Jack could no longer kid himself that he wasn't having sex with Daniel. That first time rubbing together against the wall was definitely sex. Sex with clothes on, which should have been less hot, but wasn't. Maybe it was the way they couldn't even wait long enough to drop their pants. Button, button, shove, an operation taking all of twenty seconds, at the outside, and they couldn't wait.
The rubbing thing--frottage, Jack corrected himself. Daniel had educated him as to the proper term for it. Daniel was helpful that way.
The frottage was better than the hand jobs. Hotter, closer, faster. They were going off like hormone soaked teenagers. Jack was careful not to touch Daniel, careful to keep his distance, in case the lights came on unexpectedly again. Not that it helped. When they came on at the end of each day, there wasn't enough distance in the room to stop it from happening.
After a few incidents of dry humping, Daniel managed to hold back long enough to get his pants down. Jack, seizing the opportunity, dropped his own, and they had their first skin contact. Full frontal, Jack thought, except that it wasn't. Not yet. He doubted that they would got there, because it would require taking the time to got naked, and that was patience they didn't have. Dropping the pants was enough, anyway. All the important parts were touching.
Daniel had been kissing him again. His neck, mostly, and his ears, which Jack had been very enthusiastic about when it was happening, and less thrilled about later. Kissing was intimate in a way that even fucking would not be. He didn't know why that was. There was a vague concept in his head, something about prostitutes and not kissing them, but he hadn't really taken it further than that.
Frankly, any time he considered Daniel kissing him, and the inevitable day when he gave in and kissed Daniel back, his mind shied away. Because the hand jobs were good, the frottage was fantastic, but the kissing had fascinated him. He couldn't stop thinking about it. And that didn't make any sense, did it? It was just kissing. His mouth on Daniel's. He had never in his life had an orgasm from kissing, and to his knowledge, it wasn't possible. Since what they did when the lights came on was all about getting off, kissing shouldn't matter at all. It was secondary. Window dressing. Meaningless.
Except that it wasn't.
Jack had been thinking about Daniel's mouth a lot. Which wasn't that surprising, considering who Daniel was. That mouth, that maddening, stubborn, brilliant mouth. When Jack thought of Daniel, thought of words to describe him, what did he came up with? Mouthy, of course. Smart mouth. Clever tongue. A sharp bite when you least expected it. That was Daniel.
Maybe it was because he could control the kissing. Maybe that's what made it so important. When Daniel was grinding against him, slippery and shaking and shuddering forward, Jack couldn't help pushing back. Matching Daniel thrust for thrust, clamping his hands wherever he could get the best grip and holding Daniel close, joining him in the headlong race to the finish line. That was all beyond his control; he didn't want to do it, but he had to.
He didn't have to kiss Daniel, but he was starting to want it. It was only fair. Daniel had been doing it for days. It wasn't right that things should be so one sided. Jack was itching to show him how it was done. Show him that Daniel wasn't the only one with a talented mouth.
And he did show Daniel that, but not in the way he expected. It happened one day when he was doing pushups. It was laundry day again, and he was wearing his shorts and nothing else. He liked to do it that way, working up a sweat with good, honest exercise, and then washing and having a clean uniform to put back on. It made him feel less like a lab specimen.
Daniel was having his own wash, stripped to the waist, water running down his back, making his hair stick out in ragged tufts. It was getting very long. Not as long as when he'd joined the SGC, but heading in that direction. He was crossing the room to hang damp clothes off the food shelf when the lights began.
Jack, at the lowest part of his pushup, his back straight and his chest nearly touching the floor, froze. The first thought in his mind--it's early. There was usually only one reason for that. They were about to do something new.
Aware that he was on his belly, his back exposed, his ass unguarded, Jack scrambled to his knees. He was about to rise further when Daniel's hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up, following Daniel's legs. His eyes snagged at Daniel's groin, where his pants were already flapping open, and his underwear was molded over his erection. Jack could see the shape through the worn gray cotton easily.
