Quiet Time

by Sage

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ass/sage/quiettime.php
Summary: Jack gets some quiet time and doesn't want to talk about it

Ah, quiet time.

Daniel scribbled in his journal, a pillow over his lap to serve as a temporary desk. Usually Jack would be tempted to get a peak at what Daniel was scribbling, only he realized that there was very little Daniel could write that Jack didn't already know.

Or wasn't there for.

Jack was laying on his side, facing away from Daniel, enjoying the warm, somewhat sleepy feeling that came after a large satisfying meal and a hot, indulgent shower to scrub the planet du jour off of his skin.

So basically, they were just laying there. Not that Jack would ask Daniel about it, but it felt like they should be doing something. Daniel was starting to treat Jack's house in a very mi casa, su casa kind of way, and that made Jack uncomfortable. Very.

Because he liked it. He liked that Daniel could just hang around and they didn't ever have to talk about anything. He liked that some days, Daniel would be reading the paper and drinking coffee and Jack would just go out, grab his keys and tell Daniel to lock up.

But they were in bed. Shouldn't they be doing something. Sex? Talking? Cuddling?

Um, no. Daniel wasn't much of a cuddler, neither was Jack. Sometimes Jack laughed at the irony, that two men could have hot, stinky gay sex (better than calling it anal sex, which made it sound only a hair sexier than a colonoscopy) but find it uncomfortable to cuddle.

Or talk, even.

Oh, that's right. They were men. After all these years of defying everything from conventions, to orders, to expectations, he still couldn't get past that ingrained social stigma.

The man thing. But hey, he was still working on the gay thing. Well, the bi-sexual thing.

Attention all SGC personnel. Colonel Jack O'Neill is a dirty old man who'll screw anything on legs. Literally. All asses on base are in grave danger. This is not a drill.

Drill. Jack laughed. Yes, he'd been cloned into a teenager once, and it probably wasn't that much of an accident.

He can't help but wonder if mini-me is somewhere, staring at a cheerleader and her boyfriend. He did tell the kid to be a little bit weird. This day and age, being bi-sexual barely makes the weird list. He could be one of those kids that wears all black and listens to weird music and kills things.

Which is what Jack does sometimes, but he's an adult and his weird music has lyrics, and he gets paid for it. So it's okay.

Yes, Daniel is screwing him for his brains. It's an intellectual thing. Daniel has more brains than headspace, and Jack has more headspace than brains.

Especially right now, in the post-mission, post-escape from certain death, post-hot shower haze. He thought about turning on the TV, but he liked the silence and wished Daniel's pen didn't scrape across the paper so loudly.

He thought about Carter, and about how he loved her because he couldn't have her. Oh, he could have those few sweet moments, those few seconds where Carter's eyes were wide and she was this fierce, bright woman and he just wanted to kiss her for being Carter.

And if they were in bed, would he scream Carter? Yes Carter. God, you're beautiful Carter. I love you, Carter.

Best of all, he loved her because he couldn't corrupt her. Oh, yes, maybe one day they might get together. And they'd screw each other's brains out, they'd kiss and touch, and he would hold her, tight as anything. Yes, she'd be smooth like silk, curved and sleek against him.

Would she scream Colonel? Oh, yes, Colonel, please Colonel. I love you, Colonel.

But then she wouldn't be Carter, because there'd be way too much of him on her for them to ever go on. After the sex, they'd have to talk about something. Jack didn't want to spend his mornings listening to wormhole physics, and he was pretty sure that Carter would fight him for the remote when she wanted to watch Discovery Channel while he wanted hockey. Which might lead to more sex.

There was only so much screwing a man could do before he realized the relationship would go nowhere. And being the resourceful, forethoughtful man he was, Jack had run his own simulations in advance. None of them ended with anything remotely 'happily ever after' like.

So, she'd be Major Carter and he'd be Colonel O'Neill. Forever.

Then a thought occurred to him. What would his kids call him if he suddenly got demoted? They said Colonel like it was his name. Like his mother looked down at him, then up at his father and said, "ohh, honey, let's name him Colonel."

And he had little stargates on a mobile above his crib. Yeah.

Daniel, however, called him Jack. And he actually had as many nicknames for Jack as Jack did for him. Jack called him Danny, Spacemonkey, Plantboy. Daniel called him harderJack, fasterJack, loveyouJack.

The one name Jack can't call him back. Not that it isn't true, but saying it would be all to much.

So they'd just have to make do with Spacemonkey and loveyouJack.

Or just Jack. But not O'Neill or Colonel, thank god.

In fact, Daniel probably didn't even get what a colonel was until much later on. A lot of the stupidity Daniel probably ascribed to Jack was just a military thing, but Daniel didn't even pay attention to the Colonel O'Neill part of Jack.

