Serial Rediscovery - December 16
Sep. 20th, 2007 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckDo you want to know how much you hate me?
This chapter was essentially finished on February 2, 2007.
Yup. You hate me that much!
But you also love me! Because I have an ending now! So it is just a matter of RL cooperating long enough for me to write the remaining 4000 words or so. Sadly, they are not lurking anywhere on my hard drive.
Title: Serial Rediscovery, December 16
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: PG for most parts, NC-17 eventually (and this part!)
Summary: Daniel has a run-in with the Trust, and can't remember anything about the SGC, particularly not SG-1.
Content/warnings: I feel a strong need to warn for amnesia!fic. Cause it is SOOOOO lame. But it's also fun. :)
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.muck_a_luck and brainofck
Prior chapters located here..
Daniel woke up in a soft, warm bed under a big fluffy comforter, practically drowning in pillows. Where the hell was he? Oh. Yeah. Cabin in the woods. He blinked blearily at the ceiling. He discovered the cuffs when he reached for his glasses. The whole experience was surreal, though now at least he remembered doing this for several days in a row. Waking up in a strange bed and not quite remembering exactly how it had happened. Except this time, he knew what to expect. There was something going on with his memory. He was going to open that journal on the bedside table and find out what it was that he kept forgetting. He found the keys to the cuffs folded inside his note to himself. He flipped the journal open and started reading.
Daniel sat cross-legged under the covers for a long time, absently running his fingers over the writing on the page. His past had been taken away. His mind wasn't his own anymore. Every day he would forget Jack and Sam and everything that had happened in his life that had anything to do with them. Years of his life, stripped away. People. Events. Work. Research. A wife. It was unbelievable, but as the mornings like this came one after the other, it was impossible to deny. And if he believed Jack and Sam, it was some evil arm of the United States government that had done this to him. And now they wanted him back, to tuck him away in an insignificant little out of the way college town to live a quiet life, fearful of the history they created for him, an experiment for their observation.
Probably they would even alter his mind again, to remember this escape as another kidnapping.
He thought about the translation and it only bothered him a little. He was still not going to give a total stranger access to what was clearly classified information. But he trusted Jack now, and Jack wasn't going to try to force him to do it. As long as that was true, he was willing to wait and see what happened next. Maybe Jack and Sam and this General Hammond person would convince him that it was something he should do. If not, he wouldn't.
And then there was Jack.
What was he going to do about that? He stroked his fingers over the textured paper again, feeling the preserved movements of the pen.
In English. On the back of the outside folded page. Not his own handwriting. In his own handwriting he had said he was throwing those painful, embarrassing pages away. It was the last thing he had written last night.
It seemed someone else had given them back to him.
The only other someone here was Jack. Could Jack possibly have guessed the content of the pages?
Of course he could. He had been there for every event, and he could remember them from day to day, even if Daniel couldn't. He must have retrieved the pages from wherever Daniel had discarded them and given them back to him. Or put them back, in the journal. Daniel wondered if Daniel had known or not, when Jack did it. Did Jack show him the pages? Ask him to keep them? Or did Jack secretly put them there in the journal, knowing Daniel would find them today? Knowing Daniel would not remember whether Jack had acknowledged the pages or not?
He shook his head. Well, he couldn't stay in here all day. If nothing else, eventually Jack would need to sleep.
He had delayed as long as practically possible, meeting Jack. He put on his clothes thoughtfully. He slipped out of the bedroom to the toilet with a mere grunt to the man sitting at the table.
He finally came out to the little kitchenette and started looking for a coffee mug in the cabinets.
"How'd you sleep?" Jack asked.
Daniel turned to face him. He shrugged and didn't say anything.
Jack, in turn, watched him without further comment.
After a long silence, Daniel finally asked, "So, how do we do this?"
"What?" Jack replied.
"What do I say to an old friend when I can't remember ever meeting him before?" Daniel said, with a twitching grin. "And what do you say to this guy who's been missing for months and tries to shoot you when you come to the rescue?"
"Um..." said Jack, pretending to think. "Snowy out today?"
Daniel scowled, so Jack shrugged.
"Maybe we should just pretend we can pick up where we left off the night before," Jack suggested. "You can just play along like you remember, and we'll see how it goes."
Jack stood, bringing his own cup over to the counter.
"Okay," said Daniel with another shrug. "So, where did we leave off last night?"
Jack leaned his hip against the counter next to him, and reached out to touch Daniel's rumpled hair.
