Recovery Position
by
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Note: 12 Days of Bunnyfic: #11
Disclaimer: 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 characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the authors.
I can't stay still as I watch Doc Fraiser check out Daniel. I keep shifting from foot to foot, fold and unfold my arms, bounce on the balls of my feet. Hell, I'd march around the infirmary buck naked, whistling Dixie, and juggling oranges if she would just get *on* with it.
An annoyed - and warning - glance from Fraiser stops me from playing with the IV bag I somehow picked up along the way. Putting it down, I slide my hands into my pockets in an effort to stop fidgeting, and lean back against the wall, my gaze on the tired, filthy, and bruised man on the hospital bed. The scratch on his cheek isn't deep, but he's got a bruise coming out from where he was smacked by something a lot bigger and heavier than he is, and pristine white gauze covers both wrists, hiding the rope burns there. Under his clothes I know there are bruises and scratches resulting from being dragged mile after mile by a creature who planned to offer him up as lunch to his clan.
Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still smell the overpowering stink in that cave, can still hear the echoing roar of that monstrous Unas, can still see the teeth and claws on that thing as it advanced on Daniel, only seconds from tearing him apart when bullets from my gun and Carter's slammed into him. I can see I've got my nightmares lined up for me for a long time to come.
I'm so lost in these unpleasant thoughts that it takes me a moment to realize Daniel is sliding off the bed and grabbing his jacket even while Fraiser is still talking, her voice getting louder by the second. "I mean it, Daniel. You're to go home and get some rest. You've got a mild concussion. If I so much as see you here at base in the next forty-eight hours --"
"Don't worry, you won't." He flashes me a cheeky grin as he carefully pulls on his jacket, and I can only shake my head in admiration at this boy's resilience. He came thisclose to being a Happy Meal for a big, stinky monster, but he's making tracks across the infirmary as fast as his tired and bruised body will allow, and he's coming straight for me. I push away from the wall and wait expectantly.
He stops in front of me and gives me a deliberately provocative look from under his lashes. "Janet says you should take me home and make sure I get plenty of rest," he says in a voice so low and husky he might as well have said, 'Janet says you should take me home and get me naked as fast as possible."
I look cautiously over his shoulder to make sure Fraiser's attention is elsewhere, then give my deliberately provocative lover a smoldering look. "Then we'd better do as she says," I growl softly, and take him by the arm, hustling him out of the infirmary. I turn abruptly as we leave the area and head toward my office. I keep my pace brisk, but not too demanding; he really is exhausted even though he's doing his best to convince me he's ready for anything. Anything? Let's see if he's ready for this...
We reach my office and before he knows what's happening, I have him inside and backed against the closed door, my mouth covering his. He makes a little sound of surprise, then suddenly he's leaning into me, hands finding the back of my head to pull me in closer, and he's trying to suck my lungs right out of my body. No one kisses like my Daniel. He's the sweetest kisser I've ever known. He gives it everything he's got; he gives *me* everything he's got, heart and soul. For myself, I've given him parts of myself I thought I'd lost years ago.
Our kisses, which started out as a playful joke, have become somewhat desperate. He's trying to devour me, I'm trying to crawl into his skin. Iron hands clamp my head keeping me in place, a hard body is rubbing insistently against mine, and the sound of his little moans fill my ears and my cock. I'm about five seconds away from taking him right here and now against my office door when Mr. Common Sense smacks me up the side of the head, hard. This is a Big Fat Major No-No, and we both know it.
With no little difficulty I mange to break the lip-lock he has on me and make soothing noises as I drop feather-light kisses over his face. His eyes are closed and his fingers are tightening painfully in my short hair as he tries to pull my head down again. But I frame his face with my hands and begin gently rubbing his cheeks with my thumbs. "Shhh, shhh, come on, Danny, you know we can't do this here."
His eyes snap open. "Can't do this here - Jack, *you* started it!"
