'Ain't No Sunshine', Cam/Daniel, Jack/Daniel, NC-17
This is Season 9 AMTDI. ~2,125 words.
My writerly mojo has been conspicuously absent this year, so I was delighted to get this idea and I hope you all enjoy it. Hearty beta thanks to
magnavox_23,
princessofg, and
tejas. A pleasure, ladies!
AIN’T NO SUNSHINE
Cameron Mitchell had a fine, strong body; not as straight as it once must have been, but as straight and strong as hard work and skillful surgery could make it. His skin was still young and supple but marred by too many scars, their once-angry redness in the slow process of fading, of gradually giving way to shiny white as the body began to forgive, but never forget, the trauma that had been inflicted on it.
Daniel didn’t want to touch the scars, the sacred, tangible evidence of how this man had nearly given his life. But he didn’t want to call attention to them by not touching them, either. So he tried to ignore their presence, running his hand down Mitchell’s spine, over his hip, along his thigh, but he could feel his fingertips bump over them. He sighed and pressed his forehead to Mitchell’s nape, sliding his hands around lightly furred chest and flat stomach.
Mitchell had a fine body.
But Daniel had never wanted to touch it.
~~~~
Head thick. Tongue thick.
Daniel tried to speak, to protest. Negotiate, implore. Understand.
They’d been captured. Gassed? Daniel remembered bright specks of white behind his eyelids as he fell, never feeling the ground when he landed.
Now they sat, slumped, in chairs that held them more or less upright. Locked in place like a row of babies in highchairs, and just as helpless. He couldn’t remember coming here, to this room. Were they dragged? Carried?
Mitchell was on his right, Sam on his left. He couldn’t quite manage to turn his head, but he was sure he saw Teal’c’s boot next to hers. All here, all apparently suffering the same effects from whatever had been used on them, because his teammates weren’t exactly raising a ruckus over the treatment they’d been given.
A hand seized his chin, not too roughly, and lifted his head. Dizziness assaulted his senses and the face leaning down over him swam, blurred. Daniel moaned, just a little, and heard a sound come from Mitchell. The face turned in that direction and Daniel, trying to follow with his eyes, saw that the man’s other arm was outstretched and probably holding Mitchell’s head up, too.
“What do you think, Nareb? Will these please their majesties?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes.” The voice sounded thoughtful and the thumb of the hand that held Daniel stroked his face, pulling the corner of his mouth open slightly. “Yes, you two will make a pretty show.” The hand left him and Daniel sagged forward. “Bring them.”
A cloth covered Daniel’s nose and mouth and he inhaled something smoky and sweet and fell into blackness.
~~~~
Daniel’s head was clear now. Shock will do that to you.
They’d been taken to a new room while they were unconscious. Not Teal’c and Sam, just the two of them; the ones who’d been picked to put on the pretty show. Brought here. Brought to. Stripped.
Made to kneel on a rug before the thrones. Given their instructions. Given their incentive.
Shown, on a monitor, their teammates, still enclosed in their chairs. Conscious but immobile, and with knives pressed to their necks. Good incentive.
Mitchell stood behind him, stroking his back. “So, we’ll give them a show,” he’d said, with bitterness dripping from each word. Hands at Daniel’s hips now, thumbs at the crest of his buttocks. “You with me, Jackson?” he’d asked. A senseless question on the face of it, but as one of Mitchell’s hands traveled up Daniel’s flank and the other dipped fingertips into his pubic hair, Daniel knew why Mitchell had asked it.
He’d needed permission to do this; to touch. Express consent that allowed him to take Daniel’s cock into his hand, sink his teeth into Daniel’s earlobe, rub his body against Daniel’s. His unaroused body, that soon Daniel would be called upon to awaken, to excite.
Daniel laid his hand gently over Mitchell’s wrist as Mitchell began to work his cock and let some of his weight lean back into the other man’s body. Accepting, allowing. “Okay,” Mitchell said gruffly into his ear. His hand stroked a little more roughly, confidently. Daniel let himself harden.
Eventually Mitchell moved around in front of him and raised a hand to Daniel’s face, not really meeting his eyes. Looking at his mouth. Touching it with his thumb, pulling it open a bit the same way the other man had done earlier. Daniel flinched. Mitchell flinched, his thumb pulling away as if burned.
They stared at each other for a second.
“Part of the show,” Mitchell said, sounding wary.
Daniel nodded, licked his lips, and leaned forward. Their mouths met crookedly, adjusted. Mitchell stepped in closer and Daniel’s erection bumped up against his hip. He could feel Mitchell react, feel a shock running through him. He didn’t back off or break the kiss, but his lips became rigid, unmoving against Daniel’s for several seconds.