"Jack," Daniel said. He was looking down, his hand still on Jack's shoulder. Resting there. Not holding him down. It would be so much easier if Jack could tell himself he had no choice, but he did have a choice. He could stand up... but he didn't.
Jack looked up, met his eyes. Deep water, he thought. On the tail of that thought was the idea that he was in over his head, and he almost laughed, because that was old news.
All this time Jack had been thinking of Daniel's mouth, of all the things it could do, of kissing and tasting and where he would like Daniel to put that mouth. He hadn't considered what he could do with his own mouth, beyond a little kissing. Hadn't considered doing this. But now that it was staring him in the face, he couldn't remember ever wanting anything more.
Jack yanked Daniel's underwear down, and Daniel flinched as the waistband caught him, making his cock bob down and up. Jack was licking his lips, already swallowing, his mouth was literally watering at the idea of what he was about to do, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of Pavlov's dogs.
Jack didn't want to be a dog, but the sound that Daniel made when he took him in his mouth, that sound...
There was a long list of things that Jack would do to hear that sound again, and a very short list of things that he wouldn't. The short list kept on shrinking, and he was so afraid that soon it would be gone, soon he would do anything for Daniel.
Jack was clumsy in his eagerness, catching with his teeth, lacking rhythm and skill, and none of it seemed to matter. Daniel's hands were in his hair, and that would be alright with Jack if they were holding him in place, or moving his head, but they were not. Instead, Daniel's fingers were stroking him, petting him, and that wasn't okay. That was more of Daniel's outrageous intimacy, more of Daniel putting emotion where it didn't belong.
Jack would show him how it was wrong. See how Daniel liked it when the tables were turned. He brought a hand up and cupped Daniel's balls, rolled them gently. Daniel gasped, tried to jerk away, unbearably sensitive, but Jack was relentless. Payback, he thought. He would make Daniel come unhinged with gentleness, to show him the power it could have. To demonstrate how dangerous that power was.
He slowed his pace, because he could, because he had the connection, and that was what he needed. His cock was heavy between his legs, the slight friction of his shorts against it sending low, heavy pangs through his belly, but it could wait, because he had Daniel in his mouth. A part of Daniel was in him. Connection.
Daniel whined low, tugged fretfully at Jack's hair, and twisted his body again. "Jack," he whispered, unable to find his voice. "Wha...?"
Jack pulled completely back and bared his teeth up at Daniel, triumphant, because he was showing Daniel, he was making his point, he was winning. "See?" he murmured, his voice high and strained. "See?" And he proved to Daniel that tenderness wasn't okay, that the kissing and the stroking and the softness would ruin everything. He showed Daniel what it was like on the receiving end.
Jack opened his mouth and sucked one ball in, and Daniel tensed, perhaps afraid of being touched too roughly. But Jack was gentle, laving with his tongue, rolling and sucking lightly, and Daniel quickly gave himself over to it. He was moaning now, swaying on his feet, and stroking Jack's hair again, and this was all going wrong because he wasn't supposed to like it.
Jack wasn't supposed to like it either, he was supposed to hate every minute of it, and it wasn't working that way. When it was hard and rough and painful, he could take some consolation in the fact that he was being forced, that he was fighting it every step of the way, but this... what was he supposed to think about this? Why couldn't Daniel cooperate? He was supposed to recoil from the gentleness, supposed to wake up and realize how not like fighting it was, and go back to the way it was in the beginning. Mechanical. Impersonal
Too late, Jack thought. They couldn't go back now.
Since back wasn't an option and stopping was absolutely unthinkable, Jack went forward. He switched sides, tasted, slid the tip of his tongue along the crease where Daniel's thigh met his groin, and higher, along his hip bone. He bit, not so gently, and then licked, feeling the indentations his teeth had made. Above him, Daniel was squirming, making these delicious 'mmm mmm mmm' noises. Begging noises.
