Chicken Soup
by Zadi

DISCLAIMER: None of these wonderful characters belong to me - unfortunately. Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original story is the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

RATING: NC-17 (don't ya just love smut?)

ARCHIVE: Sure, just let me know where it's going!

CATEGORY: Jack/Daniel

SUMMARY: Jack's sick. Daniel nurses him back to health. PWP.

FEEDBACK: Yes, please!!! zadi@comcast.net (please don't make me beg . . . it's so undignified!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Sometimes, in fiction, the characters don't take the necessary precautions during intimate moments. If you are sexually active (like, duh!), please play safely. I want you all around to read my stuff.

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: /Iindicates a character's thoughts./ All caps indicates emphasis on that word or phrase. * * * * * indicates a passage of time.


Chicken Soup
by Zadi

Jack sneezes. Again. For the umpteen millionth time. He grabs a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blows his nose. His head aches. His tummy hurts. His throat is scratchy. In short, Jack is downright miserable. And he really, really, really hates summer colds.

Daniel stands in the doorway and regards his lover. For a military man, Jack O'Neill sure can be a baby. ESPECIALLY when he is sick. Daniel sighs.

"How are you feeling, baby?" the archaeologist asks.

Jack glares at his lover. "Tewwible," he responds, jutting his lower lip out. "I feew wike my head ith gonna expwode."

Daniel can't help but laugh. "You sound like Elmer Fudd," he says between giggles.

Jack responds with dual middle fingers extended, a universal symbol.

Daniel saunters into the bedroom, a tray in his hands. "Later. Maybe. If you're lucky." He sets the tray down on the bed and then sits himself down at Jack's feet.

Jack looks at the tray. A glass of orange juice. A daisy in a small vase. A spoon. And a silver bowl covered with a silver lid. "What'th thith?"

Daniel lifts the lid with a flourish. "Chicken soup!"

"Chicken thoup?"

"Uh huh."

Jack leans over the tray and sniffs. "I don't thmell anything."

Daniel puts the lid down on the floor and picks up the spoon. "Of course not, silly. You can't smell anything. You have a cold, remember?" He stirs the soup. Steam rises up from the dish. "Trust me, it smells good."

Jack looks at his lover suspiciously. "Did you make thith yourthelf?"

"Sure did."

"Thinth when do you know how to cook, Daniel?"

Daniel sneers at his silver-haired mate. "Don't be smart." He dips the spoon into the soup and carefully brings it up to Jack's mouth, using his second hand to catch any drips that might escape. "Eat."

Firmly clamping his lips shut, Jack shakes his head.

"Eat."

"Uh uh," Jack replies through firmly closed lips.

Daniel sighs, and puts the spoon filled with soup back in the bowl. "Fine, be that way." He stands and walks toward the door. "If you want something, I'll be downstairs. Just yell. You're good at that."

Jack sticks his tongue out at Daniel as the younger man slams the door shut behind him.

"Shithead," both men mumble, one in bed, one in the hall.

Jack peers into the bowl of soup. It DOES look good. Chunks of white chicken meat and fresh vegetables float in a rich broth. He dips his finger in, gasping at the heat as he pulls it back out and reflexively puts it in his mouth. "Mmmmm, thith ith weally good," Jack says, finger still in his mouth. He quickly spoons some soup into his mouth. "Damn, he CAN cook," he says, practically inhaling the entire bowl of soup. He downs the orange juice as well, and then sets the tray aside. His tummy full, he easily falls asleep.

* * * * *

Daniel sits downstairs, playing Solitaire on the computer. He fumes and fumes, but refuses to go upstairs to check on his mate.

After an hour or so, he gives in, and ascends the stairs to their bedroom. He quietly opens the door and peers in. He first spots the tray on the floor. /Good, he ate./ And then he spies Jack. Buried in blankets and a comforter, the older man sleeps. /Gods, he looks like such an angel when he sleeps,/ he thinks, laughing internally at the irony. After all, Jack always call him 'angel.'

Daniel tiptoes in and closes the door behind him. Jack stirs in the bed, but he does not awaken. Daniel pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it on the ground. He quietly pads toward the bed. Slowly, he pulls aside first the comforter and then the multiple blankets Jack sleeps under. The unconscious man does not awaken. Jack wears only thin sleep pants. Sweat covers his body. Daniel is relieved - it means the cold is working itself out of Jack's system.

Daniel starts to climb in bed next to Jack, but decides on another course of action. He kneels besides the bed, and slowly unties the sleep pants that Jack wears. Gently, he lifts Jack's hips up and slips the pants down to just below his lover's knees.

Ah, there is the prize. Jack's large cock, soft from sleep, lies against the man's thigh. Daniel leans in and sniffs, reveling in the musky scent of his lover, a scent he has come to crave. He nuzzles his nose in the wiry hairs that nestle the long muscle, and breathes deeply; Daniel wants to imprint the scent on his very soul. His tongue licks tentatively at the head, causing Jack to murmur in his sleep. His lips sheath the head, and he moves downward, taking the hard flesh to the base.

"Mmmmrph, Danny?" Jack murmurs, waking now as the sensations of his lover's warm mouth surround his cock. He peeks through sleepy eyes and sees Daniel's head bobbing up and down. "Oh Danny, angel, yes!" he whispers.

Daniel increases his tempo, and lightly grazes his teeth along the shaft of Jack's cock. He knows how much this simple action arouses his lover, and he is eager to accommodate. Jack begins pumping his cock into Daniel's mouth, his hips matching the younger man's downward movements stroke for stroke.

"Oh yeah, Danny," Jack rasps out, his voice husky with desire. "Feels so good, so good, angel."

Daniel fumbles with the buttons on his jeans, and quickly releases his own cock. One hand still holding his lover's erection, he take his own into the other hand and pumps furiously. He knows his own orgasm will follow soon after that of his lover, as has always been the case.

Jack's scrotum tightens, and a wave of electricity washes over his body, signaling his impending release. "Gods, Danny, gonna come now!" He thrusts a final time and releases his hot seed. Daniel swallows hungrily, the salty essence feeding a lust for his mate that never seems to diminish.

Spent, Jack pushes his lover's mouth away, forcing the archaeologist to stand. Daniel growls and his eyes darken with lust. The silver-haired man climbs out of the bed quickly and falls to his knees. He takes Daniel's cock into his hands, and then swallows it whole. Daniel pumps into Jack's mouth, and in three quick thrusts, erupts, his seed sliding down his soulmate's throat.

Both men collapse in a heap on the floor, tightly embracing each other. After a few minutes, Daniel stands, lifts his lover into his arms, cradled like a baby, and kisses him.

"Feeling better, Jack?"

Jack nods. "That was some damn good chicken soup."


The End