The sun was coming up over the mountains on the Utopian moon, making Daniel squint as he left his shelter. He was nude but his bladder was aching, and since he and Jack were isolated, there was no point in getting dressed. As he gingerly walked to a spot behind the nearby trees, he was thankful that he didn't have to drop his trousers. His sore muscles were protesting even this simple movement.
Holding himself, Daniel ground his teeth, hating that his hand was shaking. He was both exhausted and angry because of what had happened last night with Jack. Daniel wasn't all that certain they were going to remain friends. There was that annoyingly accurate cliche about best friends having sex, but if he had any say in the matter, he would try to fix this. The only problem was, how? Because he didn't even want to think about what had happened.
Apparently his traitorous mind hadn't gotten the message. Daniel sighed as he stared at the dew-covered foliage, easily recalling the memory of the night before. He tried to dismiss it, wanting so much for it to have been a dream. A very vivid, very intoxicating dream. But it hadn't been a dream. Even if his mind wanted to gallop headlong into denial, his body definitely remembered, and would for some time.
Daniel cursed his pragmatic mind for not being able to pretend, even for a minute, that last night had never happened. As if to contradict himself, he reached behind and rubbed his left ass cheek, grimacing a humorless smile as he remembered getting smacked there. There'd be a bruise to match all the others. What was surprising was that his anus and rectum didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected they would. Jack may have been wildly brutal in his passion but he'd somehow been careful.
Careful. Not a word that had made an appearance in the last twelve hours. No, Careful had gone for a walk, along with Caution, Common Sense, Rationality, and Fortitude. What the hell had happened to his ability to know his own goddamn mind? To be firm and resolute, as always? He'd been saying "No," in his head, but what had come out of his mouth last night had been "Wait," "We can't," and "Yes."
What the hell had been the matter with him? What the hell had been the matter with Jack?
There had been nothing wrong with the water but after an hour of working it out, Daniel realized there was something wrong with that purple and green herb they'd been eating. Still, it wasn't a "Get out of Jail Free Card."
Daniel shook off his dick, but instead of letting go, he held himself a moment longer, then reached down to cup his balls. They, too, were just a bit sore. He stepped past the trees and watched the sunrise, wishing again that it had all been a dream. Plant or no plant, things were different now. Even if Jack succeeded in pretending nothing had happened, Daniel couldn't. Not for a while, at least.
He looked over his shoulder, staring at the rough shelter they'd made among the ruins, and listened for Jack's heavy breathing. He caught nothing, and figured he must be too far away, even in a place as quiet as this one. Wherever they were.
Turning back to the sunrise, he massaged his neck. A wistful, twisted smile came to his face as he remembered how sloppy Jack had been as he'd gone down on him. What he'd lacked in skill, he'd made up for in enthusiasm. He'd almost eaten Daniel for dinner, and Daniel remembered the feel of the rough earth under his ass as he'd tried to wriggle away from Jack's mouth. He'd been too sensitive after coming, and Jack had been like a kid with a lollipop. He'd wanted more.
Reaching down, suddenly curious, Daniel looked for scratches, but found nothing but dried come. With a distasteful look, he fixed his gaze on the lake a few yards to his left, then set off, intending to wash himself in the cool water. There might not be any soap, but he definitely needed a bath.
Wading in to the top of his thighs, he shivered as he gently rubbed his skin, removing the visible evidence of the night before. He couldn't remove the other evidence, and he was no longer sure he wanted to. It hadn't been bad, exactly. Just the beginning of it had, and by the time they'd had sex, Daniel had been a very willing participant. He had to admit that he'd enjoyed what had happened, had encouraged Jack for more, but he couldn't help feeling guilty because none of it had been done sober and none of it had been a damn good idea--nowhere near a damn good idea. They were teammates, dammit. A long time ago, Daniel had made a promise to himself: no more relationships with people he worked with, whether they were his friends or not.
He had to deal with the aftermath, but he couldn't do that until Jack's mind was clear of the drug. How he would get that to happen, he didn't know, but after that was accomplished, how would this play out? The uncertainty was driving him crazy. Wading out a little further, he immersed himself in the lake, hoping that perhaps the cold water would give him clarity and he'd have some sort of plan of action. Or at least, a better ability to deny the truth and continue waiting for a rescue.
