Dear Daniel,
It's Halloween. And what do I get? Four days off. Today is Thursday and the first day off. It's a stupid day for Halloween. I was hoping to get another mission but after the last three and a half weeks of weird shit (yeah, I know, that's what passes for normal around here), Hammond decided to give the SGC personnel time off with their families, time to get their kids dressed up and parade around the cold-assed neighborhoods, begging for candy. That also assumes that most of them have children. I can't help but feel resentful sometimes. I miss him.
Wish you hadn't convinced me to decorate last year. I didn't do that this year, but something made me put a damned carved pumpkin outside. Now, the neighbor kids (and the expanded neighborhoods) seem to be zeroing in on my house, as if to say, "Here we are, Jack, so just deal with us."
I'm trying.
Part of me wanted to shut everything off (except the heat), but I can't *not* answer the door. I don't want to see the kids, yet I do. I miss Charlie more at this time of the year than at any other. Some of the kids look like he did when he dressed up, but blessedly, there aren't a lot of those Batman costumes this year. Sometimes the ones dressing up as Dracula sort of remind me of him, mostly 'cause of the cape, but so far, thankfully no Batmans.
I'm writing this as they stop by. Yesterday, I prepared. Bought stuff to hand out. Why, I have no idea. There are two possibilites. One, my subconscious expected me to change my mind, so it shanghaied my ass. Two, you've been hanging around, affecting my judgment. Frankly, I hope for the former, 'cause the latter would piss me off.
. . .
Let's see, so far, there's been an assortment of witches, gypsies, cowboys, x-men, pirates, fairy princesses, robin hoods, one Peter Pan - which had me wondering if the boy was going to grow up gay and how weird am I to be thinking that of a six year old? There were the requisite assortment of ghosts and goblins, too.
However, there was this one pair that killed me. A four year old boy and his mom. He was dressed up as the grim reaper. Including a small scythe. His mom, too. Had a larger scythe. Both wore complete face paint, which she had to have done. Along with the dark grey circles over the eyes, their cheeks were shaded, making them look sallow. And the black lipstick was a nice touch, although that made them look a little goth. (and why do I know that? I'd blame you, but this time, I'm blaming Cassie)
The kid also had a black swimming cap over his hair, and wore these skeleton gloves. I wondered where she got gloves like that so small and it occurred to me that I haven't been in one of those new costume shops that have cropped up in the last five or ten years. Mom didn't have gloves but wore these long black nails that had the skull-n-bones on them. Her hands had to have been freezing as it's no more than 32 degrees outside. Freezing level cold. If there'd been rain clouds out instead of a clear sky, it'd've been snowing.
The pair looked very cool though. All I did was raise my brow and she immediately said, "It was his idea, I swear." I made polite convo, told them they had the best costume I'd ever seen. Wasn't lying, either. I let him choose what he wanted from the bowl of candy stuff, and the moment I closed the door, I laughed my ass off. It was my black humor, I think. I mean, in my job, the image just struck me as so bizarre and ironic. It was too damned funny. I actually considered asking the duo to go find Kinsey and take him out, especially considering that the grim reaper's *original* job is to take out sinners. I think we all have that coming, if you go by the strictest interpretation of any version of the Bible, but Kinsey would have it coming even if the world were made up of atheists.
Would've suited, too. The kid looked scarier than Anubis.
. . .
Have the radio on. Earlier, just before dark, that Kansas song came on. Dust In The Wind. Made me think of you automatically, as if I needed a freakin' reason, but I discovered that I can't hear that song anymore. Pissed me off, too, because I really like that song. Before I could completely lose it, I changed the station. Insane. I surfed and found one station playing Halloween songs amidst some early rock-and-roll. Fortunately the old sappy songs didn't make me wanna change the station. I'm glad.
You know, I have this sneaky suspicion that they could play something completely off the wall (like The Twist) and it'd make me think of you, wondering if you'd ever heard it, if you'd like it. Christ. I'm turning into a sappy old shit. No comments needed from the peanut gallery.
I think they played Monster Mash every thirty minutes, but I didn't mind. I like that silly song. I had no idea there were so many Halloween-type songs. Half of them are instrumentals from movies or TV shows. They played Tubular Bells, that theme from The Exorcist. That's a very creepy song, especially considering its connection, but I like it for a reason I can't come up with.
Moving on...
Have you been keeping an eye on things around here? Just in case you've been off on your own glowy missions, I've a sort of good news-bad news thing.
