Entry tags:
Sharp Relief
Many thanks to the commenters here and here for all the thoughts about what Daniel would draw or write.
Title: Sharp Relief
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack and his damned knives.
Content/warnings: For the Blades square on my kink bingo card. Includes knife and blood play.
Words: 1500
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.muck_a_luck and brainofck
The Matrix: Spring. The Matrix is located here.
Beta:zats_clear
Daniel showed him the blade, watching his face carefully. It was Jack's own knife. Daniel hoped when he recognized it, he would feel safer somehow.
Jack's eyes widened. That was fear.
Daniel took the knife, and delicately applied the blade to the skin of his own forearm, tracing the tiniest scratch. The demonstration was for Daniel's benefit as much as for Jack's, to learn how much pressure he could apply. The injury stung. Blood welled in a clear line. Daniel didn't even flinch. He raised his eyes from the blood to Jack's face. He appeared calmer now. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
Daniel stood back and considered, then walked around behind him. He knelt, thinking to start from the bottom, so that each new cut would be clear at least briefly, undisturbed by any blood that seeped from the next mark above it.
He laid a hand on the back of Jack's calf, then he began.
He started with protective symbols. Algiz overlapping Sowilo on Jack's right calf, then Eihwaz on the left, with Thor's hammer above, closer to Jack's knee. Thor was Jack's occasional patron and protector, after all. Jack shifted his feet as Daniel drew with blood on his skin, but otherwise made no sound or other protest.
The blood only beaded, it didn't flow. Daniel considered this, and then took a strong grip around Jack's shin and squeezed firmly. A warning. He returned the knife to the marks he had cut and carefully applied more pressure, retracing the lines, until the seep of beaded blood became a trickle, enough to make it to the stones below.
Daniel moved up to the solid musculature of Jack's thighs. A slightly larger space for Daniel to fill. He began to write, the first, simplest things that came to his head. He drew the Babylonian glyph for protection, rotated to fill the back of Jack's left thigh. Daniel cut more aggressively now. Jack's blood slipped down his skin and Daniel noticed the rhythm of his breathing deepen, as if he were breathing through the pain, or using breath to help him remain calm. He still didn't move or resist.
On the right thigh, Daniel began a lengthy quotation from Hammurabi's Code, which as he made the cuneiform marks, he though strangely applied to Jack: "Anu and Bel called by name me, Hammurabi, the exalted prince, who feared God, to bring about the rule of righteousness in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil-doers; so that the strong should not harm the weak…" Not so much the Anu and Bel and fear of God part, of course, but Jack was certainly a righteous protector of the weak.
The quotation carried Daniel around Jack's body, so that as he finished he was kneeling in front of him. Daniel shuffled back on his knees to check how Jack was holding up.
Holding up. Well. Jack was up, anyway. A very healthy, very large erection was pointing right at Daniel's face.
That was unexpected.
Good, actually, but a surprise. Daniel rose to his feet. Jack didn't drop his gaze, meeting Daniel's scrutiny with angry defiance. His expression said, "Wanna make something of it?"
Daniel wondered what the kink was? The pain? Unlikely. Of course, Jack knew about real pain, so the sting of these scratches might be something he could eroticize. Not the restraints, Daniel was sure. He had seen Jack tied up in a lot of situations, and he never got turned on by that. The exhibitionism? Daniel didn't really think Jack was the type. He was too un-self-conscious for showing his body to be an arousal point, Daniel suspected.
Then it hit him.
The knife. He almost shook his head and resisted a smile of private amusement totally inappropriate to the situation. Jack and his damned knives.
He took the six-inch blade and carefully brought the flat of it against the bottom of Jack's erection, sharp tip just barely tickling Jack's scrotum. A shudder went though Jack's shoulders and torso, and he ejaculated onto Daniel's bare belly, hot stare still locked on Daniel.