Jack liked that, that Daniel couldn't even say 'please,' couldn't even ask for what he wanted because his words were gone. Jack had stolen Daniel's mouth with his own, and that was such a rush, see what I did, finally found a way to shut Daniel up. But Jack only teased a little, flattening his tongue and running along the underside of Daniel's cock, long, broad strokes. Then, because he couldn't wait anymore, he took Daniel back in his mouth, as deep as he could go. Not deep enough, he thought. Never deep enough. He was suddenly starving, wanted more, wanted all of Daniel, and he sucked hard, frustrated, impatient.
Then Daniel was coming, and Jack was startled by the rush of hot fluid in his mouth. He sputtered and ended up swallowing some of it, which he hadn't planned on doing, but it was done now. Done, couldn't be undone, he wailed in his head. Too far, too late.
Daniel wobbled and dropped down, his knees hitting the floor hard, and he fumbled with Jack's boxers. Jack started to stand, but Daniel pushed him, laid him flat, spread his legs and Jack should feel panic, should struggle, but he didn't. He was on the floor, legs open, exposed, and Daniel was on top of him and he wasn't afraid, wasn't fighting.
Wrong, oh wrong, Jack thought. Then Daniel's mouth was on him and he stopped thinking. Daniel's mouth was every bit as good as he knew it would be.
Later, they started doing sixty nines, and it was even better. They weren't really wearing clothes anymore. Tee shirts and underwear. It expedited things, and the ambient temperature had risen to compensate. Plus, it meant less laundry.
"I have a theory," Jack said one morning, during breakfast.
Daniel raised his head, startled to hear his own words from Jack's mouth. His eyebrows flew up, his mouth slightly open, and Jack wondered if he knew how dumb he looked with that face. He realized that he was smiling at Daniel with something approaching fondness, and quickly schooled his expression.
"You do?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty good, too. Want to hear it?"
Daniel looked down at his attempt to make their food selection taste different by breaking into pieces. His mouth was still slightly open. He looked up at Jack, blinked, and put his mangled pieces of bread down. "Right," he said. "Your theory."
"Okay. I think you," and Jack pointed at Daniel, "are only guessing about why we're here."
Daniel's mouth closed, then curved up slightly into his tight, polite smile. He blinked several times, rapidly, and nodded. "Yes," he said, slow and deliberate, making every letter count. "I'm making educated guesses based on what I know about laboratory testing methods and our environment in this case, as well as the mental and physical effects that--"
"Ah!" Jack waved a hand, shaking his head. "I've heard all that. Repeatedly. But deciding that we're supposed to be 'breeding' because all the lights flashed at once? Bit of a reach, isn't it?"
"It's a change in the environment. The only change. Everything else is absolutely constant, except for those occasions when we change our behavior, when the physical contact escalates, and then we are rewarded for the change."
Jack snorted. "Rewarded? It's a flashing light. How is that a reward?"
"It's an indicator," Daniel insisted. "It's a sign that we've done something they took notice of."
"So how do you know it's good?" Jack countered, leaning forward, spreading his hands out. "Maybe they flashed because we broke the rules. Maybe it was like you said, about the answers themselves not being as important as how we get them. Maybe there's no right reaction, no ultimate goal."
Daniel was shaking his head, one hand lifted, a finger waving back and forth. "No, no, because there have been other indications. The lights suddenly starting when we were close to each other, or in a position to take things to the next level. That's happened twice. Not to mention the effect the lights have on us. You can't deny that."
"I'm just saying there are other possibilities," Jack said. "I'm willing to concede that you could be right about the breeding thing, but--and this is a big but--you might not be. You might be way off base."
"That's unlikely."
"It's possible." Jack raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes at Daniel, clearly waiting.
"Yes, I suppose it's possible," Daniel admitted after a long, reluctant pause. "But it's also possible that trying my idea will get us out of here."
"That's another assumption. Who says they'll let us go?"
"Who says they won't?"
"And you think it's worth it, because this theory on which you're so hot says we get out if we play their little game."
Daniel threw his hands up in the air, then stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if asking for patience. "Yes! Haven't we covered this?"