Daniel put his hands on Mitchell carefully, like he was approaching a skittish animal. One hand on a shoulder, one on an elbow. He moved his mouth, opening it a little, altering the pressure. He stroked Mitchell’s shoulder softly. Mitchell shifted his feet and began to kiss Daniel back.
They kissed for a while, arms gradually sliding around each other and bodies pressing against each other. Daniel could feel Mitchell’s heart thumping, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He pulled back, turning his head a little, gulping oxygen.
“Okay,” Mitchell gasped. “Okay, that was weird.”
Daniel looked at him. Mitchell was flushed and actually laughing a little, but after a couple of seconds his face got serious as he looked down. Daniel looked down, too. His cock was still hard, and Mitchell’s was still soft, although not quite as soft as before, Daniel thought. Mitchell put his hand on Daniel and jerked gently, once, twice. “Your turn, Jackson.”
“Right,” Daniel said. And he moved behind Mitchell and began to touch him. Part of the show. Part of the mission, now. Operation Hard-on. Only the sobering reality of Mitchell’s scars saved Daniel from inappropriate laughter. He eased up close to Mitchell, wrapping him in a hug, then put his chin down on his shoulder and reached slowly for his cock, sliding his hand along Mitchell’s skin to signal his intent. He felt Mitchell’s jaw muscles clench, heard a pop and a loud swallow, wanted to say something. But what? There were no words for this situation.
He took Mitchell’s cock into his hand and tried to make it grow. He coaxed; he insisted. He made a little progress, but Mitchell was tense in his arms and getting restless. They had their instructions; this was the way it had to be. Mitchell couldn’t take matters into his own hands. “What do I need to do different?” Daniel whispered.
“It’s not you,” Mitchell answered hoarsely. “I just can’t….”
“Okay; all right.” Daniel released him and moved around to the front. “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Don’t worry.” Daniel lowered himself to his knees, thankful for the rug. He saw Mitchell tremble and sway. “It’s okay.”
“Jackson?”
“It’s all right.” Daniel reached for Mitchell and took him in, every inch, and swirled his tongue. Within a minute Mitchell was swelling inside his mouth; within two he no longer fit and Daniel began to bob his head. And Mitchell continued to grow, his hands clutching at Daniel’s head, and loud murmurs of approval came from the dais that held the thrones. Daniel pulled away, gagging.
“You okay?” Soft and anxious, as Mitchell reached down a hand to pull him up.
“Sure.” Daniel reached past the offered hand and tugged at Mitchell’s arm. “Come on.” He shifted around and lay down on his back. Mitchell hesitated, then dropped down beside him. “No, get on top,” Daniel said, then cleared his throat.
“Yeah.” Mitchell set his jaw grimly. “Guess we’ve reached that part of the show, haven’t we?”
“Almost over,” Daniel said encouragingly. He spread his legs and Mitchell got between them, lowering himself onto knees and elbows, pale and sweating. His erection was still strong, though, Daniel was relieved to see, to feel. Daniel reached between their bellies and aligned their cocks. Mitchell gasped and blinked. Daniel coughed. “I’m… any time you’re… you know, just move.”
Mitchell looked down at him almost pleadingly, then closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and moved. And it felt good. Lube would have made it better; it was a little rough; Mitchell was a little clumsy. Daniel put his hands on Mitchell’s hips and tried to guide him and that was a little better, and when Daniel began to rock his hips up to meet Mitchell’s push that was a lot better. Skin slid against skin, breathing quickened, heart rates increased.
If only Mitchell didn’t look like this was the most dreadful thing he could ever imagine being forced to do, this wouldn’t be so bad. Daniel couldn’t look away from his screwed up face and it was doing nothing to bring him to the brink of orgasm; quite the contrary. He tried to put himself in Mitchell’s place, to guess what the other man might be feeling so that he could figure out how to respond, how to help.
And he realized that he might have made a mistake. Daniel had thought that Mitchell, as a straight man, a military man, would be more comfortable on top, taking the more active role. He hadn’t considered that Mitchell, being the good guy that he was, the sweet guy even, probably felt like he was committing assault on his teammate. And if that was what was making this so distasteful….
Daniel grabbed Mitchell around the shoulders and scissored his legs and flipped them both over.
“Huh?” Mitchell looked dazed.
“Part of the pretty show,” Daniel told him. He settled more firmly into place, ignoring shouts of laughter from the dais. He took a deep breath. “Okay?”
Mitchell swallowed dryly. “Whatever. Okay.”
