That Certain Something

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=160 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="012a0643.jpg"> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=435 colspan=2 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <B>That Certain Something</B></div> <div>  <A NAME="that_certain_something"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <IMG SRC="0aafa8c0.jpg" border=0 width="250" height="140" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0">     <IMG SRC="0ac64ce0.jpg" border=0 width="100" height="206" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0">     <IMG SRC="0aec8e20.jpg" border=0 width="200" height="226" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <bR> <div> I see him at the mall, of all places.  I have reason to be here . . . being ascended for a year sort of puts a crimp in your home decor - namely, you don't have any to come back to.  Well, that's not true - Jack seemed to have saved most everything except my furniture.  And my bed - that big, wonderful . . . all too big . . . bed.  So, I got another one - more manageable in size.  Which means I need linens and blankets.  And that, in turn, leads to me being here.  At the mall.  Watching Jack walk into Williams and Sonoma.</div> <bR> <div> Even after everything I've been through, after everything I've seen and experienced, I am still in awe of that man.  Acting on impulse, I decide to play a little game of cat and mouse.  I can do this - Jack's taught me to do covert.  I can slink.  Ooops, didn't see that garbage can.</div> <bR> <div> I'm hanging back at the food court, watching Jack through the windowed facade of the store.  He's taking his time - actually browsing through the items.  One of the clerks hurries over to help him.  Yes, yet another one falls victim to that 'little boy lost' smile.  I can see her blushing from here.  She leads him across the store - straight to the barbecue section.  Naturally.  I use the time he has his back turned to move in closer.</div> <bR> <div> He's picking up some ridiculously priced utensils, feeling their weight, spinning them around in his hands.  Jack's hands.  The man can carry on a conversation with just the little twitches and jerks of his hands alone.  No one can actually say they know this man until they learn to watch and understand his body language - especially those strong, long-fingered hands.  One touch from him can soothe the most strident fear - or convey a warning as loud as thunder.  I watch in fascination as he twirls a long-tined fork across his wide palms.  The clerk's watching his hands, too.  Yes, miss, I know.... you and hundreds of women on this planet and many others - wish they could be that particular utensil right now.</div> <bR> <div> Jack nods and picks up the whole set, carrying it to the counter.  I watch them chat, the young clerk so flustered she mis-rings the sale at least twice.  Jack just shrugs and leans onto the counter, looking up into the girl's face.  Oh - there it is . . . the patented O'Neill grin.  Yep, that does it.  I doubt the charge she's putting through will even make it to his credit card.  She's a goner.  And Jack knows it.  I recognize that twinkle in his eye, that sideways tilt to his smile.  He's playing this one for all it's worth.  Shameless.</div> <bR> <div> Oh, here he comes.  How handy that they've put this fake palm tree here.  I'll just keep it between him and me . . . let's see, where's he off to now?  Ah, sporting goods.  Foot Locker, to be precise.  Must need some more running shoes.  He was complaining the other day about the arches of his feet hurting after his run.  I saunter along behind him, making sure he can't see my reflection in the glass that surrounds us.  Why do they put windows inside a mall?  I've never understood this - it's not like it's going to rain.</div> <bR> <div> I watch him walk, casually dodging the other mall shoppers.  The man has a grace that is . . . uncanny.  He's got more awareness of his body than anyone I've ever known.  I wish I could have known him when he was younger - when he used to play hockey.  If he played the way he fights, he must have been amazing to watch.  He has this loping stride that just - carries him along.  So effortless in his movements, nothing wasted.  Oh, look at that.  Got a few admirers who've turned and are following him.  Admiring his 'assets,' as it were.  The girls must be, what, eighteen, twenty years old at the most?  He can still turn heads.  And they're very pretty girls - most men can only dream of getting women who look like this to notice them.  Jack just carries on about his business without even a backward glance.  Certainly he must - oh wait - look at him.  What a player!  He's just turned to go into the store, but before going he stopped and turned to the girls, gave them a wink.  Cad.  'Not bad for an old guy, eh, ladies?'  I can't believe he actually said that to them.  They've dissolved into giggles and are hurrying away.  I can see him laughing.  The guy behind the counter gives him an appreciative nod - one alpha male to another.  