently this time they had just considered he needed rest. He was only in a bed. He even had his teeshirt and boxers on, underneath the sheet and thin blanket.

Which was a relief. Because in the bed next to him was a battered, bruised, and irate-looking Colonel Jack O'Neill, staring at him as if he'd gone totally fruit loop.

Jack looked good in that black teeshirt. Whatever else he might be wearing was covered by his sheet, leaving Daniel lots of room to fantasize and gulp.

"Jack. Er...Jack. What are you...doing here?"

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Glad to see you too, Daniel. Although since I've been defending your precious team of archeologists on another world and you were SUPPOSED to be sitting at your desk translating the data we already have, I kinda feel like only one of us deserves to be here."

Oh God.

Jack.

Jack was really here. And...

"Uh...was I saying anything?" Daniel picked at the lint on his blanket. All in all, it was really one damn fine blanket. Sure it was. He couldn't take his eyes off it.

Jack eyed him. "You said a lot of stuff about hammers. Marines. I'm beginning to think you have a Marine problem. Not that I blame you; those guys are losers."

Daniel exhaled a sigh of relief. Thank God. He hadn't too totally...

"You also said something about fucking me blind," Jack remarked, calm as dammit. "And I have to share with you, Daniel...Teal'c is really annoyed that you opened his present early."

You had to breathe differently, of course. You pulled the cover over your head, if you had one--a cover that was, if you didn't have a head it wouldn't feel so bad to begin with--and you centered all your consciousness between your eyes. Concentrated on being invisible.

"Daniel?"

Concentrated on not-being.

"You're trying to think yourself out of existence again, aren't you?"

It could be done. If the will was strong enough.

"It doesn't work, remember? What happened when you tried it after you got so drunk at Carter's birthday party and kissed Hammond? Nobody had enough Tylenols to cover your headache!"

If the pain was enough.

"You are gonna make me get up, aren't you? Drag my sprained ass muscles over to your bed and shake you till you get rational. Damn, the shit I go through for you, Jackson!" There was a grunting sound, a creak of bedsprings, and a squawk of real anguish.

He wanted to be immune to Jack's hurt as well as his own, but it was impossible. He wanted to push one eyeball out on a stalk from under the covers to check, but since he was human he did have to expose much of his face in order to make sure Jack was really in pain.

Jack was in pain, if the horrible grimace on his face was any indicator. And the bruises clearly visible on his arms and legs. And the way he was kinda hunched over. And...oh. He was wearing underwear. Underwear with, um, Tasmanian Devils on it. This should have looked ridiculous. Instead it got Daniel's mind going in really crude directions.

He concealed his strange reaction under a show of concern. "Jack! Get back into bed; you look horrible...what did you DO to yourself?"

Jack glared, but climbed back into bed irritably. "Like I told you. Pulled an ass muscle. And it's all YOUR fault. Think I'd be protecting an archaeological team dinking around tapping on fucking rocks and making happy noises over old dirt if it wasn't to please you? What you don't ever seem to believe, Doctor Freak of Nature Jackson, is that most archaeologists aren't like you. They're about twenty years older and a hell more than twenty pounds heavier. And guess what? The fattest, oldest rockhound on that team just had to be doddering around at the edge of a cliff examining some old dirt, and when I went over to toss him back and make sure his pork butt didn't go bouncing down the cliff, I slipped and fell myself. Like I told you, sprained an ass muscle. Gluteus maximus extreme painus. Uh, Daniel. You seem to suddenly have an erection. Was it something I said?"

Six syllables. The attempt at made-up Latin should have cancelled that out but instead only made it hotter. Oh, Jack.

Somehow, the overall effect made him admit what he had intended to hide forever. "I...Jack, I was...hoping YOU got me that...present. Not Teal'c. You."

"Ow! Sonuva..." Jack had just been snuggling back into the cozy-as-an-ironing-board infirmary bed; at Daniel's comment, though, he sat up quickly and regretted it. Therefore his next remark was through clenched teeth. "Christ, Daniel. For a smart guy you really don't have a clue, do you? Me send you a Goddamn weenie wrapper? Come on!"

You had to breathe differently, of course. You pulled the cover over your head...

"As if I need you in a silly thing like that to wanna screw your brains out. Hell, you used to turn me on even in those duffel coats, whaddaya think I feel like now that it's all tight tee shirts and form-fitting pants? Jesus Christ, wardrobe is tryin' to kill me, is what!"

You concentrated on not...uh. What was Jack saying, there?

"And as for those lips! Watch them more than I do your ass, and I KNOW that's beyond weird. Well, maybe not, considering what I want them to be DOING to me."

Uh...Jack? He was dreaming. He was dreaming that he was in the infirmary, and Jack was...was saying...

"I just couldn't believe you didn't even REALIZE I wanted you in the worst way. So I assumed you weren't interested. Forgot I was dealing with Jackson the Clueless here. Took Teal'c to set me straight."

