Rainstorm (Jack/Cam) Adult
Another smutlet. This one struck me last night, and I woke up early and wrote it. Wow. Way too attracted to this pairing.
It's basically a sequel to Territory, in which the power shifts yet again... Different deck, different day.
Jack/Cam. VERY adult. Graphic m/m sex.
+
He barely noticed when it started to rain. He felt the cold, wet drops landing on his nape and his shoulders, the top of his head, but until the sprinkling became a downpour it never really registered. To Cam’s credit, O’Neill hadn’t seemed to notice either; but to be fair to the man his pants were hanging low on his hips, belt and fly undone and peeled outward, and Cam’s hand was working slowly, up and down O’Neill’s very hard cock.
And O’Neill was still kissing him. Those long, slow, open-mouthed touches that filled him with heat and sparks and made his skin tight to the touch.
They were soaked in minutes, and Cam opened his eyes against the rivulets of water running over his eyelids. With the dying of the day, the deluge of rain tinged the night silver and blue. It was a little cold, and he wondered if he should say something, try to move this… thing… inside.
O’Neill said nothing though, and one lean-fingered hand came up to touch the side of Cam’s head, direct him back to business. Cam kissed him back.
He wasn’t sure if O’Neill just liked it outside, didn’t want to bother with a break, or if maybe Cam just didn’t rate the use of his bed. It became somehow less important when O’Neill’s fingers worked his belt, popped the buttons on the fly of his fatigues, and then slid down through the hair low on his belly, straight over his bare dick. That slow build of anticipation became full-on arousal as the hand closed around his cock and pulled upward. He huffed a breathless groan into O’Neill’s mouth.
The rain tasted a little gritty.
It was cold against his wet back, warm where his body was pressed against O’Neill’s. The fingers scraped and caught against the sensitive patch, just under his cockhead, and Cam felt a sharp stab of pleasure. Ohh… fuck.
His thoughts devolved down to random images of O’Neill on his knees, warm mouth enclosing Cam’s aching, rain-soaked dick, and he tightened his arms around O’Neill’s shoulders, dragging down just a bit. O’Neill didn’t obey, and Cam hesitated. In the rolling thunder and constant din of splattering rain, he lost that edge, that advantage of being first, as O’Neill pushed down on Cam’s hips and whispered into the noise, “Suck me.”
He did. He went down on his knees on O’Neill’s deck, and his bare, hard dick took a jump against the cold rain as O’Neill leaned back against the deck railing, spreading his legs and planting his hands on the second wooden rail. Preparing himself.
Cam tugged at the buttons of O’Neill’s shirt, shoving it open and leaving a bare, lightly-haired strip of chest and belly and dark, shadowed groin visible to his gaze. He wrapped one hand around O’Neill’s slick, water-drenched shaft and then slid his mouth around the tip. O’Neill made a soft grunt and pushed his hips forward, slowly. Almost gentle.
Cam licked around him, sucked him deep and then spit him nearly all the way out, feeling for the glans with his tongue, working it. He opened his eyes, barely, and watched O’Neill’s hands grip the deck rail with iron intensity.
He worked O’Neill’s cock like he’d never see it again: sucking, licking, massaging, pulling. He twisted his hand around the thick base and then slid it between the man’s legs to squeeze his balls. O’Neill’s breath started huffing out into the night air above him, tinged with a hint of voice, beating down the rain.
Cam slid a hand into the open fly of his own fatigues and caught his hardened dick between his own belly and the heel of his hand. He rubbed up and down for a moment before grabbing hold and stroking, absently. When he shifted on his knees, trying to ease the pain of the wooden planks against his kneecaps, his boot hit one of the deck chairs. A lounger: the kind that let you lie back, feet up, and soak in the sun.
His mind had O’Neill there in a second. Face down at first, pushing back as Cam pushed forward. But then it morphed into the thing that always sent a heated wave through his blood. O’Neill on his back, knees hooked over Cam’s elbows, Cam sliding into him, slow. So fucking slowly. Rising up until O’Neill’s weight was all pressed down between his shoulders on the chair, Cam’s fingers digging into the wiry hair on his lean thighs. Listening to O’Neill come apart, eyes tightly shut and teeth gritted, while Cam pushed himself deep, froze there, felt every heartbeat like a taut electrical wire.
His balls tightened quickly and gave a twinge. Oh fuckfuckfuck! Cam was going to come. Now.
