Author: otter
Summary: He knows that he ought to get up and move, pick up the clothes that he's left scattered across the floor. Objects in motion tend to keep on moving, and if he builds some inertia now, it'll be easier to get himself out the door.
SG-1 | Jack/Daniel | NC-17 | Mar 2004 
Daniel is only just drifting into sleep when he feels that sudden sensation of falling -- off the bed, off a cliff, off the edge of the world. It makes him flail his way back to consciousness, and his heart is pounding and his hands are scrambling at air to stop a terrifying descent that isn't really happening.
Jack catches Daniel's waving arm and anchors him firmly in the world again. Jack isn't really awake; he mumbles into his pillow and clutches Daniel's hand against his chest like a security blanket. Daniel rolls with the movement, onto his side and up against Jack's back, where he can rest with his lips just millimeters from the nape of Jack's neck while he waits for his heart to stop tripping over itself. Jack snuffles once, twice, and wakes up, squeezes Daniel's trapped hand.
He says, "Okay?"
Daniel says, "Yeah, fine," and the tip of his tongue flickers out to taste Jack's flesh. His own skin feels a little gritty and sticky, and he still smells of it all: sweat, semen, saliva. It's a bit uncomfortable, but not enough to make him leave the warm confines of the bed. The moment is too rare, too coveted to be abandoned lightly.
Jack squeezes his hand again, and then lets it go, and Jack's fingers drift up Daniel's arm, lightly caressing his forearm, skimming over the blue veins on the inside of his wrist as if there are secrets written there in Braille. Jack turns his head just far enough that Daniel can see the light refraction in his eyes, like a lion caught in spot beams for some 3 am nature documentary.
"We should probably get cleaned up and get going," Jack says. The words crawl out reluctantly, mumbled, like he doesn't want to say them but knows that somebody has to, knows that Daniel won't.
Daniel licks at Jack's shoulder, a slow swipe of the tongue that's specifically designed to delay the inevitable. He whispers, "Just a few more minutes," and reclaims his hand from Jack's grasp. He drags it downward; his palm rubs down Jack's chest, presses into the hollow at the pelvis, and then his fingers wrap lazily around Jack's cock and stroke, firm and languid.
Jack grunts and moves his own arm back, fumbling and desperate, until his hand finds Daniel's hip. His thumb digs in when Daniel strokes a little harder, and Jack makes a needy sound while his body rocks forward, looking for more, harder, faster.
He doesn't get it; Daniel keeps up a relentlessly leisurely pace and remains firmly wrapped around Jack's back. He builds the pressure with excruciating slowness, drawing the moment out, but they're both tired and he doesn't have the energy left to make it last like he wants to.
Jack whimpers when he comes, and Daniel smiles. Daniel's contented sigh trickles down between Jack's shoulder blades and makes him shiver.
Daniel wipes his hand on the sheets, and then rests it on Jack's hip, where his fingers squeeze and release, as if checking to see if Jack is real.
Jack says, "We really have to go," and when he climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom, he doesn't look back. Daniel likes to think it's because the sight of Daniel all naked and well-fucked would make Jack's willpower collapse, and they'd never leave the motel. Daniel considers this a desirable outcome, but he knows that Jack will never cave that way. He wishes Jack was weaker.
He knows that he ought to get up and move, pick up the clothes that he's left scattered across the floor. Objects in motion tend to keep on moving, and if he builds some inertia now, it'll be easier to get himself out the door. But all he can manage is flopping onto his back, letting his arms stretch out as if to embrace all the world. He keeps his eyes just open enough that he can see a sliver of ceiling.
From the general direction of the bathroom, he hears Jack say, "Fuck, Daniel."
He smiles, lazy and satisfied, and when he says, "Yeeeah," he draws out the single syllable into a whole unspoken paragraph on the subject of sex. He writhes a little against the sheets, and kicks the comforter off the end of the bed.
Jack says, "Jesus!" to accompany an explosive exhalation, and then his body -- still gloriously naked, still damp from the shower -- lands on top of Daniel and grinds deliciously downward.
