Title: Too Close for Comfort
Authors: Brenda and ELG
Rating: NC-17
Category: ER; J/D; angst; h/c; smarm
Spoilers: S2, S3
Summary: After Daniel almost gets raped by priests Jack is not a happy camper. (ER)
Series: Slash Consequences AKA 12 Days of Bunnyfic: #05
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the authors.

Okay, that's it. I drop my pen and tablet onto the coffee table in front of me and flop back onto the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. I can't concentrate and there's no point in trying. The headache isn't helping, but that's not the real problem.

The real problem is Jack. Or rather, the absence of Jack.

I know he's pissed at me. But even as angry and upset as he was, he still waited until Janet assured him I was okay, only a few bruises and a headache, before he left the infirmary. By the time I finished writing up my report for the general and went looking for Jack, he was gone. Did he expect me at his place tonight? Or would he be waiting for me at mine? Or did he want to be alone? Normally, we don't even give a thought to those questions. Wherever one is, the other follows; it has become as natural as breathing. But tonight I wasn't sure, so I came here to my place. Jack wasn't here and there weren't any messages waiting for me on my machine, either, so I guess I had my answer. Unfortunately.

Taking my glasses off, I toss them carelessly on the coffee table, then drop my head onto the sofa cushions. The headache is still throbbing in the background and I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. PCX-322 wasn't exactly the friendly little planet we'd thought it was at first. And okay, maybe I was a little too quick to trust those so-called 'priests' who said they wanted to show me some sacred writings... *Wanted to show me their etchings more like.* I throw an arm over my eyes and groan at the memory. And, no, Jack, I *shouldn't* have gone off without telling you. And yes, Jack, I *know* how close it was and what would have happened if you hadn't gotten worried and started searching for me. And, no, Jack, I *wasn't* flirting with those two priests, I was doing my job. And, yes, Jack, sometimes my job *does* call for me going off with strange men to learn about different cultures. And, no, Jack, I will never, ever go off again with strange men without telling you first, I promise. And, yes, Jack, having you and Teal'c come along in all cases sounds like a *wonderful* idea to me.

I let my eyes drift shut as the silence of my empty apartment closes in on me. "And, damn it, Jack, I love you, and why aren't you here?"

I must have fallen asleep because it takes me a while to realize the buzzing in my head is actually the sound of my doorbell. Lurching to my feet, I stumble over my shoes and socks, which I had taken off earlier, and make my way over to the door. The buzzing has turned to pounding by this time and I hear my name being called, loudly. I'm still not fully awake when I fumble with the lock and throw the door open to find Jack standing there, fist upraised to make another assault on my door. He's got on that leather jacket that makes him look like a walking advertisement for sex, but the anxiety in his eyes reminds me of the events of the day and I remember why I'm alone in my apartment.

***

Okay, I'm not saying Daniel was 'asking for it'. I never said that. I said a few things that sounded a little like it, maybe, in the heat of the moment. I may, for instance, have pointed out that if you keep smiling at strange men, and fluttering your goddamned eyelashes at them, and then agree to go off with them - alone - not everyone in the world would be exactly dumbfounded with astonishment if they misread some of the signals you were putting out. But no, those sons of bitches had *no right* doing what they came *way* too close to doing to my Daniel. Did I say 'my Daniel'? Well actually from the way he carried on in that temple place you'd have thought he was anyone's goddamned Daniel, but theoretically the boy is supposed to be mine, and I think that does give me a few rights. The right to have him *listen* to me when I tell him to rein it back a little on the making nice with the new people, for instance. Not quite so many of those cute little sideways smiles every time they make a dumbass joke that probably wasn't funny back in 4000 BC which would have been about the last time anyone on Earth heard it. And the right to have him take it in when I tell him that he never, *ever* goes off *any*where without telling me where he's going, especially when we're on a strange planet, we don't know what kind of people we're dealing with, and he doesn't have any weapon. Oh yes, and did I mention that particularly applies when the people he's going off with are built like brick shithouses and have erections sticking up like tent-poles? A little detail anyone *other* than Daniel might have noticed *before* they started trying to rip his clothes off and bend him over that convenient stone altar.

