Greater Than the Telling

sffan's first SG-1 fic, written with the evil minions that pushed her through the Stargate—dirty diana and kelly girl.

I'm staring at Daniel's mouth. I stopped listening to what he was saying ages ago, I'm just watching his full, sensuous lips move as they form words I'm incapable of processing as all the blood in my brain rushes distinctly southward. I watch as they stretch and curl, as the tip of his pink tongue glides over them as he licks his lips, nervous that he's been asked to lead the debriefing.

Get a hold of yourself, O'Neill, I tell myself, but all that does is make me think of Daniel's hands getting a hold of me with those long, fine-boned fingers of his. Fingers that I've watched with great fascination as they lightly, delicately traced the contours of hieroglyphs and artifacts....And wonderful, just fucking wonderful. Now I'm sitting here with a tent in my pants, having to shift slightly to relieve some of the pressure in my groin.

"Anything to add, Colonel O'Neill?" General Hammond asks me.

Suddenly aware of several sets of eyes on me, I snap out of my reverie and answer, "No, Sir. Daniel pretty much covered it all. Good job." Doesn't matter that I barely heard a word, I trust Daniel. He'll have covered everything...and then some.

This praise earns me the smile—the shy, soft smile that makes my guts clench and my balls ache and draws my eyes back to his mouth. That mouth. That damn mouth. That used to just haunt my dreams.

Dammit. I am screwed. Totally and utterly screwed. I barely resist the urge to bang my head against the table and force my thoughts away from the fantasy of just getting up, burying my hands in that floppy mess Daniel calls hair and tracing the outline of those lips with my tongue, teasing them open and tasting him until I've had my fill. Talk about a career limiting move, more like a career ending one.

So overwhelmed by the dangerous thoughts in my own head, I barely hear the general dismissing us for the weekend. I get up with the rest of my team and make my way towards the locker room with trepidation. I've managed to get myself under control—barely—treating myself to some of the more gruesome images locked inside my head, but now I have to stand next to Daniel as we change into our civvies.

Each time it gets more and more difficult not to look, and one of these days he's going to catch me taking sidelong, lust-filled glances at him. And then I really will be screwed, because I wouldn't give up Daniel's friendship for anything and I'm just not sure it would survive that. So I resolve, yet again, to keep my eyes to myself as we enter the locker room.

Jack's staring at me. I noticed during the debriefing that his eyes had glazed over. This was a different look than his 'hurry up and finish so I can go shoot something' look. I think, well, I know he was looking at my mouth, then he looked at my hands. I admit I licked my lips once or twice more than was needed to test my theory. Yep, his hands clenched and he shifted his body as if telling it to behave.

Now we're in the locker room and he's ignoring me completely. I wrap a towel around my waist and scratch a patch of skin below my navel.

"Jack, you okay?" I'm sure he's not but he only nods and gives me a quick look. The look lingers on my fingers that are rubbing my stomach. I sit down beside him and he jumps up like a zat gun just shot him in the ass. I grab his wrist, tightening my grip when he tries to pull away.

"We need to talk, not here though. Look why don't I come over tonight and we can get this problem solved and you can stop acting weird. Okay?"

Jack tries to give me some excuse but I know he won't be busy and I override his explanations and tell him I'll be over at seven.

The thoughts and suspicions swirl around in my head while I shower. The fact that Jack doesn't enter until I'm almost done, convinces me even more that we have to talk this out. Jack may not want to but it will be for his own good. After all, I know Jack and while I've thought of him and me in a different way than we are now a few times, I never gave myself permission to act on any of those dreams and thoughts.

I pull up to Jack's house and give this more thought. I had toyed with the idea of telling Jack I wanted him more intimately in my life once he retired. But what we face on an almost daily basis, sometimes makes the idea of him retiring a moot point. I know Jack and if I want him in my bed I might have to play with my questions and answers tonight. If I tell him we both need to just let off a little steam, help each other out then he might go for that. I've read, I know people in the military are all for 'helping' each other out.

I've had a few discreet offers from some people back at SGC. Actually more men than women offer to 'help' me out. Even though I'd overheard a rumor or two about being Jack's "property" it doesn't stop the offers, all of which I turn down with an air of puzzled befuddlement. I don't wish to hurt anyone's feelings but there is no one I would want to risk my job for. Except Jack. It's been Jack since the beginning and I don't ever see that changing.

