Title: Reflections
Author: Catspaw
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Jack/Daniel, natch
Date: 24.10.02
Synopsis: A little briefing room fluff. PWP
Warnings: Apart from being unbetaed?
None
Author Website: http://myweb.tiscali.co.uk/feistydanny
Reflections
by Catspaw
".it's really proving to be quite a complicated
problem, Sirs. We've been working on this night and day to try and find a
solution, but within the constraints of any quantum theory that I
understand."
I've read somewhere, don't ask me where, it's difficult to keep track sometimes, that men on average think about sex every two
minutes. I've been stuck in this briefing now for forty-five minutes and hand
on heart, this is the first time that I've thought about it in that period, so I don't know just how accurate that statistic is. Or, for
that matter, who's doing my share. However, I *am* thinking about it now. Maybe
I should think about it twenty one times in a row, just to even the score. Actually, maybe not, the thought so often being father to the deed
- that particular course of action wouldn't sit too well with the military
mindset, as attractive as the thought of having Jack spread out underneath me
on the briefing room table might be.
I don't know why, but I just had a sudden flashback to last night's activities:
one of those weird out-of-body things where you're watching what's going on
from a vantage point somewhere near the ceiling. A strange
perspective, one that I've never actually seen. It's prompting thoughts
of mirrors though - I'd like to watch Jack loving me some day for real,
watching and feeling at the same time - how much of a turn on would that be?
And I'd like Jack to see himself, see the look he gets on his face sometimes
just before he comes, that hot, feral, greedy look that never fails to do it
for me.
I'd watch Jack's hands, one wandering up and down my thigh while he held me
down, the other heading purposefully between my legs, one
slick finger ready and willing to find my asshole and finger me but good while
my dick was sliding in and out of his mouth. It'd be good to watch: the
contrast between Jack's skin and mine, dark against pale, the grey head moving
carefully up and down, his hands, the calluses rasping against my skin, my
hands clutching at his hair, trying to urge him on while he refused to be
hurried. It'd be *very* good to watch.
I'd watch too, from this intriguing new angle, as I eventually stilled his head
and he pulled back and looked enquiringly up at me. I'd see my lips move as I
ordered him to fuck me - but I'd not *hear* myself say the words, even though
I'd know what I was saying and I'd know what his reply would be. (I'd be too
far gone to actually listen to myself: I've been there, and recently, and
remember all too well the roaring of the blood in my ears.) And then, I'd
switch my attention to his face for a while, watch the anticipation and want
hardening in his eyes as he crawled up the bed towards me and settled down
between my legs, stoking the fires that little bit higher.
I'd be interested in the way I looked when I asked: eyes narrowed perhaps, face
flushed and needy, an almost-ugly expression. And I'd
notice a thin film of sweat making my face and chest glisten in the lamplight.
(And I wonder to myself, as a small aside: 'Do I *really* look just like that
when we're making love? Or is it just because Jack does, and I think I probably
should as well?')
I'd have to be lying on my back when he nudged into me, of course - or else I'd
miss the sight of his beautiful, creamy-coloured ass
bunching and relaxing as he thrust home, deep, deeper, deepest, the play of
muscles in his shoulders as his arms took some of the strain, the look of him
covering me and the look of my legs hooked round his waist, light against dark
this time.
And watching while we came, that would be the best of all, feeling the friction
and watching the effort, watching as he bounced me up the bed with the force of
his final few powerful thrusts, watching as I dug my fingers into his back,
urging him deeper, harder, watching as my hips twisted and bucked under him to
pull him inside me as far as I could. Watching, as he'd suddenly thrust hardest
of all and freeze with his head thrown back and his eyes tight shut, his ass
clenched tight and his elbows locked.
I don't think I'd be compos mentis enough to watch any more for a bit.
And damn, I'd better get back on track here. Shit, here's
hoping this briefing lasts for another half hour and stays boring enough to
help me out of my present, uh, predicament.
". and the fact still remains that we don't have
much of a clue *why* the 'gate works. I mean, theoretically speaking, and even
allowing for the huge boost of power provided by the naquadah,
there shouldn't be enough energy on an entire *planet* to power up the 'gate
and sustain a wormhole of any dimensions. So I really don't think."
Well, you struck lucky there,
END