WOOHOO!!!! My silly fic!
I promised a silly fic...
Well here it is!
Sorry if I'm a bit long in answering fb. I'm having HUGE problems with PC at the moment!
Please let me know if you liked the story... or if you didn't! ;op
Title: The Devil His Due
Author: Saladscream
Pairing: J/D
Rating: NC-17, though mostly R
Category: Humour, PWP, Established Relationship
Warning: Well, apart from the overall silliness and rampant sap… Tail kink!
Summary: The Devil wants to do something baaaaaad.
Notes: This story was supposed to be for Nicci’s birthday, but… uhm… well obviously I got a bit side-tracked! It’s totally and unashamedly silly. Blame it on my inexperience, or on my twisted sense of humour. Many many thanks to Brynn who took the time to help me with her insightful beta. Any remaining mistake is exclusively mine. Many thanks also to Nicci for hooking me up with Brynn and for laughing at my sillyfic. ;o)
The Devil His Due
Today he was in a bad mood.
Nothing surprising about that: he was Satan after all, the Prince of Darkness. Being in a bad mood wasn't really out of character.
But today he was in a very bad mood, and for once he had a solid reason. It was Valentine's day and the general sappy cheerfulness that possessed all mortals was getting on his nerves. Because despite the consumerist decadent 'thing' the celebration had become, too many people still got disgustingly ‘merry’ and chirpy when the 14th of February showed up on their kinky calendar. Their happy vibes were jarring on him, hence the bad mood.
So today he decided he would do something terrible. Something really atrocious. Just because.
Hey, what's the good of being Evil Incarnate if you can't get a kick out of doing bad things?
So he searched through his files, trying to find a suitably abominable thing to do. Paperwork was something even he couldn't avoid and there were tons of it in his bottomless file holders. As he sorted out the mess, he fell on one that was labelled ‘special cases’. Interesting.
Leafing through the various cases, he shook his head in disbelief: these guys and girls were real amateurs. Oh, of course, all of them were grade-A bastards and bitches, but there was nothing original about their sins and misdeeds, nothing really interesting or out of the ordinary, nothing to warrant the 'special' in ‘special cases’. Just as he was about to call one of his assistants to tear him a new one for doing a sloppy job of putting this file together, he finally found something that held his attention. He found something challenging: one of those borderline damnable souls. A soul whose history was steeped in darkness, but who had undeniably positive traits. The forces of Good and Evil, namely The Man Upstairs and him, would sometimes fight over one of those. Always good fun!
On the surface, it all seemed simple and straightforward. The man in question was supposedly a good guy, but his file showed a list of what could only be called really ‘bad’ deeds such as killing, maiming, stealing, lying, etc. A very rich and colourful resume. A resume that should have warranted a direct ticket to Hell. But to be honest (and Satan tried not to do that too often), the crimes had been done out of loyalty to his country, so he had some sort of excuse. Not to mention that the 'victims' were either already inmates of this fine, heated establishment of the Underworld, or would soon be. So in fact, when you looked more closely into it, the motivations and principles behind the acts were rather good.
Damn.
A good lawyer could argue and actually win the case; this guy could be saved from eternal damnation.
Satan frowned.
Mind you, all the good lawyers worked for him.
Satan smirked.
On the downside, the guy had saved the planet. Several times.
Satan's frown returned. This was going to be a tough nut to crack.
On the upside, the guy believed himself to be bad and had even contemplated suicide at one time. Aaaaah, almost done the mortal sin! Now that made a world of difference! The man actually had a poor opinion of himself! The wonders of having a conscience; wasn't that ironic?!
Because if the subject thought he deserved Hell, half the job was already done. Satan only had to show up, call his/her name in his thundering voice, waggle his eyebrows and flick his tail, and that was it! The subject thought himself/herself doomed and followed without a word. That was the key; he could steal good souls if he could persuade them they'd deserved it. Easy as pie, and quite a lot of fun, too! He really loved playing the bad guy.
The trademark evil grin appeared on Satan's features; he had just found the terrible thing he wanted to do today; he was going to drag this good soul to Hell. A saviour of the Earth down in Netherworld for eternal damnation. Oh yeah, God was going to have a fit over this! Which made it all sound even better.
But first things first. He needed to learn more about the guy. He concentrated on the picture in the file and soon emotions, memories and thoughts started to trickle into his consciousness. In a minute he knew all there was to know about the mortal.
Boy, did the man have baggage! Guilt, fear, hatred, self-loathing, arrogance, and the more menial sins such as lust and gluttony; he had them all in varying proportions. The problem was that he also had tremendous qualities and assets, in spades: courage, intelligence, moral strength, loyalty, humour, optimism, self-sacrifice and, worst of all, love.
He loved and was loved in return. Immensely.
Crap.
That could be a problem.
Oh well, a little difficulty would only make the case more interesting! And breaking up a couple would be so awfully satisfying on Valentine's day. The Prince of Darkness smirked. He was going to have a field day with this shmuck.
Ooookay. Now that he had intel, Satan could carry on his evil plan.
He hollered for his assistant, Abargadon, who came running from his little office/closet/cubicle and tripped on the dogs.
For the umpteenth time, Satan wondered why he had bothered with acquiring these two dogs. They were truly disgusting things and were absolutely useless, not to mention helpless and hopeless, but one of his counsellors in charge of public relations had told him that toy poodles were really deemed to be awful creatures. And indeed after several month of coexistence with the creatures, he had to admit that the abhorrently cute little fleabags were truly getting on his nerves.
Anyway.
So Abar tripped on the dogs and nearly ended up sprawled at his boss's feet. Satan rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the ridiculous scene.
"Abar, I want you to check this guy's schedule for today: I want to know where he'll be in half an hour." He handed the file to his assistant. Throwing vicious looks at the dogs, Abar scrambled back up to his feet and took the file with a grovelling "Yes, my Lord". He was heading back to his desk, when Satan added "And I want the exact location! Last time I ended up in the middle of a fucking science-fiction show convention and it really weirded me out." The Prince of Darkness couldn't help a shudder. The open lust and rampant pheromones had been nice, but the place had just reeked happiness. Ugh!
Now that the logistics were being taken care of, Satan could concentrate on one of the most important things for his mission: his external appearance. He knew that his looks could make the difference. Besides he really was an attention whore and he enjoyed ‘dressing to kill’. Literally. Since the mortal in question had been around the block a couple of times, Satan figured that his typical fear-inspiring shape wouldn't work on him. No, this guy was not easy to impress, so he opted for a human shape. Satan knew that the way to a man's heart and soul was through his gonads and given that the bloke was now gay, the Evil One went for male, tall, dark and handsome.
Of course, he kept the tail: he liked the long and slightly furry appendage. And a tail could prove so ... useful.
He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. The lean but well-built human in the reflection cut quite a figure. The long legs and strong thighs spoke of ruthless power and endurance, the solid hips and promising crotch suggested wicked thoughts, the broad lickable chest and graceful neck promised sensory overload. Add to that appetizing package, silken ebony hair, mesmerizing dark green eyes, and perfectly defined and slightly pouting lips, and you had a stunning sight indeed! A real catch.
Contemplating his handy work approvingly, Satan added a little scar on his left eyebrow, as an afterthought. Very PHWOAR-worthy! The little star-shaped imperfection brought a roguish je-ne-sais-quoi to his features and made him sexy as Hell! Satan sniggered at the pun. Besides, he and his victim now had something in common, some element of physical resemblance that would undoubtedly have its effect on the mortal.
Abargadon cautiously entered his boss's office, holding the file with a 'post-it' note stuck on it. He paused an instant to admire the view, silently leaking pheromones.
"My lord? The information you required," he announced hoarsely, handing the papers to the wet-dream standing in front of the mirror.
Satan read the note then turned to his assistant with an evil smile and just stood there, eyes slowly raking over Abar in what could only be called a smouldering predatory gaze. The subordinate gulped, unable to gain control over his very obvious physical responses. Getting hard for his Boss in front of said Boss was soooo not the wisest thing he could do; some people had gotten quartered and scattered for less than that. And he had no intention of experimenting with that kind of thing first hand. However, not even his dread of His Lordship's reaction could dampen his ardour. And the mental images weren't helping. In fact, spontaneous combustion was beginning to feel like a definite possibility, when Satan finally broke the spell.
"Thank you, Abar," he purred.
Abar let out a half-choked whimper, turned an even deeper shade of purple and nodded thankfully before walking a bit stiffly out of the office.
Satan sniggered. It was so easy!
Feeling very satisfied with himself, Satan vanished from his office in a clichéd puff of smoke...
...to reappear in the secret underground chamber of the ruined temple on PZX-666.
In the absolute darkness, he waited for Jack O'Neill.
***
The buzz, whir and clank of the transportation rings echoed in the small chamber, and a very confused and startled Jack O'Neill appeared in the bright beam of light. Turning around with his P-90 at the ready, he scanned his surroundings and soon got an idea of his predicament: he was standing in a small unthreatening empty room. Once the light emanating from the transportation device faded out, he found himself standing in pitch black small unthreatening empty room. He switched on the lamp torch on his weapon and let out an annoyed huff.
Perfect, just perfect! Daniel had to touch that fucking gemstone on the pillar, had he!
"Fuck," he muttered. Briefly considering his options after scanning the bare walls, Jack sighed resignedly and clicked on his radio.
"Daniel?"
