The Eclipsed Series

Part Seven: Renewed



Now

I got back to Washington too late to do anything but eat, shower and roll into a cold, big bed. Fucking delays. Daniel got to step half way across the universe in a split second and I got stranded in airports on a regular basis. That summed us both up, right there.

The euphoria I'd felt at Daniel's place the night before had dissipated like dew in the scorch of the rising sun. Easy for him to play Cupid, secure in the knowledge that both of us loved him too much to ever call him on his bullshit -- yes, both of us. It'd taken me a long time to see that whatever hell of longing Jack was in when it came to Daniel, he had company, but he did. Thank God we'd never have to choose, because I had a feeling -- one I was never going to share with Jack and didn't have to discuss with Daniel -- that I'd choose Jack, Jack, Daniel, and Daniel, me, and wouldn't that be interesting.

If Daniel ever got adventurous with his sexuality, I'd fucking geld him.

It could work now, with Jack. I really thought it could. Daniel thought it could.

Of course, we were the easy ones to convince.

The first time I'd seduced Jack, I'd been terrified, shy, and furious, and he'd done all the hard work. None of those emotions were left. I knew him too well for the first two and the last… I'd been angry for long enough. It was eating me hollow.

That first time he'd wanted me, and, which mattered more, he was curious about me. I didn't have anything left to give him. He'd had me. Every which way. No mystery left about Major Paul Davis, none at all.

There was the plus side that we lived in the same city now. If I walked, assuming I didn't get mugged on the way, I could be at his place in forty minutes. If I drove, more like ten, depending on traffic. He was close. Maybe not a plus. I thought about bumping into him on a regular basis and getting an indifferent nod, a murmured, "Major." Okay, that would hurt. Close could be a problem.

And now I was knotting my tie, slipping on a coat as it looked like rain, and going into work where he'd be three floors, four corridors and eight doors away.

I wanted to see him. Even with all the doubts I was harbouring. I caught sight of myself in the elevator mirror, and I was grinning; a tight, exultant, ferocious grin that scared the shit out of me. I toned it down as I stepped out into the lobby, and still got an appraising look from a man on the fifth floor I'd wondered about, a not-at-all subtle invitation in his eyes.

I got in to my office and found that in addition to a terrifying amount of new and urgent, right now, please, the building was missing a general. General O'Neill had taken some leave and gone fishing. Strict orders not to be disturbed for anything short of an alien invasion.

Fuck.

Even I couldn't arrange one of those at a minute's notice.


Then

"I've never been fucked by a General before."

"And that hand on your ass was shaking the President's a few short hours ago."

I shuddered. "Thinking about what you did with it after that, I hope you washed it first. I'm picky that way."

He snickered. "You don't like him?"

"I didn't like his first choice of Vice President."

"God, no." Jack's fingers stroked over my back. He was touching me a lot since he'd come back, as if he thought I'd changed while he'd been gone and he had to get to know me all over again. "Kinsey'd got his eye on bigger and better than VP, though; now, that's a scary thought."

"Not before bedtime; you'll give me nightmares." I rolled over and curled up against him. He wasn't the only one who needed reassurance.

"So… I got here, was wined and dined, made my excuses to come here and get welcomed back --"

"I do hope that you did feel welcome, sir," I murmured against his shoulder, biting it gently, and then reconsidering and biting it hard.

"Ow? And, yes, the way you went to town on getting me naked before I even got the part where I said I'd missed you was heartwarming."

I snickered. "I seem to recall having some help. And get used to the pain. I can mark you up as much as I damn well want to now."

"Within reason."

I straddled him, moving slowly, because there was no need to rush; he wasn't fighting me, pinning his hands to the bed. "No. Not within reason. I'm not feeling reasonable. I'm feeling…"

"Out-ranked?"

"You mention that you're a general one more fucking time…" And Carter out-ranked me, too, now. That stung, just a little, for some reason.

"And?" He was trying very hard not to smile and I didn't like it. He didn't laugh enough. Didn't smile enough. Shouldn't stop himself.

"You know I can never think of anything that sounds scary and vaguely possible," I complained, letting go of his wrists.