Shaking his head underwater, nothing came but cold and regret. With a surge of irritation, he rose and shook again, smoothing back his hair and wiping the excess water from his face. As he blinked his eyes open and turned around to go back to the edge of the lake, he froze. Jack stood at the lake's edge, naked, watching him. Daniel turned away and was filled with the urge to run, to swim in the other direction. He was immediately reminded of Chaka and that damn lake filled with Goa'uld symbiotes. How screwed up was it that the person he was swimming away from this time was Jack?
The thought hit him like a sledgehammer and he looked over his shoulder. Jack had sat down. Bastard, Daniel thought. Handsome, pushy, overbearing bastard. Irritation turned to anger and he began swimming toward Jack. When he was hip deep, he righted himself and began to wade out of the water, eyes fixed on Jack like a shark. The expression on Jack's face was intense. Not angry, not mild, just... focused. It was the same kind of look Jack got on his face when he was thinking up a strategy. All that did was make Daniel madder.
Walking out of the water, he strode up and stood before him. "Stand up."
"Why?" Jack asked, his expression unchanged as he looked up at him.
"Get up!" Daniel said a little louder. "Face me, you owe me that."
Keeping his eyes on Daniel's, Jack got to his feet, hands absently brushing the dirt off his ass. "Fine, I'm standing. Now what?"
Daniel let loose a right hook and Jack either didn't defend himself or he hadn't seen it coming. Daniel's fist landed with a dull, angry smack that sent Jack sprawling backward. He started to catch himself, but he seemed to let himself fall on his left ass cheek. Rubbing his jaw, he looked up at him as Daniel walked forward.
"Mighty frisky this morning?" Jack said with a dangerous smirk.
"Get up," Daniel said, walking around him.
Jack turned on one knee, his muscles flexing. Daniel was immediately reminded of the look he'd seen last night, just prior to their first time. While Jack didn't have that same look on his face now, his body language was just as... threatening. "So you can hit me again, pretty boy?" Jack said. "Don't you want to do something else instead?"
Daniel clenched his jaw a few times, then asked, "Do you even know why I hit you?"
Jack suddenly got to his feet and made a grab for Daniel's arm, but Daniel yanked away and swung with his left.
"Stop it," Jack growled as he blocked the punch.
"Fuck you," Daniel replied, trying again.
"Fucking? Exactly what I had in mind," Jack replied, and instead of blocking him again, he swung back and his fist connected, but not with Daniel's face. He hit him squarely in the chest and Daniel stumbled backward quickly. Jack took advantage and once again, grabbed at him, but this time he held him with an iron grip, keeping Daniel from falling. Daniel thought it ironic that he saved him from falling on his ass, but given the look in Jack's eyes, save wasn't the appropriate word. He'd seen that look before, too.
"How do you feel?" Jack asked, blind-siding him with the question.
"Excuse me?" Daniel asked, yanking hard and freeing himself once more. "How do I feel? Are you out of your mind?"
Jack didn't try grabbing him again. "Probably," he said.
Daniel blinked at him. "Do you even realize what you did last night?" Jack didn't answer him. He seemed to be struggling for words and all that did was piss Daniel off.
"Do you?" Jack finally asked, his voice low.
"I didn't start... It wasn't me who..." Daniel began, teeth clenched.
Jack took a step forward and with an automatic reaction, Daniel stepped back. He expected Jack not to do it again, but he did. Twice more. But after the third time, Daniel refused to retreat. Jack's expressive eyes seemed to darken, but out of lust or anger, Daniel couldn't tell.
"It wasn't you who... what?" Jack asked, then with lightning fast reflexes, he snatched Daniel's wrist and yanked him forward. Hard. Caught off guard, Daniel lost his balance and fell against him, causing both to go to the ground. Before he could get his balance back, Jack's arms were around him, whispering spine-tingling words in his ear.
"I want you."
Daniel debated for a few seconds. He wanted to feel that pleasure again, but as long as Jack was not acting like himself, there was no way in hell. "No, not this time," he replied as he rolled out of Jack's grasp and got to his feet.
"Like hell," Jack said as he launched himself at him.
Daniel fell to the ground with an "ooof", the air nearly sucked out of his lungs. Even with Jack's weight on top of his back, he continued to attempt escape, fingers clawing in the dirt, knees pushing for leverage. But using his knees seemed to be the wrong thing to do, as it opened his legs. Jack seized the opportunity and used his own to spread Daniel's open, inhibiting his escape.
