Glove Me Tender by Cowardly Lion
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Category: Jack/Daniel
Genres: Challenge, Established Relationship, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Rated: Adult
Warnings: None
Series: None
Summary: When Jack wears those fingerless gloves on a mission, it sends Daniel into a fantasy.

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Story Notes:
Written for the JD Commentfic kinkathon on Livejournal to the prompts for "fingerless gloves", "mission sex", and "anything with hands".
Jack prowled the perimeter, all long legs and feral grace. The cord to his sunglasses swayed with his every step, slapping against the collar of the desert camo BDU's. Fingerless black gloves covered his hands. Suppressed energy simmered in every line of his silhouette, spilling over into restless tugs at the brim of his ball cap and the erratic drumming of long elegant fingers on the stock of his weapon. He looked every inch the predator.

Dangerous.

Formidable.

Sexy as hell.

Muttering a curse, Daniel slammed the reference book shut, losing his place. This was ridiculous. He had been sitting in front of this wall for a good ten minutes now, unable to concentrate just because Jack had worn his fingerless gloves, damn the man. And damn him for looking so...so...so tasty in those desert camos. The tiny building that housed this artifact was more window than walls ensuring that Jack was never farther then Daniel's peripheral vision as he patrolled the small collection of abandoned buildings. It was very distracting.

Daniel blew out a sharp breath and tried to clear his mind. Shifting to a cross-legged position, he scooted closer to the carved surface of the wall until his knees touched it. Rising from the center of the otherwise empty building, the free-standing wall was ten feet wide, three feet deep and rose to the ceiling. Nowhere except the floor and ceiling did it connect with the rest of the building, as though the structure's sole purpose were to shield it. The other half of the SG-1 was investigating energy signatures a mile away. Meanwhile, Daniel examined the only writing they had found and Jack kept watch over Daniel.

Perching the book on his left thigh, Daniel flipped through it to the page he needed. On his right thigh he placed his journal, ready for note taking. Weaving his pencil between his thumb and first two fingers on his right hand, he put his hand on the artifact, feeling the symbols as much as reading them. His eyes were drawn to the back of his hand but in its place he imagined Jack's hand, covered to the first joint in those black gloves, his elegant fingers bared.

Daniel wanted to feel those hands on his flesh. Wanted to feel the leather palm of the gloves brush across his skin. Would it feel slightly cooler than the pads of those long fingers? What if Jack were to come in here, say to get out of the sun? What if Daniel were standing in front of this wall, his back to Jack? Maybe Jack would come over to him, press against him. No wait, first Jack would have to unclip the P-90, set it down on the ground, but it had to be within easy reach because Jack never let down his guard.

Yeah. That would work.

Daniel would be standing, intent on his work. Behind him, he would hear the muffled sound of boots on hard-packed dirt as Jack approached, then a faint click and scrape as Jack removed his weapon. Set it down. Would he take off his sunglasses? Probably. But Daniel wouldn't see him do it, because Daniel wouldn't turn around. Wouldn't acknowledge Jack. He'd be too engrossed in the translation as he stood there with the reference book in his left hand, and his right hand tracing the carvings. Jack's right hand, encased in its fingerless glove - the glove worn by soldiers and warriors and kick-ass men of action - would settle on the wall next to Daniel's own.

Jack's sun-warmed body would press up against Daniel's back which would be cool from the shade. The contrast in temperature would make Jack seem fever hot, and Daniel's own body heat would begin to rise. Jack's left hand, his black-leather clad hand, would take the reference book from Daniel, dropping it carefully to the dusty ground before trailing up Daniel's arm to his shoulder. To his neck. To the side of his face. Gently, Daniel's cheek and jaw would be cradled in leather and flesh and bone.

Daniel would start to speak. Turn his head. Question.

"Shhhh," Jack would whisper into Daniel's ear.

"Shhhh," Jack's lips would kiss behind his jaw.

"Shhhh," Jack's tongue would press against Daniel's neck.

"Shhhh." Infusing silence into Daniel's skin with every exhalation.

Daniel would tilt his head to the side so Jack's mouth, Jack's face, could nuzzle against him. Daniel would feel the softness of Jack's lips. The hard plane of Jack's cheek and nose. Would he feel the flutter of eyelashes as Jack rolled his face up under Daniel's chin? Daniel decided he would. He would feel the tickle of the lashes as Jack immersed his face into the warm skin of Daniel's neck and breathed in Daniel's scent.