"Yeah. You suck at threats. And I don't scare well."

"I've noticed that. Help me out here."

"You want me to tell you how to make me quiver in the boots I'm not wearing? Isn't that cheating, Davis?"

"In my circles, it's viewed as creative and gets you patted on the… head."

His eyes narrowed. "I think you just found something."

I thought about what I'd said, coming up with the right answer almost at once, but drawing out the wait time, savouring it. "Jealous?" I asked. "Of me getting petted?"

"Patted. And, yes." He looked a little surprised. "Yes, I am."

I crowed like Peter. "That's just perfect."

"Why?" There was a mutinous set to his mouth now. "Because you do it? All the fucking time, and you like company in being nuts?"

"Can you see why I'm like that, now?" I flicked my fingernail against his nipple, a stinging bite of a move. "You get a flash of me with some other general's hands on me and turn territorial --"

"That fucking hurt," he ground out. I did it again, watching the tender skin redden and swell. "Davis --"

I leaned down and bit, taking the marked skin into my mouth, feeling him struggle under me but not hard enough to make me stop, bruising him, hurting him, wanting him.

His hand caught at my hair, yanking me back, hard enough that he was lucky that I opened my mouth in time to save him from losing some skin. "Stop that," he said, his breath unsteady.

"Why?" I wriggled my ass back an inch or two, feeling his erect cock settle against it, riding the divide. "Seems to be working for you." I pinched at the wet skin on his chest with my fingers, feeling the heat held there, and the throb of his blood. He arched up, lips parting, supporting himself on his elbows.

Then he drew my gaze down to his other nipple, erect and waiting, and raised his eyebrows.

I drew the edge of my fingernail over the inflamed skin, down and across, in an X. "I haven't finished with this one yet."

"Paul…"

"You still feel cold." I bent over and kissed him and couldn't stop. He tasted of sex and he tasted of nothing but himself. No toothpaste, no food, no drink. Just Jack, and it was driving me crazy. Sometimes that was what his cock tasted like right from the first lick, no bitterness to slick away with spit, no overlay of soap. Times like that I'd keep going back to it, sliding down his body to take just one more taste until he gave up trying to stop me and let me do it for as long as I wanted, as long as he could last. Now, kissing him, I was making soft, eager sounds, grunting and moaning and licking at his fucking teeth, for God's sake, tears leaking out of my eyes as I finally accepted that he was back.

"Supposed to be seducing me," he whispered. "All sorts of depraved ways. Not crying on me."

"For crying out loud?" I added, getting back enough control to joke.

He nodded, swiping his fingers across my cheeks and bringing them away damp. "Well, yeah, Paul. For crying out loud."

"Oh, God, I missed you." I'd slid off him mostly, and we were lying in a position we'd worked out years ago, which looked awkward, but which let us get as close as humanly possible. Basically me plastered to his side, my legs curled under his raised knees. "We all did."

He peered down at the marks I'd left on him, probed them gingerly with a finger, sighed, and turned his head. "Who's we?"

"All of your team, but… well, Daniel. He and I, ah…"

"Oh, God, you didn't have a fight, did you?" Was that the faintest trace of smugness? I bet it was.

"Yes… and no. Mostly no. I think."

"Spill."

I was back to myself again. "Absolutely not, sir."

"You've got nipples, too, Major."

"Two of them, sir, and all I'm willing to say is that Daniel and I… bonded over missing you."

"You two teaming up makes me fucking scared. Petrified. I'll get it out of him, you know."

I snorted. "His nipples are off-limits. How?"

He tried to look mysterious and failed to pull it off in any way, shape, or form. "I know how to handle Daniel."

"Not according to any mission report I've ever read."


Way Back When


"You really get off on that, don't you?"

I opened my eyes a bare, grudging crack and nodded. "Mmm." Shut up, Colonel. Still in the moment.

"Are you corrupting me?"

I sighed, forced to respond when I wanted to doze, and filed the memories away for later, when he was light years away and out of reach. I was still too hung up on the number of times he'd --we'd – come close to dying on our last mission together to respond with anything like my usual fluency. I guessed I owed Quinn a thank you letter. Dear Jonas. Thank you for being brave and heroic yesterday and saving my boyfriend's ass from drowning so that I can continue to treat it with the care and attention it deserves. Yours sincerely, Major Davis.