Jack shrugs it off and moves on.  And I was right.  Running shoes.</div> <bR> <div> Let's see - I'll just duck into this candle shop.  I need a few candles anyway, may as well take care of that.  While I'm waiting.  And come to think of it . . .why am I waiting?  Have I turned into Jack's personal stalker . . . oh, jasmine, I like this one . . . because it's not like I've ever held any sort of interest in the man before.  Other than friendship.  So what am I doing?  I'm buying these beeswax candles, that's what I'm doing.  Mmmm, they smell wonderful.</div> <bR> <div> Gather up my things, hand over my brand new credit card - gotta love plastic - sign the receipt, and away I go.  Oh, and away he goes.  Wonder what's on the agenda next. . . ahhhh, yes, of course.  Rocky Mountain Leathers.  Jack is in need of a new leather jacket.  He was bemoaning the fate of his favorite - an ugly incident with a pint of Guinness and some hot wings.  That stain would never have come out all the way.  He's shaking hands with the manager, apparently.  The man's gone off into the back and Jack is looking around, handling the coats.  He's looking at a . . . pair of leather pants?  What the hell?  My cock's doing the cha-cha in my shorts because Jack's looking at leather pants?  What is that?  Mr. Happy and I are having a discussion when we get home.</div> <bR> <div> The other guy's back, holding up a waist-length, brown, brushed-leather coat.  Looks a lot like the one he gave me when I first came back from Abydos.  Jack's nodding, apparently pleased.  He puts down his packages and tries on the new coat.  I look down at the bulge appearing in my jeans.  What the hell's going on down there?  This shouldn't be making me react this way.  I mean, I've still got the old coat from Jack - it's not like I throw a boner ever time I put it on.  Very disconcerting, this.</div> <bR> <div> Jack's giving the jacket back so the guy can package it up.  I'm going to call a halt to this right now - I obviously have some things to think over and I'd best do that thinking at home.  I'm a little confused right now.  I've never had any sort of sexual feelings toward Jack - at least, I don't think I have - so what's going on with me?  I take one last look at him as he leaves the store with a broad smile.  Heads turn in his direction and I suddenly know what it is.  There's just that certain something about the man that's indescribable to anyone who doesn't know him.  This is bad - I'm not supposed to notice this about my close friend.  Am I?</div> <bR> <div> Okay, I've got some final things to do here then I'm heading home to my nice, cozy, comfortable little house - and a big bottle of wine.  I've got some things to think through and the mall just isn't the place to do it.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> Yep.  Supposed to be home right now, putting my new sheets and pillow cases in the laundry and sorting my new cookware by size into the cupboards.  But where am I?  Jack's house.  Outside Jack's house, actually.  Getting ready to ring the doorbell.  That bottle of wine?  It's in my visibly shaking hand.  It hit me on the drive home.  I'm in love.  Have been for some time, apparently.  When it happened, exactly, I'm not quite sure.  I just know what I feel and, damn it all, I'm about to throw either my closest friendship or my heterosexuality right through the window.  Hopefully it's the latter, cause I couldn't bear to lose the former.  Here we go.</div> <bR> <div> Ding.</div> <bR> <div> What, was he waiting for me to do that?</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel."</div> <bR> <div> Oh god . . . it's the grin.</div> <bR> <div> "Jack."</div> <bR> <div> "I was wondering when you were going to show up."</div> <bR> <div> And now we have the smirk.</div> <bR> <div> "Excuse me?"</div> <bR> <div> "The mall.  You followed me around for an hour.  I was wondering when you were gonna get here.  Come on in.  Apparently we need to talk."</div> <bR> <div> "We do?"  Oh yes, that's intelligent, Jackson.  Smooth.  Very smooth.</div> <bR> <div> Jack just takes the wine and points through his house to the slider leading out to the deck.  "Got steaks on.  I'll get this opened.  Go on out."</div> <bR> <div> Steaks?  Plural steaks?  How the hell did he know?</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel.  Go.  Outside."</div> <bR> <div> "What, I'm a spaniel now?"  I hear him give a snort of laughter as I amble out onto the deck.  Jack's backyard is a constant in this crazy universe.  Always neat, tidy, perfectly cared for.  I asked him once if he had a gardener - he said no.  He just takes care of it when he can, keeps it mowed and watered so even when he's gone it doesn't look bad.  The man takes his horticulture very seriously.</div> <bR> <div> "Here."</div> <bR> <div> I start when he hands me a glass of wine - and scowl when I see what he's drinking.  Too bad he doesn't take his beer as seriously as his yard.</div> <bR> <div> "Why don't you get some real beer?"</div> <bR> <div> He looks down at the bottle, shrugs and takes a long drink.  