Daniel took that as his cue to start moving. He watched Mitchell closely at first, making sure that he’d gotten it right this time. Mitchell kept his eyes closed, but his jaw slowly relaxed to the point where his lips parted. And his hips began moving up to meet Daniel, ever so slightly, maybe not even consciously. Daniel drove against him, harder and faster. Saw the hitch in his breathing and the rising color in his neck and face and closed his own eyes, shutting them against that private moment that Mitchell wouldn’t want him to see; that he didn’t want to see.
Daniel felt the warmth and wetness of Mitchell’s release against his sweat-damp skin as they breathed harshly into each other’s faces. The scent, the slickness, the knowledge that it was almost over, Mitchell’s limp sprawl… Daniel thrust a dozen more times, feeling his orgasm build, peak, spill over. There was applause. He fell against Mitchell, shuddering, and felt an arm thrown across his back. He lay there until the arm fell away a few seconds later, and then rolled off to the side.
The continued applause and mocking calls for more made his blood run cold, but Mitchell was warm against his arm and thigh and he was content for the moment to simply lie there and wait to learn whether or not these people’s word was worth anything. If it was, they’d all be going home soon. If it wasn’t… well, it just had to be.
~~~~
Daniel was showered and dressed and putting on his shoes when Mitchell came into the locker room. There was a moment of acute and awkward awareness between them, which Daniel hastened to break. “How did it go with Landry?”
“Well, I’ve had worse conversations with COs,” Mitchell said dryly, opening up his locker.
“But you really can’t remember when?”
Mitchell gave him a sidelong look and half of a smile. “Actually, he was great.”
“That’s good,” Daniel said.
“Yeah.” Mitchell sat down and tugged his boots off. “He was great.”
Daniel stood up and hovered uncertainly. “I’m off,” he said, but didn’t head for the door.
“Jackson,” Mitchell said quietly, “we gonna be able to put this behind us?”
Daniel scratched his head and crinkled his brow. “Put what behind us?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell said. He stood up and looked off to the side, both halves of the smile dimpling his cheeks.
“See you tomorrow, Mitchell.”
“Have a good night, Jackson.”
~~~~
“Crap, Daniel.”
Daniel switched the Asgard communication device to his other hand and wiped sweat from his palm onto his T-shirt.
“Are you both all right?”
Daniel closed his eyes on a wave of relief as he was reminded, one more time, exactly why he was head-over-heels in love with Jack O’Neill.
My writerly mojo has been conspicuously absent this year, so I was delighted to get this idea and I hope you all enjoy it. Hearty beta thanks to
magnavox_23,
princessofg, and
tejas. A pleasure, ladies!
AIN’T NO SUNSHINE
Cameron Mitchell had a fine, strong body; not as straight as it once must have been, but as straight and strong as hard work and skillful surgery could make it. His skin was still young and supple but marred by too many scars, their once-angry redness in the slow process of fading, of gradually giving way to shiny white as the body began to forgive, but never forget, the trauma that had been inflicted on it.
Daniel didn’t want to touch the scars, the sacred, tangible evidence of how this man had nearly given his life. But he didn’t want to call attention to them by not touching them, either. So he tried to ignore their presence, running his hand down Mitchell’s spine, over his hip, along his thigh, but he could feel his fingertips bump over them. He sighed and pressed his forehead to Mitchell’s nape, sliding his hands around lightly furred chest and flat stomach.
Mitchell had a fine body.
But Daniel had never wanted to touch it.
~~~~
Head thick. Tongue thick.
Daniel tried to speak, to protest. Negotiate, implore. Understand.
They’d been captured. Gassed? Daniel remembered bright specks of white behind his eyelids as he fell, never feeling the ground when he landed.
Now they sat, slumped, in chairs that held them more or less upright. Locked in place like a row of babies in highchairs, and just as helpless. He couldn’t remember coming here, to this room. Were they dragged? Carried?
Mitchell was on his right, Sam on his left. He couldn’t quite manage to turn his head, but he was sure he saw Teal’c’s boot next to hers. All here, all apparently suffering the same effects from whatever had been used on them, because his teammates weren’t exactly raising a ruckus over the treatment they’d been given.
A hand seized his chin, not too roughly, and lifted his head. Dizziness assaulted his senses and the face leaning down over him swam, blurred. Daniel moaned, just a little, and heard a sound come from Mitchell. The face turned in that direction and Daniel, trying to follow with his eyes, saw that the man’s other arm was outstretched and probably holding Mitchell’s head up, too.
“What do you think, Nareb? Will these please their majesties?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes.” The voice sounded thoughtful and the thumb of the hand that held Daniel stroked his face, pulling the corner of his mouth open slightly. “Yes, you two will make a pretty show.” The hand left him and Daniel sagged forward. “Bring them.”
