FishingKing: Hi.
Jackson1921: What do you want?
FishingKing: I'm bored.
Jackson1921: I'm working.
Jack grinned at the laptop screen. He could almost feel the waves of annoyance rolling off Daniel's words, but he could have easily blocked Jack if he really hadn't wanted to talk.
FishingKing: What are you working on?
Jackson1921: A report for the general. An *important* report.
FishingKing: You couldn't do that here?
Jackson1921: Not if you want to be alive at the end of the day.
It was true that they'd both been a little frustrated and restless lately, which made them prone to disagree on everything. Jack glared at the white cast that encased his lower right leg. Between the broken ankle and the cuts and bruises he'd sustained while taking a rapid and unexpected trip down a rocky hillside, he'd been feeling too uncomfortable and drugged up for sex. They were still at the "can't get enough of each other" stage of their relationship, so the abrupt curtailment of their sex life was hitting hard.
Obviously, someone out there was laughing at them.
FishingKing: Anything interesting happen yet?
Jackson1921: That depends on your definition of 'interesting'.
FishingKing: Oh?
Jackson1921: Nyan accidentally impaled himself on a chisel. Don't ask. He'll be fine, Janet things.
FishingKing: Ow.
Jackson1921: Thinks.
Jackson1921: Did you know that there's a Twinkie in your desk drawer that's older than Cassie?
FishingKing: What are you doing in my desk drawer?
Jackson1921: Looking for a stapler.
FishingKing: Don't you have a stapler in your desk drawer?
Jackson1921: I'm not at my desk.
FishingKing: Why?
Jackson1921: Four teams need translations immediately and they seem to think that I'm the only linguist on the base. They'll never think to look for me in your office.
FishingKing: Why don't you just tell them that you have a report to write for Hammond?
Jackson1921: Because they wait in my office, picking up artefacts and hoping to annoy me into getting their translations done. It's like having four of you on a bad day in my office.
FishingKing: I think I should be insulted.
Jackson1921: No comment.
FishingKing: I'm still bored.
Jack had forgotten how bad daytime TV was and his aching, itching ankle kept distracting him if he tried to read. He'd made it through four pages of the new Tom Clancy in three hours.
FishingKing: Are you still there?
Jackson1921: No.
FishingKing: Very funny :-p~~~~~
Jackson1921: Isn't there someone else you can bother?
FishingKing: No.
Jackson1921: You're incredibly annoying sometimes.
FishingKing: It's a talent.
Even the arguing hadn't been fun for the past couple of weeks. It had been half-hearted bickering about nothing in particular because they both knew how easy it would be to say something they'd regret later if they took it too far. The worst part was that Jack had discovered an odd fondness for a pissy, argumentative Daniel.
No, not fondness. Lust.
Daniel in full flow was a sight to behold. Eyes flashing, face animated, hands gesticulating wildly. Half the fun of annoying Daniel was in provoking him into just the right kind of argument. A year ago Jack would have said that was all the fun, but their new relationship had opened his eyes to a lot of things and he now understood his own motivations much better. Certain arguments were just a complicated form of foreplay.
There was definitely someone out there laughing at them.
His laptop pinged and Jack's eyes were drawn back to the screen.
Jackson1921: Are you still there?
Jackson1921: Are you alright?
Jackson1921: Jack?
FishingKing: I was thinking about our . . . recent technical problems.
Jackson1921: Ah, you mean your current inability to have sex without hurting something.
FishingKing: If you want to put it that way.
Jackson1921: Can you think of a better way?
FishingKing: *Anyway*, I was thinking that we might be going about it the wrong way.
Jackson1921: Explain. Please. I'd hate to think I've been getting it wrong for twenty years without noticing. < / sarcasm >
FishingKing: Frustrated?
Jackson1921: Now that you mention it . . .
FishingKing: I think the problem is that we're trying to be too interactive.
Jackson1921: It's sex. It's supposed to be interactive.
FishingKing: Wiseass.
Jackson1921: You should know.
FishingKing: Moving along. You are healthy.
Jackson1921: Thank you.
