Summary: Daniel has a migraine. Jack has a cure
Daniel slipped from the conference as soon as the hissing sound started in his ears. By the time he reached the house, the hiss had become whistling and he had the weird taste in his mouth - like he'd licked a P-90: oily and metallic.
He knew the signs of a migraine and was sensible enough not to argue with them. He needed his meds, because if he took them in time, he'd be fine in a few hours. If he didn't get them in time...well...he tried REALLY hard to get them.
By the time he staggered into the bathroom his eyes were joining in the fun. Daniel watched the mirror in fascination as parts of his reflection disappeared behind blobs of light. Quickly he fumbled for the blister pack in his wash kit and swallowed two pills. He bent to the basin and splashed water over his hot skin.
His uniform felt tight and annoying, so Daniel stripped for bed. He yearned for the smooth cream sheets; the only thing he'd miss about this stupid planet.
This was their fourth day of talks, and although things were progressing, the pace was enough to make even Daniel's patience wear thin.
But it wasn't the worst thing about this mission.
That was Jack. Well more precisely, Jack's proximity.
This culture had no concept of hotels or strangers. It was all to do with friendship ties and family bonds. So when SG-1 had been invited to be the guests of the government, it meant bunking up. Teal'c and Sam had lucked out with the Minister for Trade who had an apartment in the Centrica - their parliament. But Jack and Daniel were the guests of the assistant to the adviser of the Culture Minister...in his one guest room...in one bed...and Daniel hated it.
Sure they'd slept close up before; in tents, in holding cells, sharing a bunkroom on base - but this was too...homely. This was not a stinky, weird-assed planet, this was not a prison; there was no danger, nothing to keep Daniel's mind off Jack - no, this was a big, crisp-sheeted, soft-pillowed, sinfully comfortable bed.
And it was Daniel's idea of hell.
Because his body seemed to think this wasn't a mission. It seemed certain that it was some kind of vacation, and he and Jack were here for some fun.
And Daniel's idea of fun would have stunned Jack.
Daniel grabbed his pants off the floor and closed his eyes. Zigzags of pulsing purple arced behind his eyelids, followed by pink swirly blobs, slowly rotating before dissolving into green triangles.
Shit - he needed to get to bed.
He stepped into the bedroom, covering himself with pants, and listened, knowing that to open his eyes would only make him nauseous. But all was silent, so he dropped the material and began to feel his way to the bed.
The squiggles in his head were disorienting him and he slid his bare feet gingerly over the wooden floor.
"Left a bit," Daniel heard.
Daniel lowered his reaching hands, but didn't bother to try to cover himself. He heard Jack move toward him, then felt his big, rough hand land gently on his shoulder, steering him to the bed.
When he was settled on the blessedly cool sheets, he cracked open an eye. Jack had drawn the blinds and the room was comfortably dim.
"How bad is it? Do I need to...?"
"M'fine," Daniel sighed. "I've had my pills, I just need to rest. You go."
"Nah, you're a good excuse to leave early," Jack confided. "You know, if you were a little less tense, you wouldn't get migraines."
"And where did you study, Dr. O'Neill?"
"The Kick in the Head School of Practical Medicine."
Daniel snuffed into his pillow but tensed when he felt Jack's hand on his shoulder again.
"May I?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer began to gently rub the base of Daniel's neck, sweeping warm hands out over his shoulders. Daniel groaned a little, but Jack didn't ask if it was good or bad, just kept rubbing.
Daniel gave himself totally to the feeling of Jack's touch, safe in the knowledge that his aching cock was securely squashed against the mattress where it could do no damage.
"Even at night, you're just a mess of tension. You lie there like a plank of wood, all stiff and solid."
Daniel groaned again; if Jack could just refrain from words like 'stiff' and 'wood', he'd be fine, because this was actually really nice.
"I'd think you had something on your mind, if I didn't know better," Jack murmured, his hands sweeping lower.
"Mmmmm," Daniel agreed.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing...sleeping," Daniel muttered incoherently.
"Roll over," Jack said, and in a haze of blissed out zigzags, Daniel complied.
It wasn't until Jack's hands didn't start their stroking again that Daniel realised his mistake. But by then it was too late.
"Well," Jack said quietly, "I think I see the problem here."
"I can explain!" Daniel blurted. He tried to open his eyes, but the swirly things kept attacking him, making him feel...
...Jack's mouth slowly closing over his cock head and sliding, hot and wet down his shaft until his nose was buried in the curls at his groin.
Daniel tried to speak, tried to at least raise a hand...something to express his surprise and how totally he was behind this prescription of Jack's. But all he could do was sigh.
With each suck and kiss of Jack's lips, the pressure behind his eyes seemed to lessen and the pressure in his cock seemed to increase.
Skilfully, slowly, Jack used his hands and mouth together to tease from Daniel the most mellow, fulfilling and brain melting orgasm of his life.
"No need to explain," Jack murmured and he tucked Daniel under the sheets.
"Jack..." Daniel slurred, already half asleep, his headache just a memory.
"Daniel...do you think you might get another headache tomorrow?"