"You said my reason for not doing it wasn't good enough," Jack said, and then paused, blinking and frowning slightly. He knew how this conversation was going to go ahead of time, because it wasn't the first time they had had it, but this was new. His mouth-brain connection was suffering a sudden breakdown.
Daniel was staring at him, eyes narrowed, head tilted to one side. "Ye-es," he said, drawing the word out. "I did say that. Because this wasn't a case of breaking under interrogation or divulging secrets to the enemy. You're saying you have another reason now?"
No, Jack thought. He sent frantic messages to his mouth. No! Say no!
"Yes."
Crap.
Daniel's eyebrows were trying for whole new altitudes. "And?" he invited, extending a hand to Jack, crooking his fingers in encouragement.
Jack wondered if he could blame alien influence for his sudden attack of honesty. But no, what he was about to tell Daniel was something he had been mulling over for a long time. There was nothing else to do in here but think, and create little scenarios as to how this talk would go, what he would say and how Daniel would react. So far, Daniel was following along perfectly, as if he had read Jack's mental script.
"It's the principle of the thing," Jack hedged. He wished they hadn't given up on clothes beyond underwear and tee shirts. He could really use some pocket flaps or buttons to fiddle with right about now.
"The principle." Daniel's voice was level, smooth, and Jack recognized it. This was Daniel in first contact mode, feeling out a potential ally--or potential enemy. Giving nothing away, keeping neutral, and waiting to see which way it would go.
Jack reviewed his plan, discarded several possible choices, and then decided to improvise. Plan A never worked anyway. "Ask yourself something, Daniel," he said. "Why are you so determined to go through with the sex?" Daniel blinked a little, and Jack realized he had called it sex instead of 'breeding,' which somehow made it more human. More real.
"Because it's our best chance to--"
Jack held a hand up, cut Daniel off with a short 'ah!' "That's the PR reason. The one you put in the report because it sounds all nice and rational. What's the real reason? Maybe you're just a little too eager. Maybe you've gone along with all of this a little too easily. Why is that?"
Daniel took a step back, his head down, a nest of lines growing between his brows. "I'm only making the best of a bad situation. Just because I don't have the same visceral responses as you do doesn't mean I want this. What has already happened between us never would have happened if we weren't here."
Jack pointed at Daniel, nodding once, sharply. "Now, see, that I believe. That it wouldn't have happened, but not--not that you didn't want it on some level. Because you're taking all of this way too well."
"Of course," Daniel said. His eyes had gone very cool, his talented mouth all but invisible, pressed into a flat, hard line. "That must be it. You're the great Jack O'Neill, and I've been secretly lusting after you for years. I was just waiting for a chance to throw myself at you. Of course, so would anyone else, in this situation. I mean, how could they resist?"
Jack's lips twitched into a wry grin. "Sarcasm as a defense mechanism. Wow, I would have never thought of that."
Daniel turned away, flicking one hand at Jack as if shooing him. "Christ, Jack. I'm surprised this room is big enough for your ego."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
Pausing with his back to Jack, Daniel was quiet for a long moment. Then he twisted his upper body, his face visible in profile over his shoulder. "Need me to spell it out for you?" His tone tried for contempt and missed it completely, instead sounding confused and hopelessly off balance.
"Yes, Daniel," Jack said pleasantly, because every instinct was telling him he was on the right track, he had Daniel running for cover. "Spell it out. Explain to me how you have absolutely no attraction for me. How the idea of having sex with me is completely offensive to you. Tell me I'm totally wrong."
Daniel didn't move. He was staring at nothing, and Jack could see the faint flutter of his pulse in his neck, the slight shift and bulge of muscles moving in his jaw. Then Daniel growled something in a language Jack didn't recognize and hit the wall with the flat of his palm, making a dull smacking sound.
That's right, Jack thought. He knew it. His mind was ready to revel in his victory, at finally winning an argument with Daniel, but his mouth had other ideas. His mouth, perhaps remembering the incredible things that Daniel's mouth was capable of doing to it, had decided to take pity on Daniel.