No one, but no one, does 'outraged' like my Daniel. He's almost panting, and his eyes are dark with desire and not a little desperation as he gapes at me incredulously. "I know, I'm sorry," I apologize, placing another light kiss on the tip of his nose. "I didn't mean to get you going like that. I just needed to..." Our faces are mere inches apart. I stare at that beautiful face, feel his warm breath on my skin, look into those incredible blue eyes, and feel the fear of loss slam into me with the force of a speeding freight train.
"Jack?" A gentle tap on my cheek makes me blink and I see how his face has gone all anxious.
I offer him a soft smile. "I just needed to know you're okay," I tell him simply, and wrap my arms around him, pulling him to me in a tight, almost desperate hug.
His arms come around me immediately and he presses his face against my neck. "I'm okay," he whispers, "I'm okay. You saved me, remember?"
It's the solid reality of him in my arms that does it. Heaving a large sigh that expels much of my residual tension, I give him one more squeeze, then reach up and ruffle his filthy hair. "Time to get you home and naked as fast as possible."
Pulling back, he gives me another one of those under-the-eyelashes looks. "Sounds just like what the doctor ordered."
***
Daniel is asleep against my right shoulder by the time I've been waved through by the guards on the main gate. I love the weight of his head against me and drop kisses in his hair as I drive down the mountain. His breath against my neck is simultaneously comforting and soothing, every exhalation making a warm tattoo against my skin that says: He's safe, he's safe, he's safe…
Halfway home, I have to slam on the brakes as some idiot veers across the white line and the jolt sends Daniel's head into my lap.
Oh God, talk about sweet torture. He stirs then goes back to sleep but now those hot gusts of breath are tantalizing my groin. Even asleep he seems to like the scent coming from my now awakening loins and pushes his face into the cloth of my pants so he's breathing me in even in his dreams. It gets better - or worse from the point of view of road safety - when he starts sucking sleepily at the cloth. My pants are now bulging painfully and wet from the precum oozing from the clearly engorged tip and Daniel's mouth.
"Danny…" I grate it out between my teeth, putting a hand on the back of his head.
He's now suckling clumsily at the cloth of my pants and my cock is straining to meet up with his mouth.
"Daniel!"
He jolts awake in response to my shout and stares around blearily, clearly with no idea where he is. Then he blinks up at me in confusion. "Jack?"
"Almost home," I have to breathe carefully, trying to concentrate on the road and not the pain in my groin. I run a shaking hand through his hair. "You want to sit up there, buddy? Finding it a little hard to drive here…"
Daniel blinks at the jutting bulge in front of his face and sits up. "Guess that's not the only thing you're finding hard, Jack."
"Put your damned seatbelt on," I tell him with a growl that promises retribution later.
He smiles to himself as he obeys. I wonder if I can ever convince Daniel that him doing what I tell him could actually be really sexy. Something to file away for later, perhaps, when he hasn't spent God knows how many hours being told what to do by an Unas.
To take my mind off how much I want to pull into a layby and have him suck me dry, I say, "So, how did you manage to convince Junior not to kill you?"
"I'm not too sure about that myself," he admits, running a hand through his hair. The dirt makes it stay where it's put and it sticks up from his head in a way that I have to admit is pretty darned cute.
"Just general anthropological know-how?" I dart him a sideways look.
He darts *me* a sideways look right back. Uh-oh, that's bad, he's got his innocent expression on. That means he's feeling sassy. Sometimes I think this boy just lives to wind me up. He blinks at me in feigned surprise. "What are you suggesting, Colonel?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," I retort. The annoying thing is I did kind of…wonder. I mean some serious bonding had obviously taken place. And sometimes Daniel does respond quite well to…I'm not saying he would have…obviously I don't think *that*, it's just that the first time he and I did it was after we'd had a fight. Over Kira as a matter of fact. I'd gone round to his apartment to tell him what I thought of him, he'd replied in kind, standing there barefoot in his pajamas with his arms folded, looking so damned hot I didn't know if I wanted to thump him or hump him. I'd told him that if he ever pulled any standing in front of my gun crap again I'd…I'd…
He said, 'You'll what?' in a tone dripping with icy contempt.
