Hand Love Challenge Fic
Sep. 10th, 2004 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thegrrrl2002This was crossposted to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bagfulloftricks, in response to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
burnt_smore's hand!love challenge. Make that a late response. It was a last minute kind of thing, mainly because yesterday was a really slow day at work. I figured it was a good way to keep myself entertained.
It's a Stargate SG-1, Jack/Daniel ficlet, called:
A Hands-On Kind of Guy
Jack is standing at the kitchen table reading the sports page when Daniel arrives. Actually, he's not really reading it, he's just staring at the headlines. He can't seem to focus on the words. His mind remains on unfinished business-- reports and assignments and that tricky situation with the well-armed natives on P3X-0900.
It bugs the hell out of him that he remembers planet designations now.
"Hey, Jack." Daniel takes off his coat and kisses the back of Jack's neck, a quick brush of lips on skin, and his hand touches Jack's hip. "Did you see the images from SG-12?" he asks breathlessly.
"Yes, Daniel, I did." Of course he's seen them. He sees every single goddamn image from every single goddamn team.
Daniel launches into a discourse as he helps himself to a glass of water, explaining to Jack that the murals on the temple walls seem to be Mycenaean in style but the writing was logographic, maybe even southern tungusic, After a minute, Jack frowns and looks up as if he just realized that Daniel was in the room.
Daniel's exposition grinds to a halt. "Okay. Maybe another time," he says with a small smile. "You all right?"
"Oh yeah. Just dandy."
"Oh." Daniel frowns, thoughtful. After a moment he asks, "Busy day?"
"You could say that." Busy doesn't seem to be the right word for it. It doesn't really describe what it's like to juggle nine off-world teams, three mission briefings, four mission de-briefings and seventeen equipment requests. Not to mention that it may take an executive order by President Hayes to replace the burned-out light bulb in the control room. Jack can't think of another word for it, though, so he supposes that yes, he's been busy, even though he hasn't accomplished a damn thing all day.
Aware that Daniel is watching expectantly, Jack turns to his newspaper and reads the baseball scores once again, not because he cares who won, but because he has nothing else to say. He's been talking to people all day. Not only that, but people have been talking back at him. Talk, talk, talk. Suddenly he's become the most popular man on base. Everyone has something desperately important to share with him.
Daniel tries again. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Had some food-like crap from the commissary." He's not sure how long ago, but he suspects the ache in his gut is not from hunger.
"Okay." Daniel nods. He grows quiet. Jack figures he has left the room, but then he hears Daniel ask, "Do you want me to go? I can leave, it's not a problem."
Jack eyes Daniel again, standing in the middle of his kitchen, rocking on the balls of his feet as if he could move off in any direction, at any moment. It's not a loaded question. Jack knows that if he says yes, Daniel will give him a kiss and leave, without anger or distress. He'll go home and ponder Mycenaean murals, tongue logos and whatnot. Except that would leave Jack by himself, with no distractions to keep his brain from spinning around like the Stargate itself. Jack isn't sure what he needs at the moment, but to be alone with his own thoughts and doubts is definitely not it.
"No," he says, pushing the newspaper aside. "Stay. I'm just--" He waves his hand, helpless, because he doesn't know what he is. "Tired. Frustrated."
All at once Daniel is next to him, touching his shoulder. "A general's work is never done?" he asks, a tentative note to his voice.
"Something like that," he says, vaguely irritated. He doesn't want Daniel's sympathy. He just wants to do his job right. He wants that sense of accomplishment that he used to feel after a hard, dirty off-world mission.
He's not sure how long they stand there, Daniel's hand rubbing slow circles on his back, his face close enough that Jack can feel warm breath on his cheek. He likes the sound of Daniel breathing. It’s a familiar sound, something he knows. Like Daniel himself.
Jack turns around to face him. For a moment Daniel looks as though he's about to speak, but instead he merely pats Jack's shoulder and nods. He steps away, and Jack reaches out, grabbing him by the belt loops and pulling him back in. Daniel's eyebrows rise, and when Jack unsnaps Daniel's jeans, they rise even higher. Jack unzips, slips a hand under Daniel's briefs, pushing past coarse, wiry pubic hair to find Daniel's soft cock. It thickens nicely from his touch, and Jack finds the sensation satisfying. He caresses it, then wraps his hand around the warm length and squeezes. Daniel grunts, closing his eyes.
"Jack, what are you--you don't have to--" Jack squeezes again. "Not that I'm complaining," Daniel adds quickly. When he opens his eyes, they are so intense that Jack has to slide Daniel's glasses off just so he can get a better look. Daniel doesn't flinch. He he's too busy pushing his underwear down past his hips, freeing his cock for Jack.
A few firm strokes and Jack is making Daniel moan out loud. It's the best sound he's heard all day. He works Daniel's cock with both hands, his fists sweeping upward, one after the other, a slow, continuous stimulation that makes Daniel's cock grow rigid, and his breath come quickly.