A cloth covered Daniel’s nose and mouth and he inhaled something smoky and sweet and fell into blackness.
~~~~
Daniel’s head was clear now. Shock will do that to you.
They’d been taken to a new room while they were unconscious. Not Teal’c and Sam, just the two of them; the ones who’d been picked to put on the pretty show. Brought here. Brought to. Stripped.
Made to kneel on a rug before the thrones. Given their instructions. Given their incentive.
Shown, on a monitor, their teammates, still enclosed in their chairs. Conscious but immobile, and with knives pressed to their necks. Good incentive.
Mitchell stood behind him, stroking his back. “So, we’ll give them a show,” he’d said, with bitterness dripping from each word. Hands at Daniel’s hips now, thumbs at the crest of his buttocks. “You with me, Jackson?” he’d asked. A senseless question on the face of it, but as one of Mitchell’s hands traveled up Daniel’s flank and the other dipped fingertips into his pubic hair, Daniel knew why Mitchell had asked it.
He’d needed permission to do this; to touch. Express consent that allowed him to take Daniel’s cock into his hand, sink his teeth into Daniel’s earlobe, rub his body against Daniel’s. His unaroused body, that soon Daniel would be called upon to awaken, to excite.
Daniel laid his hand gently over Mitchell’s wrist as Mitchell began to work his cock and let some of his weight lean back into the other man’s body. Accepting, allowing. “Okay,” Mitchell said gruffly into his ear. His hand stroked a little more roughly, confidently. Daniel let himself harden.
Eventually Mitchell moved around in front of him and raised a hand to Daniel’s face, not really meeting his eyes. Looking at his mouth. Touching it with his thumb, pulling it open a bit the same way the other man had done earlier. Daniel flinched. Mitchell flinched, his thumb pulling away as if burned.
They stared at each other for a second.
“Part of the show,” Mitchell said, sounding wary.
Daniel nodded, licked his lips, and leaned forward. Their mouths met crookedly, adjusted. Mitchell stepped in closer and Daniel’s erection bumped up against his hip. He could feel Mitchell react, feel a shock running through him. He didn’t back off or break the kiss, but his lips became rigid, unmoving against Daniel’s for several seconds.
Daniel put his hands on Mitchell carefully, like he was approaching a skittish animal. One hand on a shoulder, one on an elbow. He moved his mouth, opening it a little, altering the pressure. He stroked Mitchell’s shoulder softly. Mitchell shifted his feet and began to kiss Daniel back.
They kissed for a while, arms gradually sliding around each other and bodies pressing against each other. Daniel could feel Mitchell’s heart thumping, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He pulled back, turning his head a little, gulping oxygen.
“Okay,” Mitchell gasped. “Okay, that was weird.”
Daniel looked at him. Mitchell was flushed and actually laughing a little, but after a couple of seconds his face got serious as he looked down. Daniel looked down, too. His cock was still hard, and Mitchell’s was still soft, although not quite as soft as before, Daniel thought. Mitchell put his hand on Daniel and jerked gently, once, twice. “Your turn, Jackson.”
“Right,” Daniel said. And he moved behind Mitchell and began to touch him. Part of the show. Part of the mission, now. Operation Hard-on. Only the sobering reality of Mitchell’s scars saved Daniel from inappropriate laughter. He eased up close to Mitchell, wrapping him in a hug, then put his chin down on his shoulder and reached slowly for his cock, sliding his hand along Mitchell’s skin to signal his intent. He felt Mitchell’s jaw muscles clench, heard a pop and a loud swallow, wanted to say something. But what? There were no words for this situation.
He took Mitchell’s cock into his hand and tried to make it grow. He coaxed; he insisted. He made a little progress, but Mitchell was tense in his arms and getting restless. They had their instructions; this was the way it had to be. Mitchell couldn’t take matters into his own hands. “What do I need to do different?” Daniel whispered.
“It’s not you,” Mitchell answered hoarsely. “I just can’t….”
“Okay; all right.” Daniel released him and moved around to the front. “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Don’t worry.” Daniel lowered himself to his knees, thankful for the rug. He saw Mitchell tremble and sway. “It’s okay.”
“Jackson?”
“It’s all right.” Daniel reached for Mitchell and took him in, every inch, and swirled his tongue. Within a minute Mitchell was swelling inside his mouth; within two he no longer fit and Daniel began to bob his head. And Mitchell continued to grow, his hands clutching at Daniel’s head, and loud murmurs of approval came from the dais that held the thrones. Daniel pulled away, gagging.