Hearing Daniel yelling my name is something I have rigid rules about. When he's naked and we're in bed together, for instance, it's a good thing. Unless, of course, it happens to be a nightmare, although even then it isn't all bad, as I get to wrap my arms around him, hold him so close he can hear my heartbeat, and know that it's enough to stop the trembling, enough to stop the horror, just because I'm there and I'm with him and he knows I'm not ever letting him go. So, in bed, Daniel yelling 'Jack!' is absolutely fine with me. More than fine, in fact, it's something I positively encourage. But Daniel yelling 'Jack!' on a mission is *not* a good thing, and not just because off-world is always off-limits in our relationship. Daniel yelling my name on a mission usually means he's in trouble. And quite often avoidable trouble. Sometimes, like today, it's trouble that I have specifically told him how to avoid and he's still in it. And then I do tend to get a little tetchy.

As far as I can make out, the priest guys walked him down to the room with the so-called 'inscriptions' as nice as pie then started getting more friendly than Daniel liked. When one of them started letting his fingers do the walking, even Daniel clicked on what they'd brought him there for and started trying to explain that there had been some kind of misunderstanding, and he was very sorry if he'd given them the wrong impression but he really wasn't that kind of boy. Which is when they started slapping him around and ripping his clothes off.

Hearing him get out one anguished yell of my name before two guys force him down over a convenient flat surface and makes very determined efforts to fuck him, is *not* a nice experience. I do not enjoy running into a room to find some guy with a very visible hard-on and his hands all over my Dannyboy's naked ass, while another guy has his fingers clenched in Daniel's hair and is yanking Daniel's mouth towards his groin in a way that really needs no explanation.

And, yes, beating the crap out of the first guy did help work off some of my anger. Seeing what Teal'c had done to the other guy could be classed as good therapy too. But I have to admit I still have a little residual annoyance. Just a tad. And if Daniel doesn't open this goddamned door, *right now*, I swear to God I'm gonna…

Oh, right. The door is open. And there's Daniel, blinking at me unhappily.

And damnit, how does he know to do this to me every time? He looks about ten years old now. Barefoot. Hair tousled. No glasses. Unbelievably beautiful. Who the hell could resist him when he looks like this? Well…me. This time I am *not* giving in. I don't care if he looks up at me out of those huge blue eyes from under those long dark lashes and silently begs me not to be mad at him. I *am* mad at him, damnit, I'm mad as hell with him. And what's more this time I am not going to stop being mad at him until he proves to me that he's learned his goddamned lesson and is never ever, *ever* going to do anything that stupid ever again.

"Jack…" He sighs my name resignedly then turns away, leaving me to let myself in and close the door, dragging his feet as he trudges back to the couch, bracing himself for a lecture as he goes. Lecture? I'll give him a goddamned lecture! In fact what I'd like to give him right now is a damned good…

As I stride into the room and slam the door shut behind me, I realize that as well as still reverberating with anxiety from how close he came to getting raped, and anger because he disregarded everything I've told him in an unbelievably reckless fashion, I am also as aroused as hell…

Seeing him sitting on the sofa, shoulders slumped, head bowed, barefoot, all the tangled rush of feelings from today -- fear, anger, relief, God help me, possessiveness -- have all come together in a rush, bypassed all my good intentions, and made a beeline straight for my groin. Suddenly, the need to reaffirm life, the darker need to reaffirm that Daniel is *mine*, damn it, brings me over to the couch where I loom over him. "Daniel." I'm aching so much I can barely get his name out.

He looks up and his eyes widen a bit when he comes face to crotch with my straining jeans. Without a word, he stands and walks toward the bedroom. We're barely inside the room when my cock takes over for my brain and I push him up against the wall. His head bumps softly against the wall -- not hard enough to hurt, I've still got that much control over my body -- and crush his lips with mine, grinding my groin against his. Oh God, I want him so bad, I want to crawl inside his skin and never come out, and if that's the only way I can keep him safe, if that's the only way I can make him understand how much he means to me, how he is the most important thing in my life, then that's what I'll do.

