Parade rest is
commanded only from the position of attention.
The command for this movement is Parade, REST. On the command of
execution REST, move the left foot about 10 inches to the left of the
right foot. Keep the legs straight without locking the knees, resting
the weight of the body equally on the heels and balls of the feet.
Simultaneously, place the hands at the small of the back and centered
on the belt. Keep the fingers of both hands extended and joined,
interlocking the thumbs so that the palm of the right hand is outward.
Keep the head and eyes as in the position of attention. Remain silent
and do not move unless otherwise directed. Stand at ease, at ease, and
rest may be executed from this position.
When Sam walks in, her gaze goes from Daniel, at his desk, reading, to Cameron, who's standing by the wall, eyes front, hands behind his back. As she steps through the doorway, Cameron's gaze flickers toward her and then he leans back, the sole of one boot braced against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
Somehow, that casual pose looks as careful as parade rest had been.
The silence in the room is as thick as dust and she disturbs it with her greeting. It flies apart, gold motes sparkling, glittering, choking her.
She smiles awkwardly, puzzled, and gives Daniel the report he wanted --
--- receiving a perfectly normal thank you in return because Daniel's control is never directed solely at Cameron.
Cameron. Out of reach, deliberately so, separated from Daniel by insubstantial air and a video camera silently watching.
And obeying Daniel in a way that makes Daniel hard, hungry, cruel and grateful, the emotions a roiling turbulence under his skin, an itch he won't let himself claw at.
He's not sure what Cameron has been feeling this past thirty minutes, commanded to silence, commanded to hold that innocuous position unless they're interrupted, and with a second dictated, mandated position to use if they are. Because he'll take risks with Cameron, that leave them both hurting and once, just once, Daniel screaming, (never again, no, they won't do that again -- they won't --) but he won't ask Cameron to risk exposure.
Not that kind anyway.
And it doesn't matter that Cameron had to move when he'd been looking so good like that, his eyes empty of everything but the need to be perfect for Daniel, perfect, because Daniel loves seeing Cameron move, rangy muscles flexing smoothly, and it's not like Cameron broke position, after all --
-- He's not sure if he hates Sam for walking in or wants to buy her flowers to say thank you. Thirty minutes -- that’s nothing. He's stood on parade grounds, full kit, sweating or freezing for hours and the authority governing his obedience then -- and now -- was real enough.
But this is different. This is Daniel and it's personal.
Daniel's bored; hell, they all are; off-world missions suspended while Woolsey and his team perform some kind of evaluation. There's a whole lot of work to be done through the 'gate and he's itching to get on with it, his temper fraying with each interview. Woolsey examines the tip of his pen one more time before jotting down a note and Cameron thinks he might stab Woolsey with it, just to see if the man bleeds ink.
Daniel's bored, but he's not blind, and this is his way of keeping Cameron out of trouble.
The side-effect of making Cameron so fucking aroused every breath he takes makes his uniform scratch a caress against sensitized skin (this morning Daniel fucked him, bit his nipples raw, sucked his balls until they were swollen tender, watched him dress and wince, and smiled) is a bonus for both of them.
Cameron doesn't feel like a man who came his brains out six hours ago. He feels like a man desperate enough to beg, and it's not often Daniel gets that from him, for all the games they play.
Daniel (civilian, still, always) can't understand why Cameron's mouth finds some words hard to shape (words, just words, speak them, babble them, buy yourself some time; that's what Daniel does and it's a surrender Cameron can't -- quite --) when Cameron will willingly let it shape the irregular circle that fits the shape of Daniel's cock or one finger, two, or a crooked, delving thumb playing with the lick and lap of his tongue.
Cameron forgives him that lacuna because it's Daniel --
-- Sam leaves, not noticing that Cameron hasn't spoken --
-- Daniel turns his attention (some of it) back to his book --
-- Cameron returns to parade rest.
And the silence settles back, thick as dust.
Return to Home
Click here if you'd like to send feedback