SG1 Fic: Staking a Claim
Title: Staking a Claim
Author: Faemouse
Genre: PWP, established relationship
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Daniel, implied Daniel/Cameron
Warning: BDSM, partner betrayal, Jack and Daniel in a not-quite-healthy, loving relationship.
Spoilers: none
Authors note: Written for the Housewarming Pary thread over at Jack/Daniel Prompt Fic. Prompts used include senario 4 and lines 2 and 32. Completely unbetad.
“You don’t get to come until I say you can.” Jack’s voice is cold, but his breath is hot and moist against the back of his neck, and Daniel shudders in his bindings. He deserves this - absolutely he deserves this - but he can’t help but tug and pull, trying to squirm away from Jack and his intensity. It’s no use. The bandana is tight around Daniel’s wrists; Jack isn’t playing around.
“Then again, considering how you’ve been screwing around with Lt. Colonel Mitchell recently, I don’t think you need to come at all.” Daniel tries to look away, but Jack grabs him by the chin and wrenches his face up, forcing Daniel to look him in the eye. Jack’s gaze is as cold as his voice, and it holds him immobile as any ropes or cuffs.
“Does he give you what you need, Danny boy? Does he know what a pain slut you are? How you don’t care how you’re touched, just so long as you are?”
“Jack, please-” The swift slap across his face is enough to send Daniel sprawling in an undignified heap on his living room floor.
“You don’t get to talk unless I say you can, either. And you don’t get to say my name, not when you’ve come with his on your tongue.” Daniel feels broken, like the lowest of life forms, and he flinches when Jack’s calloused hand grabs him by his arm and hauls him back into a kneeling position. This time, when Jack forces his head up, it’s with two gentle fingers under his chin.
“You never answered my question, Daniel. Does he give you what you need?” Daniel shakes his head vigorously, gazing up at Jack, willing him to see that he doesn’t. He blinks tears out of his eyes and prays that Jack can see Cameron was nothing but stress relief and a huge mistake, and Jack smiles, stepping away.
“I don’t think he did.” Jack says, quickly and efficiently undoing the first two buttons on his shirt before yanking it off over his head. “I think you used him.” The pants follow the shirt. “I think you were lonely and missing me, and I’ll have to take my share of responsibility for this unfortunate situation, and that you used the sonofabitch to get your rocks off like the whore you are.” Daniel whimpers, holding back a sob, but never looks away as the last article of Jack’s clothing hits the floor, because as much as he hates himself right now, he can’t deny himself the sight of his master after so many months without. How he could have thought Cameron could take this man’s place? He drinks in the sight of Jack’s hard, long lines and even harder cock, and the anxiety that’s been curled in the pit of his stomach since the first time he kissed Cameron begins to untwist.
“Close your eyes.” Jack says. Daniel does. He feels the floorboards shift as Jack steps forward, and he can smell the older man’s musk - sweat and urine and pre-cum - can feel the heat radiating off his erection, opens his mouth and leans forward.
“Stop.” Daniel backs off, eyes still closed and mouth hanging open, and soon he can hear the familiar slapping sound of flesh on flesh.
Oh, god!
Daniel desperately wants to open his eyes, to replace Jack’s hand with his own, with his mouth, but Jack’s command holds him still, and all he can do is moan in the back of his throat and wait.
He doesn’t wait long.
Jack’s breathing barely changes, and then he’s coming in long, hot spurts that scald Daniel’s face and chest. It drips off his nose and onto his tongue, and he can taste oceanic salt and the acrid bitter of bleach, and it tastes nothing like Cameron and everything like forgiveness.
Then Jack is untying his wrists and hauling Daniel up onto the couch with him, and Daniel wraps his arms around Jack’s waist and finally the sobs break loose from his throat.
“Whose are you, Daniel?”
“Yours.” He whispers, brokenly. Jack nuzzles at his throat as his big hand methodically rubs his cooling semen into Daniel’s chest.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Jack.”
“Mine.”