FishingKing: And we need to find a way around my current problems.
Jackson1921: Remind me again why you fell down that mountain?
FishingKing: And we're moving.
FishingKing: I think we've been too focused on what we can't do without working on what we can do.
Jackson1921: Once more, in English please.
FishingKing: A bit of solo work might help us to find a comfortable way around the . . . technical problems.
There was a long pause before Daniel's response came.
Jackson1921: Solo work.
Was it completely crazy to imagine a slight break in Daniel's voice, even though he was typing?
Jackson1921: I'm in your office, in full view of the cameras, and you're putting that image in my head? Are you trying to kill me?
Apparently not. Jack grinned and felt an answering heat stir in his gut. The image of him masturbating was apparently a so-far unexplored kink for Daniel. Why had it taken over a week of enforced chastity to find it?
FishingKing: You like the idea?
Jackson1921: Don't tease the archaeologist.
FishingKing: I'm not teasing.
He wasn't. The image of Daniel in his office at the base, turned on and trying to hide his arousal behind a desk, was having a definite effect. Jack shifted the laptop onto the bed beside him and groaned quietly as the fabric of his sweats rubbed his over-sensitive dick. He'd have to be careful, try not to tense muscles that still hadn't healed and avoid moving the broken leg, but he thought it might work. Jack's hand drifted unconsciously to stroke himself through the sweats.
Jackson1921: Fuck.
FishingKing: Not quityre.
One handed typing wasn't easy.
FishingKing: Quite. That's the point.
Jackson1921: Fuck.
Jackson1921: Fuck.
FishingKing: Yeah.
Jackson1921: Are you . . . ?
FishingKing: Now?
Jackson1921: Yes.
FishingKing: Yes.
Jackson1921: Fuck.
Jack could imagine it vividly. Daniel would be sitting at the desk, staring at the computer and trying to think of twenty good reasons why he shouldn't jerk-off right there.
An image of Daniel naked on the bed, sweat glistening in the sunlight as he pleasured himself, flashed through Jack's mind and Jack pressed the heel of his hand harder against his dick.
FishingKing: Tell me what you want.
Jackson1921: Fuck. You naked.
The T-shirt went flying and the sweats, after a short struggle with the cast, followed. The cool air of the bedroom whispered over his skin.
FishingKing: Done.
Jackson1921: Touch yourself. Not your dick. Not yet.
Avoiding the bruises and half-healed cuts was easy. He'd touched himself hundreds of times before, but knowing that it was Daniel's request and that his lover was sitting in his office, visualising it all, was new and different. Jack swallowed brushed his fingers over his nipples, sending shivers through his skin.
Jackson1921: I want to watch.
FishingKing: Later.
Jackson1921: I can imagine how you look. Stretched out on the bed. Hard and horny and mine.
Jack allowed his fingers to just brush the curls at the base of his dick, obeying Daniel's instructions and making the aching need more intense.
FishingKing: Yes.
Jackson1921: I want to be there. I hate these damn cameras.
Jack's hands were shaking and he had to concentrate to hit the right keys.
FishingKing: Can't hold on.
Jackson1921: Yes. Do it.
Jack's cock was hard and red, hot against his hand. He couldn't type anymore, there was nothing left except a desperate need to come, but he heard the laptop ping over his own harsh breathing and read the instruction.
Jackson1921: Come. Scream. Make it good.
He knew the rhythm that would bring him to a quick, sharp climax. Jack tried to take his time, but the teasing and the internal image of Daniel both aroused and typing furiously wouldn't allow it.
Jackson1921: You'll watch me, later. And I'll watch you. I can't wait.
Jack lay back, panting and sticky. His leg ached, the half-healed cut on his left shoulder throbbed, but the unhappy, restless feeling was already fading. He grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and cleaned up a little before tugging the laptop towards himself.
FishingKing: When is later?
Jackson1921: How do you feel?
FishingKing: Finish that report and find out.
Jackson1921: Finished it fifteen minutes ago.
FishingKing: Cool.
Jackson1921 is off-line