The Eclipsed Series

Part Three

Awakenings


Now

Teal'c's eyes were making me remember a chalk-dust haze and the indentation of carved graffiti on a wooden desk; my initials, by chance. I'd rubbed a finger over the curved, smooth indentations, following the lines as a teacher's voice droned in counterpoint to the buzz of a fly, the sky outside drenched blue, cloud-pocked and distant.

Night's candles are burned out --

I resisted the urge to touch him for the space of three breaths and then held out my hand and used the ensuing handshake to ease him down into a chair. He was hurting. Happy, yes, glowing with it, but hurting.

I knew how he felt.

"This day could not have come about without your assistance, Major Davis, and that of SG-7. We are in your debt."

"You're kind, Teal'c, but we did very little. You owe this victory to nothing but the spirit of the Jaffa Nation and their --" I realised, belatedly, that I was about to launch into a measured speech of my own, all rolling rhetoric and unselfconscious platitudes.

Really had been here too long. I started over.

"Teal'c, if we helped, I'm glad, but honestly, I think you guys would've got there on your own."

He nodded, gracious as ever, and began to get up, hiding a wince of pain. I stopped him. "Drink to it?"

I poured us some of the light, one step from grape juice, wine that was drunk more than water here and was about as alcoholic, and he sat sipping it for a while.

"You will now return to Earth?"

"I think so." I shrugged. "You didn't need us much before; you really don't need us now."

"And if we did, you would return?"

"Well..." I covered my hesitation with a gulp at what was left in my cup but he spotted it.

"You wish to go home, do you not?"

"I do, yes." I glanced around my quarters. "I'm on another planet. As a kid I'd have been ecstatic at the thought; hell, even now I have to pinch myself sometimes. But I miss Earth and my work there's important, too."

"Indeed it is. You have been a good friend to the Stargate programme."

"It means a lot to me. It's been my life the last eight years or so."

Easy to tell him that, easy to be open with him about emotions I kept hidden at home.

And easy, of course, to tell more than one truth with my words.

Dark eyes met mine. "We will then both be returning, Major Davis."

I had to ask. "Are you happy about that, Teal'c? Or am I the only one going home?"

He smiled and placed his cup on the table. "It will be good to see my friends, as always." He stood. "You will see O'Neill."

I didn't miss a beat. "Bound to, yes. I'll have to report to him."

"Tell him that he is often in my thoughts."

I nodded, trying to think how to rephrase that when I repeated it, and realising that I couldn't and shouldn't.

It wasn't until he'd gone that I wondered if he'd have asked anyone else to pass a message like that along and how much he'd guessed at over the years.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die

I let the half-forgotten words slip back into my memory. It wasn't that dire; I could live without Jack. I could even be happy away from him; it was how we usually were, after all.

I just wasn't very good at it and getting worse, not better.

Of course, I wasn't trying to improve.


Then

I drew up outside the cabin with the mosquitoes thickly clustered around a lone citronella candle stuck into the ground, lop-sided and useless, by the small jetty. The smoke that was supposed to drive them away hung heavy in the air but the light and the warmth drew them to it anyway.

I don't get bitten; never have, even as a child. It wasn't the bugs that were keeping me inside my rental car. I studied the unmoving figure on the jetty and spared a glance for the dark cabin. I'd phoned Daniel's house from the small town twenty miles away, hanging up when I heard his voice. That I'd had to do that before finishing my journey, because I really didn't know if he was going to go through with his threat, left me feeling desolate and uncertain.

I counted, ten, twenty, thirty, and then sighed and got out of the car, breathing in the tang of smoke and forest and the flat, damp scent of the water. Walking over to him was difficult because I was sick with anger and terrified of what I was capable of saying and doing in this mood.

Didn't want to lose him.

Which was why I'd been angry in the first place...

I came to a halt behind him, He was sitting on a fold-out canvas chair, a beer in his hand and a rod on a rest beside him, the line dripping water from a clump of weeds tangled up in it.