"Give me that fine ass," Jack said, breath at his neck, hands caressing his hips while his hard cock slid between Daniel's ass cheeks.
Rage and panic suddenly filled Daniel's mind and he shouted, "Not this time!" as he groped for anything he could use as a weapon. Jack grabbed his right wrist, trying to keep him from searching, but he seemed to have forgotten about his left. Daniel felt a large flat stone in the brush and grabbed it, fitting it into his palm. Just when Jack's cock rubbed over his ass, Daniel yelled and pushed back, rolling them both over. He elbowed Jack with his right arm and continued to roll, left hand raised.
Jack blocked his arm and used his legs to trap him, forcing Daniel onto his back as he claimed his mouth in a hungry, vicious kiss. Daniel hated that he tasted good and smelled even better; it was something he couldn't have, not like this. Not again. He broke away, gasping, "I love you, Jack, and I'm sorry," then with his arm free, he slammed the rock into the side of his best friend's head. He didn't want to do it, not as hard he did, but he had no choice. This wasn't his Jack.
. . .
Sitting next to the fire beside their makeshift shelter, Daniel tended to his friend as he worried about the force he'd used to knock him out. Jack had been unconscious for ten hours now and Daniel hoped that he hadn't caused any lasting damage. He'd cleaned up the blood and had been forced to use the sewing kit in his field pack to stitch up the gash just above Jack's right temple. Nothing much, just a couple of well-placed stitches to encourage the wound to close. Jack was going to have one hell of a headache when he woke up.
Daniel reached over next to the fire and stirred the contents of the canteen cup. No medicine, but a broth made from the chicken and vegetables in the MRE was just as good. It would have to be. He looked down at Jack's body, at the rumpled clothes he'd had a hard time getting on him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to pause and reflect on way he'd felt under his hands. Hard muscle, skin smooth in places and rough in others, small scars littered everywhere.
Shame mixed with love and over several minutes, Daniel reluctantly had to recognize what he was truly feeling: he wanted Jack. He'd wanted him last night, and he'd wanted him earlier. His desire had been a long time buried and once released, he'd been afraid of it, angry that when they were finally together, Jack had been under the influence. As he had been.
It had been good. He had to admit that, too. And he had to admit that he was glad that Jack had acted as he had: that he'd forced him, that he'd been rough. Sometimes the only way to release long-held repression was with force. Even if it was wrong. While it hadn't been rape, and Daniel was damn familiar with what that was like, it also hadn't been something he'd actively sought out. So force? No, not so much physically, given how he'd accepted Jack once the man's mouth had engulfed his cock. This was more psychological than anything else.
It made Daniel angry, thinking about it, hating himself. Why did it have to be something like this to get him to see what he felt? Why did they have to get trapped on this goddamn world and why did Jack have to be influenced by some goddamn drug in order to show him how he felt?
Guilt reared its head at that moment as he looked into Jack's face. He remembered the look in his eyes the split second before he'd hit him. Lust, yes, but there'd been love there. At least, Daniel had thought it was love. When Jack opened his eyes (and he would, dammit), that look would probably be gone.
Daniel drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. Just one more thing he couldn't have. Even though he hadn't allowed himself the luxury of wanting, he'd still had that desire buried inside, and now he would have to bury it again.
At that moment, Jack's legs shifted as he groaned. "Oy," he said, keeping his eyes closed as he slowly reached to touch his head.
"Headache?" Daniel asked gently, knowing the answer.
"What the hell do you think? What the fuck did you hit me with?"
Daniel cringed, but he kept his gaze on Jack's face. He needed to see the look there once Jack opened his eyes, and though he dreaded what might come, he had to know. "A rock," he told him.
Jack groaned again, then his hand passed over the bandage and he explored it with his fingertips. His hand froze and he opened his eyes, staring up at him. "Stitches?"
"Three," Daniel said, hating that Jack's look was neutral.
Jack dropped his hand to his side and closed his eyes again. "Either you hit harder than I knew you were capable of or my head's getting softer."
Daniel couldn't help but dredge up a sardonic smile. "It's definitely not soft. And since I've never hit you before today, you really don't know how hard I hit."
A couple of long minutes later, Jack opened his eyes again. He looked up at Daniel and fixed him with a look Daniel had never seen before. It wasn't angry or condemning. It wasn't wary, conniving, mischievous, or calculating. It wasn't the look from earlier or the one last night. Whatever it was, it was making him nervous. "What?" he asked.