Abruptly releasing him, I stand back and fumble with my pants, which have suddenly become two sizes too small. "Clothes," I manage to gasp. The jeans go first, what a relief, and then my jacket and shirt are torn off and tossed aside. Daniel is a little slower and his hands seem clumsy for some reason, fumbling with the fastener on his pants. Impatiently, I push his hands away and do it myself, quickly stripping off his pants and boxers, tossing both aside. Something isn't quite right, but all my brain cells have gone south and my cock is doing my thinking for me, and right now all it can think of is burying itself inside Daniel and never coming out. He moves away from the wall and walks over to the bed, his shirt fluttering to the floor. Without a word, he lies down on his back and spreads his legs.

Oh God, I almost come right then and there. I'm across the room in a flash and on top of him. His lips are still swollen from my last assault and I plunder his mouth again, deep and hard. Then I lock my mouth over the vein in his neck and bite, marking him. Something deep inside of me is screaming, *Mine, mine, mine!*

I don't know what it is that makes me stop, what it is that finally sends the message to my brain that something isn't right. I think it's when I lift my head to gasp in much needed air and I see the bruises on his arms. The deep, ugly bruises those bastards put there when they held him down to rape him. Suddenly I become aware of other things I should have noticed earlier: The smaller, lighter bruise just under his left eye where one of them must have smacked him when he wouldn't cooperate. The fact that Daniel hasn't said a word since he let me inside. His cock, lying quiescent on his thigh, not dueling with my own straining organ.

I feel like someone has just thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over me. Daniel has never been anything but a happy, willing, generous, enthusiastic participant in bed. He's like a rollicking puppy under the sheets, and God help me sometimes I have to remind him I am, after all, forty-four years old and while he might want to go all night, sometimes this poor old colonel needs to rest. But he's just lying here, unresponsive, letting me do whatever it is I want to do to him, and what I’m doing to him is... Jesus Christ. He was nearly raped a few hours ago, and first I storm off base and leave him to go home alone, then I nearly bust down his door, drag him off to the bedroom, practically rip his clothes off, and the only words spoken between us are me ordering him out of his pants. Never, *never* has it been like this between us. Not even on those nights when we're both consumed with lust and shirt buttons get sprayed to all corners of the room. There's always tenderness, always sharing, always words, always care, always love. This feels like...

My head snaps up and I look down into his face. There is misery in his blue eyes, but a sort of resignation, too. I swear, I can see the words there: Go ahead. I deserve it.

I admit, there's still a part of me that's angry with him, but it's an anger born of fear. I almost lost him today. After those fuckers got done with him they weren't about to just let him saunter back to the rest of us and tell us what happened. They would have killed him and dumped his body somewhere we probably never would have found it. Just thinking about how close that was to happening makes me shake. I don't know the last time I've been so terrified. I have got to be the luckiest s.o.b. in the galaxy because this guy loves *me* -- although God alone knows why -- and I am so damn grateful he's alive and unhurt. But instead of showing him that... he thinks I’m punishing him. And he thinks he deserves it.

And I am such a total bastard. Too ashamed to even look at him, I press my hot face into his neck, feeling my erection wilt, aware of the coolness of his skin against the hotness of mine.

A hand tentatively touches the top of my head. "Jack...?"

I feel tears come into my eyes and keep my face pressed into his neck. I so nearly lost him today and thirty seconds ago I came *this* close to losing him again, because what the hell would it have made me if, on the day he came as close as please God he ever comes to being raped, I had treated him the same way those bastards wanted to. How could we have gone on from there and him ever felt the same way about me after I'd treated him like that? I want to say *Forgive me Forgive me Forgive me* but I don't say stuff like that. I don't need to. That's another of the wonderful things about Daniel, the way he doesn't make me spell it out, the way he puts his hand across my mouth and says 'I know, Jack. I know.' I don’t ever have to get mushy with Daniel, don't ever have to say anything he's worried I might find embarrassing afterwards. Something else he protects me from.