I squatted down and began to clear the fouling from the line, working at it in silence, giving it all my attention. When it was weed-free I stood, wound it in, and then cast out with a hiss of line and a soft schloop as the weight took the un-baited hook deep. I reeled it in slowly and held it out to the side for him to take.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Hope you brought your own; I'm not sharing. Not after you lost my favourite spinner last time."

"It's all in the car."

He stood up and slapped irritably at a hungry bug. "God, I'm feeding every mosquito in the state tonight. Get your gear and let's move inside before I need a transfusion."

I did as I was told, dropping a rod and tackle inside the door and my case inside the bedroom door.

"You never give up on me, do you?"

"I don't think I can."

"Do you even try?"

I turned then. "Would you like me to?"

He closed the distance between us so that all I had to do to touch him was reach out. "No. God, no." He screwed up his mouth and gave me a helpless look. "Good enough apology?"

It had to be. It was all I was going to get and more than I expected.

I nodded, letting him see that I meant it, and moved on. "Do I get to eat before or after I'm gentle with you?"

"Come here, will you?"

I stepped toward the soft voice that was as demanding as it was pleading and tried very hard not to hold him too tightly.


Way Back When

We woke at six; a fraction before the alarm clock would have disturbed us if I'd bothered to set it. It was Saturday and Saturday I lay in bed late, letting sleep curl away from me slowly until something clicked and the world was back in focus and waiting for me to be busy in it. I usually spent an hour or two at work because there wasn't really much else to do that was more entertaining, but I'd had that extra hour or two of sleep and the luxury of a leisurely self-induced climax to start the day and I got a lot done.

I didn't think I'd be going into work today.

 He slid out of bed to shower and I whimpered at the flood of light from the bathroom and closed my eyes again until the bed creaked and heaved, rocking underneath me.

"I'm going."

"Fuck."

"Well, I considered it, but necrophilia's not high on my list of kinks."

I forced my eyes open. "I looked that bad?"

"Still do. Open up."

I let him push two aspirin into the desiccated interior of my mouth, where they stuck to my tongue and began to dissolve. Tasted foul but I barely noticed; too busy sorting through a jumble of memories. Party, on my knees… oh God, yes, that insistent wet drag of his cock across my face… bed, talk, fuck, once, twice, pass out… I gulped at the glass of water he handed me, trying hard not to throw up.

"Don't get drunk much these days," I told him, surrendering the glass and letting him put it on the night table. "Out of practice."

"You weren't that bad."

"At what? No, don't tell me." I lay back, closing my eyes because I knew without looking that they were sleep-swollen, I'd drooled copiously into my ear, and my hair was sticking up in clumps. If I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me. It made sense. "Fuck."

"You keep saying that."

"Sorry. Don't have the energy to kick myself."

"For what?"

He sounded amused. He found me amusing far too much for my liking -- amusing and irritating -- but there didn't seem to be a lot I could do to change that.

"It's been a while -- years -- since I woke up with someone. I was --" I came to a halt and sighed, forcing my eyes to open because if I was going to be sentimental I wasn't going to compound the felony with cowardice. "Looking forward to it. A quiet moment or two with someone. And you're dressed, about to go, and I missed it. So... fuck."

He pursed his lips, considering that. "I've really got to go. Get my stuff, catch a plane..."

"I know."

"Go back to sleep."

"Yes, sir."

"Davis --"

"Mmm?"

"I'm not done with you yet."

I snuggled back down between sex-warmed sheets. "You haven't even started."

"Are we doing this, then?"

"Be more specific, sir." I was waking up now. Still in no condition to drag him back to bed, assuming he was draggable, but able to talk with some degree of intelligence. "Fucking when we get the chance? Yes. If you want that."

"It won't be often."

"I know." I yawned. "Don't feel you have to pass up any opportunities that come your way."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Davis, my sex-life for the last year consists of you and my hand; I'm not likely to --"

"Even so." I focused on him. "No guilt. Just... be safe."