He received no answer, except for a burst of static.
"Daniel, do you read me?"
Nothing.
Okay, plan B it was then; he went to the closest wall and started searching. There had to be a 'switch' somewhere down here to activate the rings. He would find it then get back to the temple and kick Daniel's pert little ass into the middle of next week.
What part of "don't touch anything" did the man not understand, for fucksake?! Oh, no doubt Daniel was going to give him the "how do you want me to study the place if I can't even touch anything!" speech. He'd argue things to death, and might even end up making Jack feel guilty for yelling at his lover. And to forestall any oncoming debate Daniel was going to pull the charming act on Jack, and give him The look. And Jack would be toast, as always. That sexy stubborn look always made Jack's blood run straight south, and all argument would fade from his blood-deprived brain just like that: the little bastard knew how to play with his hormones. He also knew how to play with his…
Feeling a bit hot under the collar, Jack did his best to turn his full attention on the wall in front of him.
When something moved behind him.
He could feel it, his spidey sense on alert: there was something or someone in the room with him. He turned around abruptly, his P-90 aiming straight at...
... a man.
"Shit," Jack hissed under his breath, annoyed and worried that this guy had sneaked under his radar.
With every alarm bells ringing, Jack observed the man now in front of him.
He was quite a sight: handsome, wearing a pair of black tight fitting jeans (jeans??) and a white and silver shirt, he really looked stunning in his black leather duster. He just stood there motionless, trying to seem ... friendly?
Something about him gave Jack the heebie-jeebies though. Mr Right was watching him intently, with a sardonic smile on his face and he didn't like that one bit. Jack noticed the scar on the eyebrow, and for some strange reason, its presence reassured him. Probably something to do with the fact that if the guy had a scar, it meant he could be hurt.
"Colonel O'Neill," the man said amiably, "I've been waiting for you."
Well, isn't that just peachy!
***
Satan watched and drank in O'Neill's reaction. Confusion, anger, worry, determination, and a hint of fear transpired in the vibes the mortal was giving off. Interesting. The colonel was a fine specimen of the human race: a lean hard body trained for combat, piercing brown eyes, thin lips that constantly seemed to wear a smirk, a quietly aggressive attitude; everything about him screamed 'alpha-male'. Niiiiice. Satan already liked him.
Obviously ticked off by being called by his rank and name, O'Neill took a step forward, pointing his weapon at the Prince of Darkness' chest.
"Well, that's very nice of you. Now why don't you give me a good reason not to stuff your carcass with bullets," O'Neill drawled.
Satan chuckled.
"First, I am unarmed, as you can see." O'Neill gave a derisive smirk that showed he didn't buy that for one second.
"Second, I'm afraid your bullets wouldn't do much damage to me." Now O'Neill's eyes took a hard edge, no doubt searching Satan's clothes for signs of Goa’uld 'jewellery'.
"Please, O'Neill," Satan cajoled, "you know I'm not going to harm you." Not right now, anyway. "I came here to see you. I'm on my own, and I'm not a Goa’uld." Satan knew just what to say, with just the right tone of casual earnestness, to make O'Neill feel marginally less threatened.
"What do you want?" the colonel ground out.
"You." Satan simply said, his eyes plunging into O'Neill's soul.
"What?!" O'Neill blurted in disbelief.
***
The two stood facing each other, several feet apart, and for the longest moment they remained silent. Jack too stunned to speak and the pretty boy probably just waiting for effect.
Finally, the guy broke the silence:
"Your time is up, Colonel O'Neill," he said solemnly. "I've come to collect your soul."
What the fuck?! "Is this a joke?" Jack asked incredulously.
'Cause let's face it, none of this situation made sense to him. Even after all these years of exploring the galaxy and doing truly wacky stuff, he'd never felt so totally out of the loop. There was something so casual and ordinary about the way the handsome man just stood in front of him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they were meeting in a bar back on Earth, or something. Except of course for the weird crap the guy was sprouting.
Okay.
So, just to sum it up. Daniel had unwittingly activated hidden rings (and he was gonna pay for that, the little bugger) that had sent Jack to this empty room. And Jack was 100% sure the room had been empty just a minute ago. But now he was apparently talking to a cute guy who had appeared out of nowhere, who knew his name and had just admitted wanting him and his soul.
And the man was wearing jeans, for cryin' out loud!
In the fucking middle of a fucking mission on a fucking alien deserted planet!
Yeah, right. Jack was beginning to wonder if he wasn't actually hallucinating this weird encounter. Maybe he'd hit his head when he landed in this place, maybe he had a concussion and was lying face down in the dirt, happily drooling at this very moment.
Or this could be some bizarre Tok'ra joke. Figured. These guys had no sense of humour.
"No, I'm afraid it's no joke." The man replied almost apologetically. "I hate to tell you this colonel, but there is unfortunately no way out of this place. You're doomed," He said matter-of-factly.
Showing off a bit, the man snapped his fingers and in the whole room lit up with torches. Jack looked around, blinking in the sudden flare of light, and eased his stance a little. OK, this was definitely a hallucination/dream/vision or some kind of spiritual crap. It was just all too clichéd to be anything else. Jack thought he might as well go along with it since the alternative was waking up to God knew what sort of pain and injury. Besides, the stranger in front of him had undeniable sexual magnetism. Now Jack was head over heals in love with his archaeologist: big time - no question about it. But he was also only human and he couldn't help admiring the looks of his new ‘roommate’. So why not humour the hallucination?
***
"Cool trick." O'Neill finally said, nodding appreciatively.
The Master of the Underworld felt he obviously wasn't being taken seriously, so he decided to cut to the chase.
"Look, Jack... Can I call you 'Jack'? Okay. So look Jack, I'm afraid this is where the bus stops for you. You've come to the end of your journey." Realising that Jack looked non-plussed and totally disbelieving, not to say condescendingly sorry for Satan's mental state, the Devil gave an explanation that was sure to grab Jack's attention. "I'm afraid Dr Jackson touched something he shouldn't have."
At the mention of his lover's name, Jack tensed and narrowed his eyes dangerously, giving off menacing mixed vibes of avenging hatred and loving protectiveness. The former were nice but the latter almost made Satan gag in disgust.
"Don't worry about him! He's absolutely safe up there!" Satan spat angrily, pointing at the ceiling. "You should be more concerned about your own welfare, my friend! You're the one stuck in this chamber. With a limited air supply, may I add." The Devil couldn't help feeling satisfied when he sensed Jack's unease. He continued lying through his perfect white teeth:
"So let me give you the low-down on your situation, Jack. This place is going to be your tomb, that's a given. The only question here is: do you want it to be a quick and easy end, or would you rather suffer a slow painful death?" Satan enunciated the last words with visible relish and quirked up his eyebrows in playful interrogation.
*** * ***
"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard from anyone who claimed he's not a Goa’uld!" Jack finally said, rolling his eyes. This hallucination induced guy really sucked at this karmic lesson stuff, 'cause he made zero sense. "And who the Hell are you?" he finally asked in exasperation.
Satan looked at him with an amused expression.
"I'm the Devil," he simply announced.
"Uh-huh. I see." Jack raised a dubious eyebrow.
"Also known as Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, and occasionally Old Harry. In other words, I'm the Prince of Darkness, the Ruler of the Underworld, the Archfiend, the Evil One."
"OKAY, okay, I get it!"
"Who I am is not really important right now. What truly matters is that you're going to die here. And since I felt particularly well disposed today, I thought I'd do something nice for you and save you all the suffering and agonizing. It can be fun, don't get me wrong! But it can also be quite tedious and boring for us, men of action..."
"Whoa! Slow down, Lucy! This is mighty big of you, you know, the whole saving me the pain, etc. I really appreciate it. But where did you get the idea I was going to die here? My team's going to look for me, they'll get me outta here!" There was no doubt about that.
"I don't think so."
"Well thanks for the vote of confidence, but I do!"
A slight frown marred the handsome evil face.
"Why delay the inevitable, Jack?" Satan asked seriously. Then, leaning forward he stage-whispered "You and I both know you've done some… damn distasteful things in your life." His eyes cruelly searched Jack's for a second before he straightened up again. His gaze softened and he added: "Besides, Hell is not such a bad place... if you know how to get into the Owner's good graces." The dark green eyes slowly and meaningfully raked over Jack's body, pausing for long seconds at his crotch. "I could make your stay in my realm worth your while." he purred in his husky voice.
"Yeah. Well. I think I'll pass," Jack announced hoarsely. "I'm quite happy with what I've got here, Phyllis, thank you very much."
"You've got nothing here, Jack!" Satan spat angrily. "Your miserable life was a succession of failures, treasons and crimes! You will end up in my Realm one way or another! I can make it easier on you if you cooperate. Now." The Devil was irritated by the mortal's casualness and his words dripped with acid, but Jack, although he had winced at the onslaught, now seemed completely un-phased.
This proved to be a very interesting hallucination, Daniel would love it when he'd tell him. He was sure his lover would ramble excitedly about the deep Freudian meaning of all this. So Jack just kept playing along, in his own smart-ass style.
"Why the hurry?" he asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Satan was a bit lost.
"I mean, if I'm supposed to kick the bucket and turn up on your Underworm doorstep-"
"UNDERWORLD!!" Satan raged.
"Sorry. So if I'm likely to turn up on your underworld doorstep in any case, why are you so eager to come and collect me right now?" Jack asked in that annoying tone he often used to take the piss out of Carter. And Daniel. And... well, everybody in fact.