I try valiantly not to watch his throat move as he swallows, but fail miserably.  Way not to give away the game, there, Danny.</div> <bR> <div> "So."</div> <bR> <div> "So."</div> <bR> <div> Yep.  Some things just never change.</div> <bR> <div> "Have a seat before you fall over, Daniel."</div> <bR> <div> I look down to see where I'm sitting and notice - I haven't seen this before.  "New?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yep.  Got this at the mall, too."  He takes another drink of his beer and gives me that not-so-innocent little smirk.</div> <bR> <div> I take a drink of wine, close my eyes, then open them to look around his yard once more.  It's nice here.  Quiet.  Smells like roses and growing things.  "I was curious."</div> <bR> <div> "About?"</div> <bR> <div> My turn to shrug.  "I don't know, really.  I saw you and just . . . decided to follow you around for a bit."  A thought suddenly hits me.  "When did you know?"</div> <bR> <div> "When you nearly fell into the garbage can."</div> <bR> <div> "You heard that?"</div> <bR> <div> Jack nods slowly.</div> <bR> <div> "But you never looked."  Jack gives me a look like I shouldn't even have had to say that.  "What?"</div> <bR> <div> "I've spent half my life making sure that the people around me aren't going to kill me.  I notice things without broadcasting it.  I saw you there."</div> <bR> <div> "And here I thought I was being so sneaky."  I give an embarrassed little chuckle.</div> <bR> <div> "You're an archeologist, Daniel.  You don't have to be sneaky - the stuff you study is dead.  Doesn't care if you make all the noise in the world.  I also saw you in the mirror they had in the back of the store."</div> <bR> <div> I feel myself frown and I take another drink of wine.  "Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."</div> <bR> <div> "It didn't," he says easily.</div> <bR> <div> It kills me.  It really does.  He's so damned comfortable in his own skin, he makes me uneasy in mine.  I will never have that cool self-assured manner he does, no matter how hard I try.  "So.  Steaks?  You expecting company?"</div> <bR> <div> "Just you.  I figured you'd be over."</div> <bR> <div> I look to the far end of the deck and see the grill and the steaks, cooking slowly and smelling far too good for words.</div> <bR> <div> "I didn't think I would be.  How did you know?"</div> <bR> <div> Jack just takes another drink, his whiskey-colored eyes not leaving mine.  "I know you.  There's something on your mind and you need to talk about it."</div> <div> "No," I say, "I really don't."</div> <bR> <div> "But you will.  Eventually."  He finishes off his beer.  "You ready for more?"  He points to my glass.  I just shake my head and watch him walk past me into the kitchen.</div> <bR> <div> I hear his footsteps behind me.  "I think I'm in love with you."  Oh . . . goddamn.  I can't believe I just said it that way - just flopped it out there like a day old cod.  Shit.</div> <bR> <div> Jack's pace slows for a fraction of a second, then he retakes his seat and studies me calmly for a minute.  My heart is racing and I feel myself begin to sweat.  He gets this soft look in his eyes, then that teasing grin makes its appearance and I could slap him into next week.  "Took you long enough to figure out."</div> <bR> <div> "What?"</div> <bR> <div> "I thought I was gonna have to wait forever for you to say something.  Either that or retire so you could."  He sips at his beer, his gaze never once leaving mine.</div> <bR> <div> "You knew?"</div> <bR> <div> "I suspected."</div> <bR> <div> His smile fades and he finally lowers his eyes, his fingers beginning to pick at the label on the bottle.  "I wanted to say something, but . . . it wouldn't have been right.  Then Kelowna happened and we both ran out of time."  When he looks back up at me, he looks infinitely sad.  "I'm sorry I never said anything to you."</div> <bR> <div> "I wouldn't have believed you if you did," I say, knowing the truth of it before I'm finished with the words.  Denial - not just a river in Egypt.</div> <bR> <div> "This doesn't have to go anywhere if you're uncomfortable," Jack says.  "I'm just damned glad to have you back.  I'm prepared not to hope for anything else."</div> <bR> <div> "You want there to be something else?"  My brain's having trouble getting around this concept.  Jack feels the same?</div> <bR> <div> He simply nods, the evening light dancing through that amazing hair of his.  Damn him.  Why does he have to be one of those men that looks better with age?  According to Cassie, I have complete baldness in my future.  Jack will probably still be turning heads while I'm trying to find a way to cover mine with the latest offering from The Hair Club for Men.</div> <bR> <div> "I'm hoping there can be, but only if you want."</div> <bR> <div> This is a side of Jack O'Neill I don't know.  He's quiet, soft, and god have mercy - he's being mature.  I don't know how to deal with this version.  Not a sarcastic comment in sight.</div> <bR> <div> "This doesn't surprise you at all?" I ask, a little stumped at how easily he's taken the news.