Man Is A Wolf To Man by Otter
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Category: Jack/Daniel
Genres: Angst, Drama
Rated: Adult
Warnings: None
Series: None
Summary: Jack and Daniel, in the process of becoming something more and less than what they were.

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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ummm...mostly, it's sex. Of the somewhat explicit variety. (And they done sex, twice times. The end.) I suppose you could say it's not very happy. I mean, I wouldn't say that, but you could...
- homo homini lupus - man is a wolf to man -

Daniel pressed in slowly, slowly, and paused when he heard Jack's breath explode out of him in a ragged wheeze. He stopped easing his hips forward and moved the hand that rested against Jack's stomach, instead; his fingers stroked up and down, slow and smooth, over and over until he felt those strung-tight abs begin to relax. He pressed a kiss to the back of Jack's neck, found a salty sheen of sweat there, and flicked out his tongue to taste it again.

Jack's back heaved with another breath, and his shoulderblades pressed pressed back hard against Daniel's chest. Daniel murmured, "Okay?" against Jack's ear, and nipped gently at the lobe.

Jack grunted, sucked in air through his gritted teeth and gasped, "Yeah, sure. Fine. Just... fine." His arms were trembling, little quivers that shook up through the muscles and into his back.

Daniel pushed forward again, deeper, tighter, and pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth to hold back the low, animal growl that was twisting around in his ribcage. He slid his hand down, wrapped it around Jack's cock and gave the length of it a long, solid stroke. Jack didn't hold back his groan; it drifted from his mouth like cigarette smoke, twisting toward the ceiling until the sound dispersed entirely.

Daniel shifted his weight a little; straightened so he wasn't draped over Jack's back anymore, but kind of hunched over Jack's spine, like a wolf huddled over its kill. He stroked in, and again, found a torturously slow rhythm and tugged firmly at Jack's cock in counterpoint. He curled his other hand around Jack's hip; the way his fingers curved around that sharp hip bone made Daniel shudder, made his breath catch in his throat.

He tightened his grip -- maybe enough to bruise -- and whispered, "Easy, Jack. Easy," because Jack was squirming and thrusting and panting as if he'd been running from something for a very long time.

Jack said, "Christ, Daniel, would you just-- *Please.*" His voice was an airless rasp, and the anguished curve of his back was so beautiful that Daniel had to slip his hand from hip to spine. He slid his fingers into the spaces between the vertebrae, like taking up an instrument, but the sounds that he played from Jack's body were sweeter than any he'd ever coaxed from his piano.

Jack pushed back against him, then forward into his hand, and said a little louder, "*Please,* Daniel!"

Daniel smiled, leaned down against that hand braced on Jack's back, and whispered, "I love it when you beg, Jack." With his other hand he squeezed and stroked and twisted his wrist just so, and the sound Jack made when he came was somewhere between a shout and a sob.

In the same moment, on a planet designated as P9S-522, Teal'c's last breath shuddered free of his lungs. He used it to curse Daniel Jackson's name, and then he was still and quiet, and spoke no more.

Not long after that, when Jack was still sprawled out in bed and sleeping heavily thanks to some fairly heavy-duty pain medication, Daniel was already up and showered. His laptop was open on the coffee table, perched amidst a sea of schematics and schedules, and the headset he wore over his ear was attached to his cell phone, which he was using as a paperweight.

He was saying, "And I understand that, Doctor Frasier, I do, but you need to understand that Jack is overseeing the naquadah retrieval operation. Having him on medical leave that long will seriously compromise our schedule." He paused to not-really-listen, rolled his eyes, and tried not to sigh in a terribly audible way. "How about a week?" he finally said. "Then light duties for another week, and then you give Jack another check-up. He'll tell you himself that he's ready for active duty by then, I guarantee it. He'll be going stir-crazy." Daniel frowned -- at his computer and at Frasier's voice in his ear -- and scowled at his email inbox, where a very unsatisfactory report from NASA was waiting for his response. After a moment he lost his patience and interrupted Frasier to say, "Doctor Frasier, if you aren't going to allow my staff to carry out their duties, I'm sure we can find you a suitable reassignment; we'll bring in a CMO who's more willing to consider our timetables." Then he hung up the phone, tugged the headset off, and fired a scathing email back to Carl Smith at NASA.

When he got up to stretch his legs a half an hour later, he found Jack still in bed, unmoving and asleep. For a moment he thought about climbing back into bed, breathing into the hollow of Jack's throat and curving his hand over that hip again. It was tempting, and in another time he might've done it.

But there was still work to do, decisions to approve, plans to make, miles to go before the AG satellite defense system would be ready to launch. Jack had the luxury of rest, but Daniel didn't; he frowned to himself, then paced back into the living room to get back to the business of saving the planet.

The End
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