He quickly grabbed the base of his own cock, a bit savagely, pinching hard. He dragged his mouth from O’Neill’s cock and pressed his forehead against the general’s thigh. Stopstopstop. He felt the first pump building, thought it might be too late and almost jerked himself off anyway, and then it suddenly eased. He had a feeling there’d be one, slick, pearly drop of come seeping from the tip if he cared to look.
Instead he fought the hazy pleasure filling his head like cotton, and focused on the rain running through his hair and beating against his back. O’Neill’s hand wiped across Cam’s nape and then he blew out a soft, long, shaky breath. When Cam glanced up, the sky behind O’Neill was a dark, gunmetal gray, black clouds sitting low in the sky, the light of day not completely gone yet. O’Neill simply looked down at him, hair wet and plastered to his head, shadowed eyes a little sleepy and full of sex, lips parted while he sucked in breath. His hand brushed casually over his own stiff cock, the rain mixing with Cam’s saliva.
Cam was still on that razor-sharp edge that, ironically, filled his mind with haze. He left his swollen, aching cock open to the rain and went back to sucking O’Neill. They’d both been close. Cam twisted a hand around his shaft, sucked him deep; and O’Neill was gasping, hips surging forward, hand clutching at the back of Cam’s head. Semen flooded Cam’s mouth, and he swallowed on instinct, grimacing a bit.
He’d barely got it down, barely had time to register what was happening before O’Neill was dragging him up, pressing him back against the deck railing, and grasping his cock. He didn’t need much. O’Neill grabbed him at the tip and jerked, then closed his palm tightly around him, fingers against glans, and rubbed. Cam came with a rush, feeling like he might just break apart into a whole ocean by himself. His knees gave, just a bit.
He felt O’Neill pulling him forward, both of them stumbling a bit, and then the world tilted and they went down. A thick, wet, plastic cushion caught them, and Cam realized they were on the lounger. He sagged against it, his skin feeling hot and steamy, O’Neill’s hot breath against his forehead.
In the rain, the heat dissipated, leaking away to be replaced with a chill. There was a pocket of warmth between his body and O’Neill’s, both of them still soaked and bare and exposed. He shifted, turning into the heat, waiting…
O’Neill slid an arm around him and welcomed him in.
~end~
It's basically a sequel to Territory, in which the power shifts yet again... Different deck, different day.
Jack/Cam. VERY adult. Graphic m/m sex.
+
He barely noticed when it started to rain. He felt the cold, wet drops landing on his nape and his shoulders, the top of his head, but until the sprinkling became a downpour it never really registered. To Cam’s credit, O’Neill hadn’t seemed to notice either; but to be fair to the man his pants were hanging low on his hips, belt and fly undone and peeled outward, and Cam’s hand was working slowly, up and down O’Neill’s very hard cock.
And O’Neill was still kissing him. Those long, slow, open-mouthed touches that filled him with heat and sparks and made his skin tight to the touch.
They were soaked in minutes, and Cam opened his eyes against the rivulets of water running over his eyelids. With the dying of the day, the deluge of rain tinged the night silver and blue. It was a little cold, and he wondered if he should say something, try to move this… thing… inside.
O’Neill said nothing though, and one lean-fingered hand came up to touch the side of Cam’s head, direct him back to business. Cam kissed him back.
He wasn’t sure if O’Neill just liked it outside, didn’t want to bother with a break, or if maybe Cam just didn’t rate the use of his bed. It became somehow less important when O’Neill’s fingers worked his belt, popped the buttons on the fly of his fatigues, and then slid down through the hair low on his belly, straight over his bare dick. That slow build of anticipation became full-on arousal as the hand closed around his cock and pulled upward. He huffed a breathless groan into O’Neill’s mouth.
The rain tasted a little gritty.
It was cold against his wet back, warm where his body was pressed against O’Neill’s. The fingers scraped and caught against the sensitive patch, just under his cockhead, and Cam felt a sharp stab of pleasure. Ohh… fuck.
His thoughts devolved down to random images of O’Neill on his knees, warm mouth enclosing Cam’s aching, rain-soaked dick, and he tightened his arms around O’Neill’s shoulders, dragging down just a bit. O’Neill didn’t obey, and Cam hesitated. In the rolling thunder and constant din of splattering rain, he lost that edge, that advantage of being first, as O’Neill pushed down on Cam’s hips and whispered into the noise, “Suck me.”