"Jack…?" he whispers it softly, anxiously. "Are you okay?"

I blink hard, hoping that will hide the tears, and then roll off him, lying on my side next to him, trying to keep my face blank so he won't see the self-loathing in my eyes.

The stricken look in his eyes cuts me like a knife. He says faintly, "I'm sorry."

I have to swallow hard and my voice comes out harsh. "For what?"

"For…" He's fighting tears and he has to turn his head away. "They didn't…You don't have to…Please don't…"

I'm slow today. Usually I can read my Daniel pretty well but today I'm so lacerated with my own guilt it takes me a moment to work out what he's saying. What he's saying…Oh Jesus Christ. Oh…

"Oh God, Daniel…No!"

He stares up at me and I think he sees the horror on my face. Sees it but doesn't understand it. And then I sit up and pull him into my arms, pull him in tight like I should have done the second I walked through that goddamned door and I'm saying it over and over: "I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm so sorry…Don't think that. Don't ever think that…"

He's not listening to me, still trying to convince me that because they didn't actually rape him I shouldn't be revolted by him. Because he thinks *that's* what stopped me fucking him. I have to call it that because that's what it would have been. Not much different than what they wanted to do, really, just prove how much he's mine and no other man can have him, put my seal on him, pump him full of my come, like a possession. A thing. But he thinks that's what he deserves so that seems reasonable to him. And because his skin is still crawling with shock and self-disgust because of what those sons of bitches nearly did to him he thinks it's reasonable I should be disgusted by him as well. So disgusted by the lingering scent of them on his skin, I can’t even bring myself to give him the punishment he thinks he deserves. Oh God but I fucked up badly today.

I'm rocking him in my arms now, pulling his face into my neck, one hand in his hair, the other around his back, still telling him over and over how sorry I am, asking him to forgive me.

It permeates at last, he stops apologizing to me for long enough to hear what I'm saying to him and I hear him give a little gasp of shock. When he looks up at me there is total confusion in his eyes. "I don't understand. You got there in time, Jack. You rescued me. They didn't…"

I put my hand to his mouth. "Daniel, I love you."

That shuts him up. He couldn't look more shocked if I'd just told him I'm really the last of the Romanovs and I need him to help me travel to Moscow so I can reclaim the throne.

As he's still gaping at me, I say, "And because I love you, I get scared when I nearly lose you and I get angry when people hurt you, but that doesn't give me the right to get so wrapped up in my own fear and anger that I forget about you."

He blinks hard. His mouth is still open and I don't think it's ever going to close. Despite the waves of guilt still lacerating me, Daniel sitting in my lap with his mouth open does make my groin give a bit of a twitch. It feels like a prize-fighter coming around from what looked like a knockout blow; on the ropes but struggling back to consciousness. Being a linguist, he is as articulate as ever: "Wh-wh-at?"

I reach out and touch his face. Touch those bruises coming out on his skin where those fuckers hit him. "That was a horrible experience you went through. But I was so strung up on how they could have raped and killed you and how terrible that would have been for *me* I didn't think about how terrible what they *did* do to you must have been for you. I'm so sorry, Daniel. I know I acted like a complete prick today, but please forgive me and I swear I'll make it up to you."

"You're not…" He looks down at my groin. He makes himself say the word, forcing himself to enunciate it clearly as he gives a little wince, "…disgusted by me?"

"No just disgusted by me."

He grimaces at that. "Jack, I don't need you to tell me that I acted like an idiot today. You had a right to be angry. You've told me enough times not to go off with strange men. I just thought you were being…jealous." He darts me a quick apologetic look.

"I was jealous," I admit. "I followed you because I was jealous. Over-protective as well, but mostly jealous."

He carefully doesn't look at my groin this time, pointing a finger vaguely in the direction of the living room. "So the - um - display - "

"The caveman act?" I raise an eyebrow. "Oh that was your basic: Hands Off World, He's Mine. And probably a nasty little bit of Daniel You're Mine And You'd Damned Well Better Remember It."

Daniel exhales. "Could have been worse, I guess."

"Yeah, I could have pissed all over your front door."