"Well," drawled Jack. "I cuffed you to the bed, and you got all flustered, then we made out until we were both about to cum in our pants, then we prudently agreed that sex and amnesia don't mix and I left." His fingers played softly around Daniel's ear.
"What's that supposed to mean about this morning, then?" Daniel asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He reached up and caught Jack's wrist. Without letting Jack answer, he continued, "Why did you give me the pages back?"
Jack smiled.
"That's exactly where we left off," Jack agreed.
"I don't understand," Daniel said, still holding Jack's wrist tightly.
"Alright. Maybe this will make it clearer," said Jack, and he leaned forward.
Panicking, Daniel planted his palms flat on the man's chest.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he squeaked. "I'm not sure about this!"
"You will be in about eight hours and by then I'll have chickened out again and besides, the clock is ticking. I'd like to get moving on this while we have maximum memory time left."
Jack had stopped his advance, pressing against Daniel's hands, but not doing any more than standing close. Daniel imagined he could feel Jack's heart beating under his right palm.
"I don't know you," Daniel protested.
"Of course you do," Jack replied.
"I'm not gay," Daniel tried again.
Jack shrugged.
"So you're Jack-sexual. I'm okay with that," he said with a cocky grin. Daniel pulled a face. Jack's smile faded and he sighed.
"Look. Just... go with it. I know you feel it. You've told me three different ways in three days." His voice turned sultry. "Every single time you got your tongue in my mouth."
Daniel didn't understand how he could be so tempted. He didn't know this man, and he wasn't gay. But standing so close to him, feeling the urgency in the flex of his pectorals and the light brush of his breath as Jack finally leaned all the way in...
What the hell? Daniel thought. He wouldn't remember it tomorrow anyway, right?
It seemed so natural. Standing here, in the cold morning light, in this little kitchen, the taste of warm coffee on Jack's tongue.
They stood by the coffee maker, kissing, Jack quiet under the command of Daniel's two hands on his chest. It was all lips and tongues. Jack was a good kisser. A fantastic kisser. That was the reason Daniel's cock was filling so quickly.
They finally stopped. Breathing each other in, chest resting against chest, sandwiching Daniel's splayed hands between. Daniel found himself smiling. And wanting to lick Jack's smile.
"Sit?" breathed Daniel, just as Jack said, cheerfully, "Breakfast?"
Daniel groaned, stepping away from Jack and running a hand through his hair.
"You obviously don't know me very well, if you're offering me food at this time of day," Daniel said in mock reproof. "Some old friend you turned out to be."
Jack snorted.
"Years of cramming food down your throat before morning missions have taught me well," he declared. He stepped over to the table and with the dramatic flourish of a magician's assistant, presented an entirely portable repast. Banana, chocolate chip granola bar, package of mystery pop tarts and cup of blueberry yogurt.
"It can come with us to bed," Jack wheedled hopefully.
Daniel took a deep shaky breath and turned back to his coffee mug hunt. He tried to cover his nervousness with the routine business of making a cup of coffee. He was pleased his hands didn't shake. The first hot sip was liquid courage. He could hear Jack gathering up his breakfast behind them.
"Don't we need to keep guard, or something?" he asked weakly.
"Bed," Jack insisted.
"I thought this was a bad idea. You said I didn't want this," he gulped coffee like it would make everything comprehensible.
"If you get your memory back, we'll deal with it then. And if you don't get your memory back, pretty soon you won't remember anyway, so what does it hurt?"
More or less what Daniel already thought.
Except.
"You," Daniel said quietly. "You are who it will hurt."
Daniel turned his head to look at Jack. He was tall and lean and older. Fifty-ish? Daniel was reacting to him easily, watching him juggle breakfast and wanting to lick yogurt off the long, agile fingers. Feel those hands on his body.
"Come to bed, Daniel," Jack said softly.
With a suddenly pounding heart, Daniel followed him through the bedroom door.
It was one thing to know on an academic level that Jack was probably right. Daniel's journal certainly indicated that Daniel had been craving this since he met Jack three days ago.
But even if Daniel remembered them, three days were nothing. Barely time to fit in a casual invitation to coffee and a first date. But there was something about the way Jack looked at him. Hopeful and frightened and sad. How could Jack have all those feelings and Daniel have none? Well, not none, exactly, just none that made sense. Nothing that had any context.
Jack lay Daniel's breakfast on the table and started taking off clothes.
Great body, Daniel thought idly. Fascinating scars.