</div> <bR> <div> "That a person like you would find any value in a man like me.  Yeah," he chuckles, "that surprises the hell out of me.  Coming to terms with these feelings - no.  I've had a few years to work this out myself, get used to the idea that, while I would seriously love to date just about everything in a skirt - I would rather just spend a quiet night at home with you."</div> <bR> <div> Is that - is that a blush on his face?  I feel like I want to run.  Just get up, jump off the deck and run all the way back to my house and not come out for about a week.  Does he have any idea how confusing this is for me?  I'm watching nearly forty years of blatant heterosexuality do a swan dive into the O'Neill Ocean, and he's got the gall to sit there and . . . blush?  Dammit - would you look at him?  Shy.  Who the hell knew that Jack O'Neill could do shy?  Why have I never noticed this before?  Where the hell have I been . . . besides the obvious?</div> <bR> <div> "I don't quite know what to say to that."  However, Mr. Happy is more than willing to do the talking for me.  Whatever you do, Jack, do not look at my crotch right now.</div> <bR> <div> "How about we have dinner and talk some more afterwards.  We've got a couple days down time - how about we just take this nice and slow?"</div> <bR> <div> I could kill him.  I was ready to fight to get my feelings heard and he's sitting there being the most understanding bastard on the planet.  I'm definitely going to kill him.  I just nod stupidly and he gets up to finish dinner.  I finish my wine in one go, needing the fortification it's going to give me for this meal.  My head's already swimming - what's a little alcohol besides?</div> <bR> <div> Jack serves up dinner - and doesn't it just figure it's delicious?  Damn him.  And we talk.  We talk about Sam first.  Good to get that out in the open.  He did have a thing for her - maybe still does a little.  Well, who doesn't?  Even I wouldn't mind starting something.  Or should I say, I wouldn't have minded.  Now, I'm sitting across from . . . him . . . and he's the only thing I can see.  Damn, damn, damn him.</div> <bR> <div> Next, we talk about Sara.  And Shau're.  I knew he loved Sara, I just didn't know how much.  And I don't think he really understood how much Shau're was a part of me.  But I learn something about him.  When Jack loves, he loves forever and with all his heart.  He'll always love Sara - always mourn that he couldn't put things right.  I understand that.  I also understand that he'll never leave her behind - part of him will always reside with her.  And I don't have a problem with that at all.  Nope.  Not one bit.  I understand it perfectly.  I somehow wouldn't expect anything less from him.</div> <bR> <div> It's gotten a little chilly outside.  Jack suggests we head in and he'll make some coffee.  I look at my watch.  It was nearly seven o'clock when I got over here - it's almost eleven now.  Time flies.  I take a seat on the couch and wait.  He's there in a few minutes, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.  I settle back and look at him.  He scoots into the corner, curls one leg underneath the other, lays his arm across the back of the couch and just looks at me.  Oh shit.  I know the next topic.</div> <bR> <div> "So, Daniel.  Ever done it with another guy?"</div> <bR> <div> If I hadn't known it was coming, I would have sprayed coffee all over him.  As it is, I can feel my eyebrows dance around for a second.  I cough to clear my suddenly tight throat.  "No.  You?"</div> <bR> <div> Jack just shakes his head.  Looks like I'm not the only one waving goodbye to their previous sexuality.  "Guys in the field would participate in some stress relief with one another.  I was never . . . interested."</div> <bR> <div> "While I . . . am certainly aware . . . of the mechanics of the act . . . I can't say I ever fancied . . ."</div> <bR> <div> "Fancied?"</div> <bR> <div> There's that teasing smirk.  I should shoot him.</div> <bR> <div> "Fancied . . . exploring the actual . . . ahem . . . act . . . as it were."  Did that sound as lame as I think?  I can tell by his face.  It did.</div> <bR> <div> "Considering what the act entails," Jack says - and he is the picture of smugness - the bastard - "I would think there's some sort of - etiquette involved."</div> <bR> <div> "One would assume so."</div> <bR> <div> And there go his eyes - doing that - soft . . . thing again.  Christ, I feel like a teenager.</div> <bR> <div> "We don't have to do that," he says.  "I'm sure we could find something else . . ."</div> <bR> <div> "Yes we do."  Who the hell was that?  Was that me?  Ah gaaaawd, someone just shoot me.  I can tell my face must be bright red.  It feels like fire's dancing all over it - all the way up to my ears.  He's smiling and looking down into his coffee.  "I mean, at some point - I would like to, uh . . . you know, explore that territo . . . um, sorry, bad choice of words."  He laughs and so do I.</div> <bR> <div> "Maybe once we figure out a few of the fundamentals we'll give that a try."  He suddenly looks at the clock.  "Midnight.  Did you want me to call you a cab home?"</div> <bR> <div> I shake my head.</div> <bR> <div> "Wanna stay here?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yes."</div> <bR> <div> "Guest room, or . . ."</div> <bR> <div> I can hear myself swallow.  "I'll take the 'or.'"</div> <bR> <div> I watch him take a deep breath.  "We don't have to . . ."</div> <bR> <div> "I know."  It's my turn to smile and Jack seems to appreciate it.  "Let's clean up from dinner first, then . . ."</div> <bR> <div> Jack nods and I help him get the worst of the mess picked up.  When the dishwasher starts I realize it's all come down to this.  I should be more scared - I should be completely freaked.  I should be anything other than what I am at the moment - nervous as all get out . . . but excited as hell.</div> <bR> <div> "Why don't you take the bathroom first?" Jack says softly.  "I'll lock up and be in in a few minutes."</div> <bR> <div> "Okay," I say.  My voice is barely above a whisper.</div> <bR> <div> I am about to spend the night with Jack O'Neill.  Well I'll be damned.  Who would've thought?  Certainly not me - until the Epiphany Express ran me over six blocks from my house.</div> <bR> <div> I finish quickly in the bathroom, run a warm washcloth quickly over the most important bits, and deliberately run it over my ass, teasing myself, making myself imagine.  My mind's running rampant with visions of Jack's hands and his smile - and want slams through me like I have never, ever known.</div> <bR> <div> I rinse out the cloth in steaming hot water, dry my hands, fasten my jeans back up and head toward the bedroom.  Jack's bedroom.  Holy shit.</div> <bR> <div> Jack smiles as he passes me in the hall.  "I laid out something for you to sleep in.  Figured that might be more comfortable." </div> <bR> <div> "Thanks," I say and purposely give him one of my own shy smiles.  Hmm, looks like I'm not the only one suffering from lack of blood flow north of the border.  While Jack is otherwise occupied, I change into the baggy sweat bottoms he's put out for me.  I feel better immediately.  I look at his bed and wonder how two men, both over six feet tall, are going to manage to sleep, among other things, in that small bed of his.  Damn it - mine's no bigger, either.  Why did he have to get rid of my old bed?</div> <bR> <div> "I sleep on the right," comes his soft voice from behind me.</div> <bR> <div> "We'll both probably end up on the floor," I say with a small laugh.  "One of us is going to need to get a bigger bed."</div> <bR> <div> "Guess I should have hung onto yours."  Jack shrugs.</div> <bR> <div> "Well, this promotes . . . closeness."  I smile at his look and move around to the other side of the bed.  We both slip under the covers and Jack clicks off the light.  So here we are.  Yep.  Right here.  Here we are.</div> <bR> <div> "Nervous?" he asks in a whisper.</div> <bR> <div> "Yeah - that'd be one word I could use."</div> <bR> <div> "Me too," Jack says quietly and I can hear the smile in his voice.  "We'll get over it.  C'mere."</div> <bR> <div> At the same moment we turn toward each other - which is wise - we take up less room that way.  The light coming in through the window hits Jack just right and I can only marvel at the way it makes him look.  Twenty years just disappeared and all I can see is the sparkle in his eyes and that amazing half smile he has.  His eyes go sort of wide when he looks at me and I can only imagine what it is he's seeing.  He appears to like it though - if that erection pressing into my thigh is any indication.  I'm not even surprised that I like the way this feels - even as completely foreign as this experience is to me.</div> <bR> <div> I don't know what to expect.  Will it be rough - like I can imagine him being?  Will he take time for me, find out what I like and try and please me?  Will he give me time to learn what he likes?  He's leaning in, his eyes going back and forth between my lips and my eyes.  I don't want to analyze anymore, or think.  I just want to be close to him.  He's going to kiss me and I'm going to enjoy it.  I hope he does, too.</div> <bR> <div> Our lips touch and it's tentative.  Nothing like kissing a woman - but it's good.  Whoo boy is it good.  I had no idea his lips would be that soft, or his mouth wet like this.  I open my mouth in invitation and hope.  Yep, there he is, ready and willing to come over and play.  He's sliding his arms around me and I'm more than happy to reciprocate.  Now this is what I call a clinch.  He pulls back - without permission, I might add - and just looks down at me.  My heart's trying to slam its way out of my chest and my throat is tight . . .</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel."  The word has no sound - just breath.  I breathe in, waiting . . . waiting . . .</div> <bR> <div> He covers my mouth with his and I exhale, the sound a moan that he swallows into himself and answers with one of his own.  Jack's thigh is wedged up tight between mine and his hips have begun a rhythm I recognize very well.  