"Thanks for the PSA." He eyed his watch and muttered something.

"Was that Goa'uld?" I asked, interested.

"Teal'c says it when he's pissed. Daniel won't translate it, just to be annoying."

"Ask Teal'c."

O'Neill snorted. "I did. He gave me one of his thoughtful looks and said he couldn't think of an English equivalent. I think he made it up and Daniel's in on the joke."

"That sounds... nice." I meant it. I didn't have anyone to tease me in a way that was based on affection not contempt. Never really had.

"Davis, we're almost out of time. Come here, will you?" He looked awkwardly determined and I realised he wanted to kiss me or hold me or do something more than walk out with nothing more than a murmured goodbye.

I sat up, letting the sheets slip down to my lap now he hadn't given me the speech about how it'd been fun, but... "You used my toothbrush?"

"Toothpaste and a finger."

"I'll taste vile."

"Depends where I kiss you goodbye."

He shifted closer, cupped my chin in his hand and stared at me. "I can't do it."

"What?" I whispered, trying not to breathe on him too much, my cock hardening obediently, expectantly. "Can't do what?"

"Share. Share you with anyone who comes along. Sorry. If that's more commitment than you were looking for this soon, I'll understand."

"Fine."

"That easy?"

I shrugged. It was, actually. "It probably won't require any effort at all. I'm not exactly beating them off with a stick, you know. You trust me not to lie about it?"

"You won't have to. I won't ask."

"But you'll know."

"Probably."

"Now, do I get kissed goodbye?"

"Note to self: Major Davis wakes up in one hell of a pissy, demanding mood."

I felt an ache of need kick in, deep-down and low. "Sir..."

"Oh, you get kissed," he murmured against my mouth, his hands stroking my arms, my back, all he could reach of my ass.

"Change your flight?" I wiped his mouth dry with my thumb and then leaned in and got it wet again, pushing against his mouth with mine, feeling something like desperation, all the stronger for needing to be hidden. Don’t scare him off… don’t let him get a look at just how much you need this, need him. I cut off the lecturing voice, shaking my head and regretting it a moment later. "Check out and come back here?"

"I can't." There was regret in his voice but I took more comfort from the way he didn't let go of me, hands still moving over my back. "Got a training session scheduled this afternoon with some cadets."

"I don't know who to feel sorrier for; you, them, or me."

He grinned. "Them. Or do you think I'm too mature not to take my frustrations out on a bunch of innocent kids?"

"I think you'd make them suffer if I sent you back well-fucked and exhausted, too."

"You're probably right. It's good for their souls."

I didn't want to talk about the cadets anymore. They were getting to spend time with him, trying to please him, working their asses off for a nod of approval, the glimmer of a smile, a brief pat on the shoulder. I wasn't really feeling the need to be sympathetic towards them.

"Sir..."

"Major?" His hand slid around and under the sheet to find my cock, lingering for a moment and then pulling away sharply. "Fuck."

I bit down hard on my lip. "What did you expect?"

"Ten minutes ago you were dead to the world."

“Ten minutes ago you weren’t doing that.” I pushed back the sleeve of his shirt and tapped his watch. “How long do we have? Exactly?”

Watching him work it out was a study in precision. I could almost see him doing the mental arithmetic; flight time minus travel time, minus checkout time, minus packing time, minus from here to his hotel time… He knew Washington well enough not to underestimate the traffic so I didn’t warn him about that.

“Twelve minutes before I have to be the other side of your front door and moving fast.”

“Oh…”

“Fuck?”

“No time.”

“I was completing your sentence, and, yes, there is.” He pushed me back on the bed. “It occurs to me that you might not remember much about last night.”

“Sir, I remember plenty.”

The sheets were pulled back and his gaze tracked down my body. “Still didn’t get enough time looking at you. Wasn’t expecting to be the one left awake.”

