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The radiation from the Telchak device, just in the few minutes it had taken for him and Bill to figure out how to turn it off, had left Daniel with a restless buzz along his skin, a strange, twisted energy that kept him wakeful despite everything he’d been through, and also, embarrassingly, made him half hard. The device had, in addition, apparently half-killed the pain from his gunshot wound, which was a nice bonus. The wound was superficial, though uglier and bloodier than he expected from something so shallow. Daniel hadn’t dodged that literal bullet, but in the end, he didn’t worry about it, because he had dodged a much bigger, metaphorical one when they succeeded in turning off the, as Burke dubbed it, zombie-creating radiation.
Daniel was going to be fine. Eventually.
Burke had found a makeshift case for the device among the trash in the guerrillas’ camp, so that whoever carried it home could avoid touching it as much as possible. They left the camp as they found it and headed back to the jeep Burke had brought. All the bouncing way into town, Daniel was thinking about his wound and, Jack’s eyes, and the device, and resolutely not thinking about the aftereffects of torture. Bill was refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Jack was quiet, Burke ebullient. Daniel knew he’d have to talk with Bill when they got back to Colorado -- reassure him that no one blamed him and that he’d done the best he could. Physicists’ qualifications didn’t include torture resistance training, even at SGC. Maybe they should change that.
By the time he was back in Tegucigalpa, Daniel’s limp had eased a great deal. It was very dark, and the city seemed shuttered and brooding. Burke faded away, Bill was practically dead on his feet, needing all his energy to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Jack kept them on track. Jack kept track of the Ancient device, too, and checked them into a hotel and used the lobby pay phone to arrange for the transport plane to swing back and pick them up. It would be morning before the three of them could leave.
While Jack got Bill settled in the room next door, Daniel stowed the Ancient device under the one bed in his and Jack’s room, and climbed into the rusty shower. He desperately craved a shave, but he didn’t have a razor any more, and he hated to dig through Jack’s things to find one. The hot water felt heavenly, and he scrubbed the stink of jungle and battery acid and sweat and blood from his skin and hair. He wondered if he’d ever be able to stand the smell of pineapple again. By touch, he peeled away Jack’s hastily tied bandages from his thigh and let the hot water sting his raw flesh.
Finally, he wrapped one of the scanty threadbare towels around his hips and emerged from the bathroom, dripping. The water on his skin felt soothing, cooling, in the breeze from the creaky ceiling fan. The buzz from the device seemed to be starting to fade, at least a little. He hoped.
Jack was there, sitting on their double bed, shirtless, drinking Coke from a bottle and apparently waiting for him to finish in the bathroom. He had stuff from his first-aid kit laid out ready on the bed. He leaned to set the Coke on the nightstand, and scrubbed his fingers with a sterile wipe.
“Let’s see that leg,” he said, a little gruffly, not meeting Daniel’s eyes.
Daniel heard the pipes groan through the wall, and the muffled rush of water. Bill must be taking a shower too. Jack would undoubtedly be next.
Daniel stepped close to him and pulled the edges of the towel apart to expose the wound. He could have dropped the towel entirely; he and Jack had seen each other stripped before, plenty of times, but Jack would be touching him in a minute, and it seemed a little too close, too intimate, if he were naked. Also, he couldn’t guarantee that despite the wound and the awkwardness, his dick wouldn’t immediately get interested again. Between the buzz of the device and his normal, highly inappropriate and highly predictable reactions to Jack, a hard-on was likely. Better hang on to the towel.
“Shit,” Jack breathed. His fingers were careful, almost tender, on the skin of Daniel’s thigh. Daniel bit his lip and tried to reverse his erection by sheer willpower.
“Infected already?” Daniel asked, keeping his eyes on the far wall. Its wallpaper was water stained at the top, and starting to peel. If he looked down, at Jack’s bent head, the tan line on his neck, the beads of perspiration on his shoulders, he’d be rock hard in a moment. The rich smell of Jack’s sweat was in a fair way to do the job all by itself. He closed his eyes. Jack’s fingers moved, confident and careful, on his thigh.