Bad news first. Colonel Sergei Ivanov, leader of the Russian team, is dead. Didn't die in combat as he would've wanted and I'm very sorry for that. Very. He was a good man. I'm slowly but surely getting over my aversion to working with the Russians. It's just their government I can't stand and considering that their people can't stand ours, I told myself that if the Russian team could get a grip and deal, so could I.
What else? Oh, right. Kinsey tried to take over the SGC. Didn't work. He's also now the head of some civilian committee overseeing military intelligence. How screwed up is that? Talk about your oxymorons.
Now, good news. Nirrti finally got what was coming to her so ding-dong, the wicked bitch is dead. She was Ivanov's killer, by the way. She also died in a cruel way so I'm glad. I no longer have to wonder about that creepy snake. Thor put Asgard shields and weapons on the Prometheus. That's very cool. We get to take her out again in a few weeks, though I don't get to command. I have to go out as an 'advisor'. That's the only thing I hate, though the commander of the ship is a good guy, if a little stiff.
There's also a sort-of good news deal, too. Jonas seems to be an advanced human. Guess he learned that detail from Nirrti when she was trying to alter his DNA. Guess that means he didn't *learn* to speed read.
============================
Dear Daniel,
Sometimes I wonder what on Earth keeps me from getting thrown into prison or dishonorably discharged. It must be this strange O'Neill luck. That's the only explanation. Last night, I felt restless. I wanted sex so badly, and with you. I popped in those porn DVDs and jerked off. Tried to come, but I couldn't to save my life. I didn't know what the hell was in my blood last night, but it wouldn't give me peace. So, I went out driving and purposely made sure I didn't find my way onto the highway driving south. I really wanted to. Wanted to feel that young man's...well, nevermind.
Instead, I found myself in that one section of town. Down that alley with the blue door. That one place I took you to. I fantasize about that place periodically and what we did in that room. The fantasies always turn to the kinkier side of things though, like those harder-edged porn flicks. That's what I watched before I ended up going out for a drive. I think I parked in that alley and sat there for at least an hour before I worked up the courage to finally go through that door.
I got a glass of J/D on ice, then paid for a room. I felt my dick hardening the moment I climbed those stairs, remembering the last time. Got into the room--that *red* room--and shut the door. The bed seemed the same; just as hard as it was before. I slid across the mattress and leaned against the wall, sipping on the whiskey while I listened to the sounds of sex. The wall behind me was knocking slightly from whoever it was getting fucked. They sounded like they were having a good time. Which is what I was planning on having - well, maybe not a 'good' time, but at least getting off in some other way than the usual jerk off. Why I'd come here was beyond me, but I needed...something different.
I opened my jeans and began to jerk off slowly, imagining what was going on in the rooms that surrounded me, and I found I was checking to see if any of them sounded like you -- even remotely. None did. Just the different sounds of sex. It was then that I heard a sliding sound, like a window opening. It came from across the room. There was a small, slightly recessed window, perhaps 2 feet wide, 1 foot high, meant obviously for voyeurs and exhibitionists. I sat forward and looked around my room. On each wall, there was a closed window. Why hadn't I noticed it before? Maybe because the last time, I wasn't looking. Anyway, the one across from me was closed, but somehow I knew -- I *knew* -- that the window on the other side was open.
It took me a few minutes to make up my mind what I was going to do. In the meantime, sounds increased in the room behind me. They were getting into it good. The slapping sound of skin on skin as well as the thick odor of semen and sweat was making me harder. I turned and pushed the handle on the window behind me, sliding it open just a crack. Their window wasn't open. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of disappointment and relief. I closed it, then looked across the room. That opposite window seemed to call me, dare me, to go over and open it.
I was debating it when I heard a muffled, deep voice. The man's voice, however, was loud enough to be heard, so his words were clear. It seemed he wanted everyone to know what he was doing. Or maybe just me? I have to admit, the thought sent a thrill through me. The man said, "This is your first time, baby, so it's going to be special. Now, arms up over your head." Goosebumps raised on my skin at the sound of that voice. Then a younger voice followed. "Are you sure this is how newbies get broken in?"
Jesus. I quickly wondered if they were play-acting, and hoped they were. To use that place for a first time seemed a bit weird. The need to see what was going on began to grow, but I still didn't move, didn't open up the window. I jumped when I heard a hard slap, followed by the words, "Don't you dare move," and they were followed by a whimper. The whimper didn't sound distressed. It was one of those 'want' whimpers. Ones that are made when teasing has gone on too long. They'd been playing at their game for a while, I think.
So...I got up and opened the window. All the way. I knew that they were now aware of being watched because the sliding made an obvious noise, even above the cries around us. When I sat back down on the bed, leaning against the wall, I couldn't see their faces. Only torsos and thighs. I was kind of glad.
