Fic: Well of Souls SG-1
Sep. 9th, 2006 06:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frahulettaesMy answer to Nicci's Challenge.
Daniel seduces Jack.
Feather
Neolithic
One false Dead God.
500 words.
Apophis.
They had nearly broken themselves against him, indeed had broken and had been broken. The wreckage they had become ebbed and flowed between them, an uneasy tide of intimacy.
No light shone between their awareness of each other. That was what time and terror and chaos had forged and however oddly shaped it looked, like a Neolithic temple, not even paper could slip between the stones in the wall called 'team.'
And so it was not so strange that Daniel could sleep only on Jack's sofa. Not strange to find the immutable quiet of shuffling from room to room, inside to out, had become a place of rest for their tattered souls.
It struck Daniel one day that he'd forgotten how touch felt. Not 'good job' touch. Or 'are you okay' touch. He held the thought in his mind, looked at it through the milky luminescence of his detachment and tried to remember when last someone had touched all of him. Wondered what there was left to touch.
He'd sat for a long time, working the Jacob's ladder of thoughts. Sat so quietly, so far inside the thicket of it that he'd not heard Jack say his name. He didn't hear it once. And he didn't hear it again.
"Daniel." The third time and Jack's voice, edged and questioning, cut through to him and he looked at Jack. Saw the same dullness, had seen the same since the day of Apophis death. It was like, somehow, Apophis had won because they'd all become so...muted, had begun to drift.
That awareness tore at the shroud he wore. Its cut so delicate, soft as a feather, yet even the small amount of feeling it allowed in felt too bright, too much. It widened, looking at Jack he felt it rip and shred, felt the heat and need crest. He wanted to deny Apophis any shred of victory, to deny the effect he'd had on their lives.
It only took a moment for the idea to gel. He was too far-gone from the world, the day-to-day world; to play by it's rules anymore. He wanted to grab something for himself. With both hands and dive in so far he wouldn't remember the false dead god's name. And so he found himself with fists full of Jack's shirt, the image of Jack's surprise imprinted on his retinas after he'd closed his eyes and began plundering Jack's mouth, one hand slid behind the man's neck, the other clasped around his strong waist.
Jack didn't fight when Daniel drew him to the sofa. Nor did he resist when Daniel pushed him down amongst the soft pillows, hot hands sliding under his shirt, tugging, loosening, and opening. In this, as in all things, Daniel was elemental and long gone were the days when Jack could so easily put him in a box labeled 'off limits' and 'civilian consultant' and 'married'. Daniel had slipped into him, into his mind and spirit. All that was left was for Daniel to slip into 'him.' And, like waiting for the storm, he was relieved when it broke here, in his house where it was safe. Where they were both safe.
Daniel seduces Jack.
Feather
Neolithic
One false Dead God.
500 words.
Apophis.
They had nearly broken themselves against him, indeed had broken and had been broken. The wreckage they had become ebbed and flowed between them, an uneasy tide of intimacy.
No light shone between their awareness of each other. That was what time and terror and chaos had forged and however oddly shaped it looked, like a Neolithic temple, not even paper could slip between the stones in the wall called 'team.'
And so it was not so strange that Daniel could sleep only on Jack's sofa. Not strange to find the immutable quiet of shuffling from room to room, inside to out, had become a place of rest for their tattered souls.
It struck Daniel one day that he'd forgotten how touch felt. Not 'good job' touch. Or 'are you okay' touch. He held the thought in his mind, looked at it through the milky luminescence of his detachment and tried to remember when last someone had touched all of him. Wondered what there was left to touch.
He'd sat for a long time, working the Jacob's ladder of thoughts. Sat so quietly, so far inside the thicket of it that he'd not heard Jack say his name. He didn't hear it once. And he didn't hear it again.
"Daniel." The third time and Jack's voice, edged and questioning, cut through to him and he looked at Jack. Saw the same dullness, had seen the same since the day of Apophis death. It was like, somehow, Apophis had won because they'd all become so...muted, had begun to drift.
That awareness tore at the shroud he wore. Its cut so delicate, soft as a feather, yet even the small amount of feeling it allowed in felt too bright, too much. It widened, looking at Jack he felt it rip and shred, felt the heat and need crest. He wanted to deny Apophis any shred of victory, to deny the effect he'd had on their lives.
It only took a moment for the idea to gel. He was too far-gone from the world, the day-to-day world; to play by it's rules anymore. He wanted to grab something for himself. With both hands and dive in so far he wouldn't remember the false dead god's name. And so he found himself with fists full of Jack's shirt, the image of Jack's surprise imprinted on his retinas after he'd closed his eyes and began plundering Jack's mouth, one hand slid behind the man's neck, the other clasped around his strong waist.
Jack didn't fight when Daniel drew him to the sofa. Nor did he resist when Daniel pushed him down amongst the soft pillows, hot hands sliding under his shirt, tugging, loosening, and opening. In this, as in all things, Daniel was elemental and long gone were the days when Jack could so easily put him in a box labeled 'off limits' and 'civilian consultant' and 'married'. Daniel had slipped into him, into his mind and spirit. All that was left was for Daniel to slip into 'him.' And, like waiting for the storm, he was relieved when it broke here, in his house where it was safe. Where they were both safe.
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Date: 2006-09-10 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-09-10 12:07 pm (UTC)