And I said, 'I'll do this', reached out, grabbed him, kissed him. That certainly shut him up. Admittedly it shut me up too because neither of us wanted to come up for air for an eternity.
So, there's just a part of me that wonders if Daniel wouldn't respond to someone else going alpha male on him. I know he cares about me, a lot. But he was in a survival situation and -
And I'm out of my freakin' mind. No way in hell would Daniel have sex with an Unas!
He's still looking at me and the way his eyes are narrowed suggests he's been following my thought process in a way that's definitely too close for comfort. He gives a sigh then and looks out of the window before saying, "Okay, Jack, you're too clever for me. I admit it. You know how it is with teenage males - more hormones than they know what to do with - and he wanted it made clear that I was accepting he was the alpha male in that cave so I had to let him fuck me. What can I say? It was a little strange, but I've had worse…"
I reach out and smack him - very lightly - around the back of the head. "*I'm* all you're supposed to have had, Daniel," I remind him.
"Oops." He has one of those maddening little smiles playing around his mouth again that would *definitely* get him kissed if I wasn't wearing a seatbelt that prevents me from reaching him. "What was I thinking?" He tucks his hands behind his head and wriggles down in the seat, stretching out those long legs in a way that makes my throat go dry with anticipation.
I damned near drive through the front door I'm so eager to get him into the house. When he fumbles with the seat belt, I reach across and undo it for him, then I'm out of my side and practically running round to grab his arm. I'm a mixture of solicitude and impatience as I half help him, half drag him towards the front door. I haul him into the hall, push him up against the wall and then kiss him. His hands go straight to my hair and he makes another very determined effort to suck my tongue straight out of my head. The way he rubs up against me is so damned arousing, I damned near come in my pants.
We're both gasping for air as we reluctantly pull apart. I pant out, "Shower. Now."
"Shower?" he looks at me in disbelief.
"Daniel, you smell like you spent last night sleeping in a cave with an Unas."
"Well you're no bed of roses yourself," he retorts indignantly.
I grab a towel from the back of the chair and wave it under his nose. "Exactly why I'm going to be showering with you, Doctor Jackson."
Oh boy but I love it when we're both on the same page. Daniel's eyes widen in understanding and a second later he's grabbing my hand and hauling me towards the shower at Olympic sprinter pace…
***
He's already half-undressed as I turn on the shower to get the water hot. When I turn back, he's unwrapping the gauze Fraiser had wrapped so neatly around his wrists and is dropping it into the waste can. I freeze. For a moment all I can see are those angry, red burns around his wrists, and all I can think of is how he was dragged for *miles* over that lousy, stinking planet by a primitive monster who planned to have him for dinner, and how he couldn't have known he would have come out of that alive.
"Jack?"
It takes me a moment to realize Daniel's standing right in front of me, beautifully naked, with that anxious look on his face again. Silently, I gently wrap my hands around both abused wrists and I bring first one, and then the other to my lips, soothing each with a tender, lingering nuzzle. When I finally look up, I'm staring into his eyes, which are wide and soft and filled with emotion. Daniel and I have a *lot* of fun in bed. There's no question, the sex is absolutely unbelievable, and I can get turned on faster than a light switch just looking at him. But I also totally love this boy. I mean, I think that would be it for me if I ever lost him; it goes that deep. Every now and then, along with the fun and games, that shows through. And when it does, I get it right back from him, and that fills me with a kind of joy that is almost indescribable.
Leaning forward suddenly, he gives me a hard, quick kiss, then pulls back, blinking very fast. "Meet you inside, soldier," he whispers, his voice husky. I get a flash of that delectable bare ass, and then he's behind the shower curtain.
I break all known land speed records getting naked.