He laughs and I have never been so grateful to hear his laughter. He lies back down on the bed and gives me a sideways look. "Actually, you were pretty damned scary, Jack."

I lie down next to him, still wincing with remorse and stroke his short fringe back from his forehead. "I'm sorry."

He holds my gaze. "But pretty sexy too actually."

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

He looks a little embarrassed. "Well…I'm just saying…You looked so damned…You know how much I like that jacket and you were so forceful and…I don't know… masterful." He pulls a face as he says the word but then darts me another little sideways look.

I moisten my lips and that prizefighter isn't just off the ropes now, he's definitely up and taking notice. I run a hand slowly down Daniel's arm, feeling the hot satin of his skin beneath my fingertips. "Sexy…?"

Daniel swallows and looks into my eyes. He says conversationally, "You know, your…instincts were probably sound, Jack. After an experience like that I probably do need…?"

I can feel the heat from a bruise under my thumb and wince in sympathy. "Care? Support? Someone to talk to? A handful of Tylenol and a good night's sleep?"

He pulls a face. "Or…?"

I give him an enquiring glance. I am not making any assumptions here. After the way I screwed up a few minutes ago I am never trusting myself to make another decision that has anything to do with bedrooms or relationships.

"You know?" His hand wraps itself carefully around my cock and pulls on it gently but encouragingly. "Where there's a will there's an or…?"

I gasp as my cock springs to life the way it always does to his touch, but I still hold back, still badly shaken from how close I came to losing him twice in one day. And this last time I would have had no one to blame but myself.

"Ja-ak." I feel my hand being gently guided over to his groin. His cock is already hard and standing to attention and I finally meet his soft, affectionate gaze. This is the way it has always been between us. No one person dominating the other, no angry sex, no paybacks for imagined grievances.

Sitting up, I lean over him and look down into that open, beautiful face. Bending down, I press my lips gently against that bruise under his left eye and silently vow to remove every mark those bastards made on him, replace every touch with mine, remove every bad memory, and show him he's just about the most cherished person in the universe.

The bruises on his arms are next. Slowly, my eyes never leaving his, I straddle his body, allowing our aching cocks to brush only lightly before leaning away to remove the temping contact. First his left arm. I bend down and press my lips against the ugly mark there and his eyes slide shut, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. His right arm is next. This bruise is larger and I can plainly see fingerprints. I swallow the anger that wants to surge up in me and nuzzle the mark with my lips, following with a slow swipe of my tongue. He wiggles impatiently underneath me and I grin. All in good time, Dannyboy. All in good time. I've got a lot to say, and it may take me all night to say it.

Lowering my head, I fit my lips to his. As urgent as I was the last time, that's how gentle I am now. The kiss is slow, lingering, deep, and he's moaning as our tongues slide along each other. Sometimes when we're like this, I hold his wrists to the bed. It's a game we play, he enjoys it, I enjoy it; I restrain him until I've got him so worked up he's ready to explode. But there's none of that now. I don't want him to even think of being restrained, of being forced, even as a game. I carefully keep my hands on the bed on either side of his head for this first round, too. The memories of those thick fingers clenched in Daniel's hair, forcing him toward that enormous cock isn't one I'm going to forget easily, and I'm sure it's one he's not going to forget for a while, either.

By now he's bucking his hips, blindly seeking more contact, so I slip one hand into his hair and tug gently. His eyes fly open and lock with mine. But there is no fear there, only love, and a smoldering desire. His hand snakes up behind my head and I'm pulled down into a very determined kiss. When he finally releases me, he breaths into my ear, "Slow and easy's nice, Jack, but there's a time and place for everything."

I'm placing little kisses over his face, trying not to grin. "And?" I tease innocently.

There's a sudden surge of energy and movement under me and I find myself flat on my back with my Dannyboy on top, a *very* determined glint in those blue eyes. "And this isn't the time *or* the place," he says pointedly.