“God, did I pass out? Really?”

He nodded, his attention concentrated on me. My head was still aching but it was easy to push that aside because lying here, on display for a man who wasn’t even touching me was erotic enough to make anything as trivial as a hangover fade to nothingness. I felt my body grow heavy and slow, arousal licking hot and wet at every pulse point. Suffused with lust and longing and acutely aware of the time ticking down. He’d leave me when his time was up, I knew it. No matter how close I was to coming, I wasn’t worth missing his plane -- no, that wasn’t fair. He had to catch it because he’d promised to be somewhere. I’d have done the same.

“I want you to remember me.”

“You’re unforgettable, sir. Trust me.”

He smiled, a small, complacent smile. “So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t always a compliment.”

His complacency deepened. “No, it wasn’t.” He took hold of my wrists and pulled them up. “Hang on. Don’t let go.”

I curled my fingers around the horizontal struts of the headboard, feeling my heartbeat speed up. My legs spread wider and I arched up an inch or two in as primitive and atavistic reaction as I was capable.

Take me. Fuck me. Yours. Nice and simple.

Not that he could. He didn’t have time to strip the minimum amount required -- and I’d settle for him unzipping -- fuck me, clean up, and get dressed again.

“You are so damn tempting,” he said regretfully. “Spread out like that. You have no idea.”

“You put me like this,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I did. Three-hour travel time; need something to distract me from the in-flight movie.”

I tried to smile but it was difficult because I kept wanting to moan instead.

“Eight minutes,” he told me. “Know what I can do in eight minutes, Davis?”

“Save the world?”

He grinned. “Sometimes.” His eyes did that track and scan again and I shivered, nipples and cock standing to attention. “Think I can make you come?”

“And have time for a coffee and a donut.”

“You’re that easy?”

“You have a way of making me into an over-achiever, sir.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Major, we both know that’s the way you were born.”

“Sir…”

“Okay, so let’s make it harder.”

“Not possible.”

“You do seem to be… excited, Major. Do you know how much of a mess your cock is? It’s wet and red and every time I look at it, it gives this little jerk. Cute.”

I’d lost control about the time his hand brushed my cock and I wasn’t going to get it back if he kept on fucking talking to me, his hands folded across his lap, his eyes on me, fuck, all over me, staring and looking and approving.

“I want to see you come. Never have. You’ve always been behind me.”

I had, hadn’t I? Hidden safely.

“Think I could talk you into coming?”

Probably. Yes. I flashed on him telling me not to come and me disobeying him, and heard a hard, guttural grunt and felt the ache in my throat that told me I’d made it.

“God, I’d like to do that some time.”

“Sir, you can do what the fuck you want to me, just –“

“Shh.” He bent over and brushed his mouth against mine, too fast for me to shove my tongue between his smiling lips. “Stop it. You’re distracting me.”

“Good.”

“Not really. There’s only going to be time for one of us to come; you feeling selfish?”

“Yes,” I said as distinctly as possible. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear, just get me off before you go. Please, sir, make me come.”

“Please, sir, can I have some more?” he murmured. “Sure, Davis, sure… just tell me what you want. My hand? Could grab hold and it wouldn’t take much, would it? One stroke, two and hey, look at that, you did that twitchy thing again. It’s like it’s got a mind of its own.”

“You are a fucking bastard and I swear I’ll jerk off thinking about –“

He didn’t let me finish, which was just as well. “Who?”

I got a look that usually comes accompanied by a bullet and shook my head, a slow, syrupy roll of across the pillow.

“Forget it. You. I’ll be thinking of you. Just… you wanted to see? Let me show you.”

He shoved his fingers into my mouth so I could suck on them and snatched them away as I convulsed, come jolting and jerking out, graceless and messy and open.

I didn’t take my eyes off him the whole time and he didn’t look away.


Part Four

Return to Home

Click here if you'd like to send feedback