In typical obfuscation mode, Satan answered with another question.
"Why go through all the agony of dying alone in this rat hole?"
"Because I might actually not die in this rat hole! My team-mates will find me."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Yeah well I'll take my chance, fella."
"I. Am. Your last chance."
"You know? For a second there I thought you were going to say you were my father. You've got the Darth Vader voice down pat!" Jack said approvingly. "But let me tell you, pretty boy: you're really not very convincing as "the Devil". In fact I think this whole concussion-induced hallucination is really getting old."
"This is not an hallucination, O'Neill." To prove his words, Satan stepped forward and pinched Jack's left upper arm. Hard.
With a pained "Ouch", Jack swatted his hand away and rubbed his arm. Shit! That really hurt. More than it should.
Okay, things were getting out of hand! What the fuck was happening here?!
"Are you telling me that you're actually the real "Devil"??" Jack asked confusedly. "But. That's. That's just fucking ridiculous!!" he finally blurted out outrageously. "You don't even exist!!"
"Obviously, I do." Satan replied dryly.
"No! The Devil's just another one of those myths, rumours, lies, and fuckin' FAIRYTALES!!"
"Do I look like a fairytale?" Satan sneered. And as if to prove a point, he raised his hands with dramatic emphasis, and his body turned to fire. For ten seconds, his body just became made of flames, leaving only two green eyes looking steadily at a dumbstruck Jack. Then everything returned to normal, and all Jack had in front of him was a gorgeous tall green-eyed guy with an evil smile.
Still not sure what to make of all this crazy stuff, Jack came to a decision. He wanted out of this place NOW. He needed to get out and find Daniel, asap.
"I'm outta here." Jack announced matter-of-factly.
"You can't."
"Look, it's been swell meeting you, Bottle-of-bud, but I'm leaving this rat-hole. Whether you like it or not." He ground out.
"Beelzebub." Satan corrected icily.
"Yeah, that too." Jack answered. "Now if you don't mind, buddy, I'm gonna check the rest of this room for the switch to these damn rings" he said as he turned around to continue his inspection of the walls.
Satan was dumbfounded.
Did this guy really turn his back on him?! Did this guy just say 'NO' to the Prince of fucking Darkness?!!
'How dare he?' thought Satan with a mixture of amazement and disbelief. For a couple of seconds, the Evil One actually felt despondent and crestfallen.
But the Devil was nothing if not resilient, and he soon rallied. Time to fight dirty.
"Jack?" Daniel's voice called huskily.
Jack spun around in a flash, and found himself facing… Daniel. A very naked Daniel.
Oh God. Acres of smooth skin on taut muscles, long long legs, delicious planes and slight curves, dusky nipples standing out on well defined pecs, gorgeous hard cock in its nest of brown curls, bewitching blue eyes. The whole package. Jack, more than anyone, knew how perfect that particular package was.
Stunned at finding his lover in his birthday suit right in front of him, Jack didn't react straight away, and even though he knew on an instinctual level that there was something wrong in the picture, he let his eyes roam appreciatively on the beloved body.
My God he's beautiful. Enough to damn a saint.
Then his brain finally engaged and his eyes narrowed dangerously when he realised who was standing there, usurping his lover's appearance.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jack asked coldly.
"Don't you like this body?" Satan challenged, goaded by the angry vibes coming off Jack.
"Not when you're wearing it, ya sick bastard!"
Jack aimed his weapon at the Archfiend; he was really pissed off now, but try as he might, he just knew he wouldn't pull the trigger. He knew this wasn't Daniel, but he couldn't bring himself to actually harm what was an absolutely perfect replica of Daniel's body.
Satan smiled, sure of his charm, and Jack suddenly felt mesmerized.
It actually looked like one of Daniel's smiles. The bedroom one.
The smile Daniel wore when they were alone and he was feeling hot and naughty. That irresistible smile when he unbuckled Jack's belt. That dirty smile when he was about to swallow Jack to the root. The wanton smile Jack could see from the corner of his eye as Daniel drizzled strawberry sauce between his ass cheeks and rubbed it over his hole before giving him the mother of all rimmings.
Fuck!
All the air seemed to have whooshed out of his lungs and he stood there petrified as a very sexy naked Daniel slowly walked towards him like a panther on the prowl.
Satan approached Jack seductively, drinking in the lustful vibes flooding the room, until he stood mere inches in front of him. He gently pushed the muzzle of the P-90 to the side with one finger, before languorously sliding his arms around Jack's neck.
Bringing his lips close to Jack's, he whispered suggestively:
"Hello, Jack."
"Stop it." said Jack in a strangled voice. He felt completely lost and didn't know what to do to get rid of this… Satan.
The Devil knew he had won. That poor little mortal was no match for him.
Jack swallowed nervously and tried to shy away from the naked body who clung to his neck and squirmed against his BDUs. This proved to be impossible; he was definitely trapped against the wall with some sort of naked Daniel in his arms.
A naked Daniel who slowly rubbed his naked skin against Jack's clothes. This was probably the worst kind of torture Jack could think of right now; there had to be something in the Geneva convention that said that this… this... indecent frottage was fucking illegal!! It pushed too many of Jack's buttons!
Some tiny part of his brain told him that if this was the Devil himself he was in serious shit, another negligible part of his brain was busy overloading under the sensual input, and all the rest had just shut down due to lack of blood and oxygen. He was done. Al dente.
This was obviously not Daniel, but dear God it felt like Daniel, smelled like him, sounded like him. And Jack had never been able to resist Daniel in full seduction mode.
Despite himself, his hands came to rest on the most natural place for them: Daniel's waist.
This was so right.
Jack sighed in pleasure.
The muffled sound of clothes against skin along with the soft sighs and moans of approval were filling the room when suddenly the jarring noise of Jack's P-90 scraping against the wall registered somewhere in the back of his befuddled mind, bringing everything back in context.
This was not Daniel.
This was so wrong!
He gripped Satan's arms and tried to pry him away from him, but the Devil was immovable.
"What are you afraid of, Jack? I'm not going to hurt you." he whispered against his lips. "On the contrary." he huskily promised.
Jack was sure his brain was waging a winning battle against his lust-drenched hormones, when he felt something slide smoothly up his right inner thigh. He looked down and stared wide eyed at the tail currently caressing him through his BDU and sending delicious sensations through every nerve in his body.
Holy shit!
A tail!
Covered with black velvety fur.
A nimble tail which was leisurely stroking both his inner thighs now. Tracing maddening circles, zigzags and patterns, inching its way to his cock at an excruciatingly slow pace, making him hotter and harder with each second that passed.
Oh fuck. He was so dead.
The tail teased and played, while he closed his eyes tightly and tried to hang on to his sanity.
Jack didn't know if he was more squicked or aroused by the idea of a tail winding its way up to his dick. Who knew a tail could do such amazing things! Its expert caresses were strange yet totally addictive: the warm squirming along his inner-thighs and balls sent wonderful shivers coursing down his skin in ripples of hot pleasure, making him lose his grip on reality. Oh Jeezus, that was fucking fantastic! Jack's hands settled back down on the Devil's hips of their own accord. He didn't really know if it was to push away or to encourage. Who cared.
While the tail fondled him through the fabric, he couldn't help imagining how good it would feel wrapped around his cock.
Oh God! How fucked up was that!
As if answering his unspoken wish, the tip of the tail nudged his zipper down and slithered inside his pants and boxers.
A loud embarrassing whimper escaped him as the tail curled around his erection.
"Come with me, Jack." Not-Daniel whispered ambiguously.
Oh fuck. No. No, this was really going too far!!
Just as he was gathering his wits and courage to shrug off that devilish Daniel and his X-rated tail, the sound of the transportation rings resonated in the chamber.
***
Daniel was already imagining how angry Jack was going to be. He could almost hear him rant about how he shouldn't touch things, how he was a fucking trouble magnet, and how he should've waited Jack's permission to even think of touching the gemstone.
Bullshit.
Jack was just going to rant about anything he could think of because he'd been separated from Daniel, and because he hated that when it happened, especially off-world. Even if the present mission was a milk-run. Jack was just paranoid. Which made him a good team leader while on mission, but a real pain in the ass the rest of the time.
Let's face it, Jack would've reacted the same way if they'd been grocery shopping and Daniel had left him stranded in the cereal section. It was cute, in some weird twisted way, that Jack would over-react to that kind of situation, but Daniel knew he was in for a good dressing down. Oh well, he supposed a couple of well-timed meek batting of eyelashes and outrageous pouting of his so-called ‘kissable’ lips would go a long way to smooth his lover's ruffled feathers.
After all, there was no harm done. The inscription on the pillar had mentioned a "meditation chamber devoid of any exterior stimuli or interferences". Meaning Jack was probably fumbling around, cursing loudly, in some dark empty room.
As the rings were activated Daniel prepared himself for the oncoming ordeal, the taming of a wild pissed off Jack.
He wasn't exactly ready for the sight that greeted him.
Jack, standing with his back to a wall, had a naked man attached to his neck.
And his hands were resting on the hips of the naked squirming slut.
Uh-huh.
Daniel couldn't wait to hear how Jack was going to explain that one.
*** * ***
"Daniel!" Jack exclaimed, relieved. He was so glad to see his lover safe and sound. Which really made no sense since it was obviously Daniel who was coming to Jack's rescue, and not the other way round. But Jack preferred having Daniel where he could see him; the archaeologist was such a trouble magnet.