Daniel wanted to stay here, cut the thongs holding the gag between Jack's teeth, press the knife against Jack's lips and chin and lick the blood away. But this wasn't the time for that. He went around behind Jack again, dropping to the ground and wiping Jack's semen onto the stones. There was a gratifying rumble from deep within the altar, but the goddess only twitched, rather than fully waking.
Sam had actually hypothesized that semen might be an even more potent activator of the equipment than blood. (Not that she had actually thought there would be any for this sacrifice.) In light of semen's apparent effectiveness, Daniel certainly didn't try to will away his own increasing erection, barely hidden by the ceremonial loincloth around his waist. He let his mind settle on the feel of Jack's cum on his belly, as he ran his palm over Jack's left buttock. The muscle flexed under his hand – Jack had not been expecting Daniel to touch him.
Daniel's dick twitched.
He wondered if he could get Jack off again. He laid the flat of the knife blade where his palm had been; pressed it so that the carefully sharpened and maintained edges would sting against Jack's skin. Jack gave a low groan, so deep and quiet that it was almost a vibration that Daniel felt transmitted though the steel in his hand, rather than heard with his ears.
Daniel felt the crazy urge to write something possessive there, or maybe entwine their initials DJJO, but he didn't. People would see these marks, even if it was only medical staff.
He left that buttock unmarked and turned his attention to the other. With a flash of inspiration that made him snort in amusement despite everything, he drew a primitive representation of two crossed hockey sticks. He let the bloody knife rest on the floor as he considered that, then added what he hoped would be the recognizable shape of a long-necked bottle.
There. Much more appropriate for the inevitable rumors.
He stood, letting the flat blade rest again on Jack, this time dragging it carefully up from the rise of his buttocks along the length of his spine. The stone floor was thrumming now, the energy there rising through Daniel's feet and tingling in his balls. He closed his eyes to feel it, let his hand rest again on Jack's body, on his shoulder-blade, raised by the position of his bound arms.
He began tracing his next cuts without even opening his eyes. "…we have still not reached the end of our trials. One more labor lies in store—boundless, laden with danger, great and long, and I must brave it out from start to finish." He wrote it in English, his own boyhood rendition from the Greek from when he was just eleven and bored and idolizing Odysseus, the intelligent warrior, and diverted his pre-adolescent ennui with translation of Ancient texts. This raised a snort from Jack, who must have been reading with his skin.
Daniel flicked blood from the knife to the stones. The thrumming vibration became a rumble.
He walked around to face Jack again. With a flourish he presented the blood-streaked blade then traced it down his own side to the strap of leather holding his only clothing in place. Jack watched him slit the leather, watched the garment fall away, appraised Daniel's cock, jutting towards him.
Daniel took a deliberate step away, then brought the knife around and under, to lift his own penis from underneath. The orgasm rocked him, but he managed to keep his eyes on Jack throughout, as Jack had done earlier. His ejaculation splattered on the floor between Jack's feet.
With a whine through his nose, Jack came again, just from staring at Daniel's pulsating cock resting on the blade of Jack's knife.
The rumble became a banging gong, a cacophony of bells, the crystals in the goddess's eyes flashed and beams of light flared out, activating other crystals around the structure until the standing stones of the temple were bathed in the Light of the Equinox, or whatever the priest had called it. The priests and worshippers fell to prostrate themselves before their deity. Daniel didn't hesitate, but cut the thongs holding Jack's wrists and they ran for it. None of the priests even noticed. Daniel passed the knife to Jack and sprinted for the DHD, while Jack detoured around to the outer circle of stones to cut Teal'c and Sam loose. SG-1 leaped through the wormhole, leaving behind the sounds of chanting and drumming and the gongs and the bells.
The event horizon collapsed behind them. As Sam took Jack's knife, and medical staff wrapped blankets around the colonel, hiding Daniel's work, Daniel wondered what impact their performance would have on the practice of human sacrifice on PX9-273, and found he couldn’t give a flying fuck.
