Work Text:
Perfect
Desert BDU's always did something to Jack, especially when they were stretched over a certain archaeologist's tight ass. He tried not to look. Well, he tried not to make it look obvious that he was looking, ogling, stepping away from his mature male facade and back to being a teenager with the worst possible crush on his best friend.
A friend wearing desert fucking BDU's.
Frottage was another thing that did something to Jack. Daniel was bent at the waist, ass presented to Jack and running a piece of charcoal over paper over some ancient bas-relief, while Jack practiced the art of strategic P90 placement over his stiffening cock.
There was a reason he sent Teal'c with Carter to collect soil and water samples besides, well, soil and water samples, and that the collection of aforementioned items was actually the reason they were on this planet in the first place. And ruins. Yes, them. There was one of them as well. Dusty, old, ruined--
"Ah, Jack?"
His P90 twitched. Jack shuddered because watching Daniel's ass was a very distracting chore, but being disturbed while watching his ass was criminal. "Yeah?"
"I said, could you pass me the brush on the end."
"Brush?"
"My kit? By your feet?" Daniel looked curiously at him, eyebrows raised, glasses midway down his sweat and dust smeared nose. And then there was the bandana that went with the desert BDU's, which always did something to Jack, especially when--
Shit! Silent and badass on the outside, rambling like a teenager with a crush on the inside.
He reached down for the brush. "Umm..."
"With the stiff bristles. There's a fine layer of clay I need to tease away."
Stiff. Tease. Fuck!
"This one?" Jack said with as much cool colonel self-control as he could muster, and held out the brush, which Daniel took with a smile of thanks. Good thing his P90 was still on the clip because his dick was doing a tango in his pants.
"Bored?" Daniel asked, after once again assuming the ass-presenting position.
"Oh, you know..."
"Yes, well, watching me take a rubbing isn't exactly exciting stuff."
Jack coughed. Daniel stopped what he was doing and looked back over his shoulder at Jack. "Problem, Jack?"
"The air's a little thick in here. With dust and... stuff."
Daniel smiled, all innocent like, because there was no way Jack could have given himself away. He was clever, had the Black Op smarts to conceal his true feelings and lie in the face of being brought undone by the sight of Daniel's ass and the myriad of ways in which watching him take a rubbing of a wall had nothing to do with frottage in the archaeological sense.
"You could take a break, step outside for a while. Get some fresh air."
"And leave you alone in here?"
"Yes, I can see how a wall full of alien squiggles might represent an imminent threat." Daniel nodded towards Jack's no longer-so-concealed weapon. "Besides, you might want to go fire that thing behind a bush or something before it goes off prematurely."
Jack groaned inwardly, his dick twitched very outwardly. The gig was up.
"Yeah, sorry about that," he said around a tight smile. "My mind..."
"Went somewhere it shouldn't have?"
"Been doing that a lot lately."
Daniel stood up and turned around. "Anything I can help you with?" But all Jack could do was lament the loss of Daniel's picture perfect ass, by letting out the smallest of whimpers and mentally writing up his letter of resignation, citing indecent and improper thoughts towards a member of his team as an honest excuse for blowing his career.
"Nope," he strangled out hoarsely, taking his imaginary pen and signing his name on the letter with more flourish than his O'Neill with two L's moniker generally warranted. He was now, at least in his mind, the boss of no one. And he wore the title well.
"I'm here if you want to, you know... blow off some steam."
Okay, now that was enough. Jack was used to their little innuendo-infused tete-a-tete but Daniel was now openly steering the conversation down a path both of them had avoided, barely, for years.
"Blow?" Jack nearly choked as his dick punched a hole through his Y-fronts and made a concerted bid for freedom. All hail to whoever decided to add triple thickness cloth to the groin area of BDU pants because it was the only thing holding in his dignity. "This isn't funny, Daniel."
"Of course not," Daniel replied, in that way that oozed pity like a sucking chest wound seeped blood. "I'm sure Janet can tell you just how dangerous an unresolved erection can be if you don't do something about it. And if you're not willing to let me help--"
"Help?"
"Yes. You know... as in lend a hand."
A hand. Great! So, now Jack was stuck with a mental image of Daniel's hand on his cock, working the foreskin back and forth, his lips parted, tongue just peeking out. "Yes!" he said far too quickly. "Ah, yes, because the problem being treated by the cause always makes for sound medical advice. Thank you so much, Doctor Jackson M.D."
Daniel tossed the brush he'd been holding aside and rolled off his gloves. "Tell me you don't want this as much as I do, and I'll walk away like we never had this conversation."
Jack didn't need much convincing.
Really, none whatsoever.
He reached for his radio and ordered up a report from Carter, who declared their position to be safe and all manner of fungi and interesting soil compositions to be had. They needed at least an hour, possibly two, to collect the collectables and take a digital diary of anything that couldn't be sampled. Jack gave them three.
For Jack, anticipation was an emotion fueled by desire, a moment he likened to seeing someone he had wanted for so very long naked for the first time. Sneak peeks in the locker room and a casual glimpse of a soap-coated cock in the shower were more voyeuristic and somewhat opportunistic when compared to someone who was giving himself over freely. And then there was that primal need that pushed away sane reasoning, like the little voice in Jack's head that told him having sex offworld was a huge no, and having it with a member of your team, who was also of the same sex, was an even bigger mistake. Don't ask, don't tell. The primal urge won out, and not because if he didn't free his cock anytime soon he was going to come in his pants, but because he had wanted Daniel for so long that other more important parts of him hurt.
Jack had signed off from Carter and not even noticed that in that single heartbeat Daniel was standing in front of him and making light work of his pants, one button at a time.
"You know," Jack said, nodding slowly, swallowing hard, and drinking in the practiced ease with which Daniel went down on his knees and ran his thumb over the top of Jack's cock, teasing it through the fabric of his Y-fronts. "Unresolved erections can be dangerous."
"Really?" Daniel said sarcastically, not even bothering to look up at him because he was far too interested in the task at hand. "Do tell."
"Apparently it's a fact. Or so I'm reliably told."
When Daniel pulled Jack's briefs down and flicked his tongue across the top of his cock, Jack figured he only had a few minutes in him. He was hungry, had been for a long time, but his hunger grew with a diminished capacity to rein it in, which was always the way when love was stronger than lust. And Jack loved Daniel.
The End