However, Jack's relief was short-lived when he saw that the younger man just crossed his arms over his chest and stood there watching him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Then Jack noticed Daniel's stiff set of jaw and shoulders, as well as the pinched pout. And the oddly annoyed blue eyes.
Then Jack realised he still had his hands on Satan's naked hips. He yanked them away as if he'd been burnt.
"Uhm ... Daniel ... This ... uhm." Jack stuttered. "This is ... uhm ... not what it looks like." he finished lamely. He could see the dark angry clouds gathering over his lover's brow, and he really really didn't want Daniel getting the wrong idea there.
Meanwhile, Satan had taken advantage of Jack's distraction to glue himself completely to him, lovingly wrapping his arms tighter around the man's neck, and nuzzling the warm skin.
"Stop that!" Jack whimpered. He tried again to dislodge the arms.
The tail, still around his cock resumed its ministrations.
Jack yelped. "Stop it!"
"Mmmmm. You don't really mean that, Jack. I can feel it." Satan purred, tightening his grasp on Jack's shaft.
Another strangled yelp. Jack closed his eyes tightly against the maddening sensation and when he opened them again, found himself staring into Daniel's (his Daniel) eyes. He saw the anger there, trying to hide the hurt and the sense of betrayal. And it just ripped his heart out. He suddenly struggled against the damn leech, pushing, pulling, twisting with his arms and knees until Satan staggered back a step.
"Stay away from me." Jack ordered menacingly.
Satan silently enraged, he could feel his catch escaping and he couldn't let that happen. The rings should've remained jammed for another hour; he was supposed to have enough time to trap O'Neill. He turned towards the man who had dared interrupt them and smiled cruelly.
Daniel gasped and his eyes widened in shock when he saw himself naked ... with what appeared to be a tail stuck to his rear, thrashing wildly like that of an angry cat. What the fuck!
"What the Hell is going on here!" he finally exclaimed.
Satan answered viciously, "Jack was about to come ... with me."
"Hey! In yer dreams, sicko!" Jack spat.
The sound of Jack's zipper being pulled up was indecently loud in the small room.
Not to mention embarrassing.
Satan smirked. Daniel shot a withering glare at Jack. Jack tried to keep a little dignity.
"Uhm, Daniel? This, apparently, is the Devil." He explained, drawing quotation marks in the air.
"And?" Daniel asked.
"And O'Neill's soul is mine." The Devil stated.
Daniel faced the Devil, taking in his gloriously naked and somewhat familiar appearance, and frowned. He turned to Jack and watched him give an ill-at-ease little shrug. He seemed to think about the whole thing for a few seconds, then addressed the naked dude with the whipping tail.
"You can't take his soul." he enounced firmly. "See, first Jack's not dead, so you don't actually have the right to be here. And second, I'd be ready to bet anything that Jack's soul is not meant to go to Hell, or you wouldn't be trying to bend the rules like you're doing right now, would you?" He explained, cold venom lacing his voice.
Jack was just astounded. He couldn't believe how fast Daniel had processed the whole situation. Jack himself still had difficulty believing what he saw, but Daniel had just gone with the flow and taken the situation in his hands. Just like that. He'd never suspected Daniel's diplomatic skills would come in handy in that kind of confrontation!
Not to mention that seeing his Daniel all masterful like that was really pushing his kink buttons. Big time. Rowr!
Meanwhile, Satan was getting very pissed off with these humans. They simply had no respect! What he'd found amusing and appealing in O'Neill, he now found really grating and intolerable in Jackson.
"Do you really think I care about the rules, you meaningless mortal?" Satan stood tall and defiant. The mix of lustful and angry vibes churning in the room was boosting his determination. He was going to get O'Neill's soul, whatever the means he had to use for that. And he was going to have that little geek's puny soul too: he would rip it to shreds and scatter its remains all over his domain. He would destroy them both, kill them both with his bare hands if he had to. Fuck the rules which stated that he had to wait for a mortal's dying breath to come and collect his/her soul. He would take so much pleasure in seeing them squirm and die.
The look of anger and hatred in Satan's eyes brought Jack out from his kink-related reverie.
"Daniel, let's get out of here." He said raising his P-90, just in case. "I guess you know how to send us back?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yeah, I've got it." Daniel answered, waving the Goa’uld device.
"You are not going anywhere!" Satan interfered petulantly.
He raised his hands gracefully again, preparing for the assault. He would make it swift for O'Neill, because he would have his fun with him later in the Underworld. But he would make it very slow for the arrogant archaeologist, relishing every second of it.
"I am so going to enjoy taking you, O'Neill." He rasped filthily.
That did it. Something snapped inside Daniel, and in three strides he was in Satan's face, or rather his face.
"Listen, you cheap replica, you're not going to take anybody! Jack is MINE! You got that?! MINE!" he roared, jabbing his index in Satan's chest. "It took him long enough to realise he was in love with me and it took me long enough to realise he was the One for me. Now we're finally together I'm NOT letting anything or anyone come between us." Pausing a second in his rant, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Jack, before resuming his angry diatribe. "We've wasted enough time hiding our feelings from each other and almost destroying our friendship in the process. We've wasted enough time putting other people's opinions and welfare before ours!" Daniel was building up steam quite nicely, thank you very much, and soon he was yelling at the Prince of Darkness. "We earned the right to a little happiness, for fucksake! We deserve each other, so I'm not going to let some bratty demonic floozy in heat think he can throw up a tantrum and tear us apart!" If looks could kill, Satan would've been reduced to a neat pile of ashes. Daniel stared at his evil doppelganger with thunder in his eyes and Satan didn't say a word. He just observed the man warily.
Jack had rarely seen Daniel lose it so completely. He knew the linguist had the habit of mouthing off the bad guys, but he never thought he would actually live to see Daniel rip Satan a new one. He was insanely proud of his lover, and also deeply moved by what he'd said. It was all too true: they'd hurt and almost lost each other too many times to count. But now they were together. Unbreakable. The best. God they had it bad! Jack couldn't help the sappy grin from splitting his face, which seemed to aggravate Satan to no end.
Standing mere inches from the Devil, Daniel took a few seconds to look at... himself. This was nothing like looking in a mirror. It was disturbing, fascinating. He almost reached out to touch the other's face. He wanted to feel the skin and touch the lips, just to know what Jack felt when he touched him. He looked into the blue eyes and saw something that was definitely not him. The incandescent calculating gaze shook him out of his thoughts.
Pulling himself up and narrowing his eyes, Daniel seemed to concentrate for a moment. He briefly closed his eyes and scrunched up his brow. He was emptying his mind, as if to Kelno'reem.
Finding his centre, achieving equilibrium, reaching for serenity.
A deep breath and he boldly faced the Archfiend.
"We're leaving." He said softly.
The perpetual whirling chaos that was Satan's mind suddenly froze to a stand still.
Well, fuck me with a shovel! This Daniel Jackson was indeed a dangerous man who knew his opponent! He was giving off strange slow pulsating vibes that spoke of deep love and stubborn determination now. To think that Satan had dismissed him as a naïve boring well-wishing scholar. A terrible mistake, he now realised. This was in fact a man who'd faced Goa’uld System Lords without batting an eyelid; who'd defied these sanctimonious pricks who pompously called themselves ‘the Ancients’; a man who just didn't understand the concept of permanent death! He apparently also had the uncanny ability to perceive the enemy's weakness and fight back accordingly. Satan had the strange feeling that this disturbing human was probably the only one who could indeed force him to back down.
The Prince of Darkness briefly considered setting the whole planet ablaze, just to vent his ire, just for the Hell of it, but wisely decided against it. God would have his ass in a sling if tried that kind of stupid thing again. He watched Jackson turn his back on him. And what was it with human these days?! Was he going soft in his old age, that everyone so easily ignored him and turned their back on him as if he was pond-scum?!
All this was very anti-climactic.
The room now bathed in nice peaceful vibes and he was beginning to feel a bit green around the gills. Jackson had found a way to turn the tide and dispel the dark feelings his power depended on, the little bastard. As a result O'Neill gave off the sappiest vibes it had ever been his misfortune to feel and Jackson was just one big ocean of contentment. Ugh! No way was he having these two in the Underworld! They were just too disgusting for words.
Daniel, grabbing Jack by the sleeve, went to stand in the middle of the chamber where the rings were. The two men stood close together in each other's personal space. As always.
Jack, his shit-eating grin still firmly in place, hooked an arm over Daniel's shoulders and kissed his temple with a resounding wet smooch. Then he winked and waved at Satan, before dismissing the Prince of Darkness' presence altogether to concentrate on Daniel:
"So Daniel, about you touching stuff."
"Can it, Jack."
Daniel activated the rings.
"We're gonna have a serious talk about this, Daniel." Jack promised pettily.
And just before the flash of light engulfed them.
"Did you see that tail??"
*thwap*
"Ow!"
Epilogue:
Satan stayed there, in the dark, for a couple of minutes. Dumbstruck, puzzled, vexed, crestfallen.
He cleared his throat.
Looked like his demonic plan to do something horrible today had gone down the drain.
Resuming his former green-eyed human shape, he dug his hands in his pockets and sucked on a tooth.
Maybe he should go back home and feed the dogs.
Nodding absent-mindedly to himself, he vanished in his clichéd puff of smoke.