Yeah. Maybe not. And I wasn't stupid enough to mention Quinn’s name to Jack. Tolerance and acceptance only went so far. I was willing to bet it'd be one hell of a long time before O'Neill walked into Daniel's old office and gave its new occupant a genuine smile. Besides, I’d wanted to be heroic, too, dammit, and I’d been packed off, safe and sound instead.

"Can we settle for 'spoiled' instead of ‘corrupted’? In the sense of indulged and treated, because you enjoyed it, too."

He didn't deny it, although his face heated slightly. Sweet. Since Daniel had gone I was seeing a new side of Jack. Darker at times, but more playful, too, as if without Daniel around, some restraint had slipped free. Although given the experimenting we’d been doing, that wasn’t the best choice of words.

"Maybe." His self-possession was back. "It's just -- sex has always been one of the simpler parts of my life. What we just did... wasn't."

"Sex? Simple?" I rolled my eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Dick gets hard, dick gets attention, dick gets soft. Simple."

I went to my stomach, nuzzling my face into the pillow that he'd slept on, partly because I was more comfortable like that, partly so that he could get a good look at my ass. I didn't get a shocked gasp; didn't expect one, either. I got a low, satisfied grunt of approval and a spit-wet finger drawing a line between red skin and pale.

"Did a job on you, didn't I?"

I was back to a murmured, appreciative, "Mmm". He had. A moment at the start when I'd been tense with apprehension, expecting tentative, shy swats when I wanted solid, hard hits, but he hadn't let me down.

"So I get that me whacking your ass was simple --"

"It's not as easy as it looks to do a good job, though. Which you did." I stretched, feeling hot, tight skin protest and grinned. "Thank you kindly, sir."

He chuckled. "You're welcome, Major. But if I was to ask why you wanted that when you never have before --"

"Have." I was relaxing again, sinking into a happy mush of muscle. "Just not from you."

"Yeah? Huh. So why now? You woke up and put your kink hat on, or something?"

"Bad day. I got pissed off at the wrong people and had to apologise. I hate that. Hate being wrong."

"So I got to be the one who punished you?" He sounded doubtful, like he'd looked when I'd picked up his hand, put it against my ass and said, "Hit me. Please. Hard. As long as your hand can take it."

I took a moment to organise my thoughts so that I gave him enough to shut him up; not enough to leave me too exposed. "No. I don't see it as a punishment -- I like it too much for that to make any sense -- and I don't want to pretend it's something I deserve, to sugarcoat it. Kink. I know that. I just needed something to take the taste of the day away, and that does it for me." I tilted my head around until I could see him. "Might not ask for it again for weeks. Months, even. Is that okay?" I didn't specify what was okay; the asking again, or the delay. I was curious about how he'd interpret it.

"Sure."

He said it a little too quickly, a blanket reassurance that could mean anything. He'd been hanging around me too much; that was a politician's response. I couldn't decide if he was glad, or covering disappointment, but my money was on the latter. He'd fucked me afterwards with an intensity that didn't go with distaste.

I pushed him a little harder, taking a small revenge for having my afterglow dimmed. "I might want to do it to you before that, though. Is that okay?"

"What?"

I shrugged against the mattress, hiding a smile. "I'll take that as a no. Fair enough."

"No. Not a no." He pushed at my shoulder and I let him turn me onto my back, wincing as my ass scuffed against cotton sheets. "At least, I don't think it is. I might change my mind. You're going to have to earn it, though."

Interesting idea, and now I was going to have to go through with it. Not a problem, exactly; just unexpected. "How?"

He lay on his side next to me, face propped on his hand, free hand roaming over me possessively. I wasn't capable of physical arousal; the remnants of come, clinging stickily to my stomach, were still wet, for God's sake, but when he touched me, he had my mind fogging up with need. We weren't together long enough or often enough for either of us -- so far -- to ever be truly sated. No unspoken agreements that tonight, just for once, we'd settle for a chaste kiss and roll over to sleep because we were tired.