I hitch up against him, get a little more leverage and do some meet-and-greet rubbing of my own.</div> <bR> <div> Jack pulls away with a soft suck to my bottom lip and starts licking my neck.  How the hell did he know about that?  His fingers wrap themselves into my hair and he eases my head back.  I feel his lips traveling over the skin just behind my ear and I can't suppress the shudder that quivers through me.  I feel him smile.</div> <bR> <div> "I don't know what I expected," I breathe, one hand reaching down to pull him in closer so my dick is literally pressed into his hip bone, "but I didn't expect this."</div> <bR> <div> "Neither did I," he answers, mouthing his way down my throat to my chest.   "No hair."</div> <bR> <div> "No."</div> <bR> <div> "You wax, don't you?"</div> <bR> <div> He's licking little designs between my pecs and I've got the worse case of goose bumps ever.</div> <bR> <div> "Yes," I manage to answer.</div> <bR> <div> "Why?"</div> <bR> <div> He's making his way over to my left nipple and I know as soon as he hits it, I won't be able to answer.  "Too much hair.  Don't like it on me."  Wet warmth covers the sensitive nub over my heart and I buck up into him.  He slams down into me in a most satisfactory way.  "Keep going."</div> <bR> <div> "Will you let me bring you off?" he asks as he trails that delectable tongue across to the other nipple.</div> <bR> <div> "I may have to kill you otherwise," I manage to pant, one hand going up to keep his head on its appointed path, and the other going down.  After a few attempts, and Jack's very considerate move to give me some room, I finally get my hand down his pants.  Just as I grasp him, he bites down gently on my nipple and it's everything I can do to keep from coming right there.</div> <bR> <div> "You're so sensitive," Jack rasps out.</div> <bR> <div> Apparently, this is a good thing because Jack's cock is trying to leap out of my hand.  I give it a squeeze and I feel the breath hitch in both of us.</div> <bR> <div> "Yeah, do that again," Jack breathes against my damp chest.</div> <bR> <div> I squeeze the thick, veiny shaft - so different from my own - and smile when I hear the half whimper/half grunt from my partner.  I've got another man's dick in my hand.  I never in a million years thought I'd ever be in this situation - but here I am.  I feel Jack's hand reaching down for my cock and I can't wait to feel him wrap those long, strong fingers around me.</div> <bR> <div> "Aw gawwwd," I hear him whisper as his hand makes contact and gives one long, exploratory stroke that nearly sends me through the roof.  "So smooth," he whispers.</div> <bR> <div> My fingers delve into Jack's groin, exploring, seeking.  He's hairy - but it's soft and silky.  I wonder at that - I expected it to be coarse and rough.  His balls are bigger than mine - heavy and warm in my hand, the crinkly sac so sensitive to my touch.  I reach behind his balls to the one spot that, on me, will send me into orbit and I feel him buck and gasp against me.</div> <bR> <div> "You like that, too?" I whisper.  He only nods into my neck, and his fingers find their way down to the exact same spot on me.  I spread my legs so he can play.</div> <bR> <div> It'll be over all too soon if I don't settle down.  I move my fingers back up and explore the tip of his cock.  I smile as he starts to moan almost non-stop now and I get a pleasing little yelp when my thumb pushes through the slit - one that's much bigger than what I suspect is normal.  And he's wet - the man leaks pre-come like a sieve - I like it.  Yet another surprise.</div> <bR> <div> The fat mushroom head is wonderfully sensitive and I toy with the underside before going back to running the tip of my index finger back and forth through his slit.  He's humping my hand and I'm loving it.  Christ - who knew?</div> <bR> <div> Jack's fingers are far from idle and I quickly reach over and tug my sweats down.  Jack takes care of the rest, yanking them off me before returning his attention to the cleft of my ass.  I feel his middle finger pushing and stroking at the tight opening.</div> <bR> <div> "Jack?"</div> <bR> <div> "Just let me use my finger, Daniel.  That's all."  He takes my mouth in another kiss and I nod.  His dick stiffens in my hand and moisture coats my palm.</div> <bR> <div> I move in as close to him as I can and raise my leg up so he's got some room to work.  My dick's not very happy about being left out of the action - wonder if I can . . . oh yeah, that sooo works.  Got both in my hand now.  Jack looks down to see and so do I.  We looks so different against each other - his cock is dark and thick, heavily veined, while mine's more slender, smooth, and pale compared to his - and I'm just a little longer . . . but he's got me on girth.  I can't believe how thick his cock is.  They look amazing together, squeezed in my hand, the tips leaking little drops of liquid that allows this glorious slip and slide . . .</div> <bR> <div> "Holy fuck!"  I bite down onto Jack shoulder - he's just pushed his finger inside me.  I didn't expect it to feel like that - electric and burning - and way, way better than I ever imagined.