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New Fic: Dialects of Jack (SG1, Jack/Daniel, R)
Title: Dialects of Jack
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rivestra
Rating: R for possessive sex
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Length: 1,160 words, complete
Disclaimer: Written purely for fun; no profit or harm intended. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners
Summary: A long time ago Daniel's compass shifted. His true north always points to Jack.
~~~~~~~~~~**********~~~~~~~~
A long time ago Daniel's compass shifted. His true north always points to Jack.
This means Jack is the first thing Daniel sees when he careens through the wormhole behind Cam and just ahead of the P4X124's missiles. It means Daniel catches Jack's look before he locks it down, that he sees concern flash to outrage before it's plastered over with Jack's patented military cool.
It means Daniel has enough of a head start to get between Cam and the General. He stands up tall and whole between them, refusing to allow the screaming from his ankle to manifest as a limp. Jack's eyes are a tangible force as they sweep Daniel's body and Daniel sags a little when they let him go, stepping quickly away to let the General pass.
"So, Mitchell, I'm guessing we're not building our outpost on P4X124?"
"No, Sir" Cam shakes the sweat out of his hair and watched the General warily. "Our allies there are…"
Jack grins. "Feeling a little testy today?"
"More like engulfed in their own problems. They've got a civil war on their hands."
Jack's hand lands hard on Cam's back. The gesture's honest and without hostility, as far as Daniel can tell. "I guess we're going to need a new spot for our spy telescope, then."
"Yes, Sir, I guess we will."
"Too bad." Jack's gaze sweeps the room. It doesn't spend any more time on Daniel than anywhere else. Still, Daniel is sure Jack saw him limp. Jack's hand tightens a bit on Cam's shoulder, "Say, Mitchell, did I ever tell you how much I like to fish?"
"No, Sir." Cam looks a bit like a fish himself, caught under his General's friendly hand.
Jack steers Cam toward the door, falling in step beside him. "I've got some rainbow trout and a six pack with our names on 'em. Have you ever had really fresh rainbow trout, Mitchell?"
"No, Sir, I can't say that I have…" Cam's eyes catch Daniel's as the big doors close, cutting off his plea for translation.
Not that Daniel could have been much help. All these years, 23 languages and countless dialects, and he still doesn't really speak Jack.
******
When Daniel arrives home, he leaves his door unlocked. He showers, changes into soft cotton and eats a light dinner, then sits at his desk, pretending he's catching up on journals. Pretending he's not waiting.
Jack doesn't say a word when he comes in. Silently, he closes the distance between them, crossing to Daniel's desk and pulling him up. Jack stares for a moment, eyes glassy and far away until Daniel shifts under his hands. The motion flares Jack back to life; suddenly he's tugging and pulling, stripping Daniel's clothes off with tightly controlled efficiency.
Daniel knows better than to try to help. He moves when Jack moves him and, soon enough, he's naked. Jack spins him around, and his back collides with the wall, rattling frames full of Cairo and Lima, and sending Istanbul crashing to the floor.
Jack doesn't seem to notice. His hands are everywhere now, flat palms cool against Daniel's arms and stomach, pressing insistently along Daniel's skin, cataloguing each minor bruise and scrape, making their way down his body until they're stopped cold by the ace bandage.
Jack kneels in front of him. Strong hands unwrap his ankle. They bend and poke with gentle, inexorable thoroughness, learning the damage by feel. In silent agreement, Daniel gasps when he needs to, but he doesn't pull away.
Jack's hand grows warm on his foot, grip firm but stutter-stopped. Daniel can feel a pulse where Jack's fingers sit on his arch, but he can't tell if it's his or Jack's and he doesn't care. He counts off the beats until, whoever it belongs to, it surges. Its blood pounds through them both with as Jack suddenly knocks Daniel's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling down.
Daniel lands hard on his hip, but Jack catches his head in one big open palm, easing him down the last inch. Jack's belt catches on Daniel's skin, scraping a thin, stinging line along his thigh when Jack moves in to cover him, finally – finally – claiming Daniel's mouth with his own.
Daniel's had enough passivity. He surges up to meet Jack, pressing full length against him, maddened by the uniform between them. He tears at it with his hands until Jack grabs them and pins them above his head. He struggles, writhing gratefully against Jack's body but honestly trying to free his hands.
