"What?"
"You heard me, Colonel." Janet folded her arms around her clipboard and smiled at the two men who stood staring at her, holding specimen cups and wearing nearly identical expressions of disbelief. "Washington wants to know if multiple trips through the Stargate has had any effect on reproductive ability. They want sperm count and sperm mobility of all personnel who go off world, checked."
"If you're talking reproductive, Doc, then Carter..."
"Don't even go there, Colonel. It's an invasive procedure on women and while it will be done, we'd like to gather a little easy data first."
"The other teams..." Daniel began but Janet cut him off as well.
"The other teams have given their samples. The government, however is more interested in you two because singly and collectively, you've crossed the event horizon more often than any other three teams. SG-1 – first into the wormhole, last into the specimen cup. Now stop being such big babies about it..." She jabbed a finger at the door to the infirmary bathroom. "...get in there and wank for your country."
They looked at each other, they looked at the door, they looked at the doctor.
"Together?" Daniel asked at last.
Janet rolled her eyes and briefly wondered why she hadn't gone into dermatology like her mother had wanted. "Together. Separately. In the gate room. With a fox. On a box. I don't care! The semen goes into the cup; the cup is back in my hand before it cools."
"Do we get dirty pictures?"
"Due respect, sir, you'll get my foot on your ass in a minute."
The colonel frowned thoughtfully. "Not sure that would do it for me but if you're willing..."
Okay. That was it. "One."
"Jack, she's counting."
"Two."
They dashed for the door, the colonel pausing at the last minute to grab a chair.
"What's the chair for?"
Instead of answering, Jack tipped it up on two legs and shoved it under the door latch, then he turned and said, "The last thing I want is an airman walking in when I've got my dick in my hand."
Daniel grinned and shot Jack a heated look from under lowered lids. "No reason it has to be in your hand."
"Jesus, Daniel! What part of top secret military establishment are you still having trouble with? There are security cameras..." He pivoted on one heel gesturing up over the door. And froze. "No camera."
Daniel's grin broadened. "No camera," he agreed.
Jack took another look. Four urinals against the back wall. Two stalls to the right. Four sinks to the left. Every other can on the base you pissed with your back to the camera and -- in spite of the minimal privacy of the stalls -- the government knew when you were crapping. He'd once heard a sergeant in security tell a Marine corporal he needed to eat more fiber. The women's cans were the same, minus the urinals.
"There's never been a camera in here," Daniel told him, setting his specimen cup down on the edge of a sink. "I've just never been able to figure out a way to get us both in here without starting up another round of rumours. But this..." He spread his hands. "...was Janet's idea. This is official military business."
"I don't know... We're still on base." But he took a step closer, drawn by the heat in the other man's expression.
Daniel slipped two fingers behind Jack's waistband and yanked him closer still. "You know how much I've always wanted to do you in the mountain," he murmured as he chewed at the soft skin under Jack's ear.
"Yeah..." His hands on Daniel's hips Jack could feel how much Daniel wanted this – feel it hard and hot against his thigh. "But..."
"But nothing. This is perfectly safe." Grabbing Jack's ass, he ground them together, groin to groin. "All the thrills..."
Jack writhed as Daniel's tongue dipped warm and wet into his ear.
"...and none of the potential for court marital."
As long, clever fingers worked at his fly, Jack surrendered any pretense of protest. As his cock was freed of fabric, he managed only a strangled, "We have to fill the cups."
"Fill them. Overfill them. It'll be just like target practice..."
"Don't even think of doing this on the range!"
Thumb and forefinger of his right hand grasping Jack's cock, remaining fingers slipped inside the pants to fondle his balls, Daniel glanced up and grinned. "Hard targets. Exploding rounds. Firm grip and squeeze."
Fighting for breath, Jack threw his head back and had his attention caught by the acoustic tile ceiling, the bank of fluorescent lights, gunmetal grey walls, standard issue fixtures... So very familiar. He'd been in a million bathrooms like this one on a hundred different bases. Between one breath and the next, he felt himself flagging.
"Jack?"
"It's just I spent my entire military career not doing this in bathrooms on base. Telling myself I could never do this in a bathroom on base." He looked down at his cock lying mostly flaccid inside the circle of Daniel's fingers. "Over the years, I've conditioned myself – specifically certain parts of myself -- to not react sexually to another man while on base."
"So you can't...?"
"I'm not sure I can keep it up long enough for Doc Fraser's sample," he admitted with a sigh. "And why are you smiling like that?" Daniel was wearing what Jack liked to call his Lucy Ricardo face. The one that meant he wasn't so much thinking outside the box as he was ignoring the existence of the box.
Blue eyes gleamed. "I have an idea."
"Of course you do."
"Go sit in that stall. Drop trou and take yourself in hand."
"While you do what?"
"The one thing guaranteed to bring you off even if we were sitting in the briefing room with General Hammond."
Jack shuddered. "Daniel..."
"Trust me."
Trusting Daniel wasn't the issue. After all, he trusted Daniel with all that he was. The issue was... Well, part of the issue was that this was Doc Fraser's idea. And the other part was that he was bare-assed in a stall, with the door open, holding his cock, deep in the heart of a top secret military base, while his male lover, who was also under his command, got ready to...
