First Contact 2

First Contact

by iiiionly

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asi/iiiionly/first02.php
Summary: Jack and Daniel kick it up a notch
Info: If you haven't read the set up story for this series, If I..., you should know that Daniel actually caught the Daedalus to Atlantis, Jack decided to follow, and in this story they have been on Atlantis for several weeks, exploring a new relationship. If you are not an Atlantis viewer, or have not seen the episode Trinity, it's helpful to know that Jack and Daniel are reacting to the death of a minor Atlantis character, Collins, who dies from radiation exposure. If you are an Atlantis viewer, I've taken some liberties with Atlantis canon regarding the city itself and some of its technology. But this story is really about the relationship between Jack and Daniel

Add a few potted plants and a little fog and the commuter tube could easily pass for a 60's strobe-lit hang out, Jack thought, striding along the empty corridor. Thunder dogged the brilliant neon blue lightning strikes flashing through the overhead windows, making the tube reverberate with an unremitting metallic ring that resonated with those memories as he strode along the deck.

He knew damn well the arms of the city sank so deep into the ocean it would require an iceberg the size of Texas to even nudge it, much less make it heave and roll; nevertheless, he would have sworn under oath, the tunnel bucked to the fierce onslaught of wind and sheeting rain pounding the hollow tube. There was a reason he wasn't in the navy.

Jack lengthened his stride, an unnamed urgency nipping at his heels. It was a mile and a half from the heart of the city across the arm to the tower they were currently calling home. He'd chosen to walk rather than take the PUD - the small version of the Puddle Jumpers used to transport personnel within the vast city complex - as the afternoon's demons were still chasing their tails in his brain. He'd figured he needed the time, not to mention the physical exertion, to override the memories streaming through his mind like a matrix mainframe.

A particularly vivid flash of lightning sliced through his thoughts, followed by a crash of thunder and a jolt of electricity that raised the hair on the back of his neck. The corridor sparkled for a moment, like the 4th of July, then went completely dark. One of the power conductors must have been hit; so much for McKay's much vaunted shield.

Above waterline the city was never pitch black, there was still enough light to move freely. But Jack was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow conjured the Shakespearian storm it reflected his inner turmoil so perfectly. Real people weren't supposed to end up looking like something out of a Nickelodeon cartoon. The fortunate devil this afternoon hadn't known what hit him; he'd been dead before he oozed to the floor. It had taken hours for Daniel to die - agonizing hours.

As thunder followed lightning, sound bytes streamed along with the matrix pictures, looping like a bad tape glitch.

"...something called ataxia, which is followed by necrosis... based on the dose of radiation I got, all that will happen in the next 10 - 15 hours, and if I don't drown in my own fluids first, I will bleed to death."

Followed up by Carter's relaying Frasier's grim diagnosis. "Sedatives and pain killers, that's all we can really do. You have no idea how painful this is gonna get."

Funny thing about the Internet, you didn't need to know how to spell it to come away with far more information than you ever wanted to know.

It was ridiculous and downright stupid to be anxious, which was why he'd chosen to walk. One of the first rules Daniel had laid down was no mother-henning. The linguist had tolerated it from a distance, there was no way he'd stand for it in an up close and personal, everyday relationship. Which Jack had agreed to - in principle. So long as Daniel agreed not to throw himself at the next naquadria bomb that came along.

He was out of shape, Jack thought, as he checked his watch. The mile and a half had taken twenty minutes at a fast walk. He should have been able to do it in under fifteen. Too many Puddle Jumper missions, not enough hiking.

"This is O'Neill, I'm in for the night." Jack punched the elevator button and toggled the com unit off switch without waiting for a reply. They were a predictably necessary evil, and he did appreciate being able to keep track of Daniel's whereabouts on a moment by moment basis, but he drew the line at wearing the thing 24/7 as did some of the Atlantis team. Like McKay, who was so paranoid he wore the thing to bed.

Atlantis was something more than a self-contained city; it had a quirky personality and, apparently, an agenda of its own. The small expedition team had been cautiously investigating the various out buildings - though buildings hardly seemed an ethereal enough word for the needles, spires, and eyries soaring from every edifice clinging to the octopus arms of the huge base - as time and resources permitted. They'd made progress, more so since O'Neill's presence had freed up resources to be deployed elsewhere in the hunt for new power sources, but there was still a vast amount of territory to cover.

