Joy's Fiction Stargate SG-1 Slash Fanfiction

Intervals 39


Intervals 39


Dear Daniel,

Writing this now. Mostly because if I dictated it, I’d go off on a rant.

Do you have *any* idea just how pissed off I am at you? The one time you decide to play politics as well as kick some ass as a glowy li’l shit, and you fuck it right up. What in the hell possessed you to fucking trust Anubis? He’s a snake, Daniel! Haven’t you learned a goddamn thing being a glowy shit?

Damn. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I said I *am* mad at you but I’m not anymore. Or rather, I don’t want to be. It’s only because I’m very worried that you’re… not out there anymore.

Carter reminded me that you’d said that you would be punished for interfering. It was something you kept telling me you couldn’t do, and yet you did interfere, didn’t you? You’ve *been* interferring. You came to me when I was a prisoner of Baal’s, you helped Teal’c when he was dying, then this Anubis shit. You made a conscious decision to help us, to interfere. Is Carter right? Did Oma stop you from kicking his ass?

I don’t think those ascended Ancients are all that good, Daniel. Look at what they’ve done. Or lack thereof. Oma must be the black sheep or something. She’s the only one willing to help, but nothing like what you’d been up to.

Just, what the fuck, Daniel? With all that power, why won’t they help? Are they Tollans in disguise or something?

No, they just didn’t give a shit about us but they sure as hell gave a damn about what you were up to, didn’t they? Hypocrisy, it seems, isn’t limited to us mere mortals. How overwhelmingly screwed up is that? Ascension, it seems, doesn’t equal being good and it seems they’ve gone a bit dark side. The idea of good and evil is a matter of perspective for them. Ain’t that grand. Another species of powerful beings with their heads up their asses.

I’m glad Oma has some sense, anyway, saving Skaa’ra and his people. The Abydonians are worth saving. But I wish it had been you who’d done it. It would have told me you were still out there.

I also hope it was Oma who stopped you and not those others. I hope you’re just on probation or something. I hope you’re not dead dead.

Please don’t be dead dead.


Dear Daniel,

Okay, my rant feeling is over.

I can’t get my last images of you out of my head. It was *really* good seeing you – even if it hurt. Seeing you in those robes, *without* that black tee underneath–makes me wonder if you were butt-naked under there.

I was thinking of that this morning, taking my shower, and I got hard. You know I was hard when we were on Abydos, right? Just seeing you did that to me. And I’m pretty sure it would’ve been full blown, no pun intended, had Carter not been hanging around.

I think she’s pissed off at you that you never appeared to her. She hinted at something she’d said at your ‘deathbed’ and wished she could’ve taken back, thinks that whatever she said is the reason you never visited her. She’s still upset and I can tell she’s trying to cover. I wish I could help but it makes me uncomfortable. She and I are a lot alike that way.

What’d she say to you, Daniel? If she told you she loved you, then you really shouldn’t be doing that ‘guy’ thing and avoiding. After all, if I was able to handle hearing her say those feelings about me – which haven’t resurfaced, by the way – then the least you could’ve done was to have paid her a visit. Although her life was never in danger, was it? Not like mine had been. Or Teal’c’s. I think I’ll just mention that to her. That might make her feel a little better. Maybe.


About those robes you were wearing. I have a fantasy about them, you know. It varies but it’s always the same fantasy. With you having nothing on underneath them, with me wearing similar ones, and the two of us in one of those tents on Abydos. And then on one of the sand dunes, and then… well, anywhere will do.

Specific fantasies, however, cropped up a long time ago and I’m just taking them out and dusting them off. Seeing you wearing those robes again did it, and picturing you without something on underneath–well, my fantasies have been refueled for a while.

It also helps that I have props. I saved your robes. They smell like you. Probably because I keep them packed and don’t wash them. Obsessive, isn’t it? Yes, because I put them on. I can imagine you and quite well. It’s the smell and feel.