Jack moved fluidly. Confidently. He was naked while Daniel still stood in confusion with his fingers resting on the hem of his shirt, not quite decided. So then he found himself face-to-face with a very naked, half-erect man, who's hands were working the fastenings on Daniel's pants.
He breathed out in a rush. "Um..."
"Let me, Daniel," Jack murmured back. Then Daniel's pants were down over his hips, and his underwear followed. Daniel finally got his brain back in gear and lifted his t-shirt over his head himself.
Jack's arms were around him, crushing their bodies together, almost before Daniel's shirt hit the floor. Daniel tried to let go – to let Jack's passion carry him past the initial strangeness, but it was hard to lose himself even in the ferocity of those kisses while his brain was capturing and categorizing all the things that were wrong with the situation.
It didn't take Jack long to catch on that there was a problem. He groaned deep in his chest and held Daniel even more tightly.
"Please, just this once, just stop thinking," Jack pleaded against his lips, firmly urging him to move the few steps to the edge of the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress, climbing onto the bed on top of him. Daniel rolled them so that Jack lay on the bottom. He could feel the older man's heart racing in his chest.
"You sure we're not going to give you a heart attack, doing this?" Daniel asked.
"Fraiser should add 'Sex with Daniel Jackson' to the stress test. It's a lot more fun than the treadmill, and I bet she wouldn't have nearly the trouble getting people to schedule their physicals."
Daniel swallowed hard as Jack leered up at him. This was not the clumsy crush of a teenaged undergrad. This was the pure hot lust of a very grown man.
It was thrill, though. Sex with a complete stranger. And a really hot stranger. And a guy. Yeah. He was definitely doing this.
He leaned down and nipped at Jack's smug smile. Then he sank back into Jack's incredible kisses, and they were even better horizontal and naked. Soon they were cocooned under the comforter, legs tangled together. Jack paused and pulled back, fingers sifting through Daniel's hair.
"I like it long."
Daniel shrugged.
"I've always worn it this way."
Jack smiled crookedly. Then Daniel thought about the picture, and gritted his teeth. He thought again how his past had been taken away. But that wasn't all. He had been taken away. He felt a new wave of anger, a wave of protectiveness and affection for this not-stranger in the bed with him.
He kissed him fiercely, tugging and wrestling until Jack was on top of him again. He shoved up suggestively with his hips, and Jack didn't need any more prompting.
He was glad when Jack didn't ask him if he was sure. Or if he had done this before. It felt odd, letting himself be touched there. The feeling of fingers inside him. The whole thing was vaguely clinical, and Daniel supposed that Jack probably hadn't done this very often, either. Daniel watched Jack's face, rapt, focused, intent.
"Jack," he said. The man looked up at him, startled.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I think that's enough. Come on."
What happened next wasn't clinical at all. Jack caught his legs and lifted them, then crushed him into the mattress, smothering him with kisses as the head of his cock rubbed maddeningly against his ass, skidding off target and finding its way back again until Daniel was nearly out of his mind with anticipation.
"Come on, come on, come on!" he heard himself growling, and Jack was laughing breathlessly, changing the cant of his hips until he was in.
Daniel drew a sharp breath, as Jack groaned.
"Yeah."
He looked down at Daniel and, eyes on his, slowly started to press forward.
Lying there in a sweaty, disgusting heap with his new lover, Daniel wondered if this was what it was going to be like forever. Every day would be like today, with the newness and the thrill, the racing heart and the hint of fear. It had a certain appeal. Except what he loved the most about being in love were the happy, fun, easy mornings. And he was never going to have those, ever again. Not with this man, anyway.
He was sharing the pillow with Jack, who had fallen asleep. The were nose to nose and Daniel was thoroughly enjoying sharing Jack's space. But he felt broody and restless, and he decided he should get up and not disturb Jack's rest.
He spent the day rummaging through the things Jack had brought him. His missing books and his notebooks.
The light tapping at the window made his heart skip a beat. It was Morrison.
What was he supposed to do? Morrison was making a hushing gesture, beaconing Daniel across the room, pointing to the front door. Daniel hesitated, looking toward the bedroom, wondering if it was better to shout a warning to Jack or cooperate and maybe gain something through the element of surprise, when he saw that Jack was already moving, slipping on his pants, and dropping to the floor.
Daniel turned back to Morrison just as the assault crashed down on them. Windows shattered and suddenly the tiny cabin was filled with people.
Morrison pointed some kind of electricity weapon – a weird looking tazer thing – at Daniel. It hurt a lot and then he was out cold.