"T-tttt-Teal'c?" Daniel couldn't seem to focus on Teal'c's importance in this matter. He was just beginning to process "screw your brains out" and "turn me on". As related by Jack, in reference to him. Him, Daniel Jackson.

"Teal'c bought you that thing, dammit, because he was tired of seeing us both going crazy for each other and not doing anything about it. He couldn't leave explicit instructions because someone else might find it, but apparently you were supposed to take me home on your birthday and, um, make me wear it for you."

"Wha? You? I thought..."

"Yeah, I know what YOU thought. You've been going on about that here, too, Danny, and frankly I think we're gonna have to keep you healthy, because the things you talk about when sedated could get us both in trouble if Frasier wasn't so cool. And if I didn't know all about her and Carter."

"Her and C-c-c..."

"Never mind. It's gonna be your birthday, fer cryin' out loud; I know you'd be looking better in the thing, but that would be for MY birthday, logically speaking. You in a...um." Jack's face had fallen into the rapt, focused look he usually only wore when channel-surfing with his remote; he shook himself out of it with a visible effort, waving his hand negligently.

"Point is, Teal'c has confiscated the thing. You don't get it till the actual day of your birth. I guess he didn't figure on you doing the same thing to a present that you do to stuff on missions."

"Er...touch it and break it?"

"Why, Doctor Jackson, you are less clueless than I thought. And...woah. I think you have an erection again. What you got in there, a freakin' yo-yo?"

"Jack." His voice was coming out...funny. Dark and husky and kind of...as suddenly hot and horny as he was feeling right now. "You...you...want me?"

"Jesus. Jesus have mercy on me, the genius comes down to earth and communicates with us mere mortals. And wins the prize, no less. Just let me put it this way, Jackson. If this wasn't the damned infirmary, you would not be alone in that bed. And if Teal'c hadn't confiscated his present, I'd be modeling it for you even now in hopes of compelling your interest. Even if the mere thought makes me feel foolish, which it does."

"We don't need it," Daniel blurted.

Jack sat up...slowly, this time...and narrowed his eyes. "O-kay. You are suggesting?"

"The Taz underwear is fine. I can live with Taz." Daniel fiddled with his blanket, not meeting Jack's suddenly very interested gaze. "I mean...there's really nothing wrong with me. I had a panic attack. I'm through panicking. I can go...anytime. Wherever. My place...or yours."

There. He'd stuck his neck out. His neck? A much more precious bodily part. Which didn't seem to be reacting like a yo-yo at all anymore...it was steady on as a rock and pretty damn sure of what and whom it wanted.

"Hmmm. Ah." Jack suddenly seemed a little less sure of himself than he had been. "Well, nothing wrong with me, either. Just need some, um, ass-ache pills. Frasier has lots of those. Maybe some help dressing and to the elevator...maybe not, after I take a pill...hey, Janet! Yoo-hoo, Colonel wants to go home now. Immediately! Willing to leave this bed open for the seriously wounded!"

"Don't try and bully Janet, Jack," Daniel begged. "You know she just tends to suddenly need to examine every orifice a man's got if you annoy her."

Jack gave him a feral grin. "Gonna try equal parts blackmail and sympathy for a fellow romantic, here, Dannyboy. Bet it'll work, too." His eyes narrowed suddenly into dark, come-hither eyes at Daniel, then he smiled at the result. "That would be MY place, Daniel. Wanna bet I can make it in twenty minutes?"

"Let's take my car," Daniel replied with a smile that he hoped didn't reflect, well, how hard his heart was pounding. The shaky feeling in his knees even though his ass was in bed. The absolute wonder and terror and downright certainty that this was yet another caffeine-induced dream.

Well, to hell with it. If it was just a dream he was gonna enjoy every instant of it. "I'll bet I can make it in ten.

---

Head under covers.

It worked. But not to take you out of existence, oh no. To make you more alive than you'd ever, ever been.

If your mouth was...this close...to something...this incredible.

He opened his mouth, drowsily. Licked. Kissed. Made love to.

Finally, commanded.

Oh, Jack. Getting good, here. Better than morning coffee. Better than morning bagel, or toast, or anything.

"Daniel?" Sleepy voice. A little surprised, a bit startled. "Jesus, Daniel who woulda thunk? Tryin' to kill me here..yow! Don't mind me...go ahead on...great honkin' horny toads, Daniel, no biting...yow!"

They'd come home. To Jack's house. Actually it was a wonder he hadn't killed them both, he'd never driven so recklessly in his life. All Jack's fault. Jack's, er, head had been in his lap. Jack had seemed to be totally unworried about mortality, arrest, or the effect that his mouth was having on Daniel's driving skills. They were freaking lucky they weren't in California now, Daniel had been driving on instinct alone at the last, finally made it to Jack's house after missing the street three times, took out several trash cans in parking, and...

...oh, wow.

Jack had literally dragged him into the house. Slammed the door. Pretty much ripped his pants off. Gone down on him; not that he'd complained, it was what Jack had started in the car and he was more than ready to finish that. Who would've thought Colonel O'Neill could be so focused on Daniel as an edible item? Like he was a cream-filled éclair. Some yummy taste treat with a prize in the box.