</div> <bR> <div> "Did I hurt you?"</div> <bR> <div> "No . . . god no.  God."  I'm panting - can't talk for panting.  Grunting now - he's pushing in farther - I push back just because it feels so fucking good.  It makes his finger go deeper - oh yeah, I see the pattern now.  His dick feels even bigger in my hand - how the hell do I expect that to fit inside me?</div> <bR> <div> "Good?"</div> <bR> <div> "Don't stop."</div> <bR> <div> His finger's wiggling around inside me and I've never had anyone do that before without a latex glove and a medical chart.</div> <bR> <div> Stars.  I'm seeing stars and Jack may now be deaf in his right ear.  He just touched something inside me and . . .  "Mooooore."</div> <bR> <div> God, was that me?  Begging like that?  Who the hell cares?</div> <bR> <div> "Gonna make you come."</div> <bR> <div> "Yessssssssss."  I don't care what you do, just rub that spot inside me again.</div> <bR> <div> Decibel level just went up on that one.  My body's shaking and I think I've gone into cardiac arrest.</div> <bR> <div> "Oh god, Daniel."</div> <bR> <div> He sounds desperate - right on the edge.  So am I.  I squeeze and stroke our cocks together as hard as I can and in reaction I get a rapid pet to what I can only guess is my prostate.  Oh shit - here it comes - I'm gonna . . . </div> <bR> <div> "FUUUUUUUCCCK - JAAAACK - YESSSSSSS!!!"</div> <bR> <div> He's not stopping and neither am I.  God, look at how much he comes!  He's babbling - so am I - urging each other on - making it last.  Christ, I can't breathe - it's all too much . . . need to just rest for a second - catch my . . . breath. . .JesusJesusJesusJesus . . . it's so good . . . so good.</div> <bR> <div> Kisses.  I feel kisses.  I open my eyes and realize I've been out for a minute or two.  Jack is hugely smug.  He's got both arms around me now and he's nuzzling me.  Nuzzling, for god's sake!</div> <bR> <div> "You back with me?" he asks quietly.</div> <bR> <div> "I don't think so."  My voice is thick, slurred.  Yep - I got brain damage on that one.</div> <bR> <div> I feel him smile.  "Mmmm . . . take your time."</div> <bR> <div> Nibbling.  We've moved to nibbling.  I want to bring my arms up around him, but I literally can't move.  Did I have a stroke or something - or are we just that good together?  I'll go for the second one, thank you.</div> <bR> <div> "Messy sex," I mumble into his shoulder.</div> <bR> <div> "Hmm?"</div> <bR> <div> "Messy sex.  I like messy sex."  And I do - very, very much.  Always have.  Like it even more now.  I feel something rubbing over my stomach and I manage to open my eyes enough to look down.  Jack's got a towel and he's doing some cleaning.</div> <bR> <div> "Sleep."  He whispers the word into my hair and I'm . . . . .</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> Awake.  Wide awake.  Like someone just flipped on a switch.  Where the hell am I?  This isn't my room.  I look up.  Is that a picture of a bass?</div> <bR> <div> My stomach drops and my heart begins to race.  That wasn't a dream last night.  Let me just take a peek under the covers . . . oh fuck.  I am looking thoroughly debauched this morning.  What time is it?  God, where does the man keep the clock around here?  Oh - there.  Ten fifteen.  Jesus.</div> <bR> <div> "Hey."</div> <bR> <div> I look toward the door and there he is - six foot two inches worth of lanky, casual, hot-as-hell Air Force colonel.  "Hey."  Oh yeah, I'm a little hoarse this morning.  I recall shouting last night, but . . . reeaally.</div> <bR> <div> "Breakfast is ready."  He nods towards the kitchen.  I sniff and smell bacon.  My stomach growls.</div> <bR> <div> "Shower," I mutter as I throw off the covers.  Oh, that was a bad idea.  I hear a long exhalation of breath from Jack's direction and I look up.  His eyes have gone black.  I'm thinking breakfast and a shower are gonna need to wait.</div> <bR> <div> ++++</div> <bR> <div> "Daniel, are these . . . bite marks?"</div> <bR> <div> Janet's doing her pre-mission exam.  I can't quite hide the smile.  "Yes.  They are."  She looks at me with those big, brown eyes of hers and I feel the color hit my cheeks.  The best offense . . .  "What - you've never seen a hickey before, Janet?"</div> <bR> <div> "Well, of course . . ." she stammers.  She's so damn cute when she gets flustered.  "Just not on you."  Ah yes, there's the twinkle in her eye I've been waiting for.  "So, who is she?"</div> <bR> <div> If she only knew.  "Not telling."</div> <bR> <div> "Oh really?"  She makes sure none of the skin on the marks is broken, then carries on with the exam.  "Is it one of my nurses?"</div> <bR> <div> "Not telling."</div> <bR> <div> I've got her now.  She's gonna be killing herself trying to find out who it is.  And she won't - I'll make sure of that.  Wait till she sees the big love bite on my ass during our post-mission . . . .</div> <bR> <div> "What?  Did I do something funny?"</div> <bR> <div> I cover my laughter with a cough.  "No.  No.  Nothing."</div> <bR> <div> Jack comes strolling into the infirmary from his examination with Warner as Janet finishes up with me.  