The end
Well here it is!
Sorry if I'm a bit long in answering fb. I'm having HUGE problems with PC at the moment!
Please let me know if you liked the story... or if you didn't! ;op
Title: The Devil His Due
Author: Saladscream
Pairing: J/D
Rating: NC-17, though mostly R
Category: Humour, PWP, Established Relationship
Warning: Well, apart from the overall silliness and rampant sap… Tail kink!
Summary: The Devil wants to do something baaaaaad.
Notes: This story was supposed to be for Nicci’s birthday, but… uhm… well obviously I got a bit side-tracked! It’s totally and unashamedly silly. Blame it on my inexperience, or on my twisted sense of humour. Many many thanks to Brynn who took the time to help me with her insightful beta. Any remaining mistake is exclusively mine. Many thanks also to Nicci for hooking me up with Brynn and for laughing at my sillyfic. ;o)
The Devil His Due
Today he was in a bad mood.
Nothing surprising about that: he was Satan after all, the Prince of Darkness. Being in a bad mood wasn't really out of character.
But today he was in a very bad mood, and for once he had a solid reason. It was Valentine's day and the general sappy cheerfulness that possessed all mortals was getting on his nerves. Because despite the consumerist decadent 'thing' the celebration had become, too many people still got disgustingly ‘merry’ and chirpy when the 14th of February showed up on their kinky calendar. Their happy vibes were jarring on him, hence the bad mood.
So today he decided he would do something terrible. Something really atrocious. Just because.
Hey, what's the good of being Evil Incarnate if you can't get a kick out of doing bad things?
So he searched through his files, trying to find a suitably abominable thing to do. Paperwork was something even he couldn't avoid and there were tons of it in his bottomless file holders. As he sorted out the mess, he fell on one that was labelled ‘special cases’. Interesting.
Leafing through the various cases, he shook his head in disbelief: these guys and girls were real amateurs. Oh, of course, all of them were grade-A bastards and bitches, but there was nothing original about their sins and misdeeds, nothing really interesting or out of the ordinary, nothing to warrant the 'special' in ‘special cases’. Just as he was about to call one of his assistants to tear him a new one for doing a sloppy job of putting this file together, he finally found something that held his attention. He found something challenging: one of those borderline damnable souls. A soul whose history was steeped in darkness, but who had undeniably positive traits. The forces of Good and Evil, namely The Man Upstairs and him, would sometimes fight over one of those. Always good fun!
On the surface, it all seemed simple and straightforward. The man in question was supposedly a good guy, but his file showed a list of what could only be called really ‘bad’ deeds such as killing, maiming, stealing, lying, etc. A very rich and colourful resume. A resume that should have warranted a direct ticket to Hell. But to be honest (and Satan tried not to do that too often), the crimes had been done out of loyalty to his country, so he had some sort of excuse. Not to mention that the 'victims' were either already inmates of this fine, heated establishment of the Underworld, or would soon be. So in fact, when you looked more closely into it, the motivations and principles behind the acts were rather good.
Damn.
A good lawyer could argue and actually win the case; this guy could be saved from eternal damnation.
Satan frowned.
Mind you, all the good lawyers worked for him.
Satan smirked.
On the downside, the guy had saved the planet. Several times.
Satan's frown returned. This was going to be a tough nut to crack.
On the upside, the guy believed himself to be bad and had even contemplated suicide at one time. Aaaaah, almost done the mortal sin! Now that made a world of difference! The man actually had a poor opinion of himself! The wonders of having a conscience; wasn't that ironic?!
Because if the subject thought he deserved Hell, half the job was already done. Satan only had to show up, call his/her name in his thundering voice, waggle his eyebrows and flick his tail, and that was it! The subject thought himself/herself doomed and followed without a word. That was the key; he could steal good souls if he could persuade them they'd deserved it. Easy as pie, and quite a lot of fun, too! He really loved playing the bad guy.
The trademark evil grin appeared on Satan's features; he had just found the terrible thing he wanted to do today; he was going to drag this good soul to Hell. A saviour of the Earth down in Netherworld for eternal damnation. Oh yeah, God was going to have a fit over this! Which made it all sound even better.
But first things first. He needed to learn more about the guy. He concentrated on the picture in the file and soon emotions, memories and thoughts started to trickle into his consciousness. In a minute he knew all there was to know about the mortal.
Boy, did the man have baggage! Guilt, fear, hatred, self-loathing, arrogance, and the more menial sins such as lust and gluttony; he had them all in varying proportions. The problem was that he also had tremendous qualities and assets, in spades: courage, intelligence, moral strength, loyalty, humour, optimism, self-sacrifice and, worst of all, love.
He loved and was loved in return. Immensely.
Crap.
That could be a problem.
Oh well, a little difficulty would only make the case more interesting! And breaking up a couple would be so awfully satisfying on Valentine's day. The Prince of Darkness smirked. He was going to have a field day with this shmuck.
Ooookay. Now that he had intel, Satan could carry on his evil plan.
He hollered for his assistant, Abargadon, who came running from his little office/closet/cubicle and tripped on the dogs.
For the umpteenth time, Satan wondered why he had bothered with acquiring these two dogs. They were truly disgusting things and were absolutely useless, not to mention helpless and hopeless, but one of his counsellors in charge of public relations had told him that toy poodles were really deemed to be awful creatures. And indeed after several month of coexistence with the creatures, he had to admit that the abhorrently cute little fleabags were truly getting on his nerves.
Anyway.
So Abar tripped on the dogs and nearly ended up sprawled at his boss's feet. Satan rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the ridiculous scene.
"Abar, I want you to check this guy's schedule for today: I want to know where he'll be in half an hour." He handed the file to his assistant. Throwing vicious looks at the dogs, Abar scrambled back up to his feet and took the file with a grovelling "Yes, my Lord". He was heading back to his desk, when Satan added "And I want the exact location! Last time I ended up in the middle of a fucking science-fiction show convention and it really weirded me out." The Prince of Darkness couldn't help a shudder. The open lust and rampant pheromones had been nice, but the place had just reeked happiness. Ugh!
Now that the logistics were being taken care of, Satan could concentrate on one of the most important things for his mission: his external appearance. He knew that his looks could make the difference. Besides he really was an attention whore and he enjoyed ‘dressing to kill’. Literally. Since the mortal in question had been around the block a couple of times, Satan figured that his typical fear-inspiring shape wouldn't work on him. No, this guy was not easy to impress, so he opted for a human shape. Satan knew that the way to a man's heart and soul was through his gonads and given that the bloke was now gay, the Evil One went for male, tall, dark and handsome.
Of course, he kept the tail: he liked the long and slightly furry appendage. And a tail could prove so ... useful.
He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. The lean but well-built human in the reflection cut quite a figure. The long legs and strong thighs spoke of ruthless power and endurance, the solid hips and promising crotch suggested wicked thoughts, the broad lickable chest and graceful neck promised sensory overload. Add to that appetizing package, silken ebony hair, mesmerizing dark green eyes, and perfectly defined and slightly pouting lips, and you had a stunning sight indeed! A real catch.
Contemplating his handy work approvingly, Satan added a little scar on his left eyebrow, as an afterthought. Very PHWOAR-worthy! The little star-shaped imperfection brought a roguish je-ne-sais-quoi to his features and made him sexy as Hell! Satan sniggered at the pun. Besides, he and his victim now had something in common, some element of physical resemblance that would undoubtedly have its effect on the mortal.
Abargadon cautiously entered his boss's office, holding the file with a 'post-it' note stuck on it. He paused an instant to admire the view, silently leaking pheromones.
"My lord? The information you required," he announced hoarsely, handing the papers to the wet-dream standing in front of the mirror.
Satan read the note then turned to his assistant with an evil smile and just stood there, eyes slowly raking over Abar in what could only be called a smouldering predatory gaze. The subordinate gulped, unable to gain control over his very obvious physical responses. Getting hard for his Boss in front of said Boss was soooo not the wisest thing he could do; some people had gotten quartered and scattered for less than that. And he had no intention of experimenting with that kind of thing first hand. However, not even his dread of His Lordship's reaction could dampen his ardour. And the mental images weren't helping. In fact, spontaneous combustion was beginning to feel like a definite possibility, when Satan finally broke the spell.
"Thank you, Abar," he purred.
Abar let out a half-choked whimper, turned an even deeper shade of purple and nodded thankfully before walking a bit stiffly out of the office.
Satan sniggered. It was so easy!
Feeling very satisfied with himself, Satan vanished from his office in a clichéd puff of smoke...
...to reappear in the secret underground chamber of the ruined temple on PZX-666.
In the absolute darkness, he waited for Jack O'Neill.
***
The buzz, whir and clank of the transportation rings echoed in the small chamber, and a very confused and startled Jack O'Neill appeared in the bright beam of light. Turning around with his P-90 at the ready, he scanned his surroundings and soon got an idea of his predicament: he was standing in a small unthreatening empty room. Once the light emanating from the transportation device faded out, he found himself standing in pitch black small unthreatening empty room. He switched on the lamp torch on his weapon and let out an annoyed huff.
Perfect, just perfect! Daniel had to touch that fucking gemstone on the pillar, had he!
"Fuck," he muttered. Briefly considering his options after scanning the bare walls, Jack sighed resignedly and clicked on his radio.
"Daniel?"
He received no answer, except for a burst of static.
