Candy Cane

by

 Ruffle

Click for details and warnings

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 author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Candy Cane

by Ruffle

I always thought Daniel’s sweet tooth was restricted to chocolate, but the way he’s working that candy cane is sending out oh so many signals of a far broader appreciation of sugar.

Wait for it, wait for it – there. A pink tongue darts out and flicks once, twice against the red and white striped stick clutched in his right hand. He focuses his attention on the pages he’s turning with his left, seeming to absent-mindedly register a hint of the sweetness he’s tasting.

It’s our Christmas-night-after-the-festivities-relax-and-explore-our-presents time. The fire in the fireplace is burning low, emitting a final soft glow of light and warmth into the companionable silence. Under the tree a stray ribbon or bit of wrapping paper that escaped our earlier cleanup patrol shine among the scattered gifts. Comfortably ensconced on the couch, Daniel appears wholly engrossed in the new old book open on his lap. Across the living room, under cover of examining my new plane model kit, I’m engrossed in my favorite pastime of Daniel-watching.

He stops flipping and pauses to read, his hand slowly bringing the candy cane back in contact with his mouth. He swirls it around, lapping one side, then another like he’s trying to taste every sweet inch. Finally he takes a longer swipe at it, his tongue lovingly licking its way up the smooth shaft.

Hel-lo. I’d give Freud odds someone is doing a little oral sublimating here. Hm. Understandable if he was alone, but why would he need to sublimate when he has a perfectly good colonel in the room, available and always willing?

I flinch as white teeth scrape and nibble lightly at the tip. Ouch. Okay, maybe sometimes a candy cane is just a candy cane. I close my eyes briefly, then curiously reopen one to peer cautiously at developments. It widens and the other snaps open as I see the candy inserted gradually into Daniel’s mouth. Full lips close over it, and he sucks dreamily. I watch mesmerized as the muscles of that strong throat pulsate with each swallow of the candy melting in his warm mouth.

"Mmm." Daniel’s little sound of appreciation is awfully close to a moan. I swallow a moan of my own as his lips continue suckling the sugary stem.

If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Daniel of deliberately teasing me. Nah, that would never cross his academic mind, not while he’s reading so intently. It has to be entirely unconscious. He doesn’t have a clue what kind of an effect he’s having on his getting-hornier-by-the-lick colonel.

Tearing my gaze from that incredible mouth doing unspeakable things to that innocent candy, I catch a wicked gleam lurking in baby blues. I blink. It can’t be.

Ever so slowly Daniel pulls what’s left of the stick of candy from his mouth and runs his tongue across his lower lip, savoring the sweetness, before curving his lips into an impish smile.

"Daniel?"

He actually bats his long lashes at me. "Jack?" Tauntingly he slides the candy back into his mouth, sucking provocatively.

I cross the room in two strides, grip his upper arms and pull him to his feet, letting the book slip heedlessly to the floor. "Dammit, Daniel!"

His eyelids drop, and he looks up at me from under the fringe of his lashes as he holds out the candy invitingly. "Want a taste?"

"Yes," I growl, ignoring the candy and pulling him closer for a hard kiss. Plunging my tongue into his mouth, I greedily taste hot Daniel and cool peppermint. My groan easily transmits my need and desire to my talented linguist. He presses against me, welcoming and giving and inciting all at once. I feel his deft fingers tug at my waistband, unbutton my fly. Our lips part, and I stand panting, searching his eyes. With that same mischievous smile, he sinks to his knees.

Ohhhhh yeah. My archaeologist is not so clueless after all. And yes, he may have started by teasing, but boy, has he got a follow-through. Just call me Jack O’Neill, human candy cane.

THE END