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
Title: Sharp Relief
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckPairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack and his damned knives.
Content/warnings: For the Blades square on my kink bingo card. Includes knife and blood play.
Words: 1500
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.
muck_a_luck and brainofckThe Matrix: Spring. The Matrix is located here.
Beta:
zats_clearDaniel showed him the blade, watching his face carefully. It was Jack's own knife. Daniel hoped when he recognized it, he would feel safer somehow.
Jack's eyes widened. That was fear.
Daniel took the knife, and delicately applied the blade to the skin of his own forearm, tracing the tiniest scratch. The demonstration was for Daniel's benefit as much as for Jack's, to learn how much pressure he could apply. The injury stung. Blood welled in a clear line. Daniel didn't even flinch. He raised his eyes from the blood to Jack's face. He appeared calmer now. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
Daniel stood back and considered, then walked around behind him. He knelt, thinking to start from the bottom, so that each new cut would be clear at least briefly, undisturbed by any blood that seeped from the next mark above it.
He laid a hand on the back of Jack's calf, then he began.
He started with protective symbols. Algiz overlapping Sowilo on Jack's right calf, then Eihwaz on the left, with Thor's hammer above, closer to Jack's knee. Thor was Jack's occasional patron and protector, after all. Jack shifted his feet as Daniel drew with blood on his skin, but otherwise made no sound or other protest.
The blood only beaded, it didn't flow. Daniel considered this, and then took a strong grip around Jack's shin and squeezed firmly. A warning. He returned the knife to the marks he had cut and carefully applied more pressure, retracing the lines, until the seep of beaded blood became a trickle, enough to make it to the stones below.
Daniel moved up to the solid musculature of Jack's thighs. A slightly larger space for Daniel to fill. He began to write, the first, simplest things that came to his head. He drew the Babylonian glyph for protection, rotated to fill the back of Jack's left thigh. Daniel cut more aggressively now. Jack's blood slipped down his skin and Daniel noticed the rhythm of his breathing deepen, as if he were breathing through the pain, or using breath to help him remain calm. He still didn't move or resist.
On the right thigh, Daniel began a lengthy quotation from Hammurabi's Code, which as he made the cuneiform marks, he though strangely applied to Jack: "Anu and Bel called by name me, Hammurabi, the exalted prince, who feared God, to bring about the rule of righteousness in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil-doers; so that the strong should not harm the weak…" Not so much the Anu and Bel and fear of God part, of course, but Jack was certainly a righteous protector of the weak.
The quotation carried Daniel around Jack's body, so that as he finished he was kneeling in front of him. Daniel shuffled back on his knees to check how Jack was holding up.
Holding up. Well. Jack was up, anyway. A very healthy, very large erection was pointing right at Daniel's face.
That was unexpected.
Good, actually, but a surprise. Daniel rose to his feet. Jack didn't drop his gaze, meeting Daniel's scrutiny with angry defiance. His expression said, "Wanna make something of it?"
Daniel wondered what the kink was? The pain? Unlikely. Of course, Jack knew about real pain, so the sting of these scratches might be something he could eroticize. Not the restraints, Daniel was sure. He had seen Jack tied up in a lot of situations, and he never got turned on by that. The exhibitionism? Daniel didn't really think Jack was the type. He was too un-self-conscious for showing his body to be an arousal point, Daniel suspected.
Then it hit him.
The knife. He almost shook his head and resisted a smile of private amusement totally inappropriate to the situation. Jack and his damned knives.
He took the six-inch blade and carefully brought the flat of it against the bottom of Jack's erection, sharp tip just barely tickling Jack's scrotum. A shudder went though Jack's shoulders and torso, and he ejaculated onto Daniel's bare belly, hot stare still locked on Daniel.