Suppose you want to know about the fantasy, don’tcha? I know you can’t read my mind so I’ll tell you.

It’s night and the only light is coming from one of those oil lamps. You’re kneeling, working on the central fire, and I come up behind you and place my hands on your ass, lifting your robes as I caress you. I’ve already used some of that oil paste that Skaa’ra said they use for sunblock so my dick is ready. Has been ready. You look over your shoulder and say nothing. You smile and spread you knees further apart and I smile back and grab your hips.

(Is this like writing erotica or porn or something?)

I shove my dick inside you in one fell swoop. You gasp and I grunt and moan as usual. I do that thing with my hips and move around, finding and nailing that button inside you. You reach over your shoulder, grab hold of your robes and pull them over your head and throw them off. I leave mine on.

No, I take them off. I’m starting to sweat.

You rock back and forth, giving me the sign that you’re ready, so I start fucking you faster and harder. We’re at it like that for about five minutes, grunting, straining, and your back is shiny. I love that. Your muscles ripple better like that. I look at your ass and watch myself plow into you. It’s beautiful, and that’s one thing I miss almost as much as missing being with you. Watching your body as I fuck you. Or watching your face as you fuck me.

You start to talk dirty, telling me all those things I love to hear. It gets me so hot that I let go and slam into you over and over. Your ass squeezes my cock and that gets me going even better so I bang your ass so hard that I’m pretty sure we’re both bruised. My balls are now slamming against your ass, tingling and aching in that pain-pleasure way, and that brings me off.

I come so hard I can’t see but I’m still thrusting uncontrollably, filling your ass. You come because of it, shouting as you spill all over the floor. I drop down on my side, taking you with me, holding you against me, and we say nothing because we can’t. All we do is look at the oil lamp in front of us.

I have that fantasy a lot, Daniel. A lot. Sometimes our clothes stay on. Sometimes it’s you drilling me. I’m bent over, tending the fire and you come up behind me and just plunge inside. It’s animal and raw and you just *own* me–that image got me off this morning. The other fantasy, one I’m about to jerk off to, is sucking you off, lifting those robes, sixty-nining it as I straddle you. I miss that just as much as fucking you. I think there are specific calluses on my hand just for that.

. . .

I imagined you sucking me, me sucking you, just like I’d mentioned, only it changed. No sixty-nine. Just you on your knees, wearing those robes. My dick is in your mouth and I’m watching that amazing tongue of yours and those soft, exquisite lips moving over the head. Watching your face turn red as you deep-throated me was almost good enough to make me come, but I changed the fantasy. I needed to imagine sucking you off, watching your face as you came down my throat.

I didn’t really need to ‘imagine’ anything, Daniel. I just ‘remembered’, only minus the robes. I remembered the last time you came inside my mouth. My hands were on your hips, guiding your thrusts. I remembered your hands were behind my ears, your head tossed back, your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth wide open, making that loud, intermittent roar you used sometimes, the sound on each exhale. God, you were beautiful.

Fuckin’ A. I’m gettin’ hard again. I’m almost 48 years old. How the hell can you do this to me?


Dear Daniel,

Jonas is working on that tablet and thinks there’s something to it. I hope so. I really am starting to like him. I think. Okay, okay, he’s all right. I wish he hadn’t had to go through a bunch of crap just to prove that to me. I know. I’m a pain in the ass. He really has worked out okay, though he still can’t replace you.


Dear Daniel,

Jonas found something. I think. He thinks. Carter thinks. Whatever, we’re going to this Ancients’ planet in a few hours. I don’t know what we’re looking for exactly (and neither does Carter, which pisses her off and makes my day) but we’re hoping that the Ancients left some of their toys behind. This trip had better be worth it ’cause right about now is when I’m gettin’ bored with this shit.

I miss you, Danny. Please be okay.



Joy's Fiction Stargate SG-1 Slash Fanfiction


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