When I step behind the shower curtain, he's wet and slippery and ready. We move together like we've waited our whole lives for this; lips, hands, fingers, teeth, tongues; exploring, tasting, caressing, biting. I try to be careful because I can see the bruises and scratches he's carrying and know his muscles must be aching, but he's having none of it. He's got me backed into a corner, his slippery, hard body pressed against mine as he uses his tongue to search for my tonsils. We're both so turned on it can't last, and I don't try to make it. He's been simmering with adrenaline and pent-up stress since we got him back, and he's almost hurting with need right now. As for me, I'm suffering from a major case of needing to reaffirm life right now and convincing himself my Danny is really alive and safe in my arms. What better way.
Sliding a hand between our bodies - no mean feat considering how he's plastered against me - I wrap a hand around his cock and begin to pump. He lets out a low groan and buries his face in my neck. I whisper all sorts of things to him as I pump faster and faster, feeling the tension gathering in him. It doesn't take long. I feel his body stiffen and his cock give a jerk, then I hear my name shouted hoarsely in my ear. He comes fast and hard, and his orgasm seems to last forever. I'm right behind him, but for me it's more of a pleasant, warm release. Hell, just the feel of that wet, silky skin plastered against me would have made me come. But Daniel's little game of 'I'm fine, really' finally caught up with him, just as I knew it would. How much safer can you feel than being held in your lover's arms as orgasm tears you apart? Oh yeah. You're safe, Danny. You're safe. I actually whisper that to him, and he lets out a huge sigh, then I feel sloppy little kisses being pressed against my throat.
I drop a kiss onto the top of his wet head, then wait for him to look up. When he does, I can't suppress a grin. His eyes are soft, his face is relaxed into a kind of dopey expression, and he's got the sweetest smile on his face. Making Daniel come that hard is kind of like getting him drunk. Afterwards he's all docile and affectionate and adorably clumsy. But I've learned I'd better enjoy it while it lasts, because once he gets his strength - and his brains - back in working order, he's back to being the guy I fell in love with.
"Feeling better?" I tease.
He nods his head happily, sliding his fingers through the hair on my chest. "Um hm. Love you, Jack."
That earns him a kiss. "Love you too, Danny. Now, let's get you cleaned up."
"Okay." He stands as docile as a child as I pick up the soap and washcloth. Oh, if I could find a way to bottle this!
I take my time and make sure I do a thorough job of it, but while I keep a smile on my face for him, I'm seething inside as I count every bruise and every scrape, and very gently clean those abused wrists. He doesn't seem to notice my pre-occupation. He's busy running his hands over any bare inch of my wet skin he can reach and contents himself with playing with my hair as I bend over to reach his nether regions.
When I'm finally convinced there is no spot of his bare skin that has not been duly washed, caressed, kissed, patted or kissed, I turn off the water and shepherd him out of the shower and into a large towel. He stands there, skin glowing healthily from his time under the warm water, compliant and obedient, as I towel him dry. He doesn't even raise a protest as I rub his short hair up into spikes and leave it there. He's too busy gazing at me with a wonderfully sweet expression of affection on his face, as relaxed and happy as a toddler who's just had a warm bath. It's no good. I have to give him a kiss. He responds immediately, opening up so I can slip my tongue inside his mouth and duel lazily with his.
I dry myself off as quickly as I'd shed my clothes earlier, then hustle him off to bed.
I tip him carefully onto the mattress and roll to straddle him, taking my weight on my knees and elbows. Framing his head with my forearms, I bend my head and kiss him between the eyes, making him go cross-eyed. "You need to rest," I murmur, tenderly nuzzling the side of his mouth. "Doctor's orders."
"Don't wanna rest." He's blinking up at me with heavy eyes, skimming his hands down my ribs in a way that causes goosebumps to pop up on my skin. "Want you, Jack," he says softly.
