Title: I Don't Care
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Malek/Jack, implied Jacob/Bra'tac

Category: Drama, mild angst, Romance,

Season/Episode: Allegiance

Spoilers: Allegiance

Warnings: none
Summary: Post-Allegiance, Malek is suffering from a mild fit of depression. Jack is just the one to cheer him up.
Notes: Thanks to Telsea for beta-ing. This is a response to pauline's Surprise Pairing challenge. Feedback rocks—if you feedback, you rock too. denotes Tok'ra symbiote-to-host speak. Also, this is my first time writing Stargate fic—please be kind.

Malek sat down heavily—probably a bit too heavily—on the cot, flinching in protest as that aggravated his already painful injuries. He was tired—far, far too tired. This day had been slightly less of a disaster than he had been expecting, but far less of a victory he had hoped for. Two Tok'ra had died by friendly fire—people to eager to shoot without getting a good shot first.

He didn't blame the Jaffa. They had reflexes bred into them, just like the Tok'ra. The animosity between Malek's race and the Jaffa would continue—though, he hoped, in not so acid a form.

We'll find a solution, his Other, his host—Frein—reassured him.

If we have more like Selmak, and more like Bra'tac, then yes, we will, Malek responded. Before then, we will rail against each other, each skirmish more pointless than the last.

Malek receded and gave control of the body to Frein. Frein reached up a hand and touched his neck gingerly. Did you have to make Teal'c so angry? Frein asked. This will take forever to heal.

I believed—we both believed Bra'tac to be dead.

Frein sighed. We should get some rest.

Yes.

"Hey, can I come in?"

Frein hurriedly retreated, giving Malek control. Malek glanced to the entrance, and saw Colonel O'Neill. He cursed inwardly, giving Frein a bad case of the inner chuckles; but, perfectly calmly, he nodded. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

"See, do I have to come in here with a topic in mind to discuss? Can't we just…let the conversation flow?" Jack asked, making himself at home on the cot across from Malek.

Malek regarded Jack with a carefully masked expression, one he had perfected as a Tok'ra base commander.

Jack sighed. "Have the Tok'ra found a new base yet?"

"If you wish us to leave, you only have to say so," Malek told him, glancing away.

"No, no, we don't want to kick you out—that would be unfair, and then we'd have to kick the Jaffa out, and that would just lead to unpleasantness on all sides." Jack hesitated for a second, and then opened his mouth to keep going.

"So you want us to leave voluntarily," Malek interrupted.

"I didn't say that," Jack said, shifting uncomfortably. There was another brief pause. "And it's not what I meant, either."

Malek regarded Jack, brow slightly furrowed. His eyes de-focused as he felt Frein thinking very hard about something.

"You know, I've seen Tok'ra do that before, where they sort of stop talking and gaze off into the distance—it's a little disconcerting."

"I apologize," Malek responded. "It is simply symbiote to host communication."

"Oh, so you do have a host."

Malek raised an eyebrow. "I should think that much would be readily apparent."

Jack shrugged. "It's just; you never let him out to talk."

"He prefers not to," Malek responded.

"Really," Jack deadpanned.

Malek bristled. "Are you suggesting that I suppress my host?" he snapped, then immediately regretted the violence of his reply. The last thing he needed right now was to be mistaken for a Goa'uld. His leadership was already shaky enough. He had to stop letting Jack provoke him this way.

Hey, easy does it, Frein warned. That stony expression's going to slip if you keep this up.

I know, Malek returned irritably.

"So why don't you prove it to me?"

"Sorry?" Malek asked.

"Prove it to me." Jack seated himself on the unoccupied cot across from Malek's. "Let me talk to him."

I'll do it, Frein said.

Are you sure? Malek asked.

Yes.

Frein—

I'm sure. We need all the trust we can get.

Frein's conviction won Malek over. Malek let his muscles relax and felt Frein moving in to take control.

"I am Frein," he said. Malek sent a few feelings of courage Frein's way, to bolster his confidence.

"Sweet," said Jack.

"Is there any reason in particular you want to talk to me? Either of us?" Frein asked. "Besides, of course, the veiled hints to leave the base to avoid antagonizing the Jaffa further."

"I already told you, I don't want you to leave the base," Jack restated. "You happen to be one of the few voices of reason out here. And, as a matter of fact, I did have a reason for coming to talk to you, and also a reason for asking you if you'd found a base yet. Which, of course, you didn't answer."