No.

I'd fucked him drunk and dizzy with fatigue, feeling distanced from my body and its climax but craving it anyway. I'd had him fall asleep while his cock was still in my mouth, lullaby-licked to dreams I'd hoped were of me.

We fucked. It's what we did. Sharp, raw; need and lust driving us. It'd wear off eventually, but for now we were enjoying ourselves.

"How do I earn it?" I repeated, stretching out and kicking him alert with the side of my foot because I wasn't the only one who'd just come howling and was feeling sleepy.

"Tell me why it feels good. Which is better? Getting or giving?"

"Why do you care? It won't necessarily be the same for you." So he was just intrigued? Wanted a taste of what had made me come that hard, that fast?

"I don't care; I just want to know."

"Elephant's Child," I muttered.

"Kipling," he said smugly. "And my curiosity's not insatiable."

"Yes, it is. When it comes to me, it is." I found it flattering, puzzling and annoying, depending on my mood and how much he pushed.

"Want to get to know what makes you tick."

"And I want to spank your ass from time to time, sir." I found that I did after I’d said it. He'd struggle and hate it, most likely, dealing with it all wrong, as if it was an attack, or a challenge, rather than a means to an end, a diversion, but even so...

"Spank away," he said easily, settling himself down on his back and smiling up at the ceiling. "Once you've told me why it gets you off."

"Because it does."

"Not good enough."

I took hold of my temper. "It's a kink. We all have them. It's not something I do often, but now and then... I want it. I trusted you enough to let you know that much about me, and because I had a feeling that you'd get off on it, too. If you'd turned me down, that would've been it."

"You wouldn't have gone looking for it somewhere else?"

The question hung between us. Too many weeks apart for us not to think about it sometimes; to wonder if the faithfulness only went one way.

"I'd have done without. There's no one else. Only you. Christ --" I twisted and sprawled out on him, awkward and unbalanced, not caring as long as he could feel my weight, see my face as I told him; see the truth of it in my eyes. "There's no room for anyone but you. You're my addiction. My obsession. I think about you more than I should, I miss you more than I expected, and if you fucking crack one of your O'Neill jokes about that, I'll feed you your balls for breakfast, okay?"

His eyes glittered. "You're very fierce, Major. Very... dictatorial."

I sighed, resting my forehead against his. "Sorry."

His chin tilted up and his mouth found mine, teasing me into kissing him with soft, insistent nudges until I capitulated, opening my mouth to his tongue, catching at his lip with my teeth as his hand stroked over my ass.

"Regretting it now?" he whispered, tapping the centre of one buttock where the bruises would be buried under the skin, faint mottled shadows, for days.

"No."

"It hurt you. I hurt you."

"It was supposed to. It's what I asked for."

God, yes, it had hurt. A lot. Delivered in measured, deliberate, careful slaps that only became flurried and fast at the end when I was writhing and wriggling, spoiling his aim.

After I'd done it to him, assuming he let me, I doubted he'd ever hit me quite that hard again, not without being pushed into it. He'd know what it felt like, and it'd make a difference. Easy, with my skin doing no more than redden, and the sounds I was making close to the ones I made when he was fucking me, sucking me, to fool himself that he wasn't really doing much damage.

"Fucking you after that -- was it too much? I should've asked --"

I buried my head in the crook of his neck, a dry sob of laughter shaking me. "God, I'd have killed you if you'd waited for permission. Did I look like I was capable of talking?"

His hands ran over my back in slow, soothing sweeps, and then he rolled us so that we were on our sides. "No. But I thought I'd be able to tell if it was something you didn't want. Glad I wasn't wrong."

"Not wrong," I agreed. The sharp ache inside my ass was almost lost in the burn and throb of the spanked skin around it. Almost. He'd hurried, trying to get inside me before one or both of us came. I'd felt the drag of his cock, smeared unevenly with lube, against my heated skin, a shock of cool wetness, and heard him moan and freeze in place, his hands cupping the scalding-hot skin he'd been slapping, his thumbs digging into my hole. He'd lasted about six strokes and I'd come with the first deep thrust.