Jack doesn't care. His free hand scrambles at his belt until it slides free. He straddles Daniel and wraps the warm leather tightly around Daniel's wrists.
Jack's harsh uniform pants chafe roughly against Daniel's bare abdomen and groin. Daniel feels his blood rise still further into the contact and curses the fabric, glaring until Jack (now finished with the damn belt), swoops down to kiss his eyes. It's wet and messy and should be a little disgusting, but Daniel can feel the pulse of Jack's tongue, warm and alive against his eyelid, and he feels the tension go out of his body. It remembers, with one last tug against the belt, that this is Jack's show. The carpet rises up beneath Daniel and he melts into it and into Jack, becoming a long smear of exposed nerve between the two.
Jack works his way down Daniel's temple, mouth working over cheek and ear before following a line of stubble back down along Daniel's jaw. He latches on to Daniel's neck, biting and soothing over the jugular artery, catching each pulse point and holding it between his teeth. Daniels knows he's testing its strength, tasting the vitality of each with his tongue before moving on to the next.
Lingering over each point, Jack inches his way down the angles and hollows of Daniel's collarbone, gliding over the long planes of his chest. He lingers, but there's urgency thrumming through him too, following him across every inch of Daniel's skin, setting a demanding pace and focusing the whirlwind, driving it ever onward.
When Jack's hands leave him from a moment, Daniel arches up to follow them. Jack pulls back further, away, and Daniel keens. He tries to lift impossibly higher off the carpet in the brief moment before Jack returns, blessedly naked and hard and slick. Jack doesn’t linger now. He doesn't hesitate at all. Jack slides in deep and full in one long, slow push. Daniel cries out, drawing Jack's name out five full syllables long, five full syllables of yes and missed you and yours.
Later - laying there breathless and aching, and so very, very home - Daniel can't even remember how to speak Daniel, let alone Jack. But that's okay. He doesn't really think Jack speaks it very well either.
Jack's more of a sign language kind of guy.
~ fin ~
A/N: Comment fic forzortified's prompt Stargate SG-1, Daniel, he speaks 23 languages except 'Jack.'
~ Fic Index ~
Author:
rivestra Rating: R for possessive sex
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Length: 1,160 words, complete
Disclaimer: Written purely for fun; no profit or harm intended. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners
Summary: A long time ago Daniel's compass shifted. His true north always points to Jack.
A long time ago Daniel's compass shifted. His true north always points to Jack.
This means Jack is the first thing Daniel sees when he careens through the wormhole behind Cam and just ahead of the P4X124's missiles. It means Daniel catches Jack's look before he locks it down, that he sees concern flash to outrage before it's plastered over with Jack's patented military cool.
It means Daniel has enough of a head start to get between Cam and the General. He stands up tall and whole between them, refusing to allow the screaming from his ankle to manifest as a limp. Jack's eyes are a tangible force as they sweep Daniel's body and Daniel sags a little when they let him go, stepping quickly away to let the General pass.
"So, Mitchell, I'm guessing we're not building our outpost on P4X124?"
"No, Sir" Cam shakes the sweat out of his hair and watched the General warily. "Our allies there are…"
Jack grins. "Feeling a little testy today?"
"More like engulfed in their own problems. They've got a civil war on their hands."
Jack's hand lands hard on Cam's back. The gesture's honest and without hostility, as far as Daniel can tell. "I guess we're going to need a new spot for our spy telescope, then."
"Yes, Sir, I guess we will."
"Too bad." Jack's gaze sweeps the room. It doesn't spend any more time on Daniel than anywhere else. Still, Daniel is sure Jack saw him limp. Jack's hand tightens a bit on Cam's shoulder, "Say, Mitchell, did I ever tell you how much I like to fish?"
"No, Sir." Cam looks a bit like a fish himself, caught under his General's friendly hand.
Jack steers Cam toward the door, falling in step beside him. "I've got some rainbow trout and a six pack with our names on 'em. Have you ever had really fresh rainbow trout, Mitchell?"
"No, Sir, I can't say that I have…" Cam's eyes catch Daniel's as the big doors close, cutting off his plea for translation.
Not that Daniel could have been much help. All these years, 23 languages and countless dialects, and he still doesn't really speak Jack.