Much to McKay's dismay, and the amusement of the rest of the Atlantis crew, the city had immediately welcomed Jack, displaying a number of bells and whistles it had previously held in abeyance, the moment he'd set foot on the landless island. And, as often happened when alien cultures were involved, it had fallen head over heels for Daniel. Several times, when they'd been out exploring together, it had led them to significant discoveries. The first, some kind of healing device Beckett was still trying to figure out - Jack was sure in answer to his never voiced, but lingering question about ancient technology to match the healing power of the sarcophagus - the second, a laboratory full of experiments in various stages that'd had McKay's eyes bugging out. There was no doubt they'd been led either; lights had turned on, doors had opened, elevators had whisked them several stories below the surface, then high up into a tower workshop, all they'd had to do was follow the show being put on for them. Once it had gleefully taken them to someone's wine cellar, a discovery they hadn't bothered to share.

Jack pocketed the headset as he boarded the tardy elevator. "Penthouse," he informed the voice activated system. "So, how was your day? Better than mine, I hope. Were you up playing with Daniel again? Or are you just pissed because I'm late? Weir held me up, can't very well tell your hostess to stow it, now, can you?" He'd shared his uncanny feeling that the city was sentient with no one, not even Daniel. He was not a man given to flights of fancy, but something about the place spoke to him on a level so deep, so intrinsic, he was certain, someday, it was going to talk back to him.

Today wasn't the day. The elevator merely whisked him up the 27 stories to their tower abode, politely depositing him in the foyer of their home-away-from-home.

The fluted, frosted-glass walls of the narrow, marble-tiled foyer curved gracefully outwards to frame a view of the wall-to-wall open area, lit this evening with a number of flickering lanterns.

Jack turned back to the still open elevator. "Initiate lock down protocol. Disregard all activations other than Dr. Jackson or myself, ya got that?"

The elevator doors closed with a cheesy grin, at least that's what it looked like to General O'Neill. He flicked it the bird in a friendly manner and deposited his P-90 in the drawer that opened soundlessly and disappeared seamlessly back into the wall with his hardware.

"Lucy! I'm home!" Jack caroled, shedding his jacket as he hiked across the expansive living room. A flicker at the edge of his vision, half way across, made him turn his head sharply. He stopped mid stride, too stunned for a moment to move. The sight of the linguist standing on the balcony, half-dressed and lit only by the flashing lightning, held him in thrall.

Daniel's body faced the wild vista of ocean, hands braced on the balcony railing, but his head was thrown back as though he was channeling the storm. It was another wild moment before Jack identified the strange emotion pumping through him. He knew it was coming from Daniel, but it was so un-Daniel like, it required analyzing to recognize exhilaration.

It didn't take much to turn him on these days; this whole relationship thing was so new, the emotions so raw and consuming, the wanting often caught him like a bullet between the eyes, stopping him dead in his tracks. This was one of those times; he was instantly hard.

His hands stretched without volition and he made himself stand still a moment longer before ambling over to the open panel of wall. "So," Jack leaned a shoulder against the glass, "should I start calling you Prospero?"

The archaeologist arched impossibly; he was forty years old, he shouldn't be able to move like that anymore, but Atlantis seemed to have rejuvenated them both. Jack didn't feel fifty something either.

It wasn't possible to get any harder; the ache, though, intensified.

"Hey. Come on out, the weather's fine." Daniel shot him a lazy grin before lifting his face back to the elements.

The college era jeans, ripped at one knee and frayed at the hems, were plastered to that tight ass and limned the long, lean legs like faithful shadows. The pouring heavens dripped from his hair and sluiced down the broad shoulders, running in rivulets down the curve at the base of his spine before disappearing into the waistband of the low slung jeans.

Jack had an overwhelming desire to taste the precipitation in that exact spot.

He stepped into the downpour, but only to catch a rain-slicked arm. "Are you nuts?" he inquired mildly. "The tube took a direct hit as I was walking over. Come inside before you get fried."

He got no argument; Daniel came willingly, though he stopped under cover of the eaves.

"What the hell was that all about?" Jack inquired, working to maintain an air of calm, despite his raging hormones. He turned to go inside, expecting Daniel to follow, only to swing back as a frigid hand slid around his neck, and, with unexpected strength, turned him on his heel.

"I want you. Right here, right now."

Stunned speechless, Jack could only stare at the dripping archaeologist. Daniel rarely initiated sex, though he willingly participated. It was a moment more before he realized his partner was glowing. Not with the unearthly radiance of sainthood Oma had bequeathed, more as if his body conducted the untamed energy of the lightning.

"Define here and now." Jack glanced at the rain-soaked balcony. Wet and wild had never been his style, but then neither had men. He was rapidly learning to appreciate the new and unconventional. "Never mind," he rescinded, hands heading south to the buttons of his BDUs.

Daniel beat him to it, cold hands making short work of not only the buttons, but the clothing as well, then skimming the heat of his erection before closing around it, creating a volcano simmering on the verge of eruption, regardless of the beneficent cooling effect of the cold hands.