Just the Jack. Everything he did or said was Jack. Not the Colonel. Not O'Neill. Just Jack, and Jack was responsible, and Jack would answer for them, and when he did it right, Daniel would love Jack for it. Not the Colonel.

So yes, he and Daniel do this strange, silent Jack and Daniel thing, that they don't talk about. And maybe they won't break anything in the process. Or each other.

Daniel was still scratching that pen across that fancy, rough, unlined journal paper. Jack never got how Daniel wrote without lines on the paper. Writing on blank paper drove Jack nuts, especially since his handwriting was atrocious and most times even Daniel couldn't translate.

That took effort, especially since Daniel looked at rocks that seemed worn clean and saw inscriptions that Jack swore weren't there. Just like that, his eye saw the miniscule impressions left after years of erosion and chipping.

It's quite possible that's how all this started, because Daniel was trained to see things that only barely made it to the surface.

Jack rolled over so he was facing Daniel, or Daniel's knee. Daniel looked down at him like he was a curious animal and then went back to scrape scrape scrape across the stupid journal with the stupid pen.

Jack didn't get the entire journal gig of Daniel's, why he had to be so distracted, bring such an unnecessary item into the field. Even Carter didn't do that.

On impulse, Jack reached out and put his hand on Daniel's knee.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, looking concerned.

"Put the journal away," Jack said, not particularly demanding or even paying attention.

"I'm almost done," Daniel explained, with that oh-so-condescending smile that he gave to Jack when he thought Jack didn't understand. The 'I know you just didn't try to step on my intellectual turf' smile. "You can't possibly be that horny."

Jack wasn't angry, he was paying attention to Daniel's mouth, and realizing that he didn't kiss Daniel all that much, on the mouth. Kisses usually happened during sex. Kissing Daniel's shoulders, his thighs, his neck, but not his lips. He'd actually kissed Carter several times, when he looped time.

Didn't Daniel, who was there, who'd always been there, warrant the same consideration? This was Daniel, who got up early and sometimes and cooked Jack breakfast, who actually sometimes watched hockey with him, who knew Jack's favorite kind of beer and kept it stocked in the fridge, who not only got concerned when something was wrong with Jack, but tried to do something about it.

Why wasn't Jack kissing him?

So on another impulse, he rose up and kissed Daniel, hard. Daniel stayed in the kiss and put his journal, pen, and glasses down on the nightstand. They rolled over and Daniel was on top of Jack, kissing with some kind of dedication until he finally stopped and looked down at Jack.

"Okay," he said, looking confused as his eyes darted. "What was that?"

"It was a kiss, Daniel," Jack said, relishing that it was his turn to treat Daniel like the simpleton.

"Thank you, I knew that," Daniel shot back, smiling with no less smugness or confusion. "It's not your usual style."

"Shut up," Jack said again and cut Daniel off with a kiss. Daniel gave in and pulled his mouth away, maybe to go down on Jack or lick somewhere, but Jack put a hand behind Daniel's head and held it there. "No. I want to kiss you."

And Jack had no trouble putting Daniel on his back and digging in, hip to hip, while he pressed his mouth to Daniel's and kissed Daniel deep, brushing his lips over Daniel's soft, lush ones. When he finally came up for air, he looked down at Daniel, his face flushed, his lips swollen from kissing and his heart nearly broke.

This was Daniel, looking up at him confused and needing. His Daniel.

He could have said it then (that impulsive, fearless I love you), but he didn't, he just kept looking down. Daniel ran his hand up and down Jack's arm.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, quieter and concerned.

"I'm okay, Daniel," he murmured, still focused on Daniel alone. "I'm okay."

And he was about to dive back in to kissing Daniel when Daniel stopped him.

"Jack?"

Jack closed his eyes and let out a hard breath.

"Tell me what you want, Daniel."

"Jack?"

Jack opened his eyes.

"Just. Tell me. What. You. Want," Jack repeated, each word it's own implacable, unmistakable sentence. Daniel considered this a moment, with narrowed eyes. Like he was looking at ruins and seeing what he never saw before.

Daniel was reading all nearly eroded signs on Jack's face.

"Jack," Daniel says, slowly, his hand gripping Jack's arm. "Can I?"

"What?" Jack ground out, anxious and needing something to break.

"Can I be inside of you?" Daniel asked, with such trepidation that Jack shut his eyes again. Until now, it was always been Jack on top, with Daniel working around Jack's fears and needs and inability to let go completely. And now Jack had to wonder just how many times Daniel settled for less than he wanted and let it be enough for his sake.

"I -" Jack couldn't quite get the words out on the first try. He coughed and tried again. "Yes."

"If you don't want to."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, Jack, it does," Daniel answered, in a seething tone. "I don't want it if you don't."

"I want it, too," Jack said. "Just go slow."

