Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact

Anchored

Notes: Inspired by a little RPF story dirty_diana wote. As punishment, I made her beta this. As counter punishment, she made me re-work a melodramatic moment and pointed out that there should be some smut in my smut. Reviewed and approved by the wonderful skripka.





Jack starts out of a sudden sleep. Someone is knocking on his front door, rather loudly and insistently. ‘What the…’ he thinks to himself as he looks at the clock by the bed. Two fifteen am. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at this time of night? If there was trouble on the base, he would have gotten a call.

The knocking gets louder. “Oh, for…I’m coming, god damnit,” Jack grouses as he gets out of bed. He briefly ponders answering the door in the nude – it would serve the bastard right – then thinks better of it and slips on a pair of track pants. “This had better be good,” he mutters, running his hand over his hair as he goes down the stairs to his front door. He squints through the eyehole and mutters, “What the hell?” and starts undoing the locks. He pulls the door open a bit abruptly, and Daniel stumbles forward and then catches himself on the doorframe.

“Daniel.”

“Jack,” Daniel replies, pushing himself upright.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Jack asks, taking in Daniel’s flushed face and unsteady balance.

“Nope,” Daniel says with a slight grin.

“Two fifteen am,” Jack replies flatly.

“Oh,” Daniel says, the grin falling from his face. He suddenly looks very lost. “I…I should go then. Sorry…”

“Daniel.”

“Hmm?”

“Get your ass in here,” Jack says and then shifts out of the way, giving Daniel room to get past him. He shuts the door behind them and takes Daniel by the elbow and leads him to the living room. He pushes him towards the couch and Daniel sits down. Jack sits on the coffee table in front of him.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Jack asks.

Daniel doesn’t look at Jack. He just sits, saying nothing and looking at his hands as he picks at the seam of his jeans.

“C’mon, Daniel. It’s late. I’m tired and grumpy. There’s got to be a reason why you turned up here in the middle of the night, drunk. And please tell me you didn’t drive.” Jack resists the urge to reach out and make Daniel look at him. There’s something really wrong here. Daniel doesn’t get drunk. It’s not his style.

“Took a taxi,” Daniel murmurs, still not looking at Jack. And then he does, and the pain and despair in Daniel’s eyes stabs Jack like a knife.

“D..Daniel?” Jack stutters.

“Am I here?” Daniel asks.

“What?”

“Am. I. Here?”

“Of course you’re here,” Jack answers in exasperation, so not in the mood for existential bullshit.

“Am I? How do I know? I feel so disconnected. How do I know this isn’t just some awful punishment concocted by Oma? One where I can see you…touch you…” Daniel reaches out and puts his hand on Jack’s face. “What if it’s not real, what if it’s all in my head? I can’t tell.”

Jack puts his hand over Daniel’s. “Can you feel this?” He’s glad his fingers aren’t trembling. Daniel’s hand is hot against his face and he tries not to think about how much he likes the way it feels.

“Yes.”

“You’re here, it’s real. You’re back.” Jack answers and tries not to start when Daniel’s thumb strokes against his cheek. Daniel is looking into his eyes; his own a mass of confusion. Daniel leans toward Jack and Jack’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Daniel is about to kiss him. As much as he wants this, Daniel is in no condition to make rational decisions.

“Whoa, there, Daniel. I think you need to…” Jack tries to pull away, but Daniel’s fingers curl tightly around his jaw.

“Make this real, Jack,” Daniel pleads.

The unspoken ‘please’ is Jack’s undoing. He lets Daniel draw him forward into a soft, slow kiss. For a time, Jack loses himself in the gentle press of lips and slick slide of tongues. But then suddenly, he pulls away, panting for air, his heart hammering in his chest. This is wrong. Daniel is drunk. He can’t take advantage of him or his desperation – no matter how much he may want to. “Daniel, stop. You’re drunk…”

“Not that drunk,” Daniel says, grabbing Jack’s hand and placing it over his groin. Jack is presented with unmistakable evidence of Daniel’s arousal. “Take me to bed, Jack.”

Jack’s better judgement disappears when Daniel’s lips seal over his once again.

Afterward, sweaty, sated, and exhausted, Jack lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. Daniel is asleep, curled tightly around him, head pillowed on his shoulder, his soft breaths warm against his skin.

It had been the single most unsettling, yet wonderful, sexual encounter of his adult life. Daniel had been so desperate and needy – responding to the lightest touches, arching against him, becoming almost frantic with his demands for more contact, not calming until Jack had held him down and jerked him off. Daniel had sighed his name, kissed him hard, and then began touching and kissing him everywhere, exploring Jack’s body with curious hands and mouth. Jack came harder than he’d ever come before when Daniel swallowed him down to the root and began to hum.

He can’t make himself be sorry for his actions, try though he might. He rubs his cheek against Daniel’s hair and strokes Daniel’s back. Daniel responds by curling tighter around him. Jack smiles.

For the first time in a year he feels anchored, no longer lost in a sea of regret.