“Yours.”
Yours.
Author: Faemouse
Genre: PWP, established relationship
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Daniel, implied Daniel/Cameron
Warning: BDSM, partner betrayal, Jack and Daniel in a not-quite-healthy, loving relationship.
Spoilers: none
Authors note: Written for the Housewarming Pary thread over at Jack/Daniel Prompt Fic. Prompts used include senario 4 and lines 2 and 32. Completely unbetad.
“You don’t get to come until I say you can.” Jack’s voice is cold, but his breath is hot and moist against the back of his neck, and Daniel shudders in his bindings. He deserves this - absolutely he deserves this - but he can’t help but tug and pull, trying to squirm away from Jack and his intensity. It’s no use. The bandana is tight around Daniel’s wrists; Jack isn’t playing around.
“Then again, considering how you’ve been screwing around with Lt. Colonel Mitchell recently, I don’t think you need to come at all.” Daniel tries to look away, but Jack grabs him by the chin and wrenches his face up, forcing Daniel to look him in the eye. Jack’s gaze is as cold as his voice, and it holds him immobile as any ropes or cuffs.
“Does he give you what you need, Danny boy? Does he know what a pain slut you are? How you don’t care how you’re touched, just so long as you are?”
“Jack, please-” The swift slap across his face is enough to send Daniel sprawling in an undignified heap on his living room floor.
“You don’t get to talk unless I say you can, either. And you don’t get to say my name, not when you’ve come with his on your tongue.” Daniel feels broken, like the lowest of life forms, and he flinches when Jack’s calloused hand grabs him by his arm and hauls him back into a kneeling position. This time, when Jack forces his head up, it’s with two gentle fingers under his chin.
“You never answered my question, Daniel. Does he give you what you need?” Daniel shakes his head vigorously, gazing up at Jack, willing him to see that he doesn’t. He blinks tears out of his eyes and prays that Jack can see Cameron was nothing but stress relief and a huge mistake, and Jack smiles, stepping away.
“I don’t think he did.” Jack says, quickly and efficiently undoing the first two buttons on his shirt before yanking it off over his head. “I think you used him.” The pants follow the shirt. “I think you were lonely and missing me, and I’ll have to take my share of responsibility for this unfortunate situation, and that you used the sonofabitch to get your rocks off like the whore you are.” Daniel whimpers, holding back a sob, but never looks away as the last article of Jack’s clothing hits the floor, because as much as he hates himself right now, he can’t deny himself the sight of his master after so many months without. How he could have thought Cameron could take this man’s place? He drinks in the sight of Jack’s hard, long lines and even harder cock, and the anxiety that’s been curled in the pit of his stomach since the first time he kissed Cameron begins to untwist.
“Close your eyes.” Jack says. Daniel does. He feels the floorboards shift as Jack steps forward, and he can smell the older man’s musk - sweat and urine and pre-cum - can feel the heat radiating off his erection, opens his mouth and leans forward.
“Stop.” Daniel backs off, eyes still closed and mouth hanging open, and soon he can hear the familiar slapping sound of flesh on flesh.
Oh, god!
Daniel desperately wants to open his eyes, to replace Jack’s hand with his own, with his mouth, but Jack’s command holds him still, and all he can do is moan in the back of his throat and wait.
He doesn’t wait long.
Jack’s breathing barely changes, and then he’s coming in long, hot spurts that scald Daniel’s face and chest. It drips off his nose and onto his tongue, and he can taste oceanic salt and the acrid bitter of bleach, and it tastes nothing like Cameron and everything like forgiveness.
Then Jack is untying his wrists and hauling Daniel up onto the couch with him, and Daniel wraps his arms around Jack’s waist and finally the sobs break loose from his throat.
“Whose are you, Daniel?”
“Yours.” He whispers, brokenly. Jack nuzzles at his throat as his big hand methodically rubs his cooling semen into Daniel’s chest.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Jack.”
“Mine.”
“Yours.”
Yours.