He did. He went down on his knees on O’Neill’s deck, and his bare, hard dick took a jump against the cold rain as O’Neill leaned back against the deck railing, spreading his legs and planting his hands on the second wooden rail. Preparing himself.
Cam tugged at the buttons of O’Neill’s shirt, shoving it open and leaving a bare, lightly-haired strip of chest and belly and dark, shadowed groin visible to his gaze. He wrapped one hand around O’Neill’s slick, water-drenched shaft and then slid his mouth around the tip. O’Neill made a soft grunt and pushed his hips forward, slowly. Almost gentle.
Cam licked around him, sucked him deep and then spit him nearly all the way out, feeling for the glans with his tongue, working it. He opened his eyes, barely, and watched O’Neill’s hands grip the deck rail with iron intensity.
He worked O’Neill’s cock like he’d never see it again: sucking, licking, massaging, pulling. He twisted his hand around the thick base and then slid it between the man’s legs to squeeze his balls. O’Neill’s breath started huffing out into the night air above him, tinged with a hint of voice, beating down the rain.
Cam slid a hand into the open fly of his own fatigues and caught his hardened dick between his own belly and the heel of his hand. He rubbed up and down for a moment before grabbing hold and stroking, absently. When he shifted on his knees, trying to ease the pain of the wooden planks against his kneecaps, his boot hit one of the deck chairs. A lounger: the kind that let you lie back, feet up, and soak in the sun.
His mind had O’Neill there in a second. Face down at first, pushing back as Cam pushed forward. But then it morphed into the thing that always sent a heated wave through his blood. O’Neill on his back, knees hooked over Cam’s elbows, Cam sliding into him, slow. So fucking slowly. Rising up until O’Neill’s weight was all pressed down between his shoulders on the chair, Cam’s fingers digging into the wiry hair on his lean thighs. Listening to O’Neill come apart, eyes tightly shut and teeth gritted, while Cam pushed himself deep, froze there, felt every heartbeat like a taut electrical wire.
His balls tightened quickly and gave a twinge. Oh fuckfuckfuck! Cam was going to come. Now.
He quickly grabbed the base of his own cock, a bit savagely, pinching hard. He dragged his mouth from O’Neill’s cock and pressed his forehead against the general’s thigh. Stopstopstop. He felt the first pump building, thought it might be too late and almost jerked himself off anyway, and then it suddenly eased. He had a feeling there’d be one, slick, pearly drop of come seeping from the tip if he cared to look.
Instead he fought the hazy pleasure filling his head like cotton, and focused on the rain running through his hair and beating against his back. O’Neill’s hand wiped across Cam’s nape and then he blew out a soft, long, shaky breath. When Cam glanced up, the sky behind O’Neill was a dark, gunmetal gray, black clouds sitting low in the sky, the light of day not completely gone yet. O’Neill simply looked down at him, hair wet and plastered to his head, shadowed eyes a little sleepy and full of sex, lips parted while he sucked in breath. His hand brushed casually over his own stiff cock, the rain mixing with Cam’s saliva.
Cam was still on that razor-sharp edge that, ironically, filled his mind with haze. He left his swollen, aching cock open to the rain and went back to sucking O’Neill. They’d both been close. Cam twisted a hand around his shaft, sucked him deep; and O’Neill was gasping, hips surging forward, hand clutching at the back of Cam’s head. Semen flooded Cam’s mouth, and he swallowed on instinct, grimacing a bit.
He’d barely got it down, barely had time to register what was happening before O’Neill was dragging him up, pressing him back against the deck railing, and grasping his cock. He didn’t need much. O’Neill grabbed him at the tip and jerked, then closed his palm tightly around him, fingers against glans, and rubbed. Cam came with a rush, feeling like he might just break apart into a whole ocean by himself. His knees gave, just a bit.
He felt O’Neill pulling him forward, both of them stumbling a bit, and then the world tilted and they went down. A thick, wet, plastic cushion caught them, and Cam realized they were on the lounger. He sagged against it, his skin feeling hot and steamy, O’Neill’s hot breath against his forehead.
In the rain, the heat dissipated, leaking away to be replaced with a chill. There was a pocket of warmth between his body and O’Neill’s, both of them still soaked and bare and exposed. He shifted, turning into the heat, waiting…
O’Neill slid an arm around him and welcomed him in.
~end~