Jack cleared his throat, then winced a bit. "Look, Daniel--"
"No, I know, you don't--" Daniel replied rapidly, suddenly not wanting to hear it. He couldn't bear the sound of regret, the words of an apology... the determination to lie and pretend.
"I know, forget it," Daniel said, looking away now.
Jack was silent then and Daniel looked back into his face, expecting to see his guard back up. It wasn't. There was a frown on his face.
"Did I hurt you much?" Jack asked.
Daniel blinked at him, shocked. "No," he said, wondering why Jack was asking that. "I'm okay. A few bruises. Nothing that won't heal."
Jack was silent again, then after a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "You're mad. I got that."
"I was. Not anymore."
"But... the friendship thing, not so solid anymore, I'm thinking."
"If that's the way you want it," Daniel said tightly, wishing he were anywhere else.
"No," Jack said, shaking his head.
Daniel stared in surprise. "But you just said--"
"That was me asking you. Sorry. Headache."
"We... you're still my friend, Jack."
"So you don't hate me then?" Jack asked.
Again Daniel blinked at him, rapidly. "I could never."
"Not even now?"
Daniel shook his head, swallowing harder, and looked down at his hands. He wanted to tell him a lot of things: He loved him; he hated the man he saw last night; he would never hurt him again; he was sorry. Nothing came out of his mouth, however, and the silence was so loud, he felt as if his ears were blocked. Then Jack reached up and took one of his hands.
"It wasn't what I wanted," he said.
"I know," Daniel said, staring at Jack's fingers.
"No, you don't understand."
Daniel sighed and forced himself to look into his eyes. "I think I do. Hidden desires have a nasty habit of being forced to the surface under inconvenient circumstances."
There was surprise in Jack's eyes then and Daniel knew he'd hit the nail on the head.
"You knew that or you guessed?" Jack asked.
He wasn't smiling, but there was amusement in his eyes. Daniel recognized it as the teasing Jack used to do about his intuitive ability and it told Daniel that Jack was definitely his old self again.
He returned his friend's expression with a wry smile. "Easy to guess accurately after the fact. I honestly didn't have a clue before." He was surprised by Jack's part of the conversation because Daniel had expected an entirely different reaction from him. What he got now was... odd. Great, but odd. Perhaps now was the time to ask. "About what happened. What happens later?"
"Later?" Jack asked.
"When we get home." Daniel looked down, still astonished that Jack hadn't let go of his hand.
After a long pause, Jack rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "We carry on. What happened, happened."
Daniel stared at him. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. With the same kind of joking Jack had used, he reached over to touch his friend's face, checking for a temperature.
Jack slapped his hand away. "Stop it. I'm fine. And I'm serious. But let me ask you this. What if we're not rescued?"
Daniel frowned. "I don't know what you're getting at."
"Whether we deal with this here or at home, I don't see the difference."
Daniel was again taken aback. Jack seemed to be surprising him by the second and it was starting to confuse him even more than he already was. "There is a difference. Back home, there are those damn codes of conduct."
"Superior, subordinate, DADT?" Jack asked, making a face.
"Pretty much that entire atmosphere. That doesn't matter here. But you're right. We have to deal with this no matter what, decide how we want this to go." Jack nodded, then Daniel pointed at the plant growing alongside the lake. "I know one thing for certain. We're not eating any more of whatever the hell that is."
Jack cracked a crooked smile and closed his eyes briefly. "No, I think you've had enough of Jungle Jack."
Before he knew what he was saying, Daniel joked, "Maybe not," and then shocked the hell out of himself when he realized he meant it. Jack's expression was equally surprised.
"You liked that?" Jack asked.
Daniel took a breath. "You remember everything?" he asked evasively.
Jack didn't even flinch. "Everything."
Daniel nodded, feeling panicky. When he didn't answer right away, Jack squeezed his hand.
"Yeah, I mean, I..." He took another deep breath, then blurted out, "Yes, I liked it. I just wish it hadn't been as a result of that fucking plant and how it made you act."
Jack looked up at a spot in the late afternoon sky. "So Daniel Jackson likes it rough."
His words were a joke to hide behind, a strategy that Daniel was extremely familiar with. "Don't," he said seriously, glad that his friend lost the dark humor in his eyes. "I, um, okay, yeah, I, um... like it rough. But liking it rough doesn't equal wanting to be assaulted. No matter how good it turned out last night, how we got there wasn't fun."