Two men. A pale-skinned man, young by the look of his skin and muscle tone, had his arms tied or chained over his head. I couldn't see, nor did I care. He was facing to my left and the other man was in front. What caused the tied one to whimper was made abundantly clear as the other man, older and much darker skinned, had placed a nipple clamp on one nipple, which glistened with spit. He was currently sucking on the other and pulled it between his teeth before he let go and clamped that one too. The boy -- he had to be at least 25 years younger than me, so 'boy' -- made another whimpering noise. It was then that I saw a red mark on the boy's left hip. A hand print.
The nipple clamps were different, though I haven't had a lot of experience with those. They were open over the top so the nubs were visible - accessible. The older man bent to flick his tongue over them and when the boy squirmed, so did I. My free hand went to my own nips, pinching them. I wanted them wet, so I used my spit and repinched. Hard. I wanted to be that boy. The older man then moved around him, passing his hands over the body, caressing and almost examining at the same time. Like buying a piece of meat. The idea aroused me. I hate that it did, Daniel, but it made my dick twitch.
When the man moved out of the line of sight, I got a better look. The boy was hard as nails. His cock was long and thick, bobbing slightly up and down, so engorged with blood that the shaft and glans were dark purple. I thought of yours and my mouth salivated, wanting to suck. I heard the man open and close a drawer, and when he returned, he gave the boy's cock a few quick strokes. The boy made a few throaty noises from the man's touch, then groaned with what was obvious disapproval when the man let go. I could relate.
My eyes were riveted when the man held up a bottle of lube, and a plastic-wrapped package. He ripped it open and revealed a pink dildo, very narrow and long with a ribbed texture. Lifting it nearly out of sight, I could only just make out that he was lubing it, showing it to his lover. The boy made a noise of approval. The man then moved behind him. "Gonna prepare you good," he said, and turned so that I could see his dick. It was almost as if he were posing. The man had an interesting cock. It was short, maybe five or six inches, but extremely thick, with an unusually large, very round head.
"Spread your legs," he ordered and the boy spread them. He gasped as the thin dildo was slowly pushed inside. The man didn't waste time, either. He began to fuck him with it immediately, using short, lazy strokes. The boy's breathing changed and I watched his chest rise and fall as he began to pant. When the man altered his course to home in on the boy's sweet spot, the boy let him know he hit it. He gave out a loud -- very fucking loud -- howl and jerked his hips back, apparently wanting more.
The man slapped his hip again, and again, I jumped. "I told you. Only I make the moves," was the repeated order. The boy whimpered again and his body seemed to vibrate as the man continued his business, pumping that dildo in and out of him. I found myself focused on the man's cock, watching it drip with pre-come as he got off on what he was doing.
And so was I. I grabbed a new bottle of lube off the bedside table and slicked up my cock as well as my hands. I pushed just the tip of my right middle finger inside my ass, keeping it still and telling myself to wait. With my other hand, I pulled at my cock, using the same short, lazy strokes that the man was using on the boy. Using my left hand on my cock made me feel as if someone else was touching me because the motions weren't the same -- not like normal jerking off.
The man stopped then, holding the dildo deep inside as he dropped to his knees and took the boy's cock into his mouth. I damn near came watching him swallow that gorgeous cock. Bobbing back and forth, he took that boy for one hell of a ride. Soon, the dildo was back in action, except the man was mixing thrusts with wide, gyrating circles.
The boy couldn't wait any longer it seemed. The man withdrew the cock from his mouth and looked up. He stroked the shaft four times, his fist so tight his knuckles were almost yellow-white. When his fist stopped just behind the head, he said only one word. "Now." The boy's body spasmed and jerked, his hips thrusting forward out of control while his juice spilled and shot out of him and hit the man in the face. It was so fucking hot that I had to squeeze my balls to keep from coming. The boy hadn't even finished coming before the man withdrew the dildo, tossing it across the room. It hit our connecting wall with a thud, and I couldn't help but picture what it looked like lying on the floor. The man got up and moved behind the boy, his left hand jerking the boy's twitching cock that still oozed with come. Pushing forward, he guided his short but massive cock inside the boy's body.
I couldn't tear my eyes away now if I'd tried. I heard the slick slide of his cock, the panting gasps of the boy as the man buried that dick of his deep inside the boy's ass. He started to grind in circles, the boy damn near baying as his gland was obviously being rubbed.