Jack watches Daniel's naked face, and is gratified by Daniel's reaction to his touch--lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and vague. One hand is gripping the sleeve of Jack's shirt, the other, touching his forearm. When Jack sweeps a palm over the head of his cock, Daniel lets out a soft 'oh', so Jack does it again with the following hand. There's a slick of wetness this time. Daniel makes another small, desperate sound, his eyes opening wide.
"Jack," he pleads. His hips twitch and he rocks forward, pressing his body awkwardly against Jack's. Jack switches to one hand, allowing Daniel to thrust steadily into his fist. He reaches under Daniel's shirt so that he can rub his hand over the hard muscles of Daniel's chest. Daniel is a strong man, but right now he's all but whimpering against Jack's neck. Jack's fingers find a nipple, twisting it roughly, and Daniel begins to really make noise, his hands grasping at Jack's shoulders. Deciding that it's time to let Daniel come, Jack moves his hand faster over the smooth cock, his palm whipping over hot, hard flesh. Daniel cries out sharply, his body shudders, and warm liquid spills over Jack's fingers.
There now, Jack thinks, that's a job well done. He doesn't realize that he is smiling.
He slows his stokes, intent on pulling the last bit of pleasure from Daniel's body. Daniel finally lifts his head and kisses him, lips slack and lazy, his tongue pushing into Jack's mouth. Jack's fingers are dripping wet and now Daniel is cuddling up to him, smearing his shirt with come.
"That was nice," Daniel says at last. He sounds somewhat bewildered.
Jack chuckles and nuzzles Daniel's cheek. He decides that this is pretty good--a warm, relaxed, content Daniel in his arms. Even so, when Daniel's hand slides down his body and strokes his thigh, he turns down the offer, telling Daniel, "Maybe later."
"Oh. Okay." Daniel pulls back, looks Jack in the eye and asks, "How about the talking?"
"Nah. Not so much."
"Food?"
"I'm thinking maybe a cheeseburger." Jack is surprised to find he is genuinely hungry. And there's beer in the fridge, why wasn't he drinking one? "Go get cleaned up. I'll get the food started."
Daniel salutes him. "Yes, sir, general." His pants are still down around his knees and his smile is a mile wide.
It's the finest salute Jack has ever seen.
bagfulloftricks, in response to burnt_smore's hand!love challenge. Make that a late response. It was a last minute kind of thing, mainly because yesterday was a really slow day at work. I figured it was a good way to keep myself entertained. It's a Stargate SG-1, Jack/Daniel ficlet, called:
A Hands-On Kind of Guy
Jack is standing at the kitchen table reading the sports page when Daniel arrives. Actually, he's not really reading it, he's just staring at the headlines. He can't seem to focus on the words. His mind remains on unfinished business-- reports and assignments and that tricky situation with the well-armed natives on P3X-0900.
It bugs the hell out of him that he remembers planet designations now.
"Hey, Jack." Daniel takes off his coat and kisses the back of Jack's neck, a quick brush of lips on skin, and his hand touches Jack's hip. "Did you see the images from SG-12?" he asks breathlessly.
"Yes, Daniel, I did." Of course he's seen them. He sees every single goddamn image from every single goddamn team.
Daniel launches into a discourse as he helps himself to a glass of water, explaining to Jack that the murals on the temple walls seem to be Mycenaean in style but the writing was logographic, maybe even southern tungusic, After a minute, Jack frowns and looks up as if he just realized that Daniel was in the room.
Daniel's exposition grinds to a halt. "Okay. Maybe another time," he says with a small smile. "You all right?"
"Oh yeah. Just dandy."
"Oh." Daniel frowns, thoughtful. After a moment he asks, "Busy day?"
"You could say that." Busy doesn't seem to be the right word for it. It doesn't really describe what it's like to juggle nine off-world teams, three mission briefings, four mission de-briefings and seventeen equipment requests. Not to mention that it may take an executive order by President Hayes to replace the burned-out light bulb in the control room. Jack can't think of another word for it, though, so he supposes that yes, he's been busy, even though he hasn't accomplished a damn thing all day.
Aware that Daniel is watching expectantly, Jack turns to his newspaper and reads the baseball scores once again, not because he cares who won, but because he has nothing else to say. He's been talking to people all day. Not only that, but people have been talking back at him. Talk, talk, talk. Suddenly he's become the most popular man on base. Everyone has something desperately important to share with him.
Daniel tries again. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Had some food-like crap from the commissary." He's not sure how long ago, but he suspects the ache in his gut is not from hunger.
"Okay." Daniel nods. He grows quiet. Jack figures he has left the room, but then he hears Daniel ask, "Do you want me to go? I can leave, it's not a problem."