"That's because we don't have a base yet," Malek responded. "You know that as well as I do."

"All right, thank you for confirming." Jack smiled a micron too widely. "See how easy it makes it if we cooperate with one another?"

"Would you please get to the point, Colonel?"

"I've noticed that while the Tok'ra are impressive undercover agents—though they do seem to have a penchant for getting caught around SG-1--…"

Malek stirred.

"Aatt!" Jack held up a hand, stopping him. "I have noticed that you aren't the best at fighting. Hand-to-hand."

"We prefer subtlety," Malek informed him icily.

"And that's perfectly valid," Jack responded, "but there are going to be some times where subtlety won't get you anywhere, and a good uppercut—…" he demonstrated in the air "…--will get you anywhere."

"It is true that the Tok'ra are less of a warrior race than the Jaffa," Malek conceded. "What is your point?"

"Well, also, the Jaffa seem to get caught a lot—they don't really have a knack for subtlety. Maybe you should teach each other."

Malek laughed. "First of all, Colonel, subtlety is not something that can be taught. Second of all, few if any Tok'ra would consent to be taught by a Jaffa, and vice versa."

"Remember when I said you were a voice of reason?" Jack asked. "Well, that meant that you're supposed to agree."

"I would participate," Malek told him. "Few others would."

"How about if the classes were taught by Bra'tac?"

"I will consider it," said Malek. Frein jumped in. "Now if you'll excuse us," the host said, "We need rest. Malek has several injuries to heal."

"Sure. Go ahead. Get rested up. I'll tell Bra'tac you're thinking about it." Jack ducked out of the tent. Frein gently lay down on the bed.

Combat courses could be of great benefit to the Tok'ra, Frein pointed out. I know that we could use some ourselves.

We could, Malek admitted. That is why I said I would volunteer.

You should at least present the possibility to the rest of the Tok'ra. I know a few that would do it--

As do I.

Frein took a deep breath, let it out. Jack really flusters us, doesn't he?

You weren't half as flustered as I was, said Malek.

There was a long silence. Frein was thinking furiously again; Malek could feel it.

We're attracted to him, aren't we? Frein asked.

In a fairly cataclysmic way, yes, we are.

Frein buried his head in the pillow.

…

Jack glanced back at Malek's tent, and reflected on the conversation.

He'd never seen Malek quite as agitated as when he'd pressed about Malek's host. Though, he'd seen Jacob talking to Malek about letting his host out more often to talk, lest he be mistaken for a Goa'uld, and Malek hadn't been nearly as flustered. That meant it had something to do with him.

Stop it, Jack! He admonished himself. He's not attracted to you. Get over it.

It wasn't like it could go anywhere. If Malek ever came to Earth, he wouldn't be allowed off-base, and there was no way Jack was having sex on-base. Though, when it came to Malek, he might consider going a bit on the adventurous side…

No! He steeled himself. There was no way Malek would ever be attracted to the aging, sprodgy old Colonel.

Sprodgy, Jack though abstractly. Good word.

"O'Neill, that word has no meaning," came Teal'c's voice.

"Did I say that out loud?" Jack asked.

"Indeed you did," Teal'c responded. "Is there something troubling you, O'Neill?"

"No," Jack lied. There was a brief pause, in which Teal'c's eyebrow made it perfectly clear that Teal'c didn't believe him. Jack sighed. "What do you think of Malek?" Jack asked, pretending he was changing the subject.

"I believe his intentions are honorable, and he leads where he believes is right," Teal'c responded thoughtfully. "Though he does have flaws, he seems to be willing to overcome them."

"Are you speaking of Malek?" asked Bra'tac. He and Jacob had approached while Teal'c was talking.

"Indeed we are," Teal'c told them.

"Well, that's essentially correct, then," Jacob said. "He was a good choice for base commander."

"Doesn't have a base now," Jack pointed out.

"Through no fault of his," Jacob responded.

"Have you spoken with Malek concerning my offer of combat lessons?" Bra'tac asked.

Jack nodded.

"And?"

"He said he'd think about it."

Jacob smiled slightly. "Now that I think of it, I could probably use a little combat refresher. I'm in for the lessons, if you decide to have them."

"Malek said he'd probably participate," Jack said. "He just didn't think many Tok'ra would swallow their pride enough to be taught by a Jaffa."

