At night, as the velvet darkness takes over, my dreams are sweet and full of soft gentle touches. My blankets, wrapping me within their warm folds, become arms; my pillow, a hard chest. The sound of the city barely registers, but it's enough to stand in for tender breaths and whispered endearments. At night, fear and guilt recede, to be replaced by love, understanding and forgiveness in the form of secret desires that occupy the darkness of my bedroom.
There have been times when the lure of the bedroom, and those secret desires, have pulled me in before darkness replaced the light of day. Times when I chose my bed over food, work or anything else that would ordinarily take up my waking hours. Times when the need to hide in dream-filled sleep took precedence over living the rest of a day to its natural conclusion. I'm not ashamed of those times, they're a part of me, of surviving.
Dreams by daylight are a different matter altogether.
Dreams by daylight are rough, real, and my eyes are wide open. I can see him, feel him, and in the middle of these open-eyed dreams, I'm often close enough to smell him. Like now.
The planet designated P4Y-021 has nothing on it for me. This one is all about Sam, so while I sit on a rock, she and Teal'c are doing their thing. But sharing the same rock, is Jack.
I can feel the heat of his body, hear his breathing, smell his sweat mixing deliciously with his aftershave. Every now and then, he shifts, or stretches, and his back rubs my arm. When I turn my head, I can see his strong profile, the edge of his sunglasses, and the cord that holds them in place. The baseball cap cannot cast a shadow over the beautiful profile because Jack is wearing it backward.
My dream today is simple. We're talking. Just... talking.
"You do realize, Daniel, that if this planet had any woods, I'd have you in them, plastered up against a tree, pants down around your ankles, and I'd be--"
"Up against a tree, pants down around your ankles, while I--"
"Hey, it's my turn to top, Danny boy."
"No, you topped on P0X-101. It's my turn to top."
"Who came up with P0X-101? It sounds like a class I should have taken in college."
"The computer. And could you please get back to the tree, pants down around ankles, etc.?"
"So you agree that I'd be topping because it's my turn?"
"I didn't say that, I just said get back to the tree and pants down around ankles."
"If I'm getting back to it, then damn it, I'm topping."
"So top already, just hurry the fuck up."
"My, my, since when does Doctor 'Slow and Easy' Jackson want me to hurry?"
"Since now, damn it. Since Sam and Teal'c could be back any second and someone should get fucked, if only in our imagination."
"Okay, so listen up. I'd move you into the dense woods and the sunlight would almost disappear under the weight of the green canopy overhead. There'd be a small glade, lines of muted light--"
"Muted light?"
"Daniel, shut up."
"But muted light?"
"I'd put my hands on your shoulders and push you forward until you were up against the largest, broadest tree in the glade."
"You know, I wouldn't push you up against a tree. Too rough. Bark."
Sighing, Jack said, "So my hands would be on your shoulders and I'd push you against the tree, but we're on this nifty planet where the trees don't have bark like we have on Earth. Here, the bark is like...."
"Velvet?"
"Like velvet. You brace yourself, palms flat, and spread your legs--"
"Do the pants first, Jack. Hard to get 'em down over spread legs."
"I ripped the muther-fuckers off, you dolt."
"Ooh. Go, flyboy, go."
Jack shakes his head, but gamely goes on. "Where was I?"
"I'm bracing myself--"
"Against the velvet softness that is the alien tree, and we both know this one is going to be rough, but that's just what we want. Your legs are spread wide, your body telling me what you need. With one quick move, I take my zipper down and step up behind you. You say--"
"Take me, Jack, take me now--"
"But I have to taste you, to bury myself in your neck, at that sweet hollow at the nape. I kiss your flesh and you turn your head to the side and I can't ignore those lips--"
"Tongue, Jack. Give me tongue. Invade me--"
"You're hot and sweet, your mouth begging for it even as you thrust back and wiggle that perfect ass of yours against me. You're so ready, so needy, and I have to give it to you--"
"Daniel? DANIEL?"
A hand on my shoulder and I'm blinking up and into weird bug-eyes. No, make that Jack's sunglasses.
Damn, Jack has always had this knack of interrupting my daydreams just as they're getting good. Or should I say just before I'm about to get it good?
"Jack?" I manage to squeak out.
"Shit, where the heck were you? I've been saying your name for five minutes."
I rub my eyes and say, "Um, just... thinking. Sam done yet?"
"No. She just radioed and said that she and Teal'c will be at least another thirty. Your turn to do dinner. If you start now, it'll be ready by the time they get back."
Putting my daydream on hold, I stand, stretch, shift myself uncomfortably, and say, "Right. Dinner. My turn."
When I was growing up, I'd sit in class, head propped up by my hand, and as I'd listen to the teacher, I'd imagine Nick walking into the classroom, pointing at me and saying, "Dan-i-el, come with me."
He'd take me away, I'd follow him everywhere, and sometimes... he'd hug me. That was my childhood dream by daylight. At night, the darkness brought my parents back to me. I'd feel my mother's soft touch as she'd brush hair from my brow, and I'd see my father's smile as he absently pushed his glasses back up.
Sometimes my dreams helped me escape the pain of whatever family had control over me. Sometimes my dreams led me to fame and fortune. And sometimes my dreams gave me revenge over all the bullies, pranksters, and foster parents who cared nothing for their charges.
Up until a year ago, the dreams that came to me in my adult darkness carried the lovely scent of Shau're. Now that scent has been replaced by a heavy, heady scent of male musk.
Jack haunts both my night dreams, and my daydreams. I dream of all the ways possible for Jack to see the truth. I dream of tasting him, of running my hand over silver hair, of entering him, of hearing the sounds of pleasure, and my name on his lips.
I'm thirty-seven, yet in all my years, not one of my sleeping dreams have ever come true, nor any of my daydreams. Nick never claimed me, I never found fame or fortune, bullies never fell before me, and foster parents went on not caring.
Shau're was never saved.
Jack will never see the truth.
Yet I continue to dream. Why is that? Could I sleep believing that my blanket was just that; a blanket? I doubt it. I cannot have Jack in my real life, therefore I must have him in my dreams.
I don't believe I could continue otherwise.
As I reach for the pot that I will place on the fire, I glance over my shoulder and see Jack standing a few feet away, his back to me, binoculars raised. His legs are slightly parted, his body language telling me he's on alert. But in my dream by daylight, he's standing next to me and as I reach out, so does he. Our hands touch, then connect, his brown one resting atop my pale hand, one finger caressing my skin.
Daydreams; so much bolder than the sweet, intoxicating dreams of darkness. But neither can ever come to be.
I'm thinking that someday, that will be the death of me.
finis