Before he could bend to fumble loose his boot laces, Daniel had dropped to one knee, warm mouth replacing cold hands. Jack caught hold of the drenched shoulders and held on for the short, quick ride. In the brief moments between anticipation and ecstasy he wondered if he was destined for an incendiary ending as well, puddled at Daniel's feet in a comedic parody of today's disaster. He shrugged mentally; if so, he could imagine no better way to go.

Buffeted by sensations coming too fast to examine, Jack rode the wave, crested, and touched down as lightly as if he'd brought in a jet for a perfect three point landing. He became aware again around the time teeth began nipping at his torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Daniel?" He flexed his numb fingers. "Don't think that's going to..." he trailed off. Maybe Atlantis had rejuvenated him in more ways than the obvious. "Oh god," he moaned into Daniel's hot mouth. The hands were much warmer too, though the wet jeans were going to have to go. "Any chance we could move this inside?" he panted, as Daniel nipped his bottom lip and leaned back to skim the t-shirt up over his head.

"Possibly." Daniel shimmied out of his jeans. He was wearing nothing else.

"You know they're running puddle jumpers by here all the time, don't you?" He was trying to remain sane. Daniel was making it nearly impossible.

"In this storm?"

"You've got a point." Jack wrapped a hand around the back of the wet head and returned the renewed kiss with equal fervor, dragging off his boots and stepping out of his pants without breaking contact.

Skin to skin, he found himself as hard and hot as if he hadn't just spent his last nickel at the pleasure arcade. "Not that I'm complaining..." he wheezed, around Daniel's tongue, "but what the hell brought this on?"

Daniel pulled back long enough to look at him. "Death," he said shortly, and renewed his assault.

The com units were a two-way street, little of importance went on without everybody knowing about it. Apparently Daniel was battling demons of his own.

He came in Jack's hand, back arching like an Olympic gymnast, sighing his pleasure as the rain pattered down on his face again.

"Daniel..." Jack trailed off. The sheer glory of Daniel's abandon was as erotic and empowering as any aphrodisiac.

"I'm ready to kick it up a notch."

"Kick it up a notch?" Jack parroted. "You mean... you don't mean..."

"The mechanics seem pretty simple." Daniel grinned easily, swiping his wet hair off his forehead with an unconscious sensuality.

Jack swallowed down the gulp working its way up his throat and tried to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. "O-kay," he stuttered. "I'm game... I think."

"Good."

Jack instantly missed the extremes - hot mouth, cold hands - when Daniel peeled himself off and headed for the eating area with all that loose, long-limbed grace he seemed to have acquired in the last few weeks. It was a pleasure to watch him, Jack thought, coming or going.

He gathered up their clothes and followed Daniel to the kitchen, tossing the wet bundle on the floor in what passed for a laundry room. He would hang them up later, and in the morning they'd be cleaned and pressed, as if a hundred little Chinamen inhabited the small, windowless room that became a giant washer and dryer the instant the door closed. He left it ajar on purpose, since they'd found clothes tossed on the floor tended to be clean but wrinkled in the morning.

"I've got the wine, grab some glasses, would you?" Daniel let the lid to the cube they used like a fridge fall shut. Anything that went in came out at the perfect temperature for consumption, and it didn't matter if you put it in for two minutes or two hours.

Jack had spent quite a lot of time trying to fool it into giving him something too cold or too hot. At the moment, however, their 'fridge' was about the furthest thing from his mind. He collected wine glasses from the cupboard and hightailed it into the prism of a master bedroom.

The outer walls and ceiling of the penthouse had been constructed of a clear substance, stronger than glass, though not as conductive, since it maintained an even temperature day and night. At the touch of a button, all or part of the structure could be opaqued when desired. And just about any of it could be opened to the elements at will.

Jack saw nothing of the dark, low flying clouds scudding overhead, though he was peripherally aware of the lightning still flashing like strobes. There were lanterns in here too, the essential oil they burned wafting the subtle scent of seduction. Music to match the storm murmured just below auditory hearing, the beat pulsing instantly in his blood.

But it was the tanned body sprawled on the stark white sheets that caught and held his attention.

Daniel in motion was magnificent, but Jack found himself more often gutted by the sensuality of Daniel's stillness. Like now. Alternately lit by lightning or lantern's glow, the smooth skin glistened where rain still clung tenaciously to the subtle definition and hard planes that delineated the outer shell. It was the inner stillness, though, the peace Daniel seemed to radiate lately, that turned him inside out, torching a desire he'd never before experienced.

He knew completion with a woman, had touched the face of God in consummation with his wife. In his mental wanderings regarding this relationship - those seven long months of meandering up and down the garden path - he'd occasionally wondered if it would be possible to achieve similar results with a same sex partner. Or if God reserved that special benediction only for heterosexual relationships.

In the long run, he'd decided it didn't matter. Just the fact he'd been able to contribute to that peaceful stillness in his partner, filled him with intense, visceral, satisfaction. They were good together and good for each other, that was what mattered, not how hot the sex was. Though he had to admit, it was plenty hot already.