December 17 to present
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
This chapter was essentially finished on February 2, 2007.
Yup. You hate me that much!
But you also love me! Because I have an ending now! So it is just a matter of RL cooperating long enough for me to write the remaining 4000 words or so. Sadly, they are not lurking anywhere on my hard drive.
Title: Serial Rediscovery, December 16
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckPairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: PG for most parts, NC-17 eventually (and this part!)
Summary: Daniel has a run-in with the Trust, and can't remember anything about the SGC, particularly not SG-1.
Content/warnings: I feel a strong need to warn for amnesia!fic. Cause it is SOOOOO lame. But it's also fun. :)
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.
muck_a_luck and brainofckPrior chapters located here..
Daniel woke up in a soft, warm bed under a big fluffy comforter, practically drowning in pillows. Where the hell was he? Oh. Yeah. Cabin in the woods. He blinked blearily at the ceiling. He discovered the cuffs when he reached for his glasses. The whole experience was surreal, though now at least he remembered doing this for several days in a row. Waking up in a strange bed and not quite remembering exactly how it had happened. Except this time, he knew what to expect. There was something going on with his memory. He was going to open that journal on the bedside table and find out what it was that he kept forgetting. He found the keys to the cuffs folded inside his note to himself. He flipped the journal open and started reading.
Daniel sat cross-legged under the covers for a long time, absently running his fingers over the writing on the page. His past had been taken away. His mind wasn't his own anymore. Every day he would forget Jack and Sam and everything that had happened in his life that had anything to do with them. Years of his life, stripped away. People. Events. Work. Research. A wife. It was unbelievable, but as the mornings like this came one after the other, it was impossible to deny. And if he believed Jack and Sam, it was some evil arm of the United States government that had done this to him. And now they wanted him back, to tuck him away in an insignificant little out of the way college town to live a quiet life, fearful of the history they created for him, an experiment for their observation.
Probably they would even alter his mind again, to remember this escape as another kidnapping.
He thought about the translation and it only bothered him a little. He was still not going to give a total stranger access to what was clearly classified information. But he trusted Jack now, and Jack wasn't going to try to force him to do it. As long as that was true, he was willing to wait and see what happened next. Maybe Jack and Sam and this General Hammond person would convince him that it was something he should do. If not, he wouldn't.
And then there was Jack.
What was he going to do about that? He stroked his fingers over the textured paper again, feeling the preserved movements of the pen.
- Keep these.
In English. On the back of the outside folded page. Not his own handwriting. In his own handwriting he had said he was throwing those painful, embarrassing pages away. It was the last thing he had written last night.
It seemed someone else had given them back to him.
The only other someone here was Jack. Could Jack possibly have guessed the content of the pages?
Of course he could. He had been there for every event, and he could remember them from day to day, even if Daniel couldn't. He must have retrieved the pages from wherever Daniel had discarded them and given them back to him. Or put them back, in the journal. Daniel wondered if Daniel had known or not, when Jack did it. Did Jack show him the pages? Ask him to keep them? Or did Jack secretly put them there in the journal, knowing Daniel would find them today? Knowing Daniel would not remember whether Jack had acknowledged the pages or not?
He shook his head. Well, he couldn't stay in here all day. If nothing else, eventually Jack would need to sleep.
He had delayed as long as practically possible, meeting Jack. He put on his clothes thoughtfully. He slipped out of the bedroom to the toilet with a mere grunt to the man sitting at the table.
He finally came out to the little kitchenette and started looking for a coffee mug in the cabinets.
"How'd you sleep?" Jack asked.
Daniel turned to face him. He shrugged and didn't say anything.
Jack, in turn, watched him without further comment.
After a long silence, Daniel finally asked, "So, how do we do this?"
"What?" Jack replied.
"What do I say to an old friend when I can't remember ever meeting him before?" Daniel said, with a twitching grin. "And what do you say to this guy who's been missing for months and tries to shoot you when you come to the rescue?"
"Um..." said Jack, pretending to think. "Snowy out today?"
Daniel scowled, so Jack shrugged.
"Maybe we should just pretend we can pick up where we left off the night before," Jack suggested. "You can just play along like you remember, and we'll see how it goes."
Jack stood, bringing his own cup over to the counter.
"Okay," said Daniel with another shrug. "So, where did we leave off last night?"
Jack leaned his hip against the counter next to him, and reached out to touch Daniel's rumpled hair.