“You okay?” Soft and anxious, as Mitchell reached down a hand to pull him up.
“Sure.” Daniel reached past the offered hand and tugged at Mitchell’s arm. “Come on.” He shifted around and lay down on his back. Mitchell hesitated, then dropped down beside him. “No, get on top,” Daniel said, then cleared his throat.
“Yeah.” Mitchell set his jaw grimly. “Guess we’ve reached that part of the show, haven’t we?”
“Almost over,” Daniel said encouragingly. He spread his legs and Mitchell got between them, lowering himself onto knees and elbows, pale and sweating. His erection was still strong, though, Daniel was relieved to see, to feel. Daniel reached between their bellies and aligned their cocks. Mitchell gasped and blinked. Daniel coughed. “I’m… any time you’re… you know, just move.”
Mitchell looked down at him almost pleadingly, then closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and moved. And it felt good. Lube would have made it better; it was a little rough; Mitchell was a little clumsy. Daniel put his hands on Mitchell’s hips and tried to guide him and that was a little better, and when Daniel began to rock his hips up to meet Mitchell’s push that was a lot better. Skin slid against skin, breathing quickened, heart rates increased.
If only Mitchell didn’t look like this was the most dreadful thing he could ever imagine being forced to do, this wouldn’t be so bad. Daniel couldn’t look away from his screwed up face and it was doing nothing to bring him to the brink of orgasm; quite the contrary. He tried to put himself in Mitchell’s place, to guess what the other man might be feeling so that he could figure out how to respond, how to help.
And he realized that he might have made a mistake. Daniel had thought that Mitchell, as a straight man, a military man, would be more comfortable on top, taking the more active role. He hadn’t considered that Mitchell, being the good guy that he was, the sweet guy even, probably felt like he was committing assault on his teammate. And if that was what was making this so distasteful….
Daniel grabbed Mitchell around the shoulders and scissored his legs and flipped them both over.
“Huh?” Mitchell looked dazed.
“Part of the pretty show,” Daniel told him. He settled more firmly into place, ignoring shouts of laughter from the dais. He took a deep breath. “Okay?”
Mitchell swallowed dryly. “Whatever. Okay.”
Daniel took that as his cue to start moving. He watched Mitchell closely at first, making sure that he’d gotten it right this time. Mitchell kept his eyes closed, but his jaw slowly relaxed to the point where his lips parted. And his hips began moving up to meet Daniel, ever so slightly, maybe not even consciously. Daniel drove against him, harder and faster. Saw the hitch in his breathing and the rising color in his neck and face and closed his own eyes, shutting them against that private moment that Mitchell wouldn’t want him to see; that he didn’t want to see.
Daniel felt the warmth and wetness of Mitchell’s release against his sweat-damp skin as they breathed harshly into each other’s faces. The scent, the slickness, the knowledge that it was almost over, Mitchell’s limp sprawl… Daniel thrust a dozen more times, feeling his orgasm build, peak, spill over. There was applause. He fell against Mitchell, shuddering, and felt an arm thrown across his back. He lay there until the arm fell away a few seconds later, and then rolled off to the side.
The continued applause and mocking calls for more made his blood run cold, but Mitchell was warm against his arm and thigh and he was content for the moment to simply lie there and wait to learn whether or not these people’s word was worth anything. If it was, they’d all be going home soon. If it wasn’t… well, it just had to be.
~~~~
Daniel was showered and dressed and putting on his shoes when Mitchell came into the locker room. There was a moment of acute and awkward awareness between them, which Daniel hastened to break. “How did it go with Landry?”
“Well, I’ve had worse conversations with COs,” Mitchell said dryly, opening up his locker.
“But you really can’t remember when?”
Mitchell gave him a sidelong look and half of a smile. “Actually, he was great.”
“That’s good,” Daniel said.
“Yeah.” Mitchell sat down and tugged his boots off. “He was great.”
Daniel stood up and hovered uncertainly. “I’m off,” he said, but didn’t head for the door.
“Jackson,” Mitchell said quietly, “we gonna be able to put this behind us?”
Daniel scratched his head and crinkled his brow. “Put what behind us?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell said. He stood up and looked off to the side, both halves of the smile dimpling his cheeks.
“See you tomorrow, Mitchell.”
“Have a good night, Jackson.”
~~~~
“Crap, Daniel.”
Daniel switched the Asgard communication device to his other hand and wiped sweat from his palm onto his T-shirt.
“Are you both all right?”
Daniel closed his eyes on a wave of relief as he was reminded, one more time, exactly why he was head-over-heels in love with Jack O’Neill.