“No, just the opposite. Take a look.”
Jack pushed him a little and Daniel sat down, gingerly, tilting his hips away and bunching the towel in his traitorous crotch. The gash on his thigh was closed and turning pink already. The skin around it was perfectly clear, and the swelling was gone. There was no fresh blood.
“Shit,” Daniel agreed. “It must have been the device. Just being around it for a few minutes was enough to speed up the healing process significantly.”
“Carter and Jacob will be drooling when they hear.”
Daniel chuckled, but it trailed off quickly. Jack was going ahead and spreading antibacterial ointment over the half-healed trough the bullet had left. When he was satisfied with that, he pulled Daniel’s towel away before Daniel could protest, and wiped his hands on it, then used it to blot the last of the water from Daniel’s leg so that he could proceed to tape down a long strip of gauze bandage. He worked quickly, never meeting Daniel’s eyes. Daniel awkwardly rested his hands in his lap, trying and probably failing to will Jack away from noticing his obvious erection.
He couldn’t read Jack’s reaction. Jack said, when he finished the bandage, “All I’ve got is some more ibuprofen. How’s the pain?”
“It’s not bad at all,” Daniel said.
“Right,” Jack said, his disbelief clear.
“No, really.”
Jack got up and swiftly put away his supplies. Daniel sat there, buzzing anew from those skillful, tender touches, and he watched as Jack pulled a blister pack of ibuprofen and a bottle of water from his bag and put them on the table at the head of the bed. Then Jack grabbed a clean pair of boxers and ducked into the bathroom. The shower started.
Daniel scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jack had brought him a spare pair glasses from Colorado, and he’d left them in the bathroom. He sighed. He couldn’t tell, now, if the buzz he was feeling was all Jack-induced, or if the device’s effects were lingering even now. But here was his opportunity to do something about the hard-on. If he could get off, quickly and quietly, he was sure he could sleep. If he tried to lie down now and simply ignore this arousal, it would take him forever to come down, and he’d probably be right back in this state when Jack emerged and got in bed with him. Daniel’s breath hitched at the very idea -- the image of a boxer-clad, freshly scrubbed Jack, warm and alive, lying inches away. His dick jumped. Yeah, he’d better find some relief while he could.
He hitched backwards across the bed, which Jack had already turned down. He put his back to the bathroom door and pulled the sheet up around his hips. Jack would probably stay in there until the hot water ran out, if he was true to his habit. That was more than enough time.
Daniel shut his eyes and slid his hand under the sheet and around his erection, the recent and all-too vivid memory of Jack’s touch suddenly in the foreground again. Jack, sitting so close to him on the bed, smelling of sweat and exertion, pheromones somehow tailored to Daniel’s libido. God, he was sexy. It took all Daniel’s self control to be around him these days. One slow pull, and a faster one, and a slow squeeze and a gentle twist to the already welling head. It was Jack who did this to him, made him feel this way, full of lust, full of desire and emotion. Damn the alien device. It was Jack who made him feel this alive.
He’d fought the inappropriateness of his attraction, the impossibility of his feelings for Jack, for years. After he descended he’d fought them all over again, the yearning undiminished by his incorporeal year, unblunted by his days of amnesia. He’d realized, again, that he’d never get over it, so he tried to turn it into the good kind of pain, telling himself that, as the saying goes, in reality all love is unrequited, all love is sometimes indistinguishable from pain. And that pain is just one more way you know you’re alive. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, but he still saw Jack there in the darkness behind his eyelids -- always Jack. Touching him, supporting him, a strong arm around his waist in the jungle as Daniel leaned on him. Jack had knelt, cradling his smoking weapon, and looked into Daniel’s eyes with unveiled relief, as Daniel, stunned, dropped his rock and collapsed against the tree trunk.
Jack. Always and only, Jack.
The bed creaked and Daniel started and half turned, his hand tight around his shaft, his balls tight against his body. He was moments from coming. He didn’t dare open his eyes.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Jack said dryly. Daniel realized the room was silent except for the whine of the ceiling fan. The rush of water had stopped. How long had Jack stood there, watching, before he put weight on the creaky bedsprings? And was Daniel imagining the tiny hitch in his voice? “Probably the best thing for you; it’ll let you sleep.”