"Daniel, do you read me?"
Nothing.
Okay, plan B it was then; he went to the closest wall and started searching. There had to be a 'switch' somewhere down here to activate the rings. He would find it then get back to the temple and kick Daniel's pert little ass into the middle of next week.
What part of "don't touch anything" did the man not understand, for fucksake?! Oh, no doubt Daniel was going to give him the "how do you want me to study the place if I can't even touch anything!" speech. He'd argue things to death, and might even end up making Jack feel guilty for yelling at his lover. And to forestall any oncoming debate Daniel was going to pull the charming act on Jack, and give him The look. And Jack would be toast, as always. That sexy stubborn look always made Jack's blood run straight south, and all argument would fade from his blood-deprived brain just like that: the little bastard knew how to play with his hormones. He also knew how to play with his…
Feeling a bit hot under the collar, Jack did his best to turn his full attention on the wall in front of him.
When something moved behind him.
He could feel it, his spidey sense on alert: there was something or someone in the room with him. He turned around abruptly, his P-90 aiming straight at...
... a man.
"Shit," Jack hissed under his breath, annoyed and worried that this guy had sneaked under his radar.
With every alarm bells ringing, Jack observed the man now in front of him.
He was quite a sight: handsome, wearing a pair of black tight fitting jeans (jeans??) and a white and silver shirt, he really looked stunning in his black leather duster. He just stood there motionless, trying to seem ... friendly?
Something about him gave Jack the heebie-jeebies though. Mr Right was watching him intently, with a sardonic smile on his face and he didn't like that one bit. Jack noticed the scar on the eyebrow, and for some strange reason, its presence reassured him. Probably something to do with the fact that if the guy had a scar, it meant he could be hurt.
"Colonel O'Neill," the man said amiably, "I've been waiting for you."
Well, isn't that just peachy!
***
Satan watched and drank in O'Neill's reaction. Confusion, anger, worry, determination, and a hint of fear transpired in the vibes the mortal was giving off. Interesting. The colonel was a fine specimen of the human race: a lean hard body trained for combat, piercing brown eyes, thin lips that constantly seemed to wear a smirk, a quietly aggressive attitude; everything about him screamed 'alpha-male'. Niiiiice. Satan already liked him.
Obviously ticked off by being called by his rank and name, O'Neill took a step forward, pointing his weapon at the Prince of Darkness' chest.
"Well, that's very nice of you. Now why don't you give me a good reason not to stuff your carcass with bullets," O'Neill drawled.
Satan chuckled.
"First, I am unarmed, as you can see." O'Neill gave a derisive smirk that showed he didn't buy that for one second.
"Second, I'm afraid your bullets wouldn't do much damage to me." Now O'Neill's eyes took a hard edge, no doubt searching Satan's clothes for signs of Goa’uld 'jewellery'.
"Please, O'Neill," Satan cajoled, "you know I'm not going to harm you." Not right now, anyway. "I came here to see you. I'm on my own, and I'm not a Goa’uld." Satan knew just what to say, with just the right tone of casual earnestness, to make O'Neill feel marginally less threatened.
"What do you want?" the colonel ground out.
"You." Satan simply said, his eyes plunging into O'Neill's soul.
"What?!" O'Neill blurted in disbelief.
***
The two stood facing each other, several feet apart, and for the longest moment they remained silent. Jack too stunned to speak and the pretty boy probably just waiting for effect.
Finally, the guy broke the silence:
"Your time is up, Colonel O'Neill," he said solemnly. "I've come to collect your soul."
What the fuck?! "Is this a joke?" Jack asked incredulously.
'Cause let's face it, none of this situation made sense to him. Even after all these years of exploring the galaxy and doing truly wacky stuff, he'd never felt so totally out of the loop. There was something so casual and ordinary about the way the handsome man just stood in front of him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they were meeting in a bar back on Earth, or something. Except of course for the weird crap the guy was sprouting.
Okay.
So, just to sum it up. Daniel had unwittingly activated hidden rings (and he was gonna pay for that, the little bugger) that had sent Jack to this empty room. And Jack was 100% sure the room had been empty just a minute ago. But now he was apparently talking to a cute guy who had appeared out of nowhere, who knew his name and had just admitted wanting him and his soul.
And the man was wearing jeans, for cryin' out loud!
In the fucking middle of a fucking mission on a fucking alien deserted planet!
Yeah, right. Jack was beginning to wonder if he wasn't actually hallucinating this weird encounter. Maybe he'd hit his head when he landed in this place, maybe he had a concussion and was lying face down in the dirt, happily drooling at this very moment.
Or this could be some bizarre Tok'ra joke. Figured. These guys had no sense of humour.
"No, I'm afraid it's no joke." The man replied almost apologetically. "I hate to tell you this colonel, but there is unfortunately no way out of this place. You're doomed," He said matter-of-factly.
Showing off a bit, the man snapped his fingers and in the whole room lit up with torches. Jack looked around, blinking in the sudden flare of light, and eased his stance a little. OK, this was definitely a hallucination/dream/vision or some kind of spiritual crap. It was just all too clichéd to be anything else. Jack thought he might as well go along with it since the alternative was waking up to God knew what sort of pain and injury. Besides, the stranger in front of him had undeniable sexual magnetism. Now Jack was head over heals in love with his archaeologist: big time - no question about it. But he was also only human and he couldn't help admiring the looks of his new ‘roommate’. So why not humour the hallucination?
***
"Cool trick." O'Neill finally said, nodding appreciatively.
The Master of the Underworld felt he obviously wasn't being taken seriously, so he decided to cut to the chase.
"Look, Jack... Can I call you 'Jack'? Okay. So look Jack, I'm afraid this is where the bus stops for you. You've come to the end of your journey." Realising that Jack looked non-plussed and totally disbelieving, not to say condescendingly sorry for Satan's mental state, the Devil gave an explanation that was sure to grab Jack's attention. "I'm afraid Dr Jackson touched something he shouldn't have."
At the mention of his lover's name, Jack tensed and narrowed his eyes dangerously, giving off menacing mixed vibes of avenging hatred and loving protectiveness. The former were nice but the latter almost made Satan gag in disgust.
"Don't worry about him! He's absolutely safe up there!" Satan spat angrily, pointing at the ceiling. "You should be more concerned about your own welfare, my friend! You're the one stuck in this chamber. With a limited air supply, may I add." The Devil couldn't help feeling satisfied when he sensed Jack's unease. He continued lying through his perfect white teeth:
"So let me give you the low-down on your situation, Jack. This place is going to be your tomb, that's a given. The only question here is: do you want it to be a quick and easy end, or would you rather suffer a slow painful death?" Satan enunciated the last words with visible relish and quirked up his eyebrows in playful interrogation.
*** * ***
"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard from anyone who claimed he's not a Goa’uld!" Jack finally said, rolling his eyes. This hallucination induced guy really sucked at this karmic lesson stuff, 'cause he made zero sense. "And who the Hell are you?" he finally asked in exasperation.
Satan looked at him with an amused expression.
"I'm the Devil," he simply announced.
"Uh-huh. I see." Jack raised a dubious eyebrow.
"Also known as Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, and occasionally Old Harry. In other words, I'm the Prince of Darkness, the Ruler of the Underworld, the Archfiend, the Evil One."
"OKAY, okay, I get it!"
"Who I am is not really important right now. What truly matters is that you're going to die here. And since I felt particularly well disposed today, I thought I'd do something nice for you and save you all the suffering and agonizing. It can be fun, don't get me wrong! But it can also be quite tedious and boring for us, men of action..."
"Whoa! Slow down, Lucy! This is mighty big of you, you know, the whole saving me the pain, etc. I really appreciate it. But where did you get the idea I was going to die here? My team's going to look for me, they'll get me outta here!" There was no doubt about that.
"I don't think so."
"Well thanks for the vote of confidence, but I do!"
A slight frown marred the handsome evil face.
"Why delay the inevitable, Jack?" Satan asked seriously. Then, leaning forward he stage-whispered "You and I both know you've done some… damn distasteful things in your life." His eyes cruelly searched Jack's for a second before he straightened up again. His gaze softened and he added: "Besides, Hell is not such a bad place... if you know how to get into the Owner's good graces." The dark green eyes slowly and meaningfully raked over Jack's body, pausing for long seconds at his crotch. "I could make your stay in my realm worth your while." he purred in his husky voice.
"Yeah. Well. I think I'll pass," Jack announced hoarsely. "I'm quite happy with what I've got here, Phyllis, thank you very much."
"You've got nothing here, Jack!" Satan spat angrily. "Your miserable life was a succession of failures, treasons and crimes! You will end up in my Realm one way or another! I can make it easier on you if you cooperate. Now." The Devil was irritated by the mortal's casualness and his words dripped with acid, but Jack, although he had winced at the onslaught, now seemed completely un-phased.
This proved to be a very interesting hallucination, Daniel would love it when he'd tell him. He was sure his lover would ramble excitedly about the deep Freudian meaning of all this. So Jack just kept playing along, in his own smart-ass style.
"Why the hurry?" he asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Satan was a bit lost.
"I mean, if I'm supposed to kick the bucket and turn up on your Underworm doorstep-"
"UNDERWORLD!!" Satan raged.
"Sorry. So if I'm likely to turn up on your underworld doorstep in any case, why are you so eager to come and collect me right now?" Jack asked in that annoying tone he often used to take the piss out of Carter. And Daniel. And... well, everybody in fact.