Jack eyes Daniel again, standing in the middle of his kitchen, rocking on the balls of his feet as if he could move off in any direction, at any moment. It's not a loaded question. Jack knows that if he says yes, Daniel will give him a kiss and leave, without anger or distress. He'll go home and ponder Mycenaean murals, tongue logos and whatnot. Except that would leave Jack by himself, with no distractions to keep his brain from spinning around like the Stargate itself. Jack isn't sure what he needs at the moment, but to be alone with his own thoughts and doubts is definitely not it.
"No," he says, pushing the newspaper aside. "Stay. I'm just--" He waves his hand, helpless, because he doesn't know what he is. "Tired. Frustrated."
All at once Daniel is next to him, touching his shoulder. "A general's work is never done?" he asks, a tentative note to his voice.
"Something like that," he says, vaguely irritated. He doesn't want Daniel's sympathy. He just wants to do his job right. He wants that sense of accomplishment that he used to feel after a hard, dirty off-world mission.
He's not sure how long they stand there, Daniel's hand rubbing slow circles on his back, his face close enough that Jack can feel warm breath on his cheek. He likes the sound of Daniel breathing. It’s a familiar sound, something he knows. Like Daniel himself.
Jack turns around to face him. For a moment Daniel looks as though he's about to speak, but instead he merely pats Jack's shoulder and nods. He steps away, and Jack reaches out, grabbing him by the belt loops and pulling him back in. Daniel's eyebrows rise, and when Jack unsnaps Daniel's jeans, they rise even higher. Jack unzips, slips a hand under Daniel's briefs, pushing past coarse, wiry pubic hair to find Daniel's soft cock. It thickens nicely from his touch, and Jack finds the sensation satisfying. He caresses it, then wraps his hand around the warm length and squeezes. Daniel grunts, closing his eyes.
"Jack, what are you--you don't have to--" Jack squeezes again. "Not that I'm complaining," Daniel adds quickly. When he opens his eyes, they are so intense that Jack has to slide Daniel's glasses off just so he can get a better look. Daniel doesn't flinch. He he's too busy pushing his underwear down past his hips, freeing his cock for Jack.
A few firm strokes and Jack is making Daniel moan out loud. It's the best sound he's heard all day. He works Daniel's cock with both hands, his fists sweeping upward, one after the other, a slow, continuous stimulation that makes Daniel's cock grow rigid, and his breath come quickly.
Jack watches Daniel's naked face, and is gratified by Daniel's reaction to his touch--lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and vague. One hand is gripping the sleeve of Jack's shirt, the other, touching his forearm. When Jack sweeps a palm over the head of his cock, Daniel lets out a soft 'oh', so Jack does it again with the following hand. There's a slick of wetness this time. Daniel makes another small, desperate sound, his eyes opening wide.
"Jack," he pleads. His hips twitch and he rocks forward, pressing his body awkwardly against Jack's. Jack switches to one hand, allowing Daniel to thrust steadily into his fist. He reaches under Daniel's shirt so that he can rub his hand over the hard muscles of Daniel's chest. Daniel is a strong man, but right now he's all but whimpering against Jack's neck. Jack's fingers find a nipple, twisting it roughly, and Daniel begins to really make noise, his hands grasping at Jack's shoulders. Deciding that it's time to let Daniel come, Jack moves his hand faster over the smooth cock, his palm whipping over hot, hard flesh. Daniel cries out sharply, his body shudders, and warm liquid spills over Jack's fingers.
There now, Jack thinks, that's a job well done. He doesn't realize that he is smiling.
He slows his stokes, intent on pulling the last bit of pleasure from Daniel's body. Daniel finally lifts his head and kisses him, lips slack and lazy, his tongue pushing into Jack's mouth. Jack's fingers are dripping wet and now Daniel is cuddling up to him, smearing his shirt with come.
"That was nice," Daniel says at last. He sounds somewhat bewildered.
Jack chuckles and nuzzles Daniel's cheek. He decides that this is pretty good--a warm, relaxed, content Daniel in his arms. Even so, when Daniel's hand slides down his body and strokes his thigh, he turns down the offer, telling Daniel, "Maybe later."
"Oh. Okay." Daniel pulls back, looks Jack in the eye and asks, "How about the talking?"
"Nah. Not so much."
"Food?"
"I'm thinking maybe a cheeseburger." Jack is surprised to find he is genuinely hungry. And there's beer in the fridge, why wasn't he drinking one? "Go get cleaned up. I'll get the food started."
Daniel salutes him. "Yes, sir, general." His pants are still down around his knees and his smile is a mile wide.
It's the finest salute Jack has ever seen.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-10 05:41 pm (UTC)Kitchens... For one thing, they always feel so, hmm, *searches word* alive? Because the kitchen is the place where everyone always gathers. And then there are of course all these nice little..."supports", which add just the right amount of..."spice" to kitchen sex scenes.
Eh, I'm probably not making much sense right now. *g*