We argue and clash and pick and tease and sometimes we get in some type of zone where an eyebrow, a slight widening of eyes or a small twitch of lips can tell him what I'm thinking and vice versa. Though I have to admit Jack is liable to be gruff and abrasive and say anything that comes to mind using that hit or miss sarcasm of his, it doesn't take away from the fact that we know what's going on in each other's heads. I don't know why he thought he could keep this from me. Hell, I'm surprised I kept my attraction to him hidden so well. But since I made pains to keep it tightly under wraps I had more time and practice keeping it that way.

He answers the door and I hand him the takeout from his favorite deli. While we're eating I keep the conversation light and believe me, it's hard to not mention work or my translations. Jack's unusually quiet. He still has his usual sarcasm but it doesn't have the same sharp bite I'm used to. I think he's just going through the motions.

"Come on, let's sit on the couch and talk." Jacks seems reluctant and I'm aggravated. All my plans of talking about this go on hiatus and I take up a new plan. Kiss the son of a bitch and bring it all out into the undeniable open. I turn on the TV and we have a brief argument over what to watch. I get my way like I knew I would and Jack grumbles about watching some show on the History Channel. It goes off quickly and some show comes on with a guy talking about military stuff. This perks Jack right up and I give up the remote so I can watch him. He seems more relaxed and has probably concluded that we're not going to have some deep discussion tonight.

The show goes off and while he's still smiling and relaxed talking about recording the show the next time it comes on I lean over and curl my hand around the back of his neck, pull him forward and kiss him.


Okay, when Daniel said that we needed to talk, I assumed that he meant we needed to, you know. Talk. Long speeches, confusing examples, Daniel's special brand of sarcasm. Maybe a flowchart or two for illustration.

This is most definitely not talking.

"Daniel," I say, breathing in with difficulty. I pull away from his soft, wet mouth, but he's still too close. I can still smell him, he smells like Daniel, like paper and ink and hypo-allergenic soap. "What are you doing?"

He frowns, biting his lip, Daniel deciding whether to fight or run. Finally he tilts his head at me, eyes sparkling bright. "If it wasn't obvious, Jack, I must have been doing it wrong. Perhaps we should try it again."

"Uh, no," I say quickly. "You were clear. I was just wondering why."

"Because you want me." He says it matter-of-factly, like he's telling me the significance of some marks on an old clay jar.

I freeze, cold. Because if Daniel can see it, Daniel who's never paying attention and who's always thinking about seven things at once, then the odds are better than good that somebody else has noticed. That everybody else has noticed. "What?" I sputter slightly.

"You want me," he repeats clearly. "You were checking me out today in debriefing. And in the locker room."

"I was not," I protest.

"You were too."

"I was not."

"So I just had some tactical maps printed on my ass?" Daniel asks. "You were scanning my fingers and mouth for the hockey scores? Or this week's lottery numbers?"

He thinks he's so goddamn funny. "Daniel," I say weakly, trying to think of the words that will get him to just drop it. "Daniel, we can't."

"Oh." He looks at me again, his expression changed. Softer, but his mouth still open, hungry and wanting. Looking at that mouth is making me lose focus. "Jack, I wouldn' know that I would never tell anyone?"

I do know that. In fact, I've got a sudden clear vision of Daniel stonewalling some lawyer during my court-martial, and making her cry. "I know," I say. "It's not that." I stop there. I haven't got the words to explain how much "can't" covers, way more than just policy. How maybe he'd be able to hide it, but I don't know that I could. How my job is to take care of him, how I don't trust myself to do that with a clear head if our relationship changes. How much power he's already got over me, and we're not even sleeping together. How I think he isn't really over his wife.

Daniel is still looking at me, like he thinks he's moments away from cracking my secret code. His fingers have settled lightly on top of my hand, stroking gently as he stares at me, eyes too blue. "It doesn't have to be anything other than what it is," he says to me seriously. Like I'm supposed to know what the hell that means. "Just this. You and me. Nothing would change. We'd still be friends. It would be good, I promise."

I snatch my hand back like it's about to explode. "What?" I ask, my voice dangerously loud.

He blinks at me in stunned surprise. "Jack?"

"Nothing would change?" I repeat. "You want to be fuck-buddies? Friends with benefits?"

He blinks again, like he's not sure how to answer that. "Yes. Isn't that what you want?"

Jesus. What I want. He hasn't got a clue. My hands are fists, holding onto the tension. "I think you better go."

"Jack." He hesitates, licking his lips. He is shaken, confused, the bare craving slipping from his face. "Jack, we..."

