Dear Daniel V
Jack’s journal entries during season 6.
Today is Thursday and the first day off of four. It’s also Halloween and Thursday is a stupid day for Halloween. I was hoping to get another mission but after the last three and a half weeks of weird shit (yeah, I know, that’s what passes for normal around here), but Hammond decided to give the SGC personnel time off with their families, time to get their kids dressed up and parade around the cold-assed neighborhoods, begging for candy. That also assumes that most of them have children. I can’t help but feel resentful sometimes, seeing people with their kids.
Something made me put a damned carved pumpkin outside and buy candy. Now, the neighbor kids are coming by (I’m writing this as they stop by). Part of me wants to shut everything off (except the heat) and hide, but I can’t *not* answer the door, just in case it’s something important.
I miss Charlie more at this time of the year than at any other. Some of the kids remind me of him, looking like he did when he dressed up. Sometimes the boys dressing up as Dracula sort of remind me of him, mostly ’cause of the cape, but so far, thankfully no Batmans. That was Charlie’s favorite.
. . .
There’s been an assortment of ghosts, goblins, witches, gypsies, cowboys, x-men, pirates, fairy princesses, robin hoods, comic book characters I had no clue about, and one Peter Pan – which had me wondering if the boy was going to grow up gay and how weird am I to be thinking that?
There was this one pair. A four year old boy and his mom. They were dressed up as grim reapers, including scythes, and his was this small version that made me think of a martial arts weapon Teal’c might own. a small scythe. Both wore complete face paint, no masks. The kid had skeleton gloves–these tiny gloves that made me wonder who made them for *children.* ‘Mom’ had painted her hands and had these bitchin’ black nails. Guess I knew who put on the make-up. Nice job on the both of them, but damn, those costumes were creepy.
All I did was raise my brow and she immediately said, “It was his idea, I swear.” I made polite convo, told them they had the best costume I’d ever seen. Wasn’t lying, either. I let him choose what he wanted from the bowl of candy stuff, and the moment I closed the door, I suddenly and completely laughed my ass off.
One reason it struck me funny was the fact that I thought about asking the duo to go find Kinsey and scare him to death, considering that the grim reaper’s *original* job was to take out sinners. I think we all have that coming, if you believe in the strictest interpretation of the Bible, that is. Kinsey has it coming, certainly. Even if the world were made up of atheists, he’d have it coming. Would’ve suited, too. The kid definitely looked scarier than Anubis.
I still find it amusing. It’s that grave humor, and you’d think I’d be past that but the SGC does sort of lend itself to gaining a better appreciation for it. Is that bad? No, but maybe a little sad.
. . .
Have you been keeping an eye on things around here? Just in case you’ve been off on your own glowy missions, I’ve a sort of good news-bad news thing.
Bad news. Colonel Sergei Ivanov, leader of the Russian team, is dead. Didn’t die in combat as he would’ve wanted and I’m very sorry for that. He was a good man. I’m slowly but surely getting over my aversion to working with the Russians. It’s just their government I can’t stand and considering that their people can’t stand ours, I told myself that if the Russian team could get a grip and deal, so could I.
Good news. Nirrti finally got what was coming to her so ding-dong, the wicked bitch is dead. She experimented on everyone except me and Teal’c. Didn’t get to it before she was knocked off. She was Ivanov’s killer, by the way, and she didn’t die as horribly as he did, but she’s gone finally and I’m running that Wizard of Oz tune through my head periodically.
Thor put Asgard shields and weapons on the Prometheus. That’s very cool. We get to take her out again in a few weeks, though I don’t get to command. I have to go out as an ‘advisor’. That’s the only thing I hate, though the commander of the ship is a good guy, if a little stiff.
What else? Oh, right. Kinsey tried to take over the SGC. Didn’t work. He’s also now the head of some civilian committee overseeing military intelligence. How screwed up is that? Talk about your oxymorons.
Sometimes I wonder what on Earth keeps me from getting thrown into prison or dishonorably discharged. It must be this strange O’Neill luck. That’s the only explanation.
Last night, I felt restless. I needed to get off, wanted sex so badly. And you weren’t here and I didn’t feel like driving to Denver and hooking up with Dylan. I tried the porn flicks but they bore me now. I don’t know what the hell was in my blood last night, but it wouldn’t give me peace. So… I went out driving and guess where I ended up?