******
When Daniel arrives home, he leaves his door unlocked. He showers, changes into soft cotton and eats a light dinner, then sits at his desk, pretending he's catching up on journals. Pretending he's not waiting.
Jack doesn't say a word when he comes in. Silently, he closes the distance between them, crossing to Daniel's desk and pulling him up. Jack stares for a moment, eyes glassy and far away until Daniel shifts under his hands. The motion flares Jack back to life; suddenly he's tugging and pulling, stripping Daniel's clothes off with tightly controlled efficiency.
Daniel knows better than to try to help. He moves when Jack moves him and, soon enough, he's naked. Jack spins him around, and his back collides with the wall, rattling frames full of Cairo and Lima, and sending Istanbul crashing to the floor.
Jack doesn't seem to notice. His hands are everywhere now, flat palms cool against Daniel's arms and stomach, pressing insistently along Daniel's skin, cataloguing each minor bruise and scrape, making their way down his body until they're stopped cold by the ace bandage.
Jack kneels in front of him. Strong hands unwrap his ankle. They bend and poke with gentle, inexorable thoroughness, learning the damage by feel. In silent agreement, Daniel gasps when he needs to, but he doesn't pull away.
Jack's hand grows warm on his foot, grip firm but stutter-stopped. Daniel can feel a pulse where Jack's fingers sit on his arch, but he can't tell if it's his or Jack's and he doesn't care. He counts off the beats until, whoever it belongs to, it surges. Its blood pounds through them both with as Jack suddenly knocks Daniel's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling down.
Daniel lands hard on his hip, but Jack catches his head in one big open palm, easing him down the last inch. Jack's belt catches on Daniel's skin, scraping a thin, stinging line along his thigh when Jack moves in to cover him, finally – finally – claiming Daniel's mouth with his own.
Daniel's had enough passivity. He surges up to meet Jack, pressing full length against him, maddened by the uniform between them. He tears at it with his hands until Jack grabs them and pins them above his head. He struggles, writhing gratefully against Jack's body but honestly trying to free his hands.
Jack doesn't care. His free hand scrambles at his belt until it slides free. He straddles Daniel and wraps the warm leather tightly around Daniel's wrists.
Jack's harsh uniform pants chafe roughly against Daniel's bare abdomen and groin. Daniel feels his blood rise still further into the contact and curses the fabric, glaring until Jack (now finished with the damn belt), swoops down to kiss his eyes. It's wet and messy and should be a little disgusting, but Daniel can feel the pulse of Jack's tongue, warm and alive against his eyelid, and he feels the tension go out of his body. It remembers, with one last tug against the belt, that this is Jack's show. The carpet rises up beneath Daniel and he melts into it and into Jack, becoming a long smear of exposed nerve between the two.
Jack works his way down Daniel's temple, mouth working over cheek and ear before following a line of stubble back down along Daniel's jaw. He latches on to Daniel's neck, biting and soothing over the jugular artery, catching each pulse point and holding it between his teeth. Daniels knows he's testing its strength, tasting the vitality of each with his tongue before moving on to the next.
Lingering over each point, Jack inches his way down the angles and hollows of Daniel's collarbone, gliding over the long planes of his chest. He lingers, but there's urgency thrumming through him too, following him across every inch of Daniel's skin, setting a demanding pace and focusing the whirlwind, driving it ever onward.
When Jack's hands leave him from a moment, Daniel arches up to follow them. Jack pulls back further, away, and Daniel keens. He tries to lift impossibly higher off the carpet in the brief moment before Jack returns, blessedly naked and hard and slick. Jack doesn’t linger now. He doesn't hesitate at all. Jack slides in deep and full in one long, slow push. Daniel cries out, drawing Jack's name out five full syllables long, five full syllables of yes and missed you and yours.
Later - laying there breathless and aching, and so very, very home - Daniel can't even remember how to speak Daniel, let alone Jack. But that's okay. He doesn't really think Jack speaks it very well either.
Jack's more of a sign language kind of guy.
~ fin ~
A/N: Comment fic for
zortified's prompt Stargate SG-1, Daniel, he speaks 23 languages except 'Jack.' ~ Fic Index ~
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::glances over shoulder at recent entries:: Ok, not everything, though it sure feels like it. Apparently, SG1 is my happy porn place of the moment.
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And Hot. ::grins::
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