Damn. He'd never come so hard in his life. And Jack had...had swallowed. Even seemed to enjoy it. Like eating pie, or froot loops, or cherry ice cream.

Jack was weird. You only needed to look at his Taz underwear to know that.

But he was also...cool. Way more cool than you'd think an Air Force career Colonel could possibly be.

He hadn't batted an eye when Daniel had asked him to put on sunglasses in the house. "Just sunglasses, you mean?" he'd asked, so matter-of-factly, and Daniel had been spared the trouble of explaining his fantasy, as Jack obligingly shucked his jeans and shirt.

"Er...well, a beer too, if you want," he said graciously.

"Huh. That beer just a prop, or can I drink it?" Jack hadn't seemed flustered at all. He'd sat on the couch, sunglasses perched on his nose and open beer in hand, and surprisingly enough had turned on the stereo. Not opera; hard rock. AC DC, Highway to Hell. Bad boy music.

Daniel had been totally unprepared for the power of the image. Jack on the dark velour couch, wearing sunglasses and a beer. The stereo pounding. Daniel didn't have the scrap of cloth to dance around in, but he still hadn't put his pants back on and thank God for that, because some kind of emotional storm roared through him almost at once and he hurled himself into Jack's lap.

Beer went everywhere. Jack didn't seem to mind. And he was sort of moving against Jack, no, let's be honest, he was hammering into Jack's body, his cock was on fire and Jack wasn't just sitting there taking it, he was thrusting back, oooh, damn, beer and sweat and Jack's cock kept bumping into his and the stereo yelling //no stop signs//speed limits//nobody gonna slow me down// and he felt Jack come all over him, felt Jack sink teeth into his shoulder and then he was, well, coming harder than he ever had in his life. Again. All over Jack, and the couch, and the beer.

"Shower, Daniel." He woke up a little. Couldn't believe it. All fantasies coming true in one night?

"Marines," he muttered. He was really, really sleepy.

"No Marines." Jack sounded like he was laughing. Well, too bad. He supposed a guy covered in beer and come was entitled to laugh at him. "Big mess, though. C'mon, Dannyboy, you'll get sticky." Christ, where did he get the energy? He rarely drank coffee. All Daniel had ever seen him drink was beer. And here he was bopping around like goddamn Speedy Gonzales in the middle of the night, it just wasn't fair.

"It's eight o'clock, Daniel. You've just had a busy day, is all. C'mon, lather you up, rinse you off and tuck you in. Promise."

Jack's promise wasn't worth shit.

Oh, he lathered Daniel up, and the rinsing off part was also taken care of with efficiency. But Jack hadn't mentioned that he planned to get another erection, or where he'd intended to put it.

In the shower. What a pervert. And not to repeat oneself, but where the hell did he get the energy?

"Some old coot you are," Daniel growled wrathfully, finally allowed to stagger into bed.

"Thank you so kindly," Jack beamed, following him beneath the covers and grabbing a handful of Daniel. "What say we..."

"Sleep!"

"You are no fun at all," Jack pouted. "Well, maybe a little, in the early evening. Okay, sleep." And once he'd agreed to it, damn if Jack hadn't dropped off immediately and kept Daniel awake for the rest of the night snoring like a fucking freight train on a loose track.

But that was okay. Because Jack was...cool.

And here he was early in the morning with only four hours of sleep under his belt, Jack's dick in his mouth, and...that was cool, too.

He could learn to live with this.

Jack was sighing and moaning and just generally encouraging him on and it was great, was wonderful, was...hey. Was that the sound of the door opening and closing?

"Christ, Daniel, don't stop!"

"But...I thought I heard..." Oh, he should've known better than to emerge from the covers. "T-t-t-t-t-"

"Christ, Daniel, it's just Teal'c. Come on in, big guy, take a load off. Lookee what your favorite Tauri has in his bed!"

"I am most impressed, O'Neill. Please do not stop proceedings on my account, DanielJackson. I am more than willing to wait my turn."

"T-t-t-t-t-urn?"

"Or if you prefer, we can share O'Neill at the same time. I assure you, we will both be satisfied. I have found him quite insatiable."

"Jack! You didn't tell me...you didn't say...you're doing Teal'c, too?!"

"Well, Christ, Daniel. All on the same team here." Jack looked honestly surprised at his agitation, perhaps even a little, er, pissed off. "And let's face it, a guy could get old and grey waiting for you to jump his bones. Matter of fact, a guy has."

Daniel winced. There was some truth to that accusation. And really, at least it wasn't some Marine.

"O-kay," he said, still marginally uncertain. Especially with Teal'c just standing there and half-smiling at him. "But Jack gets the middle."

Jack grinned at him. "Way to go, Dannyboy. Just my speed, anyways...I'm a middle-of-the-road kinda guy, right Teal'c?"

"Indubitably, O'Neill."

Wow. A five-syllable word in a two-word sentence. Teal'c was good.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.