Daniel tips his head back so Jack can suck and bite and lick at his neck, and he presses his hips up to meet Jack in the middle, and they kiss and squirm and push and pull and gasp. They're both spent, though, and Jack eventually gathers together the delicate shreds of his self-control, and hauls himself up to sit at the edge of the bed and retrieve his clothes.
"Asshole," he says, affectionately.
Daniel can just barely reach him without really moving, so he stretches out and strokes Jack's back just once with his fingertips before Jack stands up, pulls up his jeans and moves away, looking for his t-shirt.
The ceiling's just the same as it was moments ago, but Daniel looks it anyway, because he loves watching Jack, but he doesn't love watching him leave. He sighs and risks it; Jack is leaning over to pick up his shirt, and simultaneously offering a nice view of his ass. "We need to do this more often," Daniel says.
Jack's scowl disappears inside his t-shirt for a moment, then he finishes wrestling it over his head and the frown emerges once again. "You know we can't," he says. "It's too dangerous."
Daniel's still floating on a post-coital high that feels a lot like oxygen deprivation, which is his mental excuse for answering, "Dangerous schmangerous."
Jack sits down on the edge of the bed again to pull on his socks and boots, and Daniel takes advantage of the situation by scooting closer and slipping a hand up the back of Jack's shirt. "If we got caught, I'd be arrested," Jack says.
"And I wouldn't be safe," Daniel finishes. "I know. Still. Sometimes I think that it's worth the risk."
Jack frowns as he buckles his belt. "Go take a shower. Now. We need to leave."
Daniel moves reluctantly, but he carries out the order, taking a five-minute shower in water just hot enough to make his skin tingle. When he comes out of the bathroom, he finds Jack sitting on the edge of the bed, watching CNN on the little TV. The bed's made, and Daniel's clothes are all laid out for him. When he's tying his shoelaces, Jack snaps off the TV and sighs into the sudden quiet.
"You know," Jack says, "I think about it, too. If things were different, you know I'd--"
"I know," Daniel says. "It's okay."
Jack stands and faces the door, stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I think about seeing you more. And then I think about rotting away in some prison, and you under the Mountain maybe shackled to your desk, and I think that no matter how much I want you, no matter how much this is worth to me, it's not worth that."
Daniel stands and moves closer, curls his hands around Jack's biceps and rests his forehead in the warm dip between Jack's shoulder blades. He says, "It's okay. It'll be okay."
Jack whispers, "It's not." Jack shudders, and the movement vibrates through Daniel's hands and head and slithers its way down his spine so that he shudders, too.
One deep breath in -- sharp and through the mouth -- and Daniel pulls back, lets his hands slide soft and slow down Jack's arms, lets their fingers tangle together for a moment, and lets go.
"Oh, I have something for you," he says, while he tugs on his jacket with limbs that aren't particularly inclined to cooperate. "There's a new pharmaceutical factory opening up somewhere near Nellis in Nevada, producing some sort of immune booster. Talk around the Mountain is that they're making something called Tretonin... and that it's made using live Goa'uld symbiotes."
Jack curses under his breath and checks his handgun before concealing it under his jacket. "Me and Carter will look into it," he replies. "She says 'hi,' by the way."
Daniel nods and grins. "Say 'hi' back for me. I miss her. You know, I'm not *that* useful inside the SGC; the NID keeps me on a tight leash and I swear President Kinsey has my office bugged purely for his own amusement. I could leave, do more good with you guys--"
Jack shakes his head and leans against the wall by the door. "Nobody in our little resistance would even be around anymore if you weren't inside, Daniel. As much as I want you with me--"
"Yeah, yeah." Daniel pins him to the wall and extracts a final kiss. When he steps back, he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and fingers the gun hidden inside. "You go out first. I'll follow in a few minutes."
Jack nods and slips out the door, and Daniel watches from a little sliver of open curtain as he makes his way to his car. Once he's inside, Daniel waits a few minutes, then he leaves the room behind, moving to his own car at a carefully casual pace. He turns on the heater full blast, pulls out of the parking lot. He can see Jack in his rear-view mirror until he turns out of the parking lot, and then there's nothing there that's recognizable anymore.
the end