"Can't blame them," Jacob said honestly. "The Tok'ra have some pretty horrible memories of Jaffa cruelty."

"All done in the service of false gods," Bra'tac pointed out.

"I know that intellectually, but still…" Jacob's voice trailed off. "I'll admit Selmak isn't very enthused about the idea, but at least she's willing." Jacob paused. "I'd talk with some of the Tok'ra, but I don't want to seem like I'm going over Malek's head."

"Okay, folks, I'm going to turn in for the night," Jack cut in, breaking up the conversation. "I'll see you all bright and early in the morning." He gave a smile full of false cheer, and turned away, moving towards his own tent.

…

"Now, break with your partners, and try the techniques Teal'c and I have demonstrated." Bra'tac's clear voice called out over the small assembly of Tok'ra, Tauri and Jaffa. "We will move among you, and give you suggestions."

Jack turned to his partner—Malek, of course. He couldn't understand Teal'c's logic in putting him here, but hey, he wasn't complaining at the chance to see Malek shirtless.

The combat lessons had been announced the day before. Malek had agreed to Jack's offer. When the rest of the Tok'ra were told, to everyone's surprise, more than half volunteered. Those who didn't were out in the woods, doing some exercise or another. Malek's version of punishment duty, Jack supposed. Each Tok'ra that had volunteered was paired with a Tauri or Jaffa equipped with a pad that the Tok'ra could practice hitting. Bra'tac had disapproved of the pads, but Colonel Tyrell, the base commander, had insisted.

Jack raised the pad defensively as Malek turned towards him. There was a brief pause. "Well, get on with it," Jack said.

Malek pegged him with a glare, and hit the pad. Once, twice.

"You're hitting with the wrong part of the hand," Jack pointed out helpfully.

"It doesn't feel right to hit with the third set of knuckles," Frein muttered, frustrated.

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise over which Tok'ra had spoken—Frein, not Malek—but didn't comment. He took Malek's hand, and formed it into a fist. "Doesn't matter. It hurts your hand less in the long run. It also packs, if you'll pardon the pun, a hell of a lot more punch." Jack pressed on the second set of knuckles. "See how there's a slight give here?"

Malek nodded.

"Well, you don't want that give when you're hitting someone." Jack released Malek's hand. "Try it again."

Malek hit the pad again, this time getting it right.

"Excellent," Jack said. "Keep going."

…

Malek hit the ground for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Well, at least that time he'd lasted more than ten seconds before getting knocked out. He'd actually managed to block a punch. Two punches, if you counted the feint. And he'd landed a kick. Of course, landing that kick was what got him flipped this time, but that didn't really matter much.

"Need a hand?"

Malek focused on Jack O'Neill, who was extending a hand to help him get up. Malek gratefully took the hand, and dusted himself off.

"Symbiote or no, I will be sore tonight," Malek said ruefully.

"Well, getting tossed around by Teal'c will do that." Jack smiled cheerily at Teal'c. "Hey, T."

"Greetings, O'Neill."

"Teal'c, is there any way we could postpone further lessons until tomorrow?" Malek asked gingerly. "I fear I am not in any condition to do anything further today."

"I concur," Teal'c said. "In fact, you are the last Tok'ra to stay."

"Gotta admire your commitment—though, isn't Jacob still with Bra'tac?" Jack asked.

"I doubt they are learning combat techniques, O'Neill," Teal'c informed him.

Malek suppressed a smile at Jack's incredulous expression. "Shall we continue tomorrow?" Malek asked Teal'c.

Teal'c gave a deep nod. "That would be acceptable."

Malek nodded, turned, and began limping back towards his quarters. "Hey," Jack called, catching up with him.

Malek glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"You want to come over to my tent?" Jack asked. Malek blinked. Did he really just ask that? Frein thought. "I mean, I've got some really good vodka, and it'll help you relax sore muscles," Jack explained. At Malek's hesitation, he continued. "It's Russian—pretty much the only good thing the Russians are good for."

I say we do it, Frein contributed.

No one asked you, Malek shot back.

Malek lifted his head to meet Jack's eyes, about to refuse. The refusal died somewhere in his throat as he heard himself saying, "I would be happy to."

"Good." Jack gestured. "This way."

…

"You're right, this does help," said Malek, indicating the two empty shots of vodka on the table in between the two cots. He was feeling a pleasant tingling sensation, and his formerly sore muscles were very relaxed.