Then the man did something that made me quite sure he did it for MY benefit. He pulled out nearly all of the way, so much so that I could see the shaft, glistening with lube, beet red from insertion and blood flow. He began to move in slow strokes, never fully inside, letting me get a good look at his cock as he fucked this boy's ass. My own asshole squeezed around my fingertip, reminding me that I had something to do there to satisfy myself other than just watching. I slid two fingers in, trying to match the man's movements, and tightened my fist around my cock as I pumped.
This was fucking glorious, Daniel. I'd seen similar stuff on the DVD, but this was live, in person, and I was so getting off on watching and fucking both my fist and my own ass. It was great. That feeling. I had to spread my legs more to sink my fingers deeper, just to catch that hard little gland. And I did. God, that felt good. My hips jerked and I felt this flush radiate through my body. I wanted more. Demanded more.
The man, too, seemed to agree and took hold of the front of the boy's thighs, lifting him up so he could plunge deep. The boy cried out a 'yes' and I saw that his dick was hard again. The man then made a growling noise, saying something that sounded like "gonna fuck you till you scream" but I couldn't be sure. The blood was rushing through my own ears as I was now lost in my own lust. I was torn between drawing it out, not wanting to finish yet, and just hurrying things up - I wanted to come so bad, to forget everything for a minute or so.
The man plowed into that boy hard and fast, and suddenly the boy was screaming, demanding to come and just as he said it, come was shooting out of him in thick globs. The man started calling the boy names like slut and whore as he hammered into him and he then pulled out, roaring as he shot his load all over the boy's ass. God, that was hot. I fucked myself furiously with my hands and was almost ready to come when another sound distracted me.
The sound was of another window sliding open, but this one was to my right in the back wall, next to the voyeur window. The sliding panel in the wall had exposed a glory hole. The mouth on the other side of that hole said, "Let me suck you." Shaking badly, lost in my need to come, and not wanting to withdraw the fingers in my ass, I got up and moved over. I braced my free hand against the wall and hesitated, staring at that mouth. The owner licked his lips. "Give me," he said, and he suddenly gasped, rocking forward. It was then that I realized that he was being fucked. Lust surged through me and I moved in, sticking my cock through that hole in the wall. When that mouth began to suck me, I bucked my hips against the wall as if I wanted to slam them through it. It must've looked like I was fucking the wall and I couldn't help but laugh. When the mouth sucking me groaned, the vibration was enough. I came at that instant, and the moment I was through, I pulled away and collapsed on the bed.
I lay there a while, listening to the man and the boy croon to each other. The mouth that had sucked me could be seen through that hole, hanging open, panting as he was fucked. The come he'd taken from me was only half-swallowed and dribbling over his lips. My dick twitched in response.
I waited, intending to leave only when the others left, not wanting them to see my face. But it was a long time before I left that room, Daniel. I needed more.
I want you so badly right now. I want to do the same thing that man did to his young lover. Then I want you to do it to me, fucking me so hard that I black out when I come. I want to hear those moans and gasps you make. I want to watch you squirm as I tease your ass with my tongue, moving the tip in tight little circles, probing lightly before diving deep and withdrawing again and again. I want to look at your naked body, lying on my bed, jerking off, tempting me to fuck you or suck you but knowing I won't because I want to see you come like that. To see you come for me, your back arched, your legs spread, your hips bucking upward into your fist.
I want to watch my cock slide in and out of your mouth, my hands gripping your hair so tight it causes a bit of pain. I want to feel those leather cuffs you bought for me that we never used. The ones for both my wrists and my ankles. I want to feel them binding me, holding me in place as you screw me stupid. I want to wake you, to feel that cock of yours slowly hardening in my mouth, then sucking harder, holding your hips down, my body pinning your legs. I want to feel you thrash underneath me when I slide three fingers inside, when I reach and tease your gland, when I get you so worked up with my mouth and my fingers that I finally let you come. I want to taste it, feel it, rub it into my skin.
I want to feel your lips on my nipples, your hands on my skin. I want to feel you bury your cock deep in my ass, moving in that way you do when you hit my gland. I want to feel that lying on my stomach, on my back, on my knees, standing on my feet. I want to be in the shower, feeling the slickness of our bodies wet with water and sweat. I want to feel you spread my legs wide as you pound into me, to hear you panting as you get closer to orgasm. I love that sound you make just before you come. That hitching in your throat from those quick, breathless sounds as you slam into me, hitting my balls so hard they swing wildly back and forth. Then I want to hear that long, drawn out cry when you come in my ass and feel the shaking of your body over mine as you spill that liquid heat inside me.
I. Just. Fucking. Want. You.
And right now, I miss you so damn much that it's pissing me off. If and when I see you again, I know I'm going to be torn between screwing your lungs out and beating the tar out of you.
Dammit, I really miss you.