In typical obfuscation mode, Satan answered with another question.
"Why go through all the agony of dying alone in this rat hole?"
"Because I might actually not die in this rat hole! My team-mates will find me."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Yeah well I'll take my chance, fella."
"I. Am. Your last chance."
"You know? For a second there I thought you were going to say you were my father. You've got the Darth Vader voice down pat!" Jack said approvingly. "But let me tell you, pretty boy: you're really not very convincing as "the Devil". In fact I think this whole concussion-induced hallucination is really getting old."
"This is not an hallucination, O'Neill." To prove his words, Satan stepped forward and pinched Jack's left upper arm. Hard.
With a pained "Ouch", Jack swatted his hand away and rubbed his arm. Shit! That really hurt. More than it should.
Okay, things were getting out of hand! What the fuck was happening here?!
"Are you telling me that you're actually the real "Devil"??" Jack asked confusedly. "But. That's. That's just fucking ridiculous!!" he finally blurted out outrageously. "You don't even exist!!"
"Obviously, I do." Satan replied dryly.
"No! The Devil's just another one of those myths, rumours, lies, and fuckin' FAIRYTALES!!"
"Do I look like a fairytale?" Satan sneered. And as if to prove a point, he raised his hands with dramatic emphasis, and his body turned to fire. For ten seconds, his body just became made of flames, leaving only two green eyes looking steadily at a dumbstruck Jack. Then everything returned to normal, and all Jack had in front of him was a gorgeous tall green-eyed guy with an evil smile.
Still not sure what to make of all this crazy stuff, Jack came to a decision. He wanted out of this place NOW. He needed to get out and find Daniel, asap.
"I'm outta here." Jack announced matter-of-factly.
"You can't."
"Look, it's been swell meeting you, Bottle-of-bud, but I'm leaving this rat-hole. Whether you like it or not." He ground out.
"Beelzebub." Satan corrected icily.
"Yeah, that too." Jack answered. "Now if you don't mind, buddy, I'm gonna check the rest of this room for the switch to these damn rings" he said as he turned around to continue his inspection of the walls.
Satan was dumbfounded.
Did this guy really turn his back on him?! Did this guy just say 'NO' to the Prince of fucking Darkness?!!
'How dare he?' thought Satan with a mixture of amazement and disbelief. For a couple of seconds, the Evil One actually felt despondent and crestfallen.
But the Devil was nothing if not resilient, and he soon rallied. Time to fight dirty.
"Jack?" Daniel's voice called huskily.
Jack spun around in a flash, and found himself facing… Daniel. A very naked Daniel.
Oh God. Acres of smooth skin on taut muscles, long long legs, delicious planes and slight curves, dusky nipples standing out on well defined pecs, gorgeous hard cock in its nest of brown curls, bewitching blue eyes. The whole package. Jack, more than anyone, knew how perfect that particular package was.
Stunned at finding his lover in his birthday suit right in front of him, Jack didn't react straight away, and even though he knew on an instinctual level that there was something wrong in the picture, he let his eyes roam appreciatively on the beloved body.
My God he's beautiful. Enough to damn a saint.
Then his brain finally engaged and his eyes narrowed dangerously when he realised who was standing there, usurping his lover's appearance.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jack asked coldly.
"Don't you like this body?" Satan challenged, goaded by the angry vibes coming off Jack.
"Not when you're wearing it, ya sick bastard!"
Jack aimed his weapon at the Archfiend; he was really pissed off now, but try as he might, he just knew he wouldn't pull the trigger. He knew this wasn't Daniel, but he couldn't bring himself to actually harm what was an absolutely perfect replica of Daniel's body.
Satan smiled, sure of his charm, and Jack suddenly felt mesmerized.
It actually looked like one of Daniel's smiles. The bedroom one.
The smile Daniel wore when they were alone and he was feeling hot and naughty. That irresistible smile when he unbuckled Jack's belt. That dirty smile when he was about to swallow Jack to the root. The wanton smile Jack could see from the corner of his eye as Daniel drizzled strawberry sauce between his ass cheeks and rubbed it over his hole before giving him the mother of all rimmings.
Fuck!
All the air seemed to have whooshed out of his lungs and he stood there petrified as a very sexy naked Daniel slowly walked towards him like a panther on the prowl.
Satan approached Jack seductively, drinking in the lustful vibes flooding the room, until he stood mere inches in front of him. He gently pushed the muzzle of the P-90 to the side with one finger, before languorously sliding his arms around Jack's neck.
Bringing his lips close to Jack's, he whispered suggestively:
"Hello, Jack."
"Stop it." said Jack in a strangled voice. He felt completely lost and didn't know what to do to get rid of this… Satan.
The Devil knew he had won. That poor little mortal was no match for him.
Jack swallowed nervously and tried to shy away from the naked body who clung to his neck and squirmed against his BDUs. This proved to be impossible; he was definitely trapped against the wall with some sort of naked Daniel in his arms.
A naked Daniel who slowly rubbed his naked skin against Jack's clothes. This was probably the worst kind of torture Jack could think of right now; there had to be something in the Geneva convention that said that this… this... indecent frottage was fucking illegal!! It pushed too many of Jack's buttons!
Some tiny part of his brain told him that if this was the Devil himself he was in serious shit, another negligible part of his brain was busy overloading under the sensual input, and all the rest had just shut down due to lack of blood and oxygen. He was done. Al dente.
This was obviously not Daniel, but dear God it felt like Daniel, smelled like him, sounded like him. And Jack had never been able to resist Daniel in full seduction mode.
Despite himself, his hands came to rest on the most natural place for them: Daniel's waist.
This was so right.
Jack sighed in pleasure.
The muffled sound of clothes against skin along with the soft sighs and moans of approval were filling the room when suddenly the jarring noise of Jack's P-90 scraping against the wall registered somewhere in the back of his befuddled mind, bringing everything back in context.
This was not Daniel.
This was so wrong!
He gripped Satan's arms and tried to pry him away from him, but the Devil was immovable.
"What are you afraid of, Jack? I'm not going to hurt you." he whispered against his lips. "On the contrary." he huskily promised.
Jack was sure his brain was waging a winning battle against his lust-drenched hormones, when he felt something slide smoothly up his right inner thigh. He looked down and stared wide eyed at the tail currently caressing him through his BDU and sending delicious sensations through every nerve in his body.
Holy shit!
A tail!
Covered with black velvety fur.
A nimble tail which was leisurely stroking both his inner thighs now. Tracing maddening circles, zigzags and patterns, inching its way to his cock at an excruciatingly slow pace, making him hotter and harder with each second that passed.
Oh fuck. He was so dead.
The tail teased and played, while he closed his eyes tightly and tried to hang on to his sanity.
Jack didn't know if he was more squicked or aroused by the idea of a tail winding its way up to his dick. Who knew a tail could do such amazing things! Its expert caresses were strange yet totally addictive: the warm squirming along his inner-thighs and balls sent wonderful shivers coursing down his skin in ripples of hot pleasure, making him lose his grip on reality. Oh Jeezus, that was fucking fantastic! Jack's hands settled back down on the Devil's hips of their own accord. He didn't really know if it was to push away or to encourage. Who cared.
While the tail fondled him through the fabric, he couldn't help imagining how good it would feel wrapped around his cock.
Oh God! How fucked up was that!
As if answering his unspoken wish, the tip of the tail nudged his zipper down and slithered inside his pants and boxers.
A loud embarrassing whimper escaped him as the tail curled around his erection.
"Come with me, Jack." Not-Daniel whispered ambiguously.
Oh fuck. No. No, this was really going too far!!
Just as he was gathering his wits and courage to shrug off that devilish Daniel and his X-rated tail, the sound of the transportation rings resonated in the chamber.
***
Daniel was already imagining how angry Jack was going to be. He could almost hear him rant about how he shouldn't touch things, how he was a fucking trouble magnet, and how he should've waited Jack's permission to even think of touching the gemstone.
Bullshit.
Jack was just going to rant about anything he could think of because he'd been separated from Daniel, and because he hated that when it happened, especially off-world. Even if the present mission was a milk-run. Jack was just paranoid. Which made him a good team leader while on mission, but a real pain in the ass the rest of the time.
Let's face it, Jack would've reacted the same way if they'd been grocery shopping and Daniel had left him stranded in the cereal section. It was cute, in some weird twisted way, that Jack would over-react to that kind of situation, but Daniel knew he was in for a good dressing down. Oh well, he supposed a couple of well-timed meek batting of eyelashes and outrageous pouting of his so-called ‘kissable’ lips would go a long way to smooth his lover's ruffled feathers.
After all, there was no harm done. The inscription on the pillar had mentioned a "meditation chamber devoid of any exterior stimuli or interferences". Meaning Jack was probably fumbling around, cursing loudly, in some dark empty room.
As the rings were activated Daniel prepared himself for the oncoming ordeal, the taming of a wild pissed off Jack.
He wasn't exactly ready for the sight that greeted him.
Jack, standing with his back to a wall, had a naked man attached to his neck.
And his hands were resting on the hips of the naked squirming slut.
Uh-huh.
Daniel couldn't wait to hear how Jack was going to explain that one.
*** * ***
"Daniel!" Jack exclaimed, relieved. He was so glad to see his lover safe and sound. Which really made no sense since it was obviously Daniel who was coming to Jack's rescue, and not the other way round. But Jack preferred having Daniel where he could see him; the archaeologist was such a trouble magnet.