"Jesus H. Fucking Christ."
Daniel had taken off his t-shirt but put the green camo shirt back on, the dog tags all personnel now had to wear – military and civilian -- dangling against his bare chest. He had his belt and fly undone. His pants had slid low on his hips exposing the lean curve of his stomach and the line of red-gold hair that ran from his navel down to the darker hair just visible at the bottom edge of the open fly.
He looked like the poster boy for soft-core military porn.
Reaction fought with conditioning.
Flashing the wicked smile only Jack ever got to see, Daniel took a step forward until he was at the edge of the stall then slid his pants down around his ankles. Nothing under them. Nothing but Daniel.
Jack was longer but Daniel was thicker, they'd settled that early on.
Before Jack to do any more than try and remember to breathe, Daniel sank slowly to his knees, sat back on his heels, and spread his legs. With the shirt shrugged down so that his shoulders were bare, khaki confined both his arms and his lower legs. Framed by the vee of two long, muscular thighs, his cock -- so engorged it was almost purple -- rose up thick and uncut from a nest of red brown curls.
Soft-core crossed over to hard-core.
As Daniel stroked himself slowly with his right hand, conditioning surrendered. There was nothing Jack loved more than watching Daniel pleasure himself. The confined by bits of military paraphernalia was new but remarkably arousing. A little light-headed as blood rushed south, he matched Daniel's slow rhythm.
Foreskin back, Daniel's thumb rubbed a slow circle across the glans, drawing a glistening line of pre-come with it. A second circle, faster. A hitch in Daniel's breathing. His grip tightened. An increase in rhythm.
With his legs so far apart, his balls were swinging slightly. Jack found himself mesmerized by them, he wanted to reach out and wrap his hand around them, squeeze them just to the edge of pain, just enough to for Daniel's eyes to snap open and lock on his, the heat in them saying, "Do it. Do whatever you want with me." But as his cock twitched his hand, he stayed where he was. Watching.
Daniel's chest had begun to rise and fall as though his body was fighting his need for air. Light brown nipples were erect. Sweat beaded golden skin.
Another increase in rhythm. The muscles in his forearm tensed and released as he worked his cock harder and faster. His eyes closed and he caught up his full lower lip between his teeth as he began to toss his head from side to side, unable to keep it still.
Wanton. Sensual. Beautiful. Jack was afraid to blink. Afraid to miss a moment. Aching with the need for release, he maintained the gentle rhythm he'd started with, allowing Daniel's performance to work on his as it would. And it was. Oh god was it... He didn't think he'd ever been so hard...
...until Daniel slipped the first two fingers of his left hand into his mouth and Jack, anticipating what was to come, realized he could get harder still.
Shifting his hips forward, Daniel reached behind, fingers wet with spit, and closed his teeth on the sound that tried to escape as he slipped them deep inside his own body. Fucking himself on his left hand, he bucked up into the right, deep, desperate moans escaping as he struggled to keep from crying out.
Jack's hips were lifting of their own accord. His grip tightened. Eyes locked on Daniel, he began to stroke himself, hard and faster, trying to time his release to...
Muscles tightened; Daniel's back arced, face and chest flushed, head back he growled out a string of gutter Arabic.
The bathroom smelled of sweat and sex.
Still breathing heavily, Daniel had collapsed forward, his head resting on Jack's knee. Jack reached out and gently touched the other man's damp hair.
"Years of conditioning, shot to hell."
He could hear the grin in Daniel's voice. "Pleased to be of service."
"I'll bet. One problem though."
Janet stared up at the two men in disbelief. "You missed the cups? Both of you?"
"Well, Daniel was making funny noises," Jack muttered, pushing a pen around her desk with one finger. "It was distracting."
"You want distracting," Daniel snorted. "Jack was singing."
"What? It's traditional." He shook his head at Daniel's raised eyebrow. "Don't tell me you never saw The Right Stuff."
"No one sang Take Me Home Country Roads during The Right Stuff, Jack!"
"Gentlemen! And I use that term loosely," Janet added as they turned their attention back to her. "The Pentagon wants those cups filled so neither of you are leaving until you fill them. Do I make myself clear?"
"Don't I out-rank her?" Jack asked the room at large.
The room at large wisely decided to stay out of it.
She handed them back the empty specimen cups. "Take whatever time you need to recharge, go find a Sport's Illustrated Swim Suit Edition if you have to, but your country has asked for a sample and you're going to provide it!"
"Fine. We'll give our country our all. Or an ounce or so of our all anyway." Jack twirled the cup between his fingers and turned away. "So, I'll be good to go in an hour."
"I can be back here then." Daniel slipped his own cup in a pocket as they headed for the door. "You sure an hour's enough ti... Ow!"
"Hey! You don't have to do it toge... Oh never mind." Janet sank back into her chair as the door closed behind them. She honestly didn't care how they did it, as long as it got done. Based on the evidence, it was amazing the Goa'uld hadn't taken over the planet by now. "Maybe they shoot straighter in the field," she muttered as she returned to her paperwork.
Given how many SG teams had missed the cups on the first attempt, they'd bloody well have to.