Daniel opened his eyes. Jack had one knee on the bed, and he was clean and dripping, a scanty white towel around his waist. And then Daniel, with a jolt of amazement, noticed that the towel was draped like a flag over Jack’s prominent erection.
Daniel’s heart leaped, and his hand, under the thin veil of the sheet, gave an involuntary stroke. Jack waited, poised there, absently stroking his belly with the hand that wasn’t holding up the towel.
Daniel cleared his throat. “You’re, um, probably used to this, aren’t you? All those years of sharing quarters with a bunch of lonely men.” Daniel willed his lips to smile, but they wouldn’t cooperate. He was too shocked, and his mouth was too dry.
“You get used to a lot of stuff,” Jack said, still not moving, and yeah, his voice was definitely hoarse.
Daniel tilted his head, to bring Jack’s face into better focus, and Jack didn’t look away. They held each other’s gaze, and heat flared between them. Daniel moved his hand again, one slow stroke. Jack’s gaze flickered to it, then back to Daniel’s face. Jack swallowed. Hard.
Never in a million years would I have guessed, Daniel thought. You’re too good. Too careful. But now I know.
“Company’s always nice,” Daniel said, and when Jack’s eyes widened just a little, Daniel added, on a burst of new arousal, “especially your company.”
Jack took a deep breath -- Daniel watched his chest move -- and then Jack dropped his towel. His expression was astonished. And very turned on. He put his hand on his dick and his other knee on the bed.
Daniel licked his lips and pushed down the sheet.
They were naked. Together. In bed. It was a fantasy come to life.
Staring into Jack’s eyes, Daniel began to slowly move his hand on his cock again, and in his peripheral vision he could tell that Jack was stroking himself now too -- using almost the same rhythm.
“Oh, god,” Daniel said, his voice choked. “I didn’t know. I never guessed.”
“Guessed what?” Jack said, and he was kneeling lower now, close beside Daniel, his bent legs splayed wide, his hand, that same hand that had touched Daniel so gently, tended to him so carefully, gripping his erection, and moving. Speeding up. Jerking himself off. Daniel could hardly bear to stop looking into Jack’s brown eyes, but he had to see this too. He watched Jack’s hand. He’d never seen Jack hard before. His cock was thick and long and circumcised, his balls already tight. Water clung to his dark curly hair.
Daniel said, “That you liked this. That you would do this.”
“You weren’t supposed to guess. Ever.”
“I didn’t,” Daniel said, and now he was watching Jack’s face again, and oh, god, Daniel was at the edge. Their breaths were loud in the stuffy, hot room.
“I’m going to come,” Daniel said. “I’m very close.”
“When you do,” Jack said, “I will too.”
“On me,” Daniel said, “please,” and the idea and the sensation and the delicious insane buzz in his skin coalesced into a white tide of pleasure, and Jack’s gaze was burning his skin, and Daniel could still feel Jack’s hands.
Then he was coming, spasming, his head bouncing off the pillow, his hips rocking up, and he moved his hand through the slick pulses, prolonging the pleasure by squeezing and spreading his own semen over the throbbing swollen tip of his penis. When the peak had barely passed, he had to open his eyes to watch Jack. He had to see this unthinkable, amazing thing that was about to happen.
Jack had edged toward him even farther, his face contorting in something that almost looked like pain, but Daniel knew better. Jack leaned over, catching himself with a fist planted on the far side of Daniel’s body, and he stilled, holding his dick, holding it pointing down, over Daniel’s belly. Daniel writhed and bit back a cry as the warm flood of Jack’s climax splashed against his skin.
Then it was over, and Jack was collapsing onto his shoulder on his own pillow, curled a little around his core, still holding himself, his eyes closed. Since he’d come out of the bathroom, they hadn’t touched. Daniel could see a sheen of new sweat through the close crop of silvery hair at his temple.