"Daniel. I said no. You speak twenty-three languages, you understand no?"

"Yes, Jack. I'm sorry. I thought...I just thought that we needed to deal with this."

"This is the Air Force. We don't deal with things. We ignore them until they go away."

He smiles gently, reassured by my joke. "What if they don't go away?" he asks softly.

"Then we shoot at them." I try to smile back. "But I don't think that option applies here. Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight, Jack."

So. Here I am. Sitting in my car trying to figure out what the hell went wrong in there. I know I'm not wrong—he wants me—it was written all over his face, all over his body language. I know I surprised him by coming on so strong, but he returned my kiss, if only for a moment. And we were talking, things were going okay and then...and then what? I offered him sex. Nice uncomplicated, discrete sex. Casual, no strings attached..."Oh shit."

I'm back at his door pounding on it before I even notice I've left the car. "Jack, open this fucking door," I say, my jaw clenched as I grind the words out. How could I have been so completely, utterly stupid?

"Go home, Daniel," Jack's muffled voice comes from behind the door.

"No," I say stubbornly. "Let me in or I'll stand out here all night." He must know I'm telling him the truth because the door suddenly swings open and I storm in.

"We need to talk about this, Jack," I say.

"No we don't, Daniel. Why don't you just go home and we'll forget about this," he replies.

"And I say we need to talk, damnit," I shoot back.

"Fine. We've always said you could stand and talk to an empty room and not notice. Let's test that theory," Jack says cruelly and turns away from me.

I grab him by the arm and drag him back. He's so surprised by my actions I actually manage to draw him near "Why didn't you tell me?" I ask quietly. The skin of his arm is hot against my palm and I just barely resist the urge to run my hand up and down his bicep.

"Tell you what?" Jack responds evasively, avoiding my eyes.

"How you feel. About me," I say, not letting go. "That you love me." His head snaps up at my words and there it is, written all over his face, the truth. I keep talking. I don't think I could bear it if he denied it right now, so I stop him from saying anything.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you, Jack? How I'd resigned myself to offering you what I thought you wanted? Wishing I could have more from you, thinking I never would? How sick I feel sometimes knowing that my every thought about you betrays my wife? I love her, Jack, and I miss her, but more and more often it's not her arms I wish I were laying in at night—it's yours. I've loved you for so long, Jack. So damn long. Maybe ever since Abydos, I don't even know anymore, so don't you dare even think about standing there and lying to me and telling me that I'm wrong. Say the words, Jack. Tell me." I finally run out of steam and just stand there, looking at him, breathing hard, my stomach in knots. He's staring back at me, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretches impossibly thin and I don't think I've ever wanted the ground to open up and swallow me more when suddenly, I'm in Jack's arms and he's whispering in my ear, "Oh, God, Danny. I love you." And then he kisses me and then again and again...soft, urgent kisses that I return just as urgently. Jack reaches up and pulls my glasses off and tosses them onto the nearest flat surface and then buries his hands in my hair and then leans in and starts to trace my lips with his tongue.

Moaning softly, I melt against him, and wrap my arms tightly around him, drawing him closer, pressing our bodies together. My mouth opens under the unrelenting onslaught and Jack plunges his tongue inside. His tongue maps the contours of my mouth, traces the shape of my teeth, slipping and sliding along my own tongue as we kiss as though our lives depended on it.

We're becoming more and more frantic and we begin to pull at each other's clothes. Jack's skin is hot against my palms as I slide his t-shirt up and over his head. "Wanted this for so long, wanted you, oh Danny," Jack murmurs against my lips as we drift towards his bedroom. "Me too, Jack. Me too," I reply breathlessly, gasping when his fingers brush against my stomach as he divests me of my shirt. Skin to skin, we clutch and grab at each other, touching, caressing, teasing, working our way closer and closer to the ultimate goal of Jack's bed, shedding more of our clothes along the way.

By the time we collapse onto it we're both down to nothing but underwear. Still kissing furiously, we arch and rock against each other, moaning as our cotton covered cocks rub and nudge together, both of us seemingly afraid to take the last step. And then something occurs to me through the haze of lust currently clouding my brain.

I pull away from his demanding mouth and look up at him. His eyes are dark with desire and I take a deep shuddering breath, "Jack, have you ever..." I drift off, not quite sure which euphemism to use—made love to, fucked, had sex with, a man—it all boils down to the same thing, the thing we both wanted so damn desperately, but I just couldn't bring myself to say, so I stop, and hope he'll fill in the blank.