Oh, boy. I have to grit my teeth to keep myself from taking him right here and now. Mild concussion, I remind myself. Bruises and aching muscles, I recite. But what I see is my Daniel, rumpled and warm from a long shower, his skin like silk where it touches mine - which is pretty much head to toe - his large blue eyes filled with the kind of love and longing that turns me to mush.
It's still there inside me, that kernel of cold, sharp fear I'd felt since Rothman staggered back to the SGC to tell us Daniel had been dragged off by an Unas. If I thought I was going to exorcise that by sharing a shower with Daniel, I was kidding myself. There's a need inside me that is every bit as primitive as the one that was driving that Unas to grab Daniel in the first place. Daniel scares the living daylights out of me on a regular basis. Sometimes it's not even his fault, but it happens a *lot*. It's no coincidence that my hair only started to turn grey once I began taking him on missions - and I remind him of that frequently. And when I'm scared this badly, when it's this soul deep all-consuming fear, there's only one way for me to find reassurance. There's only one way for me to convince myself that he's alive and well and safe. I know it. The little colonel knows it. And from the look on Daniel's face, he knows it too.
He reaches up and trails his knuckles down the side of my face, his eyes warm and full of love and understanding. "Please, Jack," he whispers. "I want you." Slipping his hand behind my head, he brings me down for a long, sweet kiss. "I need you," he murmurs against my lips.
I rest my forehead against his with a groan. How am I supposed to resist *that*? I'm already hard, and I can feel the little archaeologist down below starting to sit up and take notice, too. So Dannyboy is apparently willing and able as well.
Lifting my head, I give him what I hope is a stern look but I suspect is more along the lines of 'I'm hopelessly in love and will pretty much do anything you want'. Actually, he looks so darn cute with his hair sticking out in every direction it's all I can do not to grin. Am I ever going to get it tomorrow morning when he gets a look at himself in the mirror.
"All right," I agree finally, "but we do this my way."
I brace myself for an argument, but he simply gives me another one of those heart-melting smiles. "Okay."
"Okay? Don't you even want to know what 'my way' is?"
There's a rumbling in his chest as he chuckles, then once again skims his hands up and down my sides. "You're the colonel, Colonel," he says huskily.
Oh, no fair! He knows what it does to me when he calls me that.
Then he gives me a half-rueful, half-pleading look. "But whatever you're going to do, Jack, just do it before I fall asleep, okay?"
Oh, Dannyboy, I am *so* going to send you to dreamland with a smile on your face.
He never does ask me what 'my way' was. He'll find out. We start with kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. He loves to kiss, and he's taught me there's a lot to be said for a good old-fashioned heavy petting session. I love to hear those little moans and whimpers he makes, love the taste of him, love how he sucks my tongue into his mouth, love how he wraps his tongue around mine, love how he unconsciously massages my scalp as our kisses become more urgent and his body begins to move under mine.
I pull back, gasping for breath. His eyes are closed and he's panting as he tries to pull me back down. "Jack..."
"Shhhh..." I place a quick kiss on each closed eyelid and whisper, "My way, remember."
I get a little frustrated whimper, but he obediently loosens his grip on my head. I take advantage of the freedom to slide a hand under the pillow and retrieve the tube we keep there, then move down to nuzzle his neck. With a sigh of satisfaction, he arches his neck to allow me better access, and I take quick advantage of it. In case he hasn't figured it out yet, my way tonight is slow and gentle and make it last forever. The tumbling around under the covers like two rollicking puppies (a favorite exercise) can wait until he doesn't have a concussion or bruises - or the recent memory of being dragged around by a primitive monster. I'm going to give him - and me - a much better recent memory.
I move to his chest, seeking out each little scratch and scrape, tasting each one, leaving a soothing kiss behind, then slowly make my way down toward the main event. His hips are jutting off the bed, as if trying to draw my attention to the rosy cock standing proud and tall in the middle of a nest of curls. I grin. Hard to miss. I squeeze some lube onto my fingers, but can't resist the sight of that beautiful, hopeful cock. Dipping my head, I swirl my tongue around the head, and his hips come right off the bed.