Daniel realized he was flat on his back, one hand cupping his deflated dick, the other gently moving in the pool of Jack’s come on his stomach.
Astonishing. Impossible.
The crazy buzz had ebbed. He felt sleepy now, and very tender.
Jack’s breathing slowed, and he opened his eyes and smiled. He reached out, as if it were hard to move, and when his hand closed around Daniel’s hand the shock of touch was another jolt of immortal lightning. Holding Daniel’s gaze, Jack lifted Daniel’s dripping fingers to his mouth and gently, deliberately, sucked them clean, one by one. It made Daniel gasp.
Then Jack let go, and settled himself on his side, hands tucked under his pillow, and watched Daniel. Daniel couldn’t turn toward him as fully as he wanted to, because of his leg, but he settled more comfortably on his back and turned his head. He found that his hand was creeping over to rest on Jack’s shoulder, and that made Jack smile again.
“You just surprised the hell out of me,” Daniel said.
“When I found you and Lee, you asked me what I was doing here,” Jack said. “I was coming for you.”
And the deadpan delivery made Daniel crack a huge grin. “Of course,” Daniel said. “You make it sound like the most ordinary, unsurprising thing in the world.”
“Isn’t it?” Jack said, and then he shut his eyes and snuggled against his pillow as if he intended to go right to sleep.
After a moment, Daniel had to ask, “Are you okay with this? Really?”
Jack pulled a hand from under his pillow and put it over Daniel’s, there on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes. “Relax. Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning. But yeah. I am very, very okay with this.”
“Good,” Daniel said, and the endorphin rush and the exhaustion and Jack’s attentions must have all done their work, because that was the last thing he remembered until Bill’s knocking on their door woke him up, and the hot white light of the tropical sun was in his eyes as soon as he opened them.
“Be right out,” Jack shouted, and the knocking stopped.
Daniel squinted at him. Jack got up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes, felt for his dogtags, which weren’t there, Daniel noticed suddenly, and Jack winced.
Daniel must have slept all night, but it felt like their strange surreal encounter had happened mere minutes ago. The device must have fucked with him more than he’d thought.
“Hey?” Daniel said, and he hitched himself gently up to sitting. He put two careful fingers over the bandage. His wound barely hurt. It didn’t feel swollen at all.
“Mm?” Jack said.
“Still okay?”
Jack tilted his head and regarded him. His hair was very short, his tan very dark. Two or three days in the tropics, and Jack burned darker than Daniel would ever be in his entire life. “Yup,” Jack said. He moved, turning away a little, like he was about to get up, so Daniel put a hand on his arm.
“I can’t just... I can’t just go out there and pretend this never happened. Unless that’s what you want.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Daniel’s hand on his arm and turned back entirely to put his hand to Daniel’s cheek. It was the last thing Daniel had expected, and it made his eyes fall closed. That touch again. That touch that always took him apart, that he could never, ever resist.
Jack caressed him. “That’s not what I want. Listen.” And Daniel opened his eyes. And melted. The love and concern he saw in Jack’s face took his breath away. “This has gotta wait. We have to get out of here; we have to get home. But I promise. We’ll take a drive, get up into the park, away from town, maybe hike into the woods, and talk about it. Everything. Because, Daniel...” Jack leaned in. Jack pressed a kiss to Daniel’s lax, shocked lips. “This happened.”
Before Daniel could answer, Jack was out of bed and up. He scrabbled for clothes, tossing items on the bed toward Daniel, pulling on a pair of khakis and quickly shrugging into a shirt.
“C’mon, Daniel,” Jack urged, tossing a ball of socks at his head. “Let’s get you two home.”
“Home sounds good,” Daniel said, and he carefully sat up. Maybe the Mayans weren’t wrong at all. Maybe the device, dangerous though it was, could indeed be described as a literal fountain of youth. Whatever the technology turned out to be, retrieving it had proved to be, for Daniel, his latest resurrection. A kind of life after death; another second chance. One that Daniel was not about to fail to exploit. Now that he was healed.
Jack had indeed come for him. In all senses. And he couldn’t wait to learn more about that.
end.