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what_worksFandom: Stargate: SG-1
Title: Bedfellows
Author: Em
Rating: R, for masturbation and language
Word Count: ~540
Spoilers: vague spoilers for "Threads"
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Prompt: "lonely"
025. Strangers (Big Damn Table)
Summary: "We make better strangers" is a complete lie Daniel utters.
Dedication: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wiccanslyr
Notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stargatefic100
025. Strangers
Bedfellows
Daniel's eyes squeeze shut tightly when he grips his penis. He pulls roughly on the flesh, the same way Jack did a year ago. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder; it just makes Daniel remember mistakes, play them through his head until he is surrounded by his stupidity and ego, the perfect bedfellows for a night in a nearly empty bed.
"We make better strangers," Daniel said to him that last time, just after they'd both rolled to opposite sides of the bed.
Jack just grunted, maybe it was agreement, maybe it wasn't.
Daniel sat up, tugged on pants, socks, and shoes, even though it was his apartment. "We should stop this." Daniel didn't actually think that, but Jack had been pulling back ever since his promotion. "It's inappropriate."
"It is," Jack said.
"So, we should stop. Just be . . . what we were." Daniel didn't remember what they were. They were never quite friends, not with how quickly their relationship bloomed, how it was never innocent, never fully platonic. Jack had always touched him; he had always baited Jack. They didn't know how to not fuck, even when they were angry.
Daniel made it to the door, pushing it open with his hip while he buttoned his shirt. "I'm going out. There's a woman—in R&D—who invited me to a club. I know that's not my thing. . . ." It sounded worse than flimsy. "There's that liaison, with the red hair."
"Johnson," Jack supplied.
"She likes you. Well, as much as anyone ever likes you." Daniel forced the mechanics of a smile.
"Are you trying to set me up?" Jack hadn't moved from the bed, still hadn't covered up, still hadn't cleaned Daniel's come off his hip.
"No. I'm just . . . Jack, can't we be adults about this? We're at the end of this and I’d just like . . . some dignity." Daniel mumbled the last words because it wasn't at all what he meant.
"Forget we ever happened," Jack said. "We were a bad dream." He breathed sharply, like an aborted laugh. "Just die again and this," he gestured between the two of them, "can be a lifetime ago."
Daniel's lips tightened, temper only flickering, not igniting. "I'm glad you understand." He left the room, left Jack still sitting on the bed, and said over his shoulder, "Just let yourself out."
Daniel hears himself, echoing in his memory as he tugs harder on his penis. His eyes water sharply, but he's sure that it's just from the pain. He pinches his sack, his nails digging into the soft flesh between the balls. He grits his teeth against his panting breath and tries not to think about how Jack would be licking his neck, rubbing his own prick against Daniel's hip, and ghosting kisses under his ear that mean more than strangers or friendship.
Daniel comes in forced spurts, a puddle thick on his abdomen. He wipes it away quickly, throwing the used boxers to the far side of the room. He rolls over on his bed, facing East, wondering briefly if Jack has had any dates in D.C. or if his only bedfellow has been his memory, too.
~Comments and feedback make great bedfellows.
Title: Bedfellows
Author: Em
Rating: R, for masturbation and language
Word Count: ~540
Spoilers: vague spoilers for "Threads"
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Prompt: "lonely"
025. Strangers (Big Damn Table)
Summary: "We make better strangers" is a complete lie Daniel utters.
Dedication: for
wiccanslyrNotes: written for
stargatefic100Bedfellows
Daniel's eyes squeeze shut tightly when he grips his penis. He pulls roughly on the flesh, the same way Jack did a year ago. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder; it just makes Daniel remember mistakes, play them through his head until he is surrounded by his stupidity and ego, the perfect bedfellows for a night in a nearly empty bed.
"We make better strangers," Daniel said to him that last time, just after they'd both rolled to opposite sides of the bed.
Jack just grunted, maybe it was agreement, maybe it wasn't.
Daniel sat up, tugged on pants, socks, and shoes, even though it was his apartment. "We should stop this." Daniel didn't actually think that, but Jack had been pulling back ever since his promotion. "It's inappropriate."
"It is," Jack said.
"So, we should stop. Just be . . . what we were." Daniel didn't remember what they were. They were never quite friends, not with how quickly their relationship bloomed, how it was never innocent, never fully platonic. Jack had always touched him; he had always baited Jack. They didn't know how to not fuck, even when they were angry.
Daniel made it to the door, pushing it open with his hip while he buttoned his shirt. "I'm going out. There's a woman—in R&D—who invited me to a club. I know that's not my thing. . . ." It sounded worse than flimsy. "There's that liaison, with the red hair."
"Johnson," Jack supplied.
"She likes you. Well, as much as anyone ever likes you." Daniel forced the mechanics of a smile.
"Are you trying to set me up?" Jack hadn't moved from the bed, still hadn't covered up, still hadn't cleaned Daniel's come off his hip.
"No. I'm just . . . Jack, can't we be adults about this? We're at the end of this and I’d just like . . . some dignity." Daniel mumbled the last words because it wasn't at all what he meant.
"Forget we ever happened," Jack said. "We were a bad dream." He breathed sharply, like an aborted laugh. "Just die again and this," he gestured between the two of them, "can be a lifetime ago."
Daniel's lips tightened, temper only flickering, not igniting. "I'm glad you understand." He left the room, left Jack still sitting on the bed, and said over his shoulder, "Just let yourself out."
Daniel hears himself, echoing in his memory as he tugs harder on his penis. His eyes water sharply, but he's sure that it's just from the pain. He pinches his sack, his nails digging into the soft flesh between the balls. He grits his teeth against his panting breath and tries not to think about how Jack would be licking his neck, rubbing his own prick against Daniel's hip, and ghosting kisses under his ear that mean more than strangers or friendship.
Daniel comes in forced spurts, a puddle thick on his abdomen. He wipes it away quickly, throwing the used boxers to the far side of the room. He rolls over on his bed, facing East, wondering briefly if Jack has had any dates in D.C. or if his only bedfellow has been his memory, too.
~Comments and feedback make great bedfellows.