"You're not the only one," he said.
Daniel turned very slowly. "What?" he asked, biting off the end of the word with crisp deliberation.
Jack's mouth, the little traitor, deserted him, and he scrambled for a glib response. "That's why I fought it so hard. I thought..."
Shit, Jack thought. Not very glib. He was still suffering from that attack of honesty.
He hadn't given Daniel much to work with, but Daniel was very good at working with very little. "You thought you might like it? You thought if you let it happen, that meant you wanted it?"
Jack shrugged and looked around the room, avoiding Daniel's suddenly piercing stare. "Crap, Daniel, you know me and psychology."
Daniel ignored that, dismissed it effortlessly, and Jack was glad. He was tired of his own pointless playacting, his dumb persona. It was just that he'd been doing it so long, he wasn't sure how to stop.
"Wait," Daniel said, holding a finger up. "Wait. So, if you held out as long as you could, fought and resisted every single step, you could tell yourself you had no choice? You were doing it because you were forced, not because you wanted to?" Daniel nodded at him, answering for Jack, because he knew he was right. "But if you gave in, let me talk you around, then you'd have to ask yourself if maybe you caved for a reason. You'd have to admit that you wanted it too."
"Another brilliant deduction by Doctor Jackson." Jack was looking at Daniel in quick, flickering glances, a slight, sheepish smile on his face.
Daniel was beginning to smile. "But that means... if we both want to..."
There was a low hum, a barely there flash, white on white, on the food shelf. They both turned toward it, starved enough for any kind of change to the sameness of the cell that they were willing to interrupt what promised to be a very interesting conversation.
"What is it?" Jack asked, as Daniel picked up the small bowl. White, of course.
Daniel tilted it back and forth, and then lifted and sniffed. He dabbed a finger in the clear, shiny gel that filled the bowl. Color started to rise in his cheeks.
"Daniel?"
He darted a quick, nervous glance at Jack. "I think it's supposed to be lube."
Jack stared for a second, and then closed his eyes. He tilted his head back, glared at the ceiling, and yelled, "Not funny! I know you're laughing up there!"
"Well," Daniel said, in his best reasonable tone, "it will make things easier."
"Hold on there, speedy," Jack retorted. He could feel his heart rate increasing, and a kind of nervous, fluttering anticipation filled his belly. This was all happening too fast. "I don't recall agreeing to anything."
Daniel gritted his teeth and put the bowl down very gently. "What else is there to talk about? Do you still think this isn't what they want us to do? I'd say that," he waved at the bowl, "is a pretty clear sign!"
"Oh? And just who is putting that," Jack mimicked Daniel's wave, "where the sun don't shine?"
Daniel opened his mouth. Shut it. Blinked. "Well... I just assumed..."
Jack was nodding grimly. "Uh huh. Well you knew what they say about assumptions." And even as he said that, he wondered when he agreed to this at all, when it stopped being hypothetical and became real. Because he would've liked to have been consulted about that.
"So you don't want to..." Daniel went through a series of gestures, head tilts, and eyebrow twitches. Jack started to laugh. "What?" Daniel asked, and he sounded so indignant and surprised that Jack just laughed harder.
"You," Jack snorted, shaking his head. "All this time you've been pushing me to do this, and you can't even say it?"
Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well excuse me for not taking this to the lowest possible level. I'll put it simply--you don't want to be fucked?"
"Well duh."
Daniel closed his eyes momentarily. "Thank you, Jack, for finding an even lower level."
"Oh, like you're so eager to take it up the ass," Jack scoffed.
"Not the point."
"Well actually, Daniel, that is the point. Because one of us is going to have to, if we're doing this." And they were, Jack realized. He'd known it all along. Daniel was right--it was inevitable.
Daniel stared at him. Jack's smile faded, and he stared back. This wasn't a problem he'd anticipated. He'd just assumed...
Damn.
Jack looked up and silently petitioned for help, and for the first time in memory, help appeared.