"Well," drawled Jack. "I cuffed you to the bed, and you got all flustered, then we made out until we were both about to cum in our pants, then we prudently agreed that sex and amnesia don't mix and I left." His fingers played softly around Daniel's ear.
"What's that supposed to mean about this morning, then?" Daniel asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He reached up and caught Jack's wrist. Without letting Jack answer, he continued, "Why did you give me the pages back?"
Jack smiled.
"That's exactly where we left off," Jack agreed.
"I don't understand," Daniel said, still holding Jack's wrist tightly.
"Alright. Maybe this will make it clearer," said Jack, and he leaned forward.
Panicking, Daniel planted his palms flat on the man's chest.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he squeaked. "I'm not sure about this!"
"You will be in about eight hours and by then I'll have chickened out again and besides, the clock is ticking. I'd like to get moving on this while we have maximum memory time left."
Jack had stopped his advance, pressing against Daniel's hands, but not doing any more than standing close. Daniel imagined he could feel Jack's heart beating under his right palm.
"I don't know you," Daniel protested.
"Of course you do," Jack replied.
"I'm not gay," Daniel tried again.
Jack shrugged.
"So you're Jack-sexual. I'm okay with that," he said with a cocky grin. Daniel pulled a face. Jack's smile faded and he sighed.
"Look. Just... go with it. I know you feel it. You've told me three different ways in three days." His voice turned sultry. "Every single time you got your tongue in my mouth."
Daniel didn't understand how he could be so tempted. He didn't know this man, and he wasn't gay. But standing so close to him, feeling the urgency in the flex of his pectorals and the light brush of his breath as Jack finally leaned all the way in...
What the hell? Daniel thought. He wouldn't remember it tomorrow anyway, right?
It seemed so natural. Standing here, in the cold morning light, in this little kitchen, the taste of warm coffee on Jack's tongue.
They stood by the coffee maker, kissing, Jack quiet under the command of Daniel's two hands on his chest. It was all lips and tongues. Jack was a good kisser. A fantastic kisser. That was the reason Daniel's cock was filling so quickly.
They finally stopped. Breathing each other in, chest resting against chest, sandwiching Daniel's splayed hands between. Daniel found himself smiling. And wanting to lick Jack's smile.
"Sit?" breathed Daniel, just as Jack said, cheerfully, "Breakfast?"
Daniel groaned, stepping away from Jack and running a hand through his hair.
"You obviously don't know me very well, if you're offering me food at this time of day," Daniel said in mock reproof. "Some old friend you turned out to be."
Jack snorted.
"Years of cramming food down your throat before morning missions have taught me well," he declared. He stepped over to the table and with the dramatic flourish of a magician's assistant, presented an entirely portable repast. Banana, chocolate chip granola bar, package of mystery pop tarts and cup of blueberry yogurt.
"It can come with us to bed," Jack wheedled hopefully.
Daniel took a deep shaky breath and turned back to his coffee mug hunt. He tried to cover his nervousness with the routine business of making a cup of coffee. He was pleased his hands didn't shake. The first hot sip was liquid courage. He could hear Jack gathering up his breakfast behind them.
"Don't we need to keep guard, or something?" he asked weakly.
"Bed," Jack insisted.
"I thought this was a bad idea. You said I didn't want this," he gulped coffee like it would make everything comprehensible.
"If you get your memory back, we'll deal with it then. And if you don't get your memory back, pretty soon you won't remember anyway, so what does it hurt?"
More or less what Daniel already thought.
Except.
"You," Daniel said quietly. "You are who it will hurt."
Daniel turned his head to look at Jack. He was tall and lean and older. Fifty-ish? Daniel was reacting to him easily, watching him juggle breakfast and wanting to lick yogurt off the long, agile fingers. Feel those hands on his body.
"Come to bed, Daniel," Jack said softly.
With a suddenly pounding heart, Daniel followed him through the bedroom door.
It was one thing to know on an academic level that Jack was probably right. Daniel's journal certainly indicated that Daniel had been craving this since he met Jack three days ago.
But even if Daniel remembered them, three days were nothing. Barely time to fit in a casual invitation to coffee and a first date. But there was something about the way Jack looked at him. Hopeful and frightened and sad. How could Jack have all those feelings and Daniel have none? Well, not none, exactly, just none that made sense. Nothing that had any context.
Jack lay Daniel's breakfast on the table and started taking off clothes.
Great body, Daniel thought idly. Fascinating scars.