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back, propping himself on an elbow. "You sure about this?" he asked, tracing the slope of shoulder blade down to that scintillating spot where raindrops still glimmered in the lantern light. Daniel shivered with pleasure under his touch, which in turn made every bit of him tingle with something he thought might be joy, though he'd never been particularly conversant with that elusive emotion. He bent forward and touched his tongue to the spot, sliding his hand down to lightly massage the curve of ass.

"Absolutely," Daniel murmured.

"Why don't we trade places?" Jack nudged Daniel's thigh with his knee as he rolled the small, innocuous tube between his hot, slightly tremulous hands in an effort to warm it. He couldn't remember, now, why he'd put it in the cube. It wasn't like it had to be kept cold.

"Uhmmm... no."

"Why not?" A languid flirt of the shoulder was the only response he received. "You're absolutely, positively sure?"

"Jack." There was a light warning in the single syllable.

"Alright, but you know you can stop me anytime, right?"

"Oh for god's sake!" Daniel rolled to his side. "Is there a reason you're suddenly channeling me?" he demanded, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Hello? Shut up and just do it."

Jack had no comeback. For the life of him, he couldn't conjure a single bantering response, so he shut his mouth and applied himself to making sure this first contact was as pleasurable for his partner as possible.

The tube had a short nozzle and he squirted a stretch of the clear stuff on his index and middle fingers. He lubed the nozzle as well, and molding both hands over Daniel's ass, parted the proverbial waters, one hand holding them open as he introduced the tube to the tightly furled iris, pressing gently against the resistance until it penetrated. The instructions said to insert about half an inch. He squeezed the end, swallowing to ease his dry throat as the measured amount eventually came level with the slight crease he'd made in the tube with his fingernail. He withdrew it cautiously, tossed it on the night stand and ran the lubricated, callused pad of his finger over the retracted, slightly puckered flesh.

A moan of pleasure urged him on as Daniel raised his hips.

Jack slid the tip of his finger into the warm, tight crevice. Daniel clinched around his finger, but otherwise made no effort to hurry the entry and after a moment, exerting a little more pressure, Jack eased in up to the first knuckle and experimentally swirled his finger tip.

Daniel sucked in his breath, but didn't tighten around him again, so he sunk his finger in millimeter by millimeter up to the palm. Just imagining himself in that tight space caused his own dick to jerk spasmodically. Slowly, with exquisite care, Jack rotated the digit, searching for the G-spot that would bring Daniel as much pleasure as this was giving him. When Daniel arched again, against his hand, he stroked a little more firmly, applying more pressure both inside and out. Withdrawing slightly, he massaged the opening until he could insert the second finger as well and dove with care, for the pleasure zone, his fingers unerringly finding the spot and in tandem, stroking for ultimate sensation.

Daniel bucked against him, gasping, fingers digging into the sheets, and Jack slipped his free hand underneath a hip, rolling him slightly to his side and copied Daniel's ministrations, with teeth, tongue and mouth, and the added bonus of fingers, bringing him swiftly to gasping consummation.

Daniel was boneless when Jack entered him, completely relaxed, yet so tight the first stroke very nearly burnt him to a crisp with its white hot wave of almost unbearable, exquisite sensation. It was nothing like he'd imagined, and except for the mechanics, nothing like the books had described it. The sensation was nothing like anything he'd ever experienced in his life... except maybe that first solo flight, when exhilaration had married up with confidence, sparking the thought that maybe the cockpit was only slowing him down; without it, he might soar like an eagle!

Need rode him frantically, but he was determined to take Daniel with him on this ride, and not just as a passenger. With effort, Jack slowed his racing pulse, clamped down on the nearly overwhelming impulse to race to the finish, and wrapped his mind around the control required to sustain both himself and his partner to the goal.

On his seventh - he was counting - gliding thrust, Daniel came up to meet him, changing the rhythm and angle subtly, but instantly. Jack let go of his tightly held control and met the challenge, dragging them both to the precipice where they launched simultaneously and flew, like Icarus, toward the sun.

The music crescendoed, accompanied by a long roll of thunder as Jack splintered at the very core of his being and felt Daniel's shuddering release in the same instant. Nearly rent asunder, he slowed their descent to a lazy, downward spiral and brought them both back to reality with a last gentle thrust, so they lay still, locked together in a spiritual thrall that had less to do with their bodies then it did with a union of souls.

Jack had his answer.

On the clearing, watery horizon, the sun was a glowing puddle of memory, the water retaining the afterimage of the sunset as the last golden rays sank into the phosphorescent mist that rose like the Wraith at dusk.

Atlantis sighed with contentment.

Next: I'll Stand By You