"I can't tell you," I said abruptly. "Just trust me enough to try it, or don't. I wasn't really serious, to be honest." His face reflected just how much he didn't like that admission, and he started to pull away. I grabbed at him. "Don't. I will. I'd like to. I just -- I said it expecting a flat rejection, and I was all set up to deal with that. Not with you agreeing."

"I haven't yet," he snapped out. "God, you piss me off, sometimes, you know that? I can see the wheels turning in your fucked-up little head, spinning away -- Stop it. You want something, just ask. I'll do it, or I'll let you do it, or I won't. Simple as that."

The last three words were spat out at me from a mouth that closed in a tight line right after.

"That goes both ways, you know," I offered, when the silence between us was brittle and painful to breathe in. "I told you once I was safe."

"That, I remember," he said sarcastically. "Should've paid more attention to that little red flag, shouldn't I."

I relaxed. He was talking to me again. "Yes, well you wanted my ass in your bed, didn't you? That tends to buy a lot of leeway."

He pounced, pinned me on my back, fingers cruel around my wrists, and ground against me. My ass sent up a flare of protest and I moaned, trying to buck up against him.

"Yes, Major, I did. Wanted your argumentative, insane, tight little ass right where I could nail it."

"Except I fucked you," I reminded him between gasps and ouches.

"See? Right from the start you wrecked my plans."

"I don't think so," I told him, giving up on struggling as I was making the skin on my ass sting worse. "I think you wanted my dick up your ass back then, and I think you want my hand on it now. Any other requests?"

"Bite me." It was snarled out, but we were playing again, getting hard again, maybe not enough for a second round, but enough to hang a flag of truce on.

"Yes, sir. Where, sir?"

He looked frustrated. "God. You can't," he said. "None of it. I go off world day after tomorrow."

They weren't giving him much time to recover, were they? I ducked my head and set my teeth gently around his nipple, feeling the tickle of hair against my chin, biting down hard enough to get a soft exhalation of pleasure from him, but no more than that.

"I can spank you without it leaving anything that'll show by then," I told him. "I wouldn't have done much more than that anyway."

"Later, maybe," he said, his gaze shifting to a really dull piece of wall. "Oh, hell. Forget it."

"No. I won't mention it again until you do --" 'Until' not 'unless', because I knew that he would. "But I'm going to think about it. Often. In detail. Every time I jerk off thinking about you." I gave him a smile even I found annoying.

"That's disturbing."

I yawned. "The fantasies with you in are usually the tamest, actually. I find there's a limit to what I'll do to you."

"To me? Do I want to know?"

"I don't plan on telling you, so it's irrelevant."

"Why do I get the feeling you're all talk?"

I smiled, refusing to rise to the bait. "I'm sure you're correct, sir."

His hand settled on my belly, his nails scratching at the drying flakes of come. "Get your ass in the shower, Major. I want to hear you yell when the cold water hits it and starts to steam."

I picked his hand up and studied his palm. Little bit swollen, little bit red. I kissed it better, licking across it with a wet swipe of my tongue.

"Feels nice," he said.

I finished with another kiss, mockingly, precisely centred, and let his hand drop. "Feels hot."

He closed his hand into a fist, testing it. "Guess the pain goes both ways. Maybe next time I should use something else."

"No!"

It came out with too much vehemence and his eyebrows shot up. "Sorry?"

"Don't be. Sorry. I just -- if I do it I want your hand. Nothing else."

I'd had a paddle used on me once and hated it. No ritual, no coy 'bad boy' talk, no toys. Never over the knee, never tied down. Although that last one, well, maybe... definitely a good look for him…

"You asked me once if I was into being tied up."

"I did?" He thought about it, visibly sifting through our past conversations, and then nodded. "You said you'd never trusted anyone enough."

"I do now."

"This is turning into an interesting weekend."

I shrugged. "We're playing. No more than that."

He looked as if he was having trouble with that concept.

"It's not complicated. It's not unusual."

“It is for me.”

“My poor, innocent Jack,” I whispered mockingly. “Maybe I have corrupted you with my wicked, Washington ways.”

Maybe I had.


Part Eight

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