"For a previously avowedly straight guy, you're certainly throwing yourself into the gay experience with enthusiasm."
"Meaning... what exactly? Is this something in the nature of a complaint?"
Daniel wriggles round in my arms. We're lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon, sticky and sweaty after yet another more than satisfactory exchange of body fluids. Third time today - not that I'm counting - but not bad for an old guy, huh?
"No, no complaints. I'm just saying, that's all."
"Say what? Saying what?"
Daniel's index finger strokes up and down my jaw.
"Nothing uncomplimentary, that's for sure." And he backs that up by planting a kiss on the end of my nose.
Which I've seen the day I would've objected to from anybody, let alone from Daniel; but we're getting better at this now, the sappy post-coital stuff, now that the strangeness is starting to wear off. And truth to tell, I kinda like the fact. I smile at him, and I just know it's a goofy, sappy sorta smile, the only sorta smile I can really manage when I'm on the edge of sleep after a totally mind-blowing sex session. Nothing better as a cure for self-consciousness than an orgasm that hits an eight on the Richter scale. The Earth didn't just move, it did back-flips.
"I'm just... surprised."
"Why?"
"Well, I know you said you wanted to try it, I just didn't think you actually meant it."
I just can't let that one pass, sleepy or not. "'Course, I'm in the habit of saying things I don't mean. I do it all the time."
"Well, not all the time, to be fair. But you must admit it has been known."
Ouch. Is he ever going to let me live that Makepeace nonsense down? Before I can reply, he's talking again.
"And I certainly wasn't sure that you'd enjoy it."
"What's not to enjoy? It was good."
"Uh huh."
"No, seriously, it was good. Way better than good. It was... stellar. Who knew?"
"That is was good? Well I knew, obviously."
"Well, duh, what with you being avowedly not straight as a die to start with."
"You did enjoy it, didn't you?"
"I said I did, didn't I? Ack! No more cracks about saying things I don't mean, thank you."
"Sorry. Enough to try it again?"
"Short term - probably not..."
His face falls and he hitches himself up on one elbow to peer into my face.
"Don't have a cow, Daniel - I only mean that my ass needs a little bit of recovery time. A) because it's not used to something that size going in exactly that direction..."
"Is that my cue to tell you that's probably TMI? No, make that definitely TMI."
"...and b) because I'm not as young as I used to be. That's all. I'm just grateful I don't have haemorrhoids. My ass stings enough as it is..." His expression shifts again and I add hastily, "But in a good way."
"I knew it! I just knew it. I knew you would end up getting pushy and overdoing it for the first time. That's just so typical of you..."
Whoa! Sap alert apparently unnecessary. This is not the way the rosy post-coital glow is supposed to take us, not at all. Damage limitation time.
"I did not get pushy. You know me, I don't do pushy."
"Ha! Like hell you don't! What would you call it then?"
"Enthusiasm. You said it yourself."
A snort of... was that derision? Yep, I think it definitely was derision. Okay, so maybe he has a point. Not that I'm going to admit that. How does Teal'c put it? Undomesticated equines? Eeww, I can't believe I'm lying in bed with Daniel thinking about Teal'c...
" I was enjoying myself, that's all." I can't resist adding sententiously, "Mom's always telling me that all our pleasures have to be paid for - don't ask. It's an Irish Catholic thing. What I'm saying here is that I'm not sorry to be paying: I'm quite happy with the deal I got. Didn't you?"
"What?"
Bingo. That's derailed his train of thought. The only good defence is a good offence. And with Danny, a complete non-sequitur is usually the best offence.
"Didn't you enjoy it too? From where I was, it certainly seemed as if you were enjoying yourself. "
Geeze, his brain cells must be AWOL, his face has just gone... blurred. Open. Back to bein' sappy all over again. Good look on him, I'm starting to think, especially when it's directed at me. Correction, only when it's directed at me. I don't share. My sandbox is mine. Period.
"Oh yeah. I enjoyed myself all right."
But Danny being Danny, he can't resist a glint of mischief too.
"So. I enjoyed myself, you enjoyed yourself, what are you telling me here, Bottom Boy?"
"Bottom Boy?" I inject it with as much outrage as I can. "On the strength of putting out once, ya think ya can get away with 'Bottom Boy'?"
A little huff of laughter. "Well, from what you've being saying, I'm kind of assuming it isn't a one-shot deal. I'm just hoping I haven't created a monster..." and he theatrically clutches his forehead.
"Yeah, you wish, you little prick!"
"Little? You sure about that?"
Well, he's got me there.
"Ass."
"Prick and ass in successive sentences? You're on a roll there, Jack."
"I might be at that after that recovery time we spoke of. Get yourself back down here, I can't reach the most of you."
And he does. With a happy little sigh. Which I, being the sap that I really and truly am, can't help but echo.
As I'm drifting back off to that sleepy place again, gently stroking most of the bits of my archaeologist I can reach, one last thought wanders into my mind: Does life get any better than this? I don't think so, somehow. Like I said, sappy...