"No," he replies, panting a bit. "You?"

"No," I say, shaking my head slightly, suddenly terrified.

Jack just grins down at me and says, "Well, then, I guess we'll just have to learn the ropes together." And then he kisses me, and I feel my fear melting away.

I can't believe I have Daniel here in my bed. Kissing him is better than I even imagined. I let my hands continue to map his body, my thumbs rubbing his chest and nipples. He gives a little shudder and tries to move closer to me, as if trying to mesh us into one. I give my own little shudder when he boldly reaches for my cock and starts to massage and squeeze it. It feels really good, so I return the favor.

The last pieces of clothing disappear and I stop kissing him to look at him, sprawled lazily and waiting on my bed. I use one hand to keep holding and pumping his cock while my other hand traces his lips, his throat and his stomach. I smile when his muscles quiver and I keep touching him, loving the way his skin is warm in some places and hot as a furnace in others. I shift and move on top of him wanting to feel every bit of skin I can. We both gasp at the contact and I place both my hands near his head and start to kiss him again while thrusting our bodies against each other.

Daniel moans my name when I stop kissing him and I want to hear him say it over and over. I get my wish when I start to lick and suck on his neck. I'm careful not to leave any marks and it's hard not to give him a love bite or two. His hands hold onto my waist and then move to my back where he explores and touches to his heart's content. I bury my head in the warm spot between his neck and his shoulder and start to stroke and thrust into his body faster and faster.

"Oh god, Daniel, you feel, oh god." The silence of the room is broken by whispers and moans from both of us and I know I only have a few minutes until I come. Daniel's hands rest on my lower back for a moment before moving to my ass. I can feel him touching every inch he can reach and when he softly rubs one finger up and down the middle I tense and come. I reach between us and squeeze the head of his cock and he comes with a small cry. My heart's pounding like I just pulled 8 Gs with an enemy on my tail. I never thought anything could feel like this.

I can feel Daniel's heart racing beneath me and decide to move off of him and let him breathe. He tries to hold me and keep me on top of him and I give him a kiss to let him know I'm not going anywhere.

"We really should get up and wash off, Daniel." I grin when he only holds me closer and places one leg over mine so I can't get up. We're both sticky and sweaty but I wouldn't change it for anything.

I'm sticky.

So, I'm sticky and sweaty.

I'm sticky and sweaty and in bed with Jack. This is definitely not how I pictured the day ending when I got out of bed this morning.

Bed. Tomorrow I'll be getting out of bed with Jack.

How the hell did that happen?

"Daniel," Jack murmurs, "I can actually hear you thinking."

"I wasn't," I tell him, unconvincingly. "I was just, um, I was wondering what we do now."

"I was thinking of going to sleep. You?"

"Jack," I say reprovingly. "I meant..."

"I know what you meant, Daniel," he cuts me off quietly. In the darkness, his soft eyes fold at the edges, the whisper of a smile. He hasn't stopped staring at me. "I'll figure something out."

"You mean, we'll figure something out."

"Right. We." In just those two words, his voice sounds full, sounds different that I've ever heard him before. It takes a moment to click, but then it does, with force like a strike of lightning, a zat gun to the chest.

He sounds happy. Jack sounds happy.

I did that.

I reach out for him, my fingers trailing across his chest, and southwards down his stomach. My strokes are gentle and light, but he sees the purposeful look on my face.

"Daniel," he groans softly, with a touch of regret, "do you have any idea how much older than you I am?"

"No." I blink at him innocently. "Twenty, twenty-five years?"

"For crying out loud." He reaches forward and kisses me, hard like a reprimand. A nice one. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because the sex is so good."

"Mmmmn." He allows his gaze to float across my naked body. I'm still waiting for it to strike, the realisation of what we've just done, the embarrassment, but it doesn't seem to be coming. When he speaks, he's got that sound in his voice again. "Who knew?"

"I did. You tried to argue with me."

"Yeah, you did. I should listen to you more often, maybe."

"Can I get that in writing?"

He just rolls his eyes at me, and that's how I know without a doubt that we're okay. That we're still us, inside our sticky, sweaty skin.

Jack is kissing me again gently. "I love you," he says. Slowly, like he's trying out the words for the first time, each syllable a surprise.

"I love you," I answer back, and it's like I've been saying it forever.

Compromising Collaborations | Compromising Positions