Jack moved fluidly. Confidently. He was naked while Daniel still stood in confusion with his fingers resting on the hem of his shirt, not quite decided. So then he found himself face-to-face with a very naked, half-erect man, who's hands were working the fastenings on Daniel's pants.
He breathed out in a rush. "Um..."
"Let me, Daniel," Jack murmured back. Then Daniel's pants were down over his hips, and his underwear followed. Daniel finally got his brain back in gear and lifted his t-shirt over his head himself.
Jack's arms were around him, crushing their bodies together, almost before Daniel's shirt hit the floor. Daniel tried to let go – to let Jack's passion carry him past the initial strangeness, but it was hard to lose himself even in the ferocity of those kisses while his brain was capturing and categorizing all the things that were wrong with the situation.
It didn't take Jack long to catch on that there was a problem. He groaned deep in his chest and held Daniel even more tightly.
"Please, just this once, just stop thinking," Jack pleaded against his lips, firmly urging him to move the few steps to the edge of the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress, climbing onto the bed on top of him. Daniel rolled them so that Jack lay on the bottom. He could feel the older man's heart racing in his chest.
"You sure we're not going to give you a heart attack, doing this?" Daniel asked.
"Fraiser should add 'Sex with Daniel Jackson' to the stress test. It's a lot more fun than the treadmill, and I bet she wouldn't have nearly the trouble getting people to schedule their physicals."
Daniel swallowed hard as Jack leered up at him. This was not the clumsy crush of a teenaged undergrad. This was the pure hot lust of a very grown man.
It was thrill, though. Sex with a complete stranger. And a really hot stranger. And a guy. Yeah. He was definitely doing this.
He leaned down and nipped at Jack's smug smile. Then he sank back into Jack's incredible kisses, and they were even better horizontal and naked. Soon they were cocooned under the comforter, legs tangled together. Jack paused and pulled back, fingers sifting through Daniel's hair.
"I like it long."
Daniel shrugged.
"I've always worn it this way."
Jack smiled crookedly. Then Daniel thought about the picture, and gritted his teeth. He thought again how his past had been taken away. But that wasn't all. He had been taken away. He felt a new wave of anger, a wave of protectiveness and affection for this not-stranger in the bed with him.
He kissed him fiercely, tugging and wrestling until Jack was on top of him again. He shoved up suggestively with his hips, and Jack didn't need any more prompting.
He was glad when Jack didn't ask him if he was sure. Or if he had done this before. It felt odd, letting himself be touched there. The feeling of fingers inside him. The whole thing was vaguely clinical, and Daniel supposed that Jack probably hadn't done this very often, either. Daniel watched Jack's face, rapt, focused, intent.
"Jack," he said. The man looked up at him, startled.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I think that's enough. Come on."
What happened next wasn't clinical at all. Jack caught his legs and lifted them, then crushed him into the mattress, smothering him with kisses as the head of his cock rubbed maddeningly against his ass, skidding off target and finding its way back again until Daniel was nearly out of his mind with anticipation.
"Come on, come on, come on!" he heard himself growling, and Jack was laughing breathlessly, changing the cant of his hips until he was in.
Daniel drew a sharp breath, as Jack groaned.
"Yeah."
He looked down at Daniel and, eyes on his, slowly started to press forward.
Lying there in a sweaty, disgusting heap with his new lover, Daniel wondered if this was what it was going to be like forever. Every day would be like today, with the newness and the thrill, the racing heart and the hint of fear. It had a certain appeal. Except what he loved the most about being in love were the happy, fun, easy mornings. And he was never going to have those, ever again. Not with this man, anyway.
He was sharing the pillow with Jack, who had fallen asleep. The were nose to nose and Daniel was thoroughly enjoying sharing Jack's space. But he felt broody and restless, and he decided he should get up and not disturb Jack's rest.
He spent the day rummaging through the things Jack had brought him. His missing books and his notebooks.
The light tapping at the window made his heart skip a beat. It was Morrison.
What was he supposed to do? Morrison was making a hushing gesture, beaconing Daniel across the room, pointing to the front door. Daniel hesitated, looking toward the bedroom, wondering if it was better to shout a warning to Jack or cooperate and maybe gain something through the element of surprise, when he saw that Jack was already moving, slipping on his pants, and dropping to the floor.
Daniel turned back to Morrison just as the assault crashed down on them. Windows shattered and suddenly the tiny cabin was filled with people.
Morrison pointed some kind of electricity weapon – a weird looking tazer thing – at Daniel. It hurt a lot and then he was out cold.
December 17 to present
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