"God, yes," Daniel agrees, with a tone of surprise that Jack would ever think he'd just take him like that. Like Jack does to him. But this is Daniel, who sees what Jack just can't see.

Daniel rolled over on top of Jack and kissed him slowly. He raised up on his knees and stripped his black tee shirt off, revealing the efforts of his workout regimen.

This was Daniel powerful and beautiful and god help him, male. Jack reached out to trace his appendectomy scar, a strange reminder of all of Daniel's sufferings. Daniel looked down to Jack as if to say 'don't, not now'.

So Jack sat up and stripped of his own shirt. Daniel dived down and nuzzled Jack's crotch. Jack groaned and grabbed the sheets.

"I'll make this good for you, Jack," Daniel promised, slowly lowering Jack's boxers like unwrapping a long-anticipated present. Jack's cock stood upright before Daniel and Daniel's mouth engulfed it in one swift motion.

Jack had to grab the covers or else Daniel's head and he knew Daniel didn't like that. And he didn't want to violate this, this gift that Daniel was giving him. So he closed his eyes and let Daniel work, his lips (oh god, yes, those lips) soft and wet around his cock, and the tongue on that spot on his cock.

Daniel put a hand to steady Jack's hips and Jack wanted to scream it then. Scream that yes, he loved Daniel, for doing this, for being strong enough to make bruises.

Only, he doesn't, he can't. So he pushes Daniel away.

"Do it," Jack told him in a voice like the slow crunch of gravel. Daniel nods, his face frozen in a look of tenderness and anticipation.

"Tell me how you want it," Daniel asked, a mimicry of Jack's earlier words. Jack rolled over on to his stomach, slowly. Daniel gasped and bent down until he was almost on top of Jack. "Deeper this way, Jack. God, I don't want to hurt you."

"Do it," Jack demanded. Daniel left kisses down his spine and then left for a moment, to grab the lube. Jack didn't watch, only looked ahead and waited for the not-surprise of Daniel about to fuck him.

Daniel spread Jack's legs and kisses rained down on his thighs.

"Gonna make this so good for you," Daniel swore, and slowly one finger stretched into Jack. Jack's entire body tensed and he raised himself up, gripping at the sheets. "Easy. Easy."

He was on all fours, and Daniel kissed his shoulder blades and slowly, gradually worked that one finger, brushing across his prostate. Jack let his head down and mouthed Daniel's name, two-thirds gasp and one-half curse.

And then Daniel added a second finger, and suddenly there were two slick fingers working him, faster, harder. It should have been wrong, but Jack could only think that it was Daniel, strong and agile, working him. Daniel taking him.

If Daniel had touched Jack's cock right then, Jack might have exploded.

"Tell me if it...hurts," Daniel said, breathlessly as Jack felt something hard and warning at the entrance to his body. And then Daniel pushed into him.

Jack nearly screamed, it burned and stretched and god it was Daniel. Inside of him.

Slow like honey, Daniel slides back and forth, hitting the sweet spot as he did. And then, going a little faster, a little harder.

"Daniel," Jack called, lifting his head.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm," Daniel panted, stopping and nearly pulling out.

"Don't stop," Jack demanded. "Ever."

Daniel pushed into to the hilt and got faster, whispering sweet, insane nonsense to Jack. And Jack could feel the orgasm coming at him, the tight heat in his stomach that spread out.

"God, Daniel, gonna scream, gonna cum," he growled, harsh and wanting to fight it for no reason he could think of.

"Yes, Jack, come for me, scream for me," Daniel answered, tightening his grip around Jack's hip, thrusting harder as if he could speed up Jack's pleasure. "Jack, god, Jack. Yes, Jack."

He couldn't stop himself, in that bright, hard, demanding moment of orgasm, bracing and shouting, rough and hoarse, "Daniel, god, yes, loveyouDaniel, love you! Oh, god, Daniel."

Daniel slowed down and bent forward, still panting and dazed, "You said, you love me."

"Yes. Don't stop," Jack managed, gasping as Daniel continues his pace, and moans, grunts, and groans into his skin, like it was the sweetest misery.

"Jack, god," Daniel sobs, "LoveyouJack, so, god, yes, oh please Jack, IloveyouIloveyou."

Daniel held on to Jack's hips in a death grip, thrusting irratically and stopping with one last, furious thrust as he came with a keening whine.

It didn't take him long to come back to his senses, to reward Jack with kisses, before he rolled away. Daniel put a hand over his face, as if trying to cope with it all.

"Thank you, Jack, thank you," Daniel panted. Jack scooted over and threw an arm over Daniel, around his waist. He kissed Daniel's temple before turning away, drifting towards sleep.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, that same sad concern in his voice. "Not that I would ever complain, but..."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fine, okay," Daniel consents. "Not talking is good."

"Just shut up," Jack told him, turning his head toward Daniel. He kissed him again.