Daniel's left hand would join his right on the wall, supporting him as Daniel leaned his weight forward. Jack's left hand would abandon Daniel's cheek to curve up under his arm and make landing high on Daniel's chest. Pushing back, Daniel's hips would meet Jack's groin as it pushed forward. Jack's hand would begin a slow exploration down Daniel's body, the sensation muted by the layers of Daniel's clothing. Daniel would feel the drag of the glove against the heavy fabric of his BDU pants. Jack's exposed fingers would be deft. Dexterous. Nimble as they unfastened the buttons of Daniel's fly.

Jack's strong lean leg would muscle in between his, forcing Daniel's legs wider apart. Jack's booted feet would stand between Daniel's feet, keeping them spread. Keeping him open. Jack would press more urgently, rhythmically, against his ass and Daniel would feel Jack's quadriceps flexing against the back of his thighs. Jack's left hand would burrow into his briefs. That hand, that warrior's hand, that fierce hand, would gently cup his genitals. Caress his sac. Would carefully grip Daniel's hardening shaft as Jack pulled it free of the restrictive clothing.

Daniel would bend his arms, bracing his forearms along the wall, to support the weight of them both. Jack would finally move his right hand from where it rested by Daniel's on the wall. Would move that hand down between their bodies, pushing Daniel's pants and briefs down past his hips. Down to where cheek meets thigh. Daniel would shiver at the feel of the languid breeze on his naked flesh.

There would be a pause and the whisper of cloth as Jack pulled something from a pocket. Clicked open a container. Would it be sunscreen? Hand lotion? An anonymous tube of lubricant? Whatever. Jack would have something that would work well.

Daniel would feel a cold slickness as Jack's fingers delved the cleft of his ass. Daniel would drop his forehead to rest on a pillow of his hands. A whimper would escape him as those strong fingers slid into him. Stretched him. Excited him. Unable to stay still, Daniel would push back against the intrusion. Wanting it. Wanting more. Whimpering again in disappointment when the fingers left him, only to gasp with pleasure as Jack's thick cock slid slowly, perfectly, beautifully inside him. Laid him open. Laid him bare.

Daniel would hear Jack's voice in his ear. Would feel Jack's breath on his neck.

"Say my name," Jack would demand, his voice low. Harsh. Growling.

"Jack," Daniel would reply.

Jack's lubed hand would move around front. Would wrap around Daniel's throbbing dick.

"Who do you belong to?"

"Jack."

Jack's dry hand would move to clutch at Daniel's hip for leverage as Jack thrust himself hard and deep into Daniel.

"Who fucks you?"

"Jack."

Pounding. Slamming into him. Jack's firm hand would whip over his cock, nearly driving him out of his mind with desire.

"Who loves you?" Jack would ask, his voice tender.

"Oh, God," Daniel would say, his voice panting and broken, "you, Jack. Always you. Only you."

With that, their passion, their desire, their need for each other would break free. Feeling Jack come inside him would push Daniel over the edge. His own orgasm would be earth shattering. Spectacular. Mind blowing. A thing of trembling limbs and boneless satiation. Jack would keep him up. Keep him safe. Would hold Daniel with those capable gloved hands as they rested against the wall and each other, still quivering in the aftermath.



"Earth to Daniel. Are you even listening to me?"

With a start, Daniel returned to the here and now. He wasn't cuddling in post-coital bliss with Jack plastered up against him, but was sitting cross legged on the ground looking up at a cranky Colonel. Jack had taken his sunglasses off when he entered the building, but he was still wearing those gloves.

"Daniel, you've been sitting stock still in front of that thing for a good twenty minutes. You were so zoned out you didn't answer me. You are still you, aren't you?" Jack cast an appraising eye over Daniel, apparently looking for signs of alien possession. His eye stopped at Daniel's crotch and one eyebrow lifted in comment.

Daniel could feel the heat as he flushed in embarrassment as Jack got an eye full of Daniel’s very obvious erection.

Smirking, Jack asked, "So, what brought that on?"

Pointing with his chin, Daniel indicated the gloves. "Are those washable?"

Taken aback by a seeming change of subject, Jack frowned. "Yeeaaah," he drawled. "What's that got to do with - "

"Bring them home," interrupted Daniel in his best sultry do-me voice, "and I'll show you. Bring the whole outfit."

Jack raised both eyebrows for a moment, then licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Deal." He looked thoughtfully at Daniel, his gaze bouncing from Daniel's face to his crotch and back again. "But only if you bring your desert camos too. Ditch the Boonie and bring the bandanna."

Daniel's cock twitched and he exhaled sharply as he held Jack's gaze. With a brisk nod, Jack returned to his perimeter patrols, but it seemed to Daniel there was an extra spring in his step. Understandable. Daniel picked up his reference book. The sooner he finished this, the sooner they could leave and now, like Jack, Daniel had extra incentive.


Finis
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