Teal'c and I have been trying to teach him that move for two years. It's nice to know those lessons finally paid off. But he's looking way too pleased with himself here, like a student who has finally outmaneuvered his teacher. Time to show him his old colonel has a few tricks up his sleeve, as well. Distracting him with a deep, slow kiss, I shift my weight and now he's the one flat on his back and I'm on top, right where we started. From the smug look on his face, this was no more than he expected, and now he has me right where he wants me. Two minds with but a single thought. Sweet.

Stretching out over him, I fish under my pillow for the lube we always keep there and quickly squeeze some onto my finger. I search his face one last time, just to be sure, but all I see there is desperate need. Seeing my hesitation, he cants his hips, offering me easier access and whispers hoarsely, "Please, Jack. I need you."

Oh, Christ. And to think how close I came to losing... I swoop down and take his mouth in another deep kiss. "You've got me," I promise, and slide one slick finger into him. He's impatient and starts bucking immediately.

"Come on, Jack, come *on*!"

Two fingers, then three. I don't care how impatient he is, I always make sure he's well prepared. And suddenly once again I'm bursting into that room seeing a guy as big as Teal'c ready to tear into Daniel with no thought to his pain or the damage he would suffer. I must have frozen because Daniel sounds like he's been calling my name for a while now and I look down to find him watching me anxiously. His cock has started to wilt a little, too, and I flash him a reassuring grin before dipping down to run my tongue around its rosy head. "Just making sure you're ready."

He almost comes off the bed. "Jesus, Jack," he gasps. "Take my word for it -- I'm ready!"

I believe it, but I'm still careful when I push into him. Oh, God, it's like the first time every time. He's so tight and so hot and so -- whoa! He's decided enough pissing around. Wrapping his legs around me, he gives an almighty shove and I'm in to the root. There's a look of shining triumph on his face, like he's finally gotten what he wanted most in the world, and he's the happiest guy in the universe. Second happiest, Dannyboy. I've got the winning ticket in that sweepstakes.

I set up the rhythm, undemanding and easy at first, but he's rocking his hips and groaning and urging me on, and soon I'm pumping into him with everything I've got. And he's taking it, all of it, and wanting more. With every thrust, this time my thought isn't *mine, mine, mine; it's loveyouloveyouloveyou.*

He comes first, his body giving a shudder as he hoarsely yells my name. Oh, yes, that kind of yelling is definitely okay. I'm barely a second behind him, his name tumbling out of my lips over and over as I finally collapse on him and somehow summon enough strength to roll off so I don't squash him. My arms find him and draw him in close, my lips planting soft kisses in his damp hair. He's nuzzling my neck, murmuring something sleepily. I smile when I make out the words, 'Loveyousomuch.'

Resting my cheek in his soft hair and running a hand slowly down the hot, silky skin of his back, I ask quietly, "You okay?"

There's snort of hot breath into my neck. "More than okay." Sliding one leg between mine, he pulls himself even closer, making himself at home and toying with the hair on my chest. "Jack," he says conversationally, "you do know you don't have to piss all over my front door, right?"

I deliberately blow into the tangled thatch of hair against my mouth and make him shiver. "That your way of telling me I don't need to be jealous?" I drawl.

He pulls out from his haven under my chin and looks at me, eyes very blue and solemn. "That's what I'm telling you."

I don't know if he understands what effect it has on me when he looks at me like that. It's that 'you're my whole world' look, and it knocks all the breath out of my lungs and makes my heart feel like it could burst with joy. Closing the distance between us, I nudge his nose gently with mine, then fit my mouth over his. An eternity later when we finally pull apart, I whisper, "You do know how much I love you, right?"

He drops his head and gives me a sly look up through his lashes. "You might have to remind me of that now and then. You know what they say..." His hand slides down my belly and wraps gently and possessively around my cock. "Actions speak louder..."

Rolling over easily, I trap him beneath me, feeling our cocks twitch with interest as they come in contact. "Actions speak louder, hmm?" I murmur, sharing tender kisses with him. "Then what say you and I spend the rest of the night having a very long, very intense, very slow conversation."

Daniel's blue eyes laugh up at me as he brushes his hands through my hair. "You know me, Jack. I *love* to talk..."

The End