Jack swallowed. "No, I guess it wasn't."
There was silence between them again, then Daniel asked, "So about my question? What happens? How do you feel about what we did?"
Jack gave him a wan smile as he massaged his forehead. "It wouldn't have been half bad if I hadn't had the home brew."
He was serious, but he was also teasing. A tactic Daniel was also extremely familiar with. Perhaps Jack was embarrassed to admit that he liked it, that he wanted it, that maybe he wanted it to continue? Daniel would like to assume that but he had to be sure.
"Would you like this to happen again?" he asked point blank. At Jack's strange look, he cleared his throat and amended, "I mean, in a less 'criminal assault' kind of way."
"Are you asking if I liked what happened?" Jack asked.
One more time, Daniel swallowed. "Yeah."
Jack stared back at him and after a long moment, he nodded. "I think I surprised myself."
Daniel's muscles loosened a bit and he let out a nervous laugh. "You're not the only one."
Jack was about to answer when he suddenly lifted his chin and sniffed the air a few times. "What's that smell?"
Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat, glad for the reprieve, and wrapped his field gloves around the canteen and plucked it off the flat rock next to the fire. "I made some broth." As Jack sat up carefully, he waited for him get settled, then he handed him the homemade soup.
Jack's brows rose as he sipped at the hot liquid. "Not bad."
Daniel nodded, and as Jack continued to eat, he asked, "Jack, I hate to harp on about it, but are you okay? Any dizziness or blurred vision?"
Jack set the cup down in the dirt next to the fire, then reached over and hooked an arm around Daniel's neck, drawing him in. Their lips met and at first, Daniel kept his closed, but to his surprise, Jack encouraged them open with his own.
What was most frustrating and confusing was the surge of approval from his dick as their tongues explored each other. At that moment, all he wanted was to admit to Jack that he wanted him. Right now. And that feeling was confirmed by the sense of loss he felt when Jack pulled back.
"Answer your question?" Jack asked.
Daniel jogged his brows. "Guess it answers all my questions."
"Good," Jack replied, picking up the soup cup. "Now, do me a favor and find me some Advil?"
After getting him some medicine for the headache, Daniel swallowed his guilt and sat next to him, trying not to stare. It was almost impossible to do and not just out of a sense of responsibility. Reluctantly, he had to admit that something dark and good had happened between them and he now had to come to terms with that.
. . .
It was another three days before they were rescued. And during that time, Daniel learned that Jack's lack of expertise at blow jobs was only due to being out of practice. Daniel also found out that the violent sex they'd had had been a slight exaggeration of the real thing. Jack, with his wits about him, was just as intense.
The biggest revelation was his liking it rough. Jack had been right. Daniel loved it. Silky words whispered in his ear let him know that it was okay to accept what he wanted, to take what he needed, and he'd almost laughed because it had come from Jack, the master of repression. Daniel couldn't believe his own responses, the way Jack pulled them from him.
He loved the deep, bruising kisses, and the way Jack clutched his hair. He loved the way Jack pinned his wrists to the ground and the way he thrust into him as if he were drilling for oil. He loved the bites on his shoulders, the constant growls of approval, and the way Jack shoved his face into the dirt as he fucked him very, very hard.
Most of all, Daniel loved making him come; the look on Jack's face when he climaxed, all slack-jawed and undefended, was enough to make him come, too.
The night before they were rescued, as Jack added more finger-shaped bruises to his hips, Daniel realized that he had already come to terms with his feelings for Jack, and for liking this new side of himself. He didn't need to feel guilty anymore. While he'd always been a sexually adventurous kind of guy, he'd never been comfortable with the rougher side of sex. Not until now, and the only reason was because it was Jack delivering the pleasure.
"What're you thinking about?" Jack panted as he nipped Daniel's earlobe.
Daniel's eyes half-lidded. "How good you are at this."
"At what?" Jack teased as he snapped his hips hard.
Daniel fisted the blanket underneath him. "No one would ever suspect how brutal you can be. No wonder you're so good at fooling people."
Jack slapped his palm over an already-pink cheek. "At fooling you, you mean."
"You used to," Daniel said tightly as he closed his eyes, then let out a sharp gasp as his balls drew up.
Yes, Jack had been very good at fooling him. Almost as much as Daniel had been good at fooling himself.
But no longer.