However, Jack's relief was short-lived when he saw that the younger man just crossed his arms over his chest and stood there watching him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Then Jack noticed Daniel's stiff set of jaw and shoulders, as well as the pinched pout. And the oddly annoyed blue eyes.
Then Jack realised he still had his hands on Satan's naked hips. He yanked them away as if he'd been burnt.
"Uhm ... Daniel ... This ... uhm." Jack stuttered. "This is ... uhm ... not what it looks like." he finished lamely. He could see the dark angry clouds gathering over his lover's brow, and he really really didn't want Daniel getting the wrong idea there.
Meanwhile, Satan had taken advantage of Jack's distraction to glue himself completely to him, lovingly wrapping his arms tighter around the man's neck, and nuzzling the warm skin.
"Stop that!" Jack whimpered. He tried again to dislodge the arms.
The tail, still around his cock resumed its ministrations.
Jack yelped. "Stop it!"
"Mmmmm. You don't really mean that, Jack. I can feel it." Satan purred, tightening his grasp on Jack's shaft.
Another strangled yelp. Jack closed his eyes tightly against the maddening sensation and when he opened them again, found himself staring into Daniel's (his Daniel) eyes. He saw the anger there, trying to hide the hurt and the sense of betrayal. And it just ripped his heart out. He suddenly struggled against the damn leech, pushing, pulling, twisting with his arms and knees until Satan staggered back a step.
"Stay away from me." Jack ordered menacingly.
Satan silently enraged, he could feel his catch escaping and he couldn't let that happen. The rings should've remained jammed for another hour; he was supposed to have enough time to trap O'Neill. He turned towards the man who had dared interrupt them and smiled cruelly.
Daniel gasped and his eyes widened in shock when he saw himself naked ... with what appeared to be a tail stuck to his rear, thrashing wildly like that of an angry cat. What the fuck!
"What the Hell is going on here!" he finally exclaimed.
Satan answered viciously, "Jack was about to come ... with me."
"Hey! In yer dreams, sicko!" Jack spat.
The sound of Jack's zipper being pulled up was indecently loud in the small room.
Not to mention embarrassing.
Satan smirked. Daniel shot a withering glare at Jack. Jack tried to keep a little dignity.
"Uhm, Daniel? This, apparently, is the Devil." He explained, drawing quotation marks in the air.
"And?" Daniel asked.
"And O'Neill's soul is mine." The Devil stated.
Daniel faced the Devil, taking in his gloriously naked and somewhat familiar appearance, and frowned. He turned to Jack and watched him give an ill-at-ease little shrug. He seemed to think about the whole thing for a few seconds, then addressed the naked dude with the whipping tail.
"You can't take his soul." he enounced firmly. "See, first Jack's not dead, so you don't actually have the right to be here. And second, I'd be ready to bet anything that Jack's soul is not meant to go to Hell, or you wouldn't be trying to bend the rules like you're doing right now, would you?" He explained, cold venom lacing his voice.
Jack was just astounded. He couldn't believe how fast Daniel had processed the whole situation. Jack himself still had difficulty believing what he saw, but Daniel had just gone with the flow and taken the situation in his hands. Just like that. He'd never suspected Daniel's diplomatic skills would come in handy in that kind of confrontation!
Not to mention that seeing his Daniel all masterful like that was really pushing his kink buttons. Big time. Rowr!
Meanwhile, Satan was getting very pissed off with these humans. They simply had no respect! What he'd found amusing and appealing in O'Neill, he now found really grating and intolerable in Jackson.
"Do you really think I care about the rules, you meaningless mortal?" Satan stood tall and defiant. The mix of lustful and angry vibes churning in the room was boosting his determination. He was going to get O'Neill's soul, whatever the means he had to use for that. And he was going to have that little geek's puny soul too: he would rip it to shreds and scatter its remains all over his domain. He would destroy them both, kill them both with his bare hands if he had to. Fuck the rules which stated that he had to wait for a mortal's dying breath to come and collect his/her soul. He would take so much pleasure in seeing them squirm and die.
The look of anger and hatred in Satan's eyes brought Jack out from his kink-related reverie.
"Daniel, let's get out of here." He said raising his P-90, just in case. "I guess you know how to send us back?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yeah, I've got it." Daniel answered, waving the Goa’uld device.
"You are not going anywhere!" Satan interfered petulantly.
He raised his hands gracefully again, preparing for the assault. He would make it swift for O'Neill, because he would have his fun with him later in the Underworld. But he would make it very slow for the arrogant archaeologist, relishing every second of it.
"I am so going to enjoy taking you, O'Neill." He rasped filthily.
That did it. Something snapped inside Daniel, and in three strides he was in Satan's face, or rather his face.
"Listen, you cheap replica, you're not going to take anybody! Jack is MINE! You got that?! MINE!" he roared, jabbing his index in Satan's chest. "It took him long enough to realise he was in love with me and it took me long enough to realise he was the One for me. Now we're finally together I'm NOT letting anything or anyone come between us." Pausing a second in his rant, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Jack, before resuming his angry diatribe. "We've wasted enough time hiding our feelings from each other and almost destroying our friendship in the process. We've wasted enough time putting other people's opinions and welfare before ours!" Daniel was building up steam quite nicely, thank you very much, and soon he was yelling at the Prince of Darkness. "We earned the right to a little happiness, for fucksake! We deserve each other, so I'm not going to let some bratty demonic floozy in heat think he can throw up a tantrum and tear us apart!" If looks could kill, Satan would've been reduced to a neat pile of ashes. Daniel stared at his evil doppelganger with thunder in his eyes and Satan didn't say a word. He just observed the man warily.
Jack had rarely seen Daniel lose it so completely. He knew the linguist had the habit of mouthing off the bad guys, but he never thought he would actually live to see Daniel rip Satan a new one. He was insanely proud of his lover, and also deeply moved by what he'd said. It was all too true: they'd hurt and almost lost each other too many times to count. But now they were together. Unbreakable. The best. God they had it bad! Jack couldn't help the sappy grin from splitting his face, which seemed to aggravate Satan to no end.
Standing mere inches from the Devil, Daniel took a few seconds to look at... himself. This was nothing like looking in a mirror. It was disturbing, fascinating. He almost reached out to touch the other's face. He wanted to feel the skin and touch the lips, just to know what Jack felt when he touched him. He looked into the blue eyes and saw something that was definitely not him. The incandescent calculating gaze shook him out of his thoughts.
Pulling himself up and narrowing his eyes, Daniel seemed to concentrate for a moment. He briefly closed his eyes and scrunched up his brow. He was emptying his mind, as if to Kelno'reem.
Finding his centre, achieving equilibrium, reaching for serenity.
A deep breath and he boldly faced the Archfiend.
"We're leaving." He said softly.
The perpetual whirling chaos that was Satan's mind suddenly froze to a stand still.
Well, fuck me with a shovel! This Daniel Jackson was indeed a dangerous man who knew his opponent! He was giving off strange slow pulsating vibes that spoke of deep love and stubborn determination now. To think that Satan had dismissed him as a naïve boring well-wishing scholar. A terrible mistake, he now realised. This was in fact a man who'd faced Goa’uld System Lords without batting an eyelid; who'd defied these sanctimonious pricks who pompously called themselves ‘the Ancients’; a man who just didn't understand the concept of permanent death! He apparently also had the uncanny ability to perceive the enemy's weakness and fight back accordingly. Satan had the strange feeling that this disturbing human was probably the only one who could indeed force him to back down.
The Prince of Darkness briefly considered setting the whole planet ablaze, just to vent his ire, just for the Hell of it, but wisely decided against it. God would have his ass in a sling if tried that kind of stupid thing again. He watched Jackson turn his back on him. And what was it with human these days?! Was he going soft in his old age, that everyone so easily ignored him and turned their back on him as if he was pond-scum?!
All this was very anti-climactic.
The room now bathed in nice peaceful vibes and he was beginning to feel a bit green around the gills. Jackson had found a way to turn the tide and dispel the dark feelings his power depended on, the little bastard. As a result O'Neill gave off the sappiest vibes it had ever been his misfortune to feel and Jackson was just one big ocean of contentment. Ugh! No way was he having these two in the Underworld! They were just too disgusting for words.
Daniel, grabbing Jack by the sleeve, went to stand in the middle of the chamber where the rings were. The two men stood close together in each other's personal space. As always.
Jack, his shit-eating grin still firmly in place, hooked an arm over Daniel's shoulders and kissed his temple with a resounding wet smooch. Then he winked and waved at Satan, before dismissing the Prince of Darkness' presence altogether to concentrate on Daniel:
"So Daniel, about you touching stuff."
"Can it, Jack."
Daniel activated the rings.
"We're gonna have a serious talk about this, Daniel." Jack promised pettily.
And just before the flash of light engulfed them.
"Did you see that tail??"
*thwap*
"Ow!"
Epilogue:
Satan stayed there, in the dark, for a couple of minutes. Dumbstruck, puzzled, vexed, crestfallen.
He cleared his throat.
Looked like his demonic plan to do something horrible today had gone down the drain.
Resuming his former green-eyed human shape, he dug his hands in his pockets and sucked on a tooth.
Maybe he should go back home and feed the dogs.
Nodding absent-mindedly to himself, he vanished in his clichéd puff of smoke.
The end