Daniel wanted to stay here, cut the thongs holding the gag between Jack's teeth, press the knife against Jack's lips and chin and lick the blood away. But this wasn't the time for that. He went around behind Jack again, dropping to the ground and wiping Jack's semen onto the stones. There was a gratifying rumble from deep within the altar, but the goddess only twitched, rather than fully waking.
Sam had actually hypothesized that semen might be an even more potent activator of the equipment than blood. (Not that she had actually thought there would be any for this sacrifice.) In light of semen's apparent effectiveness, Daniel certainly didn't try to will away his own increasing erection, barely hidden by the ceremonial loincloth around his waist. He let his mind settle on the feel of Jack's cum on his belly, as he ran his palm over Jack's left buttock. The muscle flexed under his hand – Jack had not been expecting Daniel to touch him.
Daniel's dick twitched.
He wondered if he could get Jack off again. He laid the flat of the knife blade where his palm had been; pressed it so that the carefully sharpened and maintained edges would sting against Jack's skin. Jack gave a low groan, so deep and quiet that it was almost a vibration that Daniel felt transmitted though the steel in his hand, rather than heard with his ears.
Daniel felt the crazy urge to write something possessive there, or maybe entwine their initials DJJO, but he didn't. People would see these marks, even if it was only medical staff.
He left that buttock unmarked and turned his attention to the other. With a flash of inspiration that made him snort in amusement despite everything, he drew a primitive representation of two crossed hockey sticks. He let the bloody knife rest on the floor as he considered that, then added what he hoped would be the recognizable shape of a long-necked bottle.
There. Much more appropriate for the inevitable rumors.
He stood, letting the flat blade rest again on Jack, this time dragging it carefully up from the rise of his buttocks along the length of his spine. The stone floor was thrumming now, the energy there rising through Daniel's feet and tingling in his balls. He closed his eyes to feel it, let his hand rest again on Jack's body, on his shoulder-blade, raised by the position of his bound arms.
He began tracing his next cuts without even opening his eyes. "…we have still not reached the end of our trials. One more labor lies in store—boundless, laden with danger, great and long, and I must brave it out from start to finish." He wrote it in English, his own boyhood rendition from the Greek from when he was just eleven and bored and idolizing Odysseus, the intelligent warrior, and diverted his pre-adolescent ennui with translation of Ancient texts. This raised a snort from Jack, who must have been reading with his skin.
Daniel flicked blood from the knife to the stones. The thrumming vibration became a rumble.
He walked around to face Jack again. With a flourish he presented the blood-streaked blade then traced it down his own side to the strap of leather holding his only clothing in place. Jack watched him slit the leather, watched the garment fall away, appraised Daniel's cock, jutting towards him.
Daniel took a deliberate step away, then brought the knife around and under, to lift his own penis from underneath. The orgasm rocked him, but he managed to keep his eyes on Jack throughout, as Jack had done earlier. His ejaculation splattered on the floor between Jack's feet.
With a whine through his nose, Jack came again, just from staring at Daniel's pulsating cock resting on the blade of Jack's knife.
The rumble became a banging gong, a cacophony of bells, the crystals in the goddess's eyes flashed and beams of light flared out, activating other crystals around the structure until the standing stones of the temple were bathed in the Light of the Equinox, or whatever the priest had called it. The priests and worshippers fell to prostrate themselves before their deity. Daniel didn't hesitate, but cut the thongs holding Jack's wrists and they ran for it. None of the priests even noticed. Daniel passed the knife to Jack and sprinted for the DHD, while Jack detoured around to the outer circle of stones to cut Teal'c and Sam loose. SG-1 leaped through the wormhole, leaving behind the sounds of chanting and drumming and the gongs and the bells.
The event horizon collapsed behind them. As Sam took Jack's knife, and medical staff wrapped blankets around the colonel, hiding Daniel's work, Daniel wondered what impact their performance would have on the practice of human sacrifice on PX9-273, and found he couldn’t give a flying fuck.
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.