That club I took you to. Down that alley with the blue door. I fantasize about that place periodically and what we did in that one room. The fantasies always turn to the kinkier side of things though, like those harder-edged porn flicks. I parked in that alley and sat there for at least an hour before I worked up the courage to finally go through that door.
I don’t know what I was looking for. Don’t know what I wanted. Just the lust need for sex, I suppose. I got a drink, paid for use of a room, then went inside. There were the usual noises, and the voyeur windows.
I didn’t look at first. I just jerked off slowly, imagining what was going on in the rooms that surrounded me and I caught myself checking to see if any of them sounded like you.
I’m sitting on the bed, back against the wall, when the voyeur windows across from me opened. The guys were fucking, and wanted to show me. All I saw was hips, ass and cock. They were getting into it good. The slapping sound of skin on skin as well as the thick odor of semen and sweat was getting me closer to my objective.
Then they started talking. Or rather, the guy fucking the other started talking. “I love breaking in virgins.” It was then that I noticed the sounds that the ‘virgin’ was making. He was groaning, whimpering, begging, and the guy fucking him only did it harder. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that they were performing, getting off on my watching them.
I think I literally jumped when the virgin came, his come landing on the wall and through that open window. Then his topper slapped him hard on the ass and said, “On your knees, baby,” then he ripped off his condom and fucked the guy’s mouth. I imagined it was me. And when the guy came all over his face, I tried to come, but…
Nothing happened. I wanted it to be you, and it wasn’t. And my hand wasn’t giving me what I wanted. Which was why I let the Top guy come into my room. He knocked, I opened, and he dropped to his knees and sucked me off while his ‘virgin’ watched from the window.
It was then that I saw the virgin’s face. He looked like one, and couldn’t have been more than 19 years old. He was also jerking off as he watched. How I envy the young their regeneration.
Daniel, I want you so badly right now. I want to do the same thing to you that that man did to his virgin lover. They played more, including some bondage and whipping. I wanted it done to me. I wanted to join in and do it to them. But I just watched for a while, then left.
Here I am now, writing to you, stiff again, and wishing I could slide my cock inside your mouth, make you gag a little and grab at me, sticking your fingers up my ass while I fuck your mouth. Then I want you to do it to me before fucking me so hard that I black out when I come. I want to hear those moans and gasps you make. I want to watch you squirm as I tease your ass with my tongue, moving the tip in tight little circles, probing lightly before diving deep and withdrawing again and again.
I want to look at your naked body, lying on my bed, jerking off, tempting me to fuck you or suck you but knowing I won’t because I want to see you come like that. To see you come for me, your back arched, your legs spread, your hips bucking upward into your fist.
I want to watch my cock slide in and out of your ass, my hands gripping your hair so tight it causes a bit of pain. I want to feel those leather cuffs you bought for me that we never used because I was too chickenshit. Those ones for both my wrists and my ankles. I want to feel them binding me, holding me in place as you screw me stupid. I want to wake you, to feel that thick cock of yours slowly hardening in my mouth.
I’d suck hard, holding your hips down, my body pinning your legs. I want to feel you thrash underneath me when I slide three fingers inside, when I reach and tease your gland, when I get you so worked up with my mouth and my fingers that I finally let you come. I want to taste it, feel it, rub it into my skin.
I want to feel your lips on my nipples, your hands on my skin. I want to feel you bury your cock deep in my ass, moving in that way you do when you hit my gland. I want to feel that lying on my stomach, on my back, on my knees, standing on my feet and grabbing my ankles.
I want to be in the shower, feeling the slickness of our bodies wet with water and sweat. I want to feel you spread my legs wide as you pound into me, to hear you panting as you get closer to orgasm. I love that sound you make just before you come. That hitching in your throat from those quick, breathless sounds as you slam into me, hitting my balls so hard they swing wildly back and forth. Then I want to hear that long, drawn out cry when you come in my ass and feel the shaking of your body over mine as you spill that liquid heat inside me.
I. Just. Fucking. Want. You.
And right now, I miss you so damn much that it’s pissing me off. If and when I see you again, I know I’m going to be torn between screwing you to death and beating the tar out of you.
Dammit, I really miss you.