"Told ya." Jack grinned. "Only good thing ever came out of Russia."

"What is this 'Russia' you keep talking about?" Frein asked. "Is it a province on your planet?"

Jack noticed the voice change to the host, but, just like in the combat lessons, kept quiet about it. The last thing he wanted to do right now was scare the Tok'ra away from him. "Well," he began. "Not exactly a province. A country."

"It has autonomous rights?" Frein asked.

"That's right," Jack responded.

Jack proceeded to explain the Cold War, and give a brief history of Russia as he knew it. Probably full of flaws—all he pretty much remembered was feudalism, Communism, and then a rogue Stargate program. During this, Frein inserted various wry comments and laughed at several of Jack's descriptions—including his very active one of the colonel with the Russian SG team.

As Jack sat down from doing the 'Russian Colonelwalk', he regarded the helplessly laughing Frein, and something inside him clicked.

What the hell was he doing?

Malek was a snakehead—okay, maybe not an evil one, but still, a snakehead nonetheless. He had to get out of this—and fast. He thought fast, finding a way to get Malek out of his tent quickly.

Frein noticed that Jack wasn't laughing, and gazed at him for a moment. "Is there something wrong?" Malek asked.

"Why would I be willing to bet that tonight was the longest Frein has ever talked since being joined with you?" Jack asked.

Malek stiffened.

"You didn't even realize it, did you?" Jack asked. "How does that work?" Forgot to suppress him, for once? Jack tried to say the last sentence, but couldn't get it out. He didn't want to see the hurt in Malek's eyes, he realized. This was very bad.

"When we say blended, as in between a host and a symbiote, it means blended," Malek explained. "On some level, both the host and the symbiote are talking every time a Tok'ra says a word."

"You switch back and forth--…" Jack gestured, waving an arm in the air. "Fast," he finished lamely.

"We're closer, in terms of blending, than a lot of Tok'ra," Frein told Jack. "Not quite sure why—it just seemed to work out that way."

"Fascinating." Jack took another drink of vodka.

"Yes," Malek said shortly. He stood awkwardly. "Listen, we should probably get some rest for tomorrow."

"Don't let me keep you," Jack said absently, waving for him to see himself out. Malek hesitated for a moment, looking like he was about to say something, but then left, brushing the tent flaps aside.

…

Malek shifted restlessly.

This conference seemed like it had gone on forever. Nevertheless, Bra'tac and Colonel Tyrell were still at it strong, arguing about the wording of a bunch of new rules for the compound. They felt they had to be installed, especially after the events of the past week, but neither could agree on exactly what rules. Bra'tac had already managed to argue Tyrell down from 'obligatory zatark testing' to 'mandatory interrogation by SGC personnel'.

Malek glanced around. Selmak looked just as glassy-eyed as he felt—though, since he was staring at Bra'tac, that didn't necessarily mean boredom. Dr. Jackson was taking apart his pen slowly and methodically. As Malek was watching, Daniel accidentally pressed down to hard on the spring, which leaped into the air and disappeared. Malek fought down a smile as he surreptitiously watched Daniel trying to find the spring without anyone noticing.

"Excuse me," Malek interrupted the conversation, "but it seems to me that this debate has gone on far too long. Perhaps we should take a short break, to gather our wits."

From the startling amount of stirring and blinking, Malek guessed that his proposal was a welcome one.

"Done," Tyrell announced, the ring of relief evident in his voice. "We'll meet back here in an hour."

Most of the group got up and exited the room almost immediately. Malek stood, but didn't leave. He paused by the table with the coffee on it. He had no taste for the Earth beverage; however, on the other hand, Frein had discovered an almost insatiable liking for the stuff. As Frein hardly ever had his way with anything, Malek usually let him have the drink.

Frein poured himself a cup of coffee, added in three creams—no sugar—and sipped it.

"Like coffee, huh?"

Frein almost dropped the cup, he was so surprised. Malek took over, preventing a potentially disastrous spillage of coffee, and turned.

"Colonel," he said shakily, "I didn't know you stayed."

"Start calling me Jack, already," Jack insisted, rubbing his forehead. "Any chance you could pour me one of those?"

Malek nodded. "Certainly," he responded. "Any requests?"

"No. I'd like it black, just this once."

