(It all stared with the nail polish but took a left at Albuquerque. Makeup. Hands. On a mission, in a tent. Jack as a voyeur while Daniel masturbates. Possibly more.)
Jack can't stop staring.
Like any of a hundred other missions, Daniel is leaning against his backpack, journal propped against his raised knees, glasses pocketed. Long used to writing by a flickering campfire, a small electric lantern gives off more than enough feeble light for Daniel to write about the day. Jack leans back against his own pack, legs stretching out, hands behind his head -- staring. And listening. To Carter's footsteps squelching in the mud outside, where Teal'c keeps her company. Their voices are muted by the occasional loud pop from the campfire, the splatter of raindrops on the tent roof. Loudest of all are the rhythmic scritch of Daniel's pen and the thudding of Jack's heart. His heartbeat echoes in the pulse of his cock, hardening with each graceful stroke of Daniel's pen.
Jack can't stop staring.
He can't stop staring at Daniel's eyes, heavily outlined in deep, inky blue. At his eyelashes, so incredibly long and featherlike. At Daniel's elegant fingers tipped with glossy, pink fingernails and wrapped around a chubby pen scritching across the journal's page. At Daniel's full lips, wet and glistening, shaping the otherwise soundless words. At Daniel's tongue, darting out to moisten, or taste, the still-shiny rose-pink lips. Jack guesses strawberry, licks his own lips, and stares.
Jack could watch Daniel's mouth all night long. Jack fucking loves that mouth.
The scritching stops, the lips don't.
"Kiss me."
Jack manages not to jump out of his musings, but his cock pushes against his BDUs at the order and sweat blossoms across his skin. "You know better than that. Not on a mission, Daniel, no matter how pretty you look."
Daniel snorts, but his eyelashes flutter traitorously. Jack wonders how they'd feel sweeping across a nipple, or feathering across the head of his cock. The dark eyeliner makes the blue of Daniel's eyes deeper, makes his eyelids look half-hooded. Like how Daniel looks when he wants to watch but is about to surrender to the pleasure. In the lantern-light, his pupils are large and black, only limned in blue. "I want you to tell me how I taste. How the - the lipgloss tastes. I'm thinking...." Daniel does a slow lick, the one Jack always thinks of as Daniel's I-love-the-taste-of-your-come lick. "Strawberry? It's kind of sweet-- It's kind of tart, too, I guess. They said the color and taste changes depending on who's wearing it; the oils in our skin."
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timeasmymeasure
Pretty Baby 1/3
Date: 2008-11-01 08:25 pm (UTC)Jack can't stop staring.
Like any of a hundred other missions, Daniel is leaning against his backpack, journal propped against his raised knees, glasses pocketed. Long used to writing by a flickering campfire, a small electric lantern gives off more than enough feeble light for Daniel to write about the day. Jack leans back against his own pack, legs stretching out, hands behind his head -- staring. And listening. To Carter's footsteps squelching in the mud outside, where Teal'c keeps her company. Their voices are muted by the occasional loud pop from the campfire, the splatter of raindrops on the tent roof. Loudest of all are the rhythmic scritch of Daniel's pen and the thudding of Jack's heart. His heartbeat echoes in the pulse of his cock, hardening with each graceful stroke of Daniel's pen.
Jack can't stop staring.
He can't stop staring at Daniel's eyes, heavily outlined in deep, inky blue. At his eyelashes, so incredibly long and featherlike. At Daniel's elegant fingers tipped with glossy, pink fingernails and wrapped around a chubby pen scritching across the journal's page. At Daniel's full lips, wet and glistening, shaping the otherwise soundless words. At Daniel's tongue, darting out to moisten, or taste, the still-shiny rose-pink lips. Jack guesses strawberry, licks his own lips, and stares.
Jack could watch Daniel's mouth all night long. Jack fucking loves that mouth.
The scritching stops, the lips don't.
"Kiss me."
Jack manages not to jump out of his musings, but his cock pushes against his BDUs at the order and sweat blossoms across his skin. "You know better than that. Not on a mission, Daniel, no matter how pretty you look."
Daniel snorts, but his eyelashes flutter traitorously. Jack wonders how they'd feel sweeping across a nipple, or feathering across the head of his cock. The dark eyeliner makes the blue of Daniel's eyes deeper, makes his eyelids look half-hooded. Like how Daniel looks when he wants to watch but is about to surrender to the pleasure. In the lantern-light, his pupils are large and black, only limned in blue. "I want you to tell me how I taste. How the - the lipgloss tastes. I'm thinking...." Daniel does a slow lick, the one Jack always thinks of as Daniel's I-love-the-taste-of-your-come lick. "Strawberry? It's kind of sweet-- It's kind of tart, too, I guess. They said the color and taste changes depending on who's wearing it; the oils in our skin."
continued