"God, *Jack*!"
His head is thrashing back and forth on the pillow and I can see him squeezing a fistful of sheet in each hand. "Wait for it, wait for it," I murmur, and carefully slide one slick finger inside. He immediately pushes down on it, demanding more.
"Come on, Jack, come *on*!"
I slide in the second finger and again he throws his head back into the pillow and clamps down, trying to hurry along the process.
"Now, Jack! I'm ready!"
Uh uh. It's a pretty well established fact that Danny can talk me into just about anything in the bedroom except this shortcut. I know it. He knows it. But it never stops him from trying. He's really trying to buck now, but I work in the third finger and take the time to carefully stretch him. Oh yes, I'm getting those sexy little desperate moans and whimpers now. We're just about there...
I ease out my fingers and move into position. I'm so turned on by the sight of him spread out, panting and muttering in Abydonian, that I have to take some deep breaths before I ease into him. As soon as I do, I hear a little cry of triumph from him, and his long legs wrap around me, pulling me all the way in
I begin to thrust, little gentle movements to get him accustomed to having me inside him, but the truth is we come together each time as if we were made for this, our bodies completely in tune. We hit a perfect rhythm, slow, maddening, exquisite. He's giving little 'uh's' with each thrust and I hear a low growling sound that seems to be coming from me. I try to keep it slow and make it last, but a tidal wave of desire and need is building up in both of us, and I pick up the pace. There's a hissed, "Yes!" from Daniel as I do so and our bodies immediately adjust to the more demanding rhythm.
My climax is every bit as earth-shattering as Daniel's was earlier. I literally see stars, and I swear I hear a cannon go off somewhere nearby.
When I finally regain some awareness, I grasp the fact I'm being cradled in Daniel's arms, and he's pressing kisses into my hair as he murmurs sweetly into my ear. Belatedly realizing he's carrying my whole weight I try to move, but he immediately tightens his arms. "No, not yet."
"I'm squashing you," I protest weakly, and manage to take some of my weight on my elbows.
"Do I look squashed?"
Actually, he's got that happily dopey look back again, and the spiked hair is pushing the Cute Factor up to twelve on a scale of ten. But he also looks at peace, and totally and completely loved. And safe, I remind myself. Safe and alive. I give his nose a fond nudge with mine. "Actually, you look very pleased with yourself."
He laughs softly, eyes alight with affection. "So do you, Colonel."
I gaze down at him, my tone turning serious. "That's because I am one lucky Air Force Colonel, and I am so damned grateful you're here and you're alive."
Reaching up, he gently traces one of my eyebrows with an index finger. "I'm grateful too, Jack," he says quietly. "For a lot of things." A hand behind my head coaxes me down for a slow, deep kiss. When we break apart, he holds me still and whispers into my ear: "And in case you don't know it, you top the list."
I don't move for a long time. I love him so much it actually scares me sometimes, but I can't bear to think about what my life would be like without that love. His breathing has slowed and I finally realize his fingers are lax where they rest on my neck. Raising my head, I see that I really did send him to dreamland with a smile on his face. I place one more light kiss on the tip of his nose, then very carefully pull out of him and shift to the side. He gives a murmur of protest, an irritated frown chasing away the smile, and immediately turns in my direction, finding me even in his sleep. He burrows against my bare chest and snuffles a bit, as if getting my scent, then immediately settles down, the contented smile once again in place.
He's so deeply asleep I manage to snag the duvet and get us both covered without disturbing him, then wrap him a bit more firmly in my arms before settling down myself. The warm, gentle caress of Daniel's breath against my skin is as reassuring as a mother's lullaby. What was it that they used to say in that Snoopy cartoon? Happiness is a warm puppy. Nah. I bury my nose in that sweet-smelling hair and close my eyes, as content as I've ever been in my life. Happiness is a warm, breathing archaeologist held safe in your arms.
Fin