He looks pointedly at my neck, then straight into my eyes.  He asked me to wear the high necked jersey instead of the regular t-shirt, but I didn't.  I'm bragging.  Sue me.  I wonder if that hickey on Jack's inner thigh will fade before we get back from P-whateverthefuckitis.  I really wish we'd give the planets we visit better names.</div> <bR> <div> "You're clear to go, Daniel," Janet says with a quiet smile.  "Be careful."</div> <bR> <div> "I'll try," I say honestly.</div> <bR> <div> Jack turns and walks with me.  We've got to catch the elevator.  Neither one of us is saying a word.  No need.  We said everything we needed to during our down time . . . or should that be 'up time.'</div> <bR> <div> Jack looks at me.  I've let another laugh slip.  "You're in a good mood," he says as the doors to the elevator open.</div> <bR> <div> "Yes I am."</div> <bR> <div> "Good to see."</div> <bR> <div> We step into the back of the car, behind the two airmen already inside.  Jack takes the opportunity to do a little smoldering in my direction.  Yeah, go ahead - you know I like it.</div> <bR> <div> Looks like this is our floor.  The two airmen step aside to let Jack go first.  I've never really noticed before, but he is shown quite a bit of deference around here.  I'm so used to knowing him as 'Jack' that I forget he is second in command of this entire operation.  He nods to the soldiers and steps through the doors, with me close behind.</div> <bR> <div> "What?" he asks.</div> <bR> <div> "Oh . . . nothing.  I was . . . I was just noticing your rank."</div> <bR> <div> "My rank?"</div> <bR> <div> "Good morning, sir!" comes a saluted greeting from one of the SFs guarding this floor.</div> <bR> <div> "Sarge," Jack says casually as we head down to the gear-up room.  "Rank?  What about my rank?"</div> <bR> <div> "Well . . . that," I say, pointing behind us.  "I just never really noticed before."</div> <bR> <div> Jack shakes his head in amusement.</div> <bR> <div> "Hello, Colonel," comes a female voice from around the corner.  I'm just a second behind but I see Marjorie Hampton step out of Jack's way, avoiding a collision.  She laughs lightly as Jack reaches out his hands to steady her, placing them gently on her shoulders.</div> <bR> <div> "Dr. Hampton," he says and there goes that bad-boy grin.  "You need to be careful around old men like me.  We break easily."</div> <bR> <div> I know it's going to happen even before it does.  Yes, there it is - the blush-n-giggle.</div> <bR> <div> "Hardly 'old,' Jack," she says.  "You headed off-world?"</div> <bR> <div> "Yep.  Got some rocks for Daniel to go dig up and some fascinating soil samples for Carter to gather."</div> <bR> <div> "Oh, Doctor Jackson, I didn't see you there."</div> <bR> <div> No, of course you didn't.  "Hello, Marjorie."</div> <bR> <div> "Well, you boys have fun.  Don't run into any Jaffa or anything."</div> <bR> <div> She swishes away down the hall and I just turn and look at Jack - who's looking straight at me.  "What?"</div> <bR> <div> I thump him in the chest and walk past him.  He knows.  He so knows.  And now I know, too.  In spades.  Jack's got 'that certain something.'  Everyone sees it - everyone responds to it - and he lets them . . . encourages them, even.  Yep, he's definitely got it alright.  And happily, it's now mine . . . all mine.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> - finis -</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com" TARGET="_top" TITLE="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com"><U>Give the author's ego a marshmallow . . . please feed the bear.</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id3_sg1_slash.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Stargate SG1 Slash Fiction"><U>Back to Fic List</U></A>     <A HREF="id2_directory.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Directory Listing"><U>Back to Directory</U></A></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=45 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <B> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="0" CELLSPACING="0" WIDTH="161" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER HEIGHT= 45 ><NOBR><div> <IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" WIDTH="29"></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=TOP><NOBR><div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Plotexpo.com"><U><B><IMG SRC="0181d270.jpg" border=0 width="29" height="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER WIDTH="15"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="45" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="15" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id11.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="A Glimpse at the Heart"><U><B><IMG SRC="017271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id13.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Dichotomy Irony Part 1"><U><B><IMG SRC="016271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> </tR> </TABLE></B></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>