Malek poured the cup, leaving his on the counter for a few moments. He turned, holding the cup, and was startled to discover that Jack had crossed the distance from the other side of the conference room to the coffee table in under thirty seconds without making any noise.

They were standing too close. Way, way too close. Malek inhaled sharply, getting a grip on himself. "Here," he managed, handing Jack the coffee.

"Thanks."

Jack's breath was warm on his face. Malek dropped his eyes. There was nowhere to go—Jack had backed him into a corner. He felt Jack's fingers underneath his chin, lifting his eyes, and heard the quiet 'thunk' as Jack set his coffee down.

All the sudden the already small gap between them was closing, and closing fast.

Malek felt Jack's breath on his lips—they were so close, so close—

"Jack!"

It was the voice of Dr. Jackson. The two jerked apart as if they had been touched by a livewire.

"Coming, Daniel!" Jack called. He touched Malek's hand, rubbing the palm with his thumb. "We need to talk," he said to the Tok'ra. Then he turned, and exited the room, leaving Malek alone with his host.

We can't do this, Malek told Frein.

Why not? Frein asked.

Malek laughed bitterly inside his own mind. This is a turnaround. Usually it is you arguing against doing something risky.

You feel the same way I do about him, Frein pointed out. That's a damn good reason to go forward with this. And besides, give me one good reason not to—besides that you're afraid. You don't want what caused the death of your last host to happen again—and you know what? It won't.

In response, Malek called forth every memory he could think of about the Council's reaction to the fact that Selmak and Bra'tac were involved—including one Tok'ra going as far as to call Selmak a traitor.

I have no wish to be called a traitor by my own kind, Malek finished firmly.

Frein was stunned. I see, he thought to Malek. I'm sorry.

…

"How about P3N-411?" asked Walter Davis, changing the computer screen yet again. "Climate is stable, there's a good amount of rainfall and vegetation, no indication of seismic disturbance."

Malek sighed. "On P3N-411, or, as the Tok'ra call it, Greltak, the root system of the trees is entirely interlinked. It makes tunneling at best entirely too difficult; at worst, completely impossible."

"Oh." The Sergeant switched to the next planet on the list. "How about--…"

"Abandoned naquedah mines are too dangerous," Malek told him. "We've covered this—there's always too much of a chance that the Goa'uld will return."

"Oh-kay." He switched the screen again.

Malek rubbed the space between his eyebrows gingerly. He and the Stargate technician had been at this for almost an hour, and they still had yet to find a viable site for a Tok'ra base. The options kept getting steadily worse and worse as the hour went on.

"Uhh, maybe we should take a break," said Davis adroitly, noticing Malek's fatigue.

"Perhaps that would be best," Malek responded.

Davis nodded and fled the room.

Malek leaned back in the chair. This is torture, he thought.

I had no idea there were so many primitive worlds to choose from, returned his host. Probably all the suitable ones are listed at the end.

That would be typical, considering the way our life is going now. Malek sighed. This moment would be perfect for a disaster of epic proportions.

"Hey, am I interrupting anything?" Jack asked, leaning into the room.

Nice going, Frein muttered mentally.

Please be quiet, said Malek. "Colonel."

"I think now would be a good time for us to talk." Jack sat in the seat formerly occupied by Walter Davis. "What the heck was that in the conference room on Alpha Site?"

"You were the one who cornered me; perhaps you should explain it," responded Malek, crossing his arms defensively.

"Listen, don't deny it—you're attracted to me."

Malek glanced at the security camera placed on the wall above them. Jack waved a hand.

"A-a-at!" He snapped his fingers until Malek returned his glance to Jack. "I deactivated it. I'm not as dumb as I pretend to be."

"Indeed, you're not," Malek said softly.

"Anyhow, back to my original point."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Colonel," Malek said firmly. "I harbor no such attraction."

"Don't deny it!" Jack cried. "Listen, I know what you're feeling because I'm feeling the exact same thing."

A look of deep pain crossed Malek's face as both host and symbiote felt a stab of anguish. "Don't do this to me."

"Don't do what to you?" Jack asked. "For crying' out loud, Malek, you've been pushing me away from the second you got here. Now I know why, and—listen, sexual tension is good for no one."

Malek stood abruptly, and began pacing. He stopped, and faced Jack. "I can't," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"Can't what?" Jack asked.

"Do--…" Malek waved an arm in the air. "This," he settled on.

"Why not?"

"After Jacob and Bra'tac got involved, the Council was furious," Frein tried to explain. "They accused him of betrayal of the Tok'ra cause, of consorting with the enemy—dozens of other things. It was horrible to watch. Ever since then, the Council hasn't trusted him like they used to. Selmak's had her name poisoned because of someone she fell in love with—and I hate that, but I can't abandon the Tok'ra cause." Frein turned his gaze to Jack, almost pleading. "Don't you see? We need Tok'ra now more than ever."

Jack nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

Frein sagged in relief.

"And you know what?" Jack asked.

Frein shook his head.

"I don't care."

Malek bristled.

Jack held up a hand. "Let me explain." He stood. "I don't generally like Tok'ra. Remind me too much of Goa'uld, you see."

"We are not Goa'uld."

"Don't interrupt." Jack thought for a moment. "I know you're not Goa'uld, but still, there are similarities—like, in voice, for example. Now, for you, I'd get over that. I've watched you, talked to you over the past few weeks, and I feel like I've gotten to know you better than anyone has gotten to know this particular host/symbiote pair."

Malek remained silent. He was absolutely right; neither Frein nor Malek had ever let anyone get close to them.

"And if it were just that you wanted to keep your good standing in the Tok'ra—well, that I could accept. But it isn't. See, I talked to Selmak." Jack stopped pacing, turned, and looked Malek in the eye. "He said that both of you experienced incredible loss before you were joined. He told me that Frein came from a planet almost utterly destroyed by the Goa'uld—his family was slaughtered before his eyes."

Malek flinched.

"And Malek, well," Jack continued, "Jacob told me that you lost a lover—that she sacrificed herself for you and your former host—and it didn't work."

"It was so pointless," Malek murmured, leaning his head back. He closed his, biting his lip to keep his expression neutral.

Jack moved closer. "I don't think you're afraid of the Tok'ra hating you; I think you're afraid of love and loss."

Malek turned away.

Jack's expression twisted. He moved closer to Malek, and gathered the Tok'ra into his arms. "C'mere," he said softly, pulling him towards Jack.

Malek didn't resist this time. He buried his head in Jack's neck, and took comfort in the closeness of another body—of another heart—for the first time in years.

After what could have been minutes—or might have been hours—Malek looked up into Jack's eyes.

"C'mon, we'll go to my place," Jack said, reluctantly breaking contact with everything but Malek's hand. "I'll get Hammond to clear you for leaving the base."

"I wasn't supposed to stay here long," Malek protested, but it was weak.

"Ah, doesn't matter." Jack tugged on Malek's hand. Malek followed, a smile beginning to brighten his features.

…

Jack hadn't thought it would be like this.

He hadn't expected Malek to accept his advances at first; he certainly hadn't expected to tear a needy groan from Malek's throat the first time they kissed. He hadn't expected that the two of them would be flush up against each other, everything touching—or, it would be if clothes weren't in the way.

When he had imagined this, he'd thought that Malek would be the sensible one, the calm one.

Was he ever glad he was wrong.

Maneuvering the two of them towards the bedroom, he licked deeply into Malek's pliant mouth again, seeking that groan that had sent a bolt of lightning through his spine.

Malek broke the kiss, opening his eyes to regard Jack.

"What's the matter?" Jack asked.

"I'm still afraid," Malek admitted.

"Of what?" Jack asked, tipping Malek back onto the bed and settling above him, a thigh between Malek's legs.

"I may still be called a traitor for my actions," Malek said softly, pulling Jack into another kiss and groaning into his mouth.

"I don't care," Jack muttered, slipping off Malek's shirt.

"You may--…" Malek's breath hitched as Jack found a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. He tried to gather his scattered thoughts. "You may as well," he managed to gasp out.

"I don't care," Jack repeated, diving down to lick one of Malek's nipples.

"Ah—…" Malek cried, twisting. He reached up and ran his fingers through Jack's hair. "How was I so blessed as to find you?" he asked.

Jack grinned. "Just lucky, I guess."

Jack didn't let himself think about how he couldn't ever love a Goa'uld—he's not a Goa'uld, he's a Tok'ra, his mind informed him. He didn't let himself think about how their relationship was doomed, with his duties at the SGC and Malek's duties as a Tok'ra.

He had Malek underneath him, willing—writhing on the bed as Jack made short work of Malek's